The Outlaw's Bride (18 page)

“Another story?”

“An argument against James J. Dolan.” Noah paused for a moment, recalling how with each stroke of his pen he had tried to force his longing for Isobel deep inside his heart—with the hope it would stay hidden forever.

“I kept after Catron every day,” he continued, “until he agreed to look into Dolan’s finances. The more he dug, the more he saw the extent of Dolan’s business troubles.”

Isobel shook her head. “One man betrayed so many.”

“Turns out Catron was endorsing Dolan’s notes to the tune of more than twenty thousand dollars. Now Dolan is deeply in debt to the district attorney. A few months back, he mortgaged all his property to Catron as security for the notes, and he got a new note for twenty-five thousand dollars. This month he took out a second mortgage.”

“So Dolan’s mercantile is bankrupt?” Isobel said. “The man is ruined?”

“Catron was trying to keep him afloat so he wouldn’t be saddled with the debts. But Dolan shut down his store, and he’s been barred from making deliveries of flour and beef to the Mescalero agency. I reckon if he leaves Lincoln County, broke and defeated, I’ll feel like Dick’s death has been avenged.”

“I’m happy for you, Noah.”

He shrugged, realizing nothing could fill the place Dick Brewer had held in his life.

“I read that Macnab was killed,” she spoke up.

“Yeah, sad to say. I’m hoping Dolan’s bunch will disband and things will settle down in Lincoln. It’s what I was trying to accomplish all the time I was in Santa Fe.”

“It seems you were successful.”

“I nearly let you marry Pascal.” Noah flipped a twig into the fire. “When I read the wedding announcement in the paper this morning, I couldn’t sit still. I’d already found out enough about Pascal to hook him into the ring. I deduced he was the silent partner Catron said was planning to take your land grants. ’Course, I didn’t know for sure till I bluffed him this morning.”

“That was a bluff?”

Noah shrugged. “A good guess.”

“Noah, why didn’t you leave me with the Pascals?”

He stared at the fire awhile before answering. “I couldn’t let you marry Pascal, Isobel. You deserve better.”

“What sort of man do I deserve, Noah?”

“Maybe you’ll find a decent fellow when you get back to Spain.”

“In Spain I will be a
soltera,
a spinster. When people learn I broke the Pascal betrothal, my name will be dishonored. Don Guillermo will spread the story of my rash marriage to a common vaquero. Even with an annulment, I will be too old to marry.”

Noah couldn’t imagine any man in his right mind turning Isobel down. Not one thing about her failed to move him. Her hair lying dark gold on her shoulders. Her smooth neck. Long arms. Long legs.

But there was more to Isobel than beauty. He’d almost forgotten how easily they could talk. She made him laugh and think and create and dream. He loved everything about the woman.

But how did she feel about him? He had given her no promises, no tender words of commitment, no hope for a future with him. Then he had abandoned her to the Pascals.

She might not want to spend her life with a man who still felt his friend’s death like a knife in his gut. If Dolan somehow rode out his troubles, Noah couldn’t let the matter go. Nothing would change that.

“Now that your
venganza
against Jimmie Dolan is accomplished, how will it be between you and me, Noah?” Isobel asked in a soft voice. “Will it be as before—at home by the Rio Pecos? Or will you drive me away again?”

“Isobel…” It was more a sigh than a word. “Great stars, you make things hard on a man.”

“And you make things hard on a woman.”

Their eyes met and held. “What do you want?” he asked. “Do you want to try to get your titles from Snake before Pascal gets his hands on them? Do you want to own your own spread up here in the north? Do you want
to go back to Spain and live a quiet life, away from all the guns and killing?”

When she didn’t answer, he spoke the final option. “Or do you want to be hooked up with a dusty cowboy who can’t even promise you a tomorrow?”

Isobel gazed at the fire. “I may never live happily ever after. But I want to live happily today.”

“Come here, Isobel.” He took her hand and drew her into his arms. “You know, I made a fine show of myself in Santa Fe. Bought some fancy duds, ate good food, slept on clean sheets. Every day I worked to whittle Jimmie Dolan’s empire into pieces.”

“Were you happy?”

“I was miserable. Walked around looking like a throw-out from a footsore remuda.” He shook his head. “I thought revenge would feel good.”

“But you taught me how foolish it was to try to steal vengeance from the hand of God. I gave up my quest just as you began your own.”

“We’ve taught each other an awful lot.” He slid one hand up her arm. He hadn’t touched a woman since leaving her with Pascal. All his desires seemed dead—killed along with Dick Brewer.

Sure, women had made eyes at him in Santa Fe. But he loved Isobel. Only Isobel.

Now, holding her, he felt a rush of need stronger than he’d ever known. Something inside his soul longed to connect with hers. A spiritual ache had resurfaced the moment he had seen her that morning, standing in the garden in Santa Fe.

“Noah,” she murmured as she snuggled against him. “I couldn’t let Guillermo Pascal come near me. It was impossible for me to think of any man but you.”

“The minute I saw your name on that wedding announcement, I grabbed my saddlebag. Didn’t give it a second thought. Just got on my horse and headed out to fetch you. I had to have you with me again.”

“I don’t know how I once thought of you as a common man. Each day I was alone, I ached for you.”

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing her lips, slipping his fingers into her hair. This was the union, the bonding, the oneness he needed.

“I love you, too,” she whispered against his ear.

“I’ll stay with you, Isobel. Rain or shine, darlin’, you’re mine.”

O
n the journey from Santa Fe to Lincoln, Noah’s desire to write came back in a flood. He spent two nights guarding Isobel and roughing out a story on paper he had tucked into his saddlebag. A young orphan boy, a hungry wolf, marauding Apaches, twists and turns. When he read it to Isobel, she declared it even better than his Coyote Canyon tale.

Their final day’s ride took them to the little town of White Oaks. While Noah tended the horses, Isobel stopped at the mercantile, where she hoped to learn news of Lincoln from the shopkeeper. She was looking at a length of yellow calico when Noah stepped into the store.

“Isobel, come with me. Now.” Taking her arm, he ushered her quickly to the back door.

“Noah? What’s wrong?”

“I spotted Dolan at the feed store,” he explained as they mounted their horses. “He’s back in Lincoln County. And he’s brought the Kinney Gang with him. Follow me—and stay close.”

When they were safely into a thicket of aspen
trees, Noah pulled his horse to a halt. Isobel drew up beside him.

“Who’s Kinney?” she asked.

“Cattle thief, murderer, robber. Roams the Rio Grande Valley—mostly around El Paso. John Kinney is ten times meaner than Jesse Evans or Snake Jackson. Looks like Dolan hired the Kinney Gang to do his dirty work.”

Her heart faltering, Isobel lifted up a silent prayer for guidance. Did Dolan’s return mean that Noah’s efforts to ruin him had failed? Would the man she loved set her aside again in his pursuit of vengeance?

“Let’s go back to Santa Fe, Noah,” she begged. “We should stay out of the trouble this time.”

He took off his hat and wiped his sleeve across his brow. “I have to get to Lincoln and warn McSween. With Peppin as sheriff, Dolan back in town and the Kinney bunch roaming the county, things could get bad for the Regulators.”

He slapped his hat against his thigh. “Blast this whole ugly mess!”

Isobel’s shoulders drooped as her dreams sifted away. Noah was staring up through the trees at a patch of sky, as if waiting for God to speak. Finally he put on his hat and turned to her. “I’ll take you to Chisum’s ranch. It’s the safest place I know.”

“But you won’t have time to warn McSween. Noah, I’ll go with you.”

“No. I’m not going to lose you, Isobel. Not again.”

“Don’t tear us apart. Please, Noah.” She caught his hand. “The safest place for me is at your side.”

He shook his head. “All right, I’ll take you to Lin
coln. But, darlin’, I’m afraid things are shot to pieces again.”

“We’re together, aren’t we?” she said, forcing a smile. “How bad can it be?”

Warned by Noah and Isobel, the Regulators rode out of town, shattering Lincoln’s newfound serenity with the thunder of horses’ hooves. Minutes later, the Kinney Gang rode in.

Isobel and Noah hurried to John Tunstall’s store, where Susan Gates and the Ealy family had taken rooms. Isobel talked briefly with her friend while Noah watched through a curtained window as John Kinney rode up and down the street, as if to say, “Look, folks, I’m here and I’m in charge.”

Noah was fingering his pistol in frustration when Isobel leaned against his shoulder to kiss his cheek. “Susan is better,” she whispered. “She started teaching school. That seems to have taken her mind off her loss.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Noah mustered a smile.

Isobel knew his thoughts. Maybe Susan had recovered from the death of her fiancé, but he would never get over the loss of his closest friend.

“Dr. Ealy says I should stay here,” she told him. She peeked out the window at Kinney. With a shudder, she took Noah’s hand. “I want to be with you.”

“Some of the Regulators rode for San Patricio. The others planned to hide at Chisum’s. I say we head to Chisum’s. If we ride fast, we may be able to catch them.”

Once they had agreed on a plan, it took only moments for Isobel to bid her friends farewell. Then she and Noah
slipped out to the hitching post where their horses were tethered.

“Kinney and his men are roaming all around here, Isobel,” Noah warned. “Stay close to me. We’ll ride for the woods and keep under cover until we’re clear.”

She nodded, her heart hammering at the prospect of impending danger. Noah led their horses down a slope toward the Rio Bonito. Isobel was trailing not five paces behind when she heard a cry.

“It’s Buchanan!” someone shouted from the street. “He’s a Chisum man! Get him!”

Noah whipped out his six-shooter. “Isobel, ride around me!”

She spurred her mount forward while Noah covered them with his gun. Horses crashed through the underbrush behind Isobel as her gelding charged into the river. Holding the reins with one hand, she pulled her pistol from its holster. Branches raked her arms. A bullet smashed into a tree trunk just ahead. Splinters flew.

“Isobel, ride!” Noah shouted behind her as he fired at their pursuers.

She lowered her head to the horse’s neck. On the hill above the stream, the Huff house and the
torreón
flew past. “I’m headed for the hills, Noah! Follow me.”

Her horse galloped out of the streambed and began climbing the foothills. She glanced behind to see Noah riding only a few yards ahead of the outlaws. At their head rode a hulk of a man…a man with a lantern jaw and slitted eyes.

Snake Jackson.

Muffling a scream, Isobel watched the outlaw gang break into two groups.

“Rattlesnake, you and your men stay with those two!”
Kinney shouted. “We’ll ride for San Patricio and round up the rest of ’em!”

“Keep going, keep going!” Noah flew past Isobel and gave her horse’s flank a slap. “Snake’s after you.”

Anger surged as Isobel buried her head against the horse’s neck and rode for her life. With each heartbeat, she saw her father’s face, his golden hair, his gentle hazel eyes. She saw John Tunstall in his dapper tweeds. She saw blue-eyed Dick Brewer, curly hair tossing in the breeze. And she saw Snake Jackson. She heard his mocking cries, hoots of derision, jeering laughter.

A bullet splatted into the dirt beside her. She swung around. Noah was returning Snake’s fire, his arm stretched behind him and his six-shooter blazing. Chisum’s ranch was a three-day ride, Isobel realized. How could she and Noah possibly hold off Snake Jackson and his men? Darkness was hours away. Their horses couldn’t keep up this pace much longer. In a moment Noah would be forced to reload.

She scanned the hills for cover. Nothing but scrub piñon and cedar. The horses crashed through evergreen branches, scenting the air with the sweet smell of tree sap. But Isobel’s nostrils were filled with fear. She was about to die by Snake Jackson’s hand—just like her father. In her besotted love for Noah Buchanan, she had forgotten her true purpose. Now she would pay for her failure with her life.

Gritting her teeth, she turned and fired three wild shots at Snake. The outlaw lifted his head and whooped. “Missed me,
señorita!
But I’m gonna git you!”

“Isobel,” Noah hollered, flying past her again. “Stay in front. Let me do the shooting!”

She lowered her head and surged past him. Why had
she let herself grow lazy and sloppy? She and Noah had dallied on the road from Santa Fe. Then she had waylaid them to comfort Susan Gates. Now they would both suffer for her weaknesses.

Her horse pounded around a bend, hooves kicking up dirt and old pine needles. The animal had begun to slow. Noah rode against her again, blue fire in his eyes.

“Find cover!” he called. “Your horse is going down.”

She skirted the base of a hill and spotted a stone outcrop halfway up. Pointing so Noah could see without giving them away, she guided both horses through the trees.

Wheezing, foam dripping from its mouth, her horse slowed to a trot. Fear acrid on her tongue, Isobel slid to the ground and began to run. She clambered over a boulder and slid across a rock ledge.

At that moment a burning pain tore through her shoulder, shattering flesh and muscle. She tumbled behind the rock.

“Isobel!” Noah’s urgent whisper came from a few paces away.

She clutched at the searing pain in her right shoulder. A warm liquid seeped onto her fingers.

“Snake winged you.” Noah was peering between two boulders as he spoke. “They’re coming this way. I need your help, darlin’. Please try.”

She attempted to sit up, but her stomach turned and bile rose in her throat. “Noah,” she groaned.

“Can you load this, Isobel?” He tossed a six-shooter into her lap. “If I can turn Snake and his men back, I’ll have time to work on your shoulder. But if we can’t hold them off—”

A bullet sent rock fragments flying past them. Isobel clenched her teeth and flipped open the pistol’s chamber. With effort, she pried the cartridges from Noah’s gun belt. Then she slid the bullets into their slots and clicked the gun shut.

Noah grabbed it and tossed a second empty six-shooter onto her lap. The hot metal burned through the thin fabric of her skirt. As she began to reload, bullets slammed into the stone around their heads. Cries rang out through the hills. Horses galloped past. Isobel continued loading Noah’s two six-shooters, his rifle and her own small pistol. Pain fogged her mind. Blood soaked her sleeve and trickled onto her fingers.

Now and then Noah peered at her, his eyes dark blue with concern. “Isobel, darlin’, hold on for me,” she heard him whisper. “Don’t give up on me now.”

Then the firing stopped. Smoke cleared. The tang of gunpowder lifted. Warm arms came around her. Noah laid her out across the ground, her head resting on a pile of soft pine needles. Streaks of orange, blue and purple painted the sky. Noah’s face appeared.

“Rest now, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Snake’s gone, and I’m going to patch you up.”

She heard her sleeve tear and shut her eyes. Noah’s voice drifted in and out. “Dear Lord, help me. The bullet’s still in here. Isobel, darlin’, I’ve got to take this thing out. Hold on to me, now.”

A searing pain in her shoulder cut through the fog and brought her sharply awake. A scream rose in her throat. Then it faded away with the pain, the knife, the bullet. Blackness swam over her and took her away.

Isobel opened her eyes to find Noah seated on top of the rock outcrop. He had lifted his face to the heavens,
but his eyes were shut. His lips moved silently. Brilliant morning sky framed his profile, the straight nose and square jawline, the sweep of dark hair.

Shifting, Isobel tried to ease the throbbing pain in her shoulder. Noah heard the movement and scrambled from his perch.

“Isobel?” He crouched beside her. “Isobel, darlin’, are you awake?”

She tried to speak, but her throat felt parched as desert sands. Noah smoothed the hair from her forehead.

“I got the bullet out,” he whispered. He dug around in his shirt pocket, then held up a flattened piece of lead. “Take a look at that, would you?”

She tried to grin, but the pain in her shoulder pounded unbearably. Noah adjusted the wool blanket that pillowed her head.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he said. “I need to get you back to Lincoln.”

“No!” she croaked. Snake and Kinney would find them there. She wanted to go someplace safe where they could be together and forget Lincoln’s trouble.

“Doc Ealy is the only one around these parts who can patch you up right. I’ve seen gangrene, Isobel, and I’m not going to let that happen to—”

“No!” She grabbed his arm with her good hand. “Not Lincoln.”

“We can’t stay here. Snake’ll be back. And soon. I’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Chisum’s,” she mouthed. “Please, Noah.”

“That’s a three-day ride for a fit horse and a healthy rider. I don’t imagine you can even sit up straight, and you’ve been in and out of consciousness all night.”

But the thought of being so close to Noah’s little
adobe house drove Isobel to struggle up from the pallet. Blood siphoned from her face, but she threw the blanket back.

“All right,” Noah said, grabbing her shoulders before she fainted. “I knew you were mule-headed, Isobel, and I can see you mean business. Come on, you’ll ride with me.”

He tethered her gelding behind his horse and then settled Isobel in his arms. They kept away from the river’s edge for fear of ambush and stopped often to drink, rest or tend Isobel’s shoulder. In the midst of her daze she could hear Noah growling about Jimmie Dolan and Snake Jackson. In between she heard the soft refrains of hymns.

Once Noah prayed out loud, a fervent plea. He spoke in that tone Isobel had heard so often—as if God were a father with whom a man could talk about his deepest needs.

Somewhere in the feverish mists, she remembered the wedding ceremony in the Lincoln County forest and her fears that God would punish her for such a hasty, selfish union. Perhaps this was God’s chastisement—her wounded shoulder, her terrible fears, her hopeless love for Noah Buchanan.

But even as she pondered a rebuking, angry God, she heard Noah’s voice. “God is love,” he sang.

Several times each day Noah bathed Isobel’s shoulder and changed the dressing. The slightest jolt sent a
searing pain that nearly made her scream. Noah fashioned a sling to hold her arm close against her body. She couldn’t eat. Only water from the Rio Hondo kept her going.

Their journey took many more than three days, but they could go no faster. Accepting that, Isobel nestled against Noah, her mind wandering from memories of her father to hanging lace curtains, typing pages of a story, galloping along mountain trails, baking
biscochitos
.

Through these memories wove a deep baritone.

June was nearly gone when Noah’s horse trotted the last few yards down the road to Chisum’s house. The scent of blooming roses perfumed the air, and Noah’s spirits rose in spite of his fears for Isobel.

About the only words she had said were how much she wanted Noah to stay with her, never leave her, always be near. As hard as it was to acknowledge, he now knew without a doubt that he loved Isobel Matas Buchanan.