Dodge City
1877
“She’s got to be there, Spade. Her telegram was quite clear.” Marshal Gabe Hawkins sat on his black gelding at the corner of the jail, watching as the train steamed into Dodge City. The hot steel wheels hissed and screeched to a halt along the iron rails, causing sparks to fly in the air. The steam from the engine’s smokestack finally cleared and the passengers began to disembark, one by one.
The visitors to Dodge City stepped onto the platform. After what he’d said all these years about not being in the market for a family, Gabe stared at a curvy woman getting off the train from Kansas City with his friend, Logan. What the heck was I thinking? And what is Logan doing back from his trip to clear Rose?
The raids his southern unit took part in sickened him as much today as it did at the height of the War Between the States. A West Point cadet thrown into the war, Gabe had seen more senseless killing than he ever wanted to see again. After families like his were torn apart by either death or choosing opposite sides, he’d made a promise to himself to never put someone he loved into that situation.
Instead he took an oath, pinned on a star, and headed west to protect the citizens trying to recover after the devastation. And that oath kept Gabe from losing his heart to a woman and settling down with a family. That is, until he realized his role as marshal wasn’t enough. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his days alone. He wanted a woman to come home to. So, he made the decision to resign from being a lawman, sent an advertisement for a bride, and aimed to live the rest of his days in peace.
And now hopefully she was standing on the depot platform. The woman standing next to Dodge City’s very own Pinkerton Agent Logan Granger in animated conversation had to be his bride. The curvy woman in the neat dress, brown hair highlighted with a streak of silver pulled back into a bun under her hat, appeared to match the photograph he’d received weeks ago. His heart raced like a stampede of longhorn. Only one way to find out if Miss Abigail Johnson had indeed arrived on time.
“If she’s ours, Spade, I’d better go stake a claim on her before someone else does.” He checked his vest for the ring and marriage license then patted the black gelding’s neck and took a deep breath. “At least I know Logan is spoken for.”
His horse stomped a foot. Gabe’s heart pounded. His hands were clammy. God help the people of Dodge if for any reason he had to draw his gun. The pearl-handled grip would surely slip right out of his hand. Then he’d either be lying up in Doc Elliott’s, bleeding all over the place, or stretched out at the undertaker’s. Neither option appealed to Gabe. And he was sure his new bride wouldn’t appreciate it either.
“Logan!” Stetson pulled down low, Gabe spurred his horse and trotted up next to the train depot. Dismounting, he tipped his hat and smiled, immediately recognizing the woman from the photograph he’d received, “Ma’am.”
“Marshal Gabe Hawkins meet—”
“Miss Abigail Johnson.” Gabe smiled, stepping close enough to get a faint whiff of lavender. “I trust your trip was uneventful.”
“Mr. Hawkins, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Abigail’s voice was soft and full of nervous laughter. “It was quite the spectacle, seeing wild buffalo grazing out in the open and an Indian every now and again.”
“You know each other?” Logan whistled, then chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’ve—”
“We’ve been corresponding for several weeks.” Gabe tore his gaze from Abigail, turning a scowl onto his friend. He wasn’t ready to tell Logan the reasons he’d sent for a mail-order bride, and he suspected Abigail hadn’t said anything as well.
Logan raised an eyebrow then waved some documents in the air. “I’m on my way over to the jail now to bring Rose some news regarding the trumped-up charges against her. As luck would have it, Miss Johnson was on her way to Dodge City to deliver the court documents in person. She recognized me in Topeka and has saved me a trip north. Miss Johnson, will Rose and I see you later for dinner? You know she’ll skin me alive if I don’t insist.”
Abigail smiled, nodding her head. “By all means, there is so much Rose and I have to catch up on since she left Wisconsin to marry you. Go give her the good news I brought from your superior and take her home. I’m sure the marshal will make sure I find my way to the hotel.” She looked at Gabe for a moment then lowered her lashes.
The flirtatious gesture set his heart to pounding. Abigail’s letters had shown her to be smart, witty, and a bit headstrong. His decision to take a wife seemed to be proving advantageous. “I’d be honored, Miss Johnson. I’ll have your bags sent over to the Dodge House. In the meantime, how about a sundae at Etta May’s after a long, dusty train ride?” Gabe pulled his hat from his head, then swept his hand through unruly curls to tame them back.
Her cheeks blushed a pretty rose petal pink, bringing a youthfulness to her wise brown eyes. “I’ve already taken care of my bags, but the sundae sounds heavenly. Do you mind giving me a chance to freshen up before sitting down for a good conversation?”
“Of course not. Take all the time you need. I agree we need a chance to talk and get to know each other a bit more, if that would be fine with you.” Gabe reached out, placing a hand lightly on her lower back. She stood a good five to six inches shorter than his six-foot frame yet they seemed completely suited to each other as they strolled across the street over to the Dodge House, Spade trailing behind.
“Thank you, Mr. Hawkins. I won’t be but a few minutes. I had already requested a room when I had my bags sent over.” Abigail stepped from his touch and turned, smoothing down her skirt. “I’ll be ready for that sundae and a bite to eat when I return, if that suits you. I’m looking forward to our conversation.” She turned that brilliant smile on him and sashayed through the doors of the hotel.
Now what was he going to do once he was left alone with his bride? Damn it! What could he possibly say to a woman who appeared as dignified as Miss Johnson? He knew from her letters that she’d worked as the head cook for the same large estate as Rose Granger. Miss Johnson’s sophisticated manner took him by surprise.
Gabe Hawkins never had problems talking to the ladies before he’d sent for a wife. Why was this any different? Because it was just the two of them and Logan wasn’t there to—to what? Guide a conversation between Gabe and Miss Johnson? Just because Miss Abigail Johnson was to become his wife didn’t mean he couldn’t talk to her normally. What kind of a life would they have if they couldn’t communicate? A damn poor one, he figured. He wanted a wife he could talk to, laugh with, maybe even fall in love with over time.
Wife! Why the hell had he let the idea of retiring as a lawman possess him to send for a mail-order bride in the first place?
“So that’s Gabe Hawkins,” Abby mused with a song in her heart as she slipped out of the rumpled gray dress. “He is very pleasing to gaze upon. And he carries himself quite well with an air of quiet confidence becoming a lawman. Of course, he’s not my Robert.”
Sadness swept over Abby as she lay the dress across the only chair in the room. The thought of her late husband still panged deep in her heart even now. After all these years, the pain of his loss prickled deep in the recesses of her soul. The war was over; Robert hadn’t come back. It would have put closure to the loss if she’d been able to bury him in the Johnson family plot. Instead, he lay under the ground somewhere in Manassas along with so many other souls.
Robert Johnson had no business going off to fight in that damnable war. He’d had a wife at home and his elderly parents to look after. Instead he’d left that task to Abby, and when the time came to give them over to God, she’d been the one to handle their affairs, meager as they were. Robert had insisted a man of his education could be an asset to the war. He had reminded her that not every man who’d gone to take up arms could read and write. So, he’d packed a satchel, saddled the old bay mare, and rode up to Camp Randall some thirty miles away. He trained as an officer then marched out to do his part. Remembering the painful past, Abby held back her tears.
She’d not only lost Robert, but the family he’d promised they’d start as soon as he returned.
“Abigail Johnson! The dead are gone; best leave them buried after all these years.” She swept away the threat of tears and inhaled deeply, resolving to do just that. It was past time for her to get on with her life, and Gabe Hawkins was the man to help her do so.
She laid out her maroon no-nonsense dress and began pulling the pins from her messy hair. Abby didn’t like the weary look in her eyes, thinking it made her look older than her thirty-seven years. What must her soon-to-be husband think of his bedraggled mail-order bride? Gabe Hawkins looked so youthful with his sparkling blue eyes and dark unruly hair. He reminded Abby of a boy who’d just gotten away with something and could charm his way out of any sort of trouble. She smiled, thinking of the ways Gabe would probably use his charms on his new bride, thinking her none the wiser.
Abby slid into the warmth of the copper tub, her aching muscles relaxing. She smoothed the lavender soap she’d brought from home over her soot-embedded skin. Her mind gave way to the soothing scent and drifted off to a place of peace and youthful memories.
“Abigail Roberts, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Robert was on one knee, beads of moisture dotting his forehead. Abby stifled the urge to giggle at the man she’d loved for several months. The self-assured man of her heart anything but confident as he knelt before her. Did Robert really think she’d turn him away after all these months of courting?
“I believe that I will, provided Papa has given his blessing.” Abby’s heart sang so loud she was sure the entire town could hear the music. She and Robert Johnson were finally going to get married, have a home and eventually a family of their own.
“I wouldn’t have dreamed of asking you otherwise. Your father gave his blessing last week when I called on him.” Robert stood, wrapping his arms around her.
She would always be safe there. Robert would make sure of it.
And he had…until the day he announced his intentions regarding the War Between the States.
“I am going to join the cause, Abby. I must do what I can to help those who need it most. We take our privileged life here for granted. While we have plenty, others suffer at the cost of long days in a cotton field with hardly any food on their table. Their daily lives begin before sunrise and end far after sunset. They live in constant fear. If I can help to change at least one person’s life, then I’ve done my part.”
Their sweet and loving life together abruptly ended when Robert marched away from their happy life into a war that swallowed him whole.
“You have mourned long enough, Abigail.” Robert stood in his tattered blue uniform, a stain covering the place where his heart was. “Be happy, my love. Find love again in this man; he’ll take care of you.” Then he blew her a kiss, turned and faded into the shadows.
“Miss Johnson?” A maid called out.
Her name, followed by a loud rap on the door, coaxed her out of her vision. The once warm water had turned cold and goose flesh trickled up her arms. Was she chilled from the cooled water or from Robert’s visit? Since the end of the war Abby hadn’t dreamed of her beloved deceased husband but a few times, each with an important message. The last dream had been when she’d sent Rose Duncan to Dodge City as a mail-order bride instead of going herself. Even in death, Robert was guiding her through dreams when it mattered most. This time was different. He’d never turned his back and walked away from her before.
“Yes, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” Abby called, climbing out of the tub.
Drying off, she hastily slipped into the dress she’d laid out then pinned a portion her hair back, allowing the fading dark waves to cascade over her shoulders. Glancing in the mirror, she smiled, feeling a bit like a schoolgirl. Robert had come to her in the dream. He’d told her to find love and to marry this man she’d been drawn to. It was what he wished for her…to find happiness and love in her heart once again. And so she would.
Abigail Johnson descended the steps to the lobby of Dodge House with the grace of a well-bred woman. Gabe’s body flushed in unexpected need. For a woman a few years his senior, his bride was quite becoming. Her rich brown hair hung loose around her shoulders, accentuating her long, graceful neck. Deep coffee brown eyes reflected the schoolgirl lingering inside. She smiled and Gabe’s heart exploded out of his chest and straight over to her.
“Miss Johnson, would you accompany me for a sundae?” Gabe offered his elbow, his nerves on fire at the thought this woman was soon to be his wife. All doubt of taking Abigail as his wife vanished from his mind. He’d never been surer he’d chosen the right woman. Would she feel the same when she learned once they were married he’d been transferred and would be taking her miles away to set her up in a house in Indian Territory?
“Mr. Hawkins.” Abby placed her hand into the crux of his elbow, electricity jolting through him, “I do believe that would be the finest idea that has been presented to me since starting on my journey. However, you really must call me Abby if we are to be man and wife. Do you agree?”
Gabe nodded agreement as he guided her through the doors and onto the boardwalk. “Then you must call me Gabe.”
“Gabe for Gabriel?” she asked keeping up with his long smooth stride.
“Yes. My parents named me Gabriel Samuel Hawkins after both of my grandfathers,” Gabe said, remembering his grandfathers and the vastness of their plantations. Although both owned slaves, they abhorred the abusive practices by many of their peers and were disliked by many Southerners for their efforts in educating those in their care.
“It seems to fit you. Most lawmen can be perceived as heroes of God in the work they do to keep a town’s people safe.” Abby paused for moment, looking into Gabe’s eyes. “I must confess, in my letters I didn’t tell you that I wasn’t born Abigail Johnson. Johnson is my late husband’s family name. I was born Abigail Marie Roberts and have always been called Abby.”
“You’re a widow?” Gabe stumbled, raising his eyebrows. She isn’t a pure woman? Does that mean— No! I will not allow my mind to take me where it doesn’t belong—yet.
“Robert went away to fight in the war. He lies with so many other lost souls at Manassas.” Abby winced, her shoulders visibly drooping for a moment. “And what of you, Gabe? Did you fight in the war?”
“Yes, like many men did. I was in West Point when the war broke out.” Gabe replayed that day when friends became enemies. When he was forced to choose which side he’d give his life for, right or wrong in the eyes of his family.
“Gabe!” Lilly Granger’s little voice cried out running ahead of her parents. “Daddy said I could have ice cream with Momma’s friend, Miss Johnson, after they get married today. He sent me over here to git you so’s you can be his witness.”
“Today?” Gabe cleared his throat, then rocked slightly back on his heels. He smiled wide, watching Lilly Granger scamper off with a skip and a jump. “Well, there really isn’t any reason to wait now is there?”
Gabe guided Abby over to the Long Branch where a crowd was already gathering. It hadn’t taken long for word of a wedding to reach the townsfolk. Together they gathered around Logan and Rose as Preacher Samuel began the ceremony. Gabe felt his vest for the folded piece of paper in the inside pocket. It wouldn’t be long before he and Abby would be standing where Rose and Logan stood. They’d be saying their vows.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. Logan, you may kiss your bride.” Preacher Samuel quietly closed his bible, and a swell of cheers soared up in the room when Logan swept Rose into his arms, claiming her with a kiss.
“Now it’s our turn,” Gabe whispered, taking Abby’s hand in his. “Preacher Samuels, if you have the time to marry another man and woman, would you?”
“No,” Abby whispered, trying to pull her hand from his. Gabe had a grip on it, and he wasn’t about to let go.
He looked down at her, his heart filled with desire. “We agreed to an arrangemen
t. The preacher is here. The town is here. We’ve got witnesses. Why wait?”
Preacher Samuel smiled, opening his bible back to the place he’d just read from. “I believe I do, Marshal. Anyone in particular?”
“Yes, sir.” Gabe placed Abby’s hand in the crux of his elbow and brought her to the spot where Rose had just become a married woman. “Miss Abigail Johnson and I are to be married, this very day.”
2
“Abby, I’m so happy you are here and that you’ve found someone!” Rose declared after the wedding, capturing Abby in a big hug that nearly squeezed the life out of her. “We never would have imagined Gabe, of all people, would take a bride. He’s so lucky to have you. Now we’ll be close to each other again.”
“It was a bit sooner than I’d anticipated, but…” Heat radiated through Abby as she watched her husband standing in the midst of several prominent men from town, laughing and shaking hands with each of them.
Ed Masterson stood next to Gabe with a red-haired woman called Montana Sue. Mr. Collar had taken time from a busy morning at his dry goods store to give his congratulations to the happy couple as well. Even Mr. Hoover had attended, passing out several cigars from his latest shipment as soon as Preacher Samuels declared them man and wife.
There was a plain gold band on Abby’s left ring finger that hadn’t been there when she’d arrived in town. She should be furious; instead she was secretly grateful she hadn’t had time to reconsider. When she’d started out this morning, she’d no intention of being married before dinnertime. She’d hoped at least to have an opportunity to become better acquainted with her husband-to-be before making it official.
Abby sighed, then smiled at Rose. What was done was done. Sometimes fate just takes your hand and works its magic.
“I guess that makes me Mrs. Gabriel Hawkins!” A surge of warmth suddenly traveled through Abby. She didn’t need to turn around to know Gabe stood behind her as close as two strangers who’d just wed could be.
Brides Along the Chisholm Trail Boxset Page 12
