Dear Lord, let her be there, and let her hear me out.
He hopped down and raced up the porch steps. He was about to reach for the copper door handle, when the door opened wide. George stood there, his face flushed red with anger.
“What’s wrong?” Briggs asked.
George didn’t answer. Instead, he took a step forward, hauled back his fist, and punched Briggs in the nose.
Pain spread through his cheeks like wildfire. “What was that for?”
George turned away and strode back into the kitchen. Briggs followed, realizing with shock that his brother had never hit him in all their lives. He’d never had reason to, Briggs supposed.
“You gonna tell me what the problem is?”
George sat down, his face suddenly pale.
“Don’t worry,” Briggs said. “I’m not going to return the gesture. I’d rather you tell me what this is about.”
George flung a piece of paper toward him. “It’s about this.”
With one hand cupped over his nose, Briggs used the other to pick up the paper.
“It’s a telegram from a colleague in Massachusetts,” George said. “I wanted to be certain that I’d done the best thing for you with that annulment. So, this morning, I wired him and asked him to look into your little legal problem.”
Briggs read the telegram. “When did you get this?”
“About an hour ago. It seems Sarah was telling the truth all along.”
“I already know that George.”
“Well, you don’t know this,” George added. “Garrison is wanted in three different states. Not just for bigamy. For polygamy, under a number of different names. Sarah was wife number four, poor thing, and she had no idea.”
Briggs sank into a chair.
“Sarah tried to do the right thing,” George said. “She tried to work things out with you, but you just assumed she was lying from the beginning, and I let you talk me into it.”
Feeling sick, Briggs dropped the paper onto the table. “You don’t have to tell me I was wrong. I know that. Where is she? I need to talk to her.”
George gave Briggs a glare that could stop a stampede. “I’m afraid you’re a little late.”
“I know you already filed the annulment papers,” Briggs said impatiently. “That doesn’t matter. I just want to see her. Talk to her. We’ll straighten the rest out later.”
George stood up. “If I wasn’t such a rational person, I’d think you wanted me to punch you again.”
“Why?” Briggs was speechless. George had never acted like this before.
“How the hell did you know I filed the papers? Did a little bird tell you?”
Briggs letting his hand come away from his throbbing nose. “I can explain that—”
“I’m sure you can. Everyone in town knew Isabelle was riding out to see you. She told the widow Harper that you two were finally going to be together, and no one tells the widow anything they don’t want spread all over town by noon.”
“What are you saying?” Briggs asked.
“I’m saying that I tried to find Sarah after I got the telegram. I was going to bring her out to you. But I found out she’d ordered a buggy to go see you herself, then changed her mind when she heard about Isabelle. She just disappeared. The stationmaster told me she got on the train bound for Caldwell. I’m sorry, Briggs. I did everything I could, but she left town tonight.”
Briggs couldn’t accept that. He simply couldn’t. “Was Garrison with her?”
“I don’t know. The stationmaster said a lot of men got on.”
Briggs made for the door. “I’m going after that train, George. Right after I report Garrison to the town marshal.”
Briggs and George hurried to the wagon. There wasn’t much time. Once they turned Garrison in, they would ride to Caldwell, but there was no guarantee they would get there before the train did.
They pulled up in front of the city clerk’s office and Briggs hopped down. “You wait here, George.”
“Are you joking? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
They knocked once on the door before entering. Marshal Peavy sat behind his desk, his long legs stretched out on the top. “Evening, fellas. What can I do for you?”
“You know that man who came up from Boston?” Briggs said. “His name is Garrison McPhee. You might want to go find him and arrest him.”
The marshal lowered his legs to the floor and leaned forward. “You mean the fella who came to fetch your wife? I heard all about it, Briggs. You have my sympathies. She was a fetching little thing. You don’t have much luck in love, do you, son?”
“No sir, but forget about that,” Briggs said irritably. “George has a telegram from a solicitor in Massachusetts, and he says Garrison McPhee is wanted for polygamy in three states.”
“Polygamy, eh? Federal offense, if I’m not mistaken.”
George moved forward. “That’s right, marshal, and Briggs’s wife, Sarah, reported it to me.”
The marshal eyed Briggs carefully. “Didn’t I hear from old widow Harper that you got an annulment today?”
“Yes, sir, and you may have heard something along the lines of me taking Isabelle back, but that’s just as tall a tale as you’re likely to hear around these parts.”
Briggs and George exchanged a look. George nodded his head.
“My wife was one of Garrison’s wives, sir,” Briggs confessed. “But she didn’t know he’d been married before. She was completely taken in.”
George added, “All the women were, as I understand it.”
Marshal Peavy shook his head. “Terrible thing. Your wife must be beside herself.” He rose and fastened his gun belt around his hips.
“Do you think you’ll need that?” Briggs asked.
The marshal donned his black Stetson. “You can never be too sure of anything around here. Do you know where McPhee might be tonight?
“Can’t be sure,” George answered, “but he’s been staying at the Great Western Hotel.”
The marshal checked his gun for bullets and clicked it shut. “Then let’s go give these ladies some justice.”
Briggs and George accompanied the marshal into the dark street and walked with him to the hotel. Garrison was finally going to get what he deserved—and Sarah, too. This would clear her of any wrongdoing, and she would be free—free to marry Briggs again, if he had his druthers.
They approached the front desk clerk. “Evening, marshal,” the man greeted, closing his register book.
“Evening. I hear you have a guest here by the name of Garrison McPhee.”
“Garrison McPhee...” He opened the book and ran a long, crooked finger down the last few pages. “I’m sorry. He checked out this afternoon.”
“I beg your pardon,” Briggs said.
“He checked out,” the clerk repeated, uneasily. “He was planning on catching an evening train, I believe.”
George laid his hand on Briggs’s shoulder, as if to restrain him from running out the door in that second. “You mean the one to Caldwell?”
“I believe so. Said he was going to be with his wife.”
“Aw, hell,” Briggs uttered. He turned to face George.
“She didn’t say she was going back to him, Briggs. Based on what she said last night, she despised him more than ever.”
The marshal removed his hat. “What are you two going on about?”
George turned to the marshal. “I believe Sarah got on the same train as McPhee this evening, but not by choice.”
Marshal Peavy scratched under his beard. “Maybe she changed her mind about him?”
A tremor of irritation shook Briggs. “You’re wrong, Marshal. If she’s with him, it ain’t willingly.”
The marshal frowned. “You talking about kidnapping?”
“Yes, sir.”
Briggs turned to leave. Somehow, he had to believe that Sarah would never go back to Garrison. No matter how devastated she was by how deplorably he’d treated her. This time, Briggs had to trust her. He only hoped she wasn’t in danger.
He slammed the door of the hotel and raced down the steps, taking two at a time, crossed the road and climbed into the wagon.
“Briggs, wait!” George called, running after him.
“I don’t have time to wait. I have to get to Caldwell before that train does.”
The marshal approached. “You ain’t gonna make it in that beat-up old box.”
Briggs swallowed, refusing to give up. “It’s all I’ve got.”
“Why don’t you borrow my deputy’s horse? I’ll take mine. I’ll ride with you to Caldwell and take McPhee into custody.”
“You can’t leave me behind,” George said. “I’ll get my horse from home.”
“Hurry up, then,” Briggs said. “We’re wasting time here.”
Chapter 30
It seemed she had come full circle. One month ago, Sarah had sat expectantly on a steam train just like this one, watching the Kansas countryside pass by outside the window, wondering what her new life would be like. Now she was doing the same, only this time—this time, her worst fear had become a reality.
Drained of tears and fighting the harsh pain in her arm, she turned to glance at Garrison beside her. She must pull herself together and be brave. She had to find a way out of this mess and return to Dodge to tell Briggs about the baby. She couldn’t lose hope. Even if he was with Isabelle.
Garrison stared at the seat in front of them, the tip of his pistol nudging her in her side. “My God, this part of the country is monotonous,” he sighed, shifting to make himself more comfortable. “Nothing but grass. Miles and miles of it.”
“I think it’s magnificent,” she said, refusing to look at him.
“Magnificent! Trust me, you’ll be glad to see civilization once we get there. Though for now, I should think we’ll end up somewhere in Texas. If nothing else, I admire the spirit of gambling out here.”
“I thought you wanted to go back to Boston.”
He shook his head. “Too many bad memories. We need a fresh start.”
Sarah closed her eyes, feeling utterly wretched. “You can’t make the memories go away. A different city won’t erase the past.”
His expression softened with his perfected mask of affection. “I know what happened between us was unpleasant, Sarah, but—”
“I’m not talking about us. I’m talking about what happened to me. I love another man, and nothing you say or do will change that.”
She winced as Garrison jabbed the barrel of his gun into her ribs. “I told you, I don’t want to hear another word about that.”
She glared at him, her chin rising defiantly. “Just because you don’t want to hear about my feelings doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“Hush,” he said through gritted teeth. “You don’t know what you feel.”
Sarah squeezed her hands into fists. She tried to feel pity for this man who knew nothing of real love, but it was hopeless. Garrison would never receive her pity. Not after what he’d done to her life.
Oh, how would she ever get out of this?
She sat in silence after that, jostling back and forth with the train’s repetitive, clacking rhythm, thinking of her unborn child and trying not to lose hope.
Briggs, George, and Marshal Peavy galloped into Caldwell the following morning, just behind the arriving train and the black cloud of coal dust that sputtered out the front chimney. The horses were winded and so was Briggs after riding all night with little time to rest. It was the price he would pay for a second chance—a second chance he hoped he would receive.
The train, chugging ominously into the station, hissed and blew white steam onto the platform. The three men trotted alongside, Briggs standing up in the stirrups to peer in the windows at the passengers milling about in the aisles, picking up their bags. His heart ached with the possibility that Sarah was not even on board. How would he ever find her again?
The locomotive’s wheels scraped noisily along the rails as it grinded to a halt. Steam shot out again and the brass bell rang as Briggs and the marshal dismounted. After handing the horses over to George, they ran to the back of the train, feet crunching over gravel, and climbed aboard.
Briggs led the way up the aisle, pushing his way through the passengers already standing. He and the marshal walked through two cars and found nothing, but when they reached the third, Briggs froze, his heart galloping at a frenzied pace. There it was. That familiar purple hat.
A noise escaped from deep inside his chest. She was here. He’d not lost her.
Taking an anxious step forward, he remembered that Garrison was supposed to be here, too. He scrutinized the man beside Sarah, and though he could only see the backs of their heads, he recognized that black top hat.
A new realm of possibilities yawned in Briggs’s face. What if she actually wanted to be with Garrison after everything Briggs had put her through? He’d annulled their marriage. He could only imagine what tales Garrison had told her.
He felt the marshal’s hand on his shoulder. “Do you see him?”
Heart racing, Briggs pointed. “Yes, that’s him. Beside Sarah, the lady in the purple hat.”
Marshal Peavy moved past Briggs. “That’s some hat.”
He walked up the aisle which had, by now, cleared of passengers, and reached their seat near the front. “Are you Garrison McPhee?”
Briggs watched from the back, needing to see how Sarah would react. She turned her head to look up at the marshal, her sweet profile revealing full lips parting in surprise.
Garrison paused, eyeing the marshal’s silver badge. “Yes. Is there a problem?”
Marshal Peavy reached down and took hold of his arm. “Yes, sir. You’re under arrest. You’ll need to come with me now.”
Sarah stood up in a panic. “No!”
A spark of grief ignited inside Briggs. She wanted to protect Garrison?
In the next instant, he saw clearly what she was yelling about. Garrison had a pistol. He pointed it at the marshal and fired.
Briggs didn’t think. There was no time. As the recoil thundered in his ears, he lunged forward. The marshal fell back into the seats across the aisle. Garrison turned, cocked and pointing the gun at Briggs, who heard Sarah’s cry, muffled as if from a great distance. “Garrison, stop!”
Briggs reached Garrison before he could pull the trigger and tackled him. They both fell into the aisle. Briggs landed on top and his chin impacted with Garrison’s forehead. Twisting and writhing, Briggs grabbed for the gun. Passengers screamed and yelled. Noise and confusion rebounded off the walls. The barrel of the gun was jabbing into Brigg’s gut.
Terror mixed with rage coursed through him. His life was hanging on a thread. He grunted as he jerked his hand to turn the barrel away.
Something clicked. The sound echoed inside his head, and the gun went off.
Garrison and Briggs stared at each other in bewilderment, then Garrison’s head tipped back, and he relaxed on the floor of the train. His eyes fell closed.
All the chaos and screaming of seconds ago retreated. A hand touched Briggs’s shoulder. He knew that touch. With a start, he scrambled to his feet, realizing he’d been lying on top of a dead man. Sarah took him by the arm and pulled him around to face her.
“Are you all right?” Her face was pale and tight with worry.
“I’m fine.” But his hands were shaking.
A groan sounded from the seat behind them. The marshal—
They turned, just as George came running up the aisle. “What happened?”
Briggs leaned over Marshal Peavy. Blood had stained his shirt at the shoulder.
The marshal’s cheek twitched. “
I think I need a doctor.”
“George, fetch help,” Briggs said.
White-faced with shock, George ran out. Sarah moved in close and took hold of the marshal’s hand. “You’re going to be fine,” she said. “Thank you so much for coming to my rescue.”
He blinked a few times and worked hard to suck in a breath. “You’re welcome. And that’s a very fetching hat, Mrs. Brigman. I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”
Then the marshal closed his eyes, said, “I think it’s time for me to retire…” and passed out.
After telling their stories to the Caldwell marshal, Sarah and Briggs watched in relief as the doctor took Marshal Peavy away on the back of wagon. Sarah carried her hat in her hand and stepped off the train into the clear light of a sunny day. She breathed in the scent of coal smoke on the air and the familiar animal smells that told her this, like Dodge City, was a cow town.
Other passengers milled about on the depot platform, and there was a low hum of conversation, undoubtedly about the recent disturbance. She felt Briggs step down behind her, and her heart tightened with longing. She could not turn around. She could not look up at him. She was too afraid to hope.
George hopped off the last step and stood on the platform. “That was close. You both could have been killed.”
Sarah finally turned around. Briggs stood tall and strong, his hair resting lightly on his broad shoulders, his expression unreadable. Oh, how she wanted to forget about everything that had gone wrong between them and dash straight into his arms.
Sarah lowered her head, wanting to tell Briggs about the baby, but not in front of George. What if Briggs already planned to marry Isabelle? What would happen then?
The three stood in awkward silence for a moment or two, staring at the wood planks beneath their feet. George scratched his head. “Maybe I’ll go check on the horses.”
Briggs called after him. “Check the train schedule, too, George.”
Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1) Page 23
