Ruby: A Western Historical Romance (Old Western Mail Order Bride Series Book 2)

by Amy Field

  “I hear you need a husband real bad,” he said. “So I think I can help you out.” Jed brought the bottle and two glasses, looked uncertain, but went back behind the bar.

  “You heard wrong,” she said. “I don’t need a husband, and especially not you.”

  He poured her a glass of whiskey and slid it across the table. “Drink it,” he said. “Then you and me is going upstairs to celebrate being married.”

  ‘I will never marry you:” she said, her voice cold. “Now leave me alone.” She started to turn away from him, but the killer took her arm roughly in his hand. “You’ll do whatever I want you to do, pretty lady. And it’s time to go upstairs to show you what I mean. He took her arm again and started to stand up when the kitchen door opened, and Burns stepped into the room.

  Chapter 8- The Gunmen Meet

  The killer released Abigail’s arm and stood to face Burns. His eyes caught the twin pistols. “Hey,” he said. “Time for you to leave; my wife and I want to be alone.” He looked at Abigail and put his hand on his pistol.

  “I’m on my way out,” said Burns. “But I want a drink first. Here, let me buy you one too, sir.” He stepped to the bar, his back to the killer. Burns nodded at Jed who looked confused but poured two whiskeys.

  “Do you know who I am?” asked the killer, stepping up to take the whiskey Burns held out. “I’m Robert Bernstein. I’ve shot four men.”

  “I don’t know who you are,” said Burns. He picked up his glass of whiskey and took a step toward the killer. “I know who you aren’t, though. My name is Robert Bernstein. If you leave right now and never come back, you won’t be shot.”

  Bernstein watched the killer glance over at Abigail, who was still at the table and out of the line of fire. “She is my friend, and she stays here.”

  The killer’s eyes flashed as his hand started for his gun, but Burns tossed his glass of whiskey into the man’s eyes. “It’s over,” he said. “Now get out.” Burns watched the killer turn away, wiping his eyes. He took a step towards the door, then drew his gun and spun, firing at Burns. The Colt Dragoon roared at the same time, knocking the killer back. He dropped the pistol and grabbed at his shoulder, now bloody.

  “Go out the door and turn left,” said Jed. “Here, I can help.” He came around the bar and supported the killer as he staggered out the door.

  “You saved me,” cried Abigail, standing and starting toward him. “No!” she cried. “He shot you.” Burns glanced at his shoulder “At least he missed my gun arm.” He suddenly felt light headed and sat down. Abigail helped him take off his shirt, then checked his upper arm carefully. “The bullet went through some muscle,” she said. “But it missed your shoulder and arm bone.” She looked around helplessly. “How do I stop the bleeding?”

  “I can take care of that,” said Jed, coming in and seeing that Burns had been shot. “I have some clean towels and hot water in the kitchen.” He hurried to get them.

  “I can’t believe you got shot to save me,” she said. “No one’s ever done anything so brave for me.”

  “Well, I like you, Abigail. I couldn’t let him take you away because I’d never see those green eyes again.” Burns realized he was a bit dizzy and ought to shut up.

  He closed his eyes and then Jed was back, washing and wrapping his arm. “Just change the dressing before bed tonight and twice tomorrow.” Burns nodded. “I knew something was up when you ordered a drink,” said Jed.

  “Why?” asked Abigail.

  “It’s a long story,” said Burns.

  “Tell me?” He looked up and met her green eyes.

  “I’m closing up for a bit,” said Jed. “You two take your time.” He grabbed the soiled towels and went out the front door, closing and locking it.

  Abigail looked at Burns. “We can go out through the kitchen. It’s unlocked,” he said.

  “I can’t believe you don’t drink,” Abigail said. “You’re the perfect man”.

  Chapter 9- The Gunman Tells All

  “I’m far from perfect, Abigail. That man I shot could have been me a few years ago.”

  “You saved me from him”, she said, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. “He would have ruined my life and maybe killed me.”

  “I had to, Abigail. He was using my name, and I couldn’t let anyone think I would hurt you in any way.”

  “Why did he use your name?” She turned to look squarely into his eyes.

  “A few years ago I drank a lot and got a reputation as a gunfighter.” He hesitated, then went on. “I was looking for a girl from my teen years. I thought she loved me, which was just a warped dream. I found her and tried to take her home with me but of course she didn’t want to go along.” He looked down, avoiding her eyes. “There was a struggle, and I shot her by accident.”

  ‘Did you kill her?” Abigail took his hand and squeezed it. “What was her name?”

  He met her eyes again, and he hesitated a moment.

  “Charity.” Then he continued.

  “No. I hit her by accident. Thank God she survived. I turned myself in, but she refused to press charges. So I stopped drinking and moved here to get away from my reputation and shame.” He shook his head slowly. “So I’m very far from perfect, Abigail. I’m just glad I was here to help you.” He flexed his arm. “Now I guess I should get my horse and head for my ranch.”

  “No, Bob.” She didn’t move and took his hand again. “I want to be honest with you because you were honest with me.” She took a deep breath. “I signed on as a bride to get away from Ohio. And I had to sell my father’s farm. All of that is true.” Tears started down her cheeks again. “But I left after I was working as a saloon girl, not before.” She sobbed. “I am so ashamed.” Burns reached out and hugged her with his good arm.

  “But here you are now,” he said. “All of that is behind you.” She stayed in his embrace.

  “I wasn’t a whore,” she said. “I flirted and stayed downstairs. I got touched a lot by drunks, but I wasn’t one of the whores upstairs.”

  “That’s because you’re a lady,” said Burns. “That’s why you left and came west” “But when people find out, no one will respect me here.”

  Burns realized he was still hugging her. “Who have you told?”

  “Just you,” she said. “But word will travel fast.”

  “Not this time,” Burns said. “What you told me is between us, Abigail. I will never share it with anyone.”

  “Then you are the perfect man,” she said. “Most men would tell others about me or try to force me to become their mistress.”

  “I won’t force you to do anything,” said Burns. “I never would, and I never will.”

  “Wait.” Abigail sat up. “Does that mean we’ll see each other again?”

  “We never have to stop,” said Burns. “Would you like to walk over to the church and marry me”? He watched the tears flow again, but Abigail was smiling.

  “Not until we put your shirt on,” she said. She turned in his arm and they embraced, slowly and tenderly. “You are the perfect man for me,” she said.

  Chapter 10- The Bride is Married

  Jed met them as they were heading out the kitchen door. He was excited to hear the news, but begged them to have a cup of tea at the hotel before heading for the church.

  “I’ll have time to alert the preacher. I can ask the wife to spread the word, and we can try to get some of the new wives in for the wedding.” He looked at both of them and smiled. “I think Archie may have a shirt over in the store that don’t have blood on it. That might work out better for a wedding.” He winked at Burns. “If that’s okay with you.” “Of course,” smiled Burns. “The doctor fix up our shooter?”

  “He did, and the son of a gun took off without paying. Got his horse and high tailed out of town.”

  “That means he’s still out there,” said Abigail. She looked at Burns, who slipped an arm around her. “He won’t bother you again,” he said. “You’ll be a married woman.”


  Together they strolled down the street to the hotel, which had a British chef. They ordered tea and scones and relaxed for the first time that day. The scones came and had raisins in them, which were sweet and a treat with the hot tea.

  “Are you a rancher?” asked Abigail. “I just realized I don’t know much about your life here.”

  “I have a ranch,” said Burns. “But I don’t have huge herds. I invested years ago in mining and I did well. We’re rich, Abigail.”

  “Can I get a pony?” She looked at him carefully.

  “Of course you can. We’ll look for one tomorrow, if none of our horses feels right to you.”

  In a little less than an hour, Jed was back with a gray shirt. He was happy to see it fit well. “The ranchers were up at the fairgrounds, so they’ll be here any minute. The preacher is thrilled to have another wedding, and my wife had a fresh cake ready to ice. But the preacher reminded me you need a best man.”

  “Would you be my best man, Jed?” Burns smiled as the man’s face brightened.

  “I’d be honored, Mr. Burns. Very honored.”

  “Then it’s time you started calling me Bob,” said Burns. “Now let’s get a couple of these scones for your wife and head for the church.”

  With his new shirt on and a parcel of scones, they walked down the street to the small chapel. Inside they found the minister waiting, along with three of the new brides with their husbands. Jed and his wife were ready to be best man and maid of honor, and so the brief ceremony began. Burns looked Abigail in the eye whenever he could, seeing the tears dripping down her cheek, despite her smile. When the minister finally pronounced them man and wife, she stepped close and hugged him carefully as they kissed for the first time.

  “I have never been happier,” she whispered in his ear.

  Burns held her close and thought of all this day had brought. “The same is true for me,” he said. This morning he had been a lonely and isolated rancher with a dark past. Now, he was surrounded by new friends, married, and in love. Life suddenly had become wonderful.

  Jed’s wife and the new brides had gathered together a small feast, and they all carried chairs out of the chapel and enjoyed plates of beef, beans, biscuits, and cake. There were pots of coffee, with drinks to be served in the saloon later. Even the brides would be invited to the saloon, which would be closed for the night and referred to as a banquet hall.

  Abigail went ahead with Jed and his wife to clean up the saloon. Burns finished his coffee and helped carry chairs back into the chapel. He was just leaving when he noticed Brent, one of the husbands, sitting quietly and alone.

  “Is everything going well?” he asked, sitting down near Brent.

  “I don’t think I’m cut out to be married,” said Brent, a thin man with red hair.

  “What makes you say that?” asked Burns. “You’ve only been married twenty- four hours.”

  “Lucy’s a fine woman, and I like her,” said Brent. “But we run out of things to say right quick.” He looked at Burns, then lowered his voice a bit. “I was always told that my wedding night would be the happiest in my life. But last night we were just strangers feeling awkward. We didn’t even kiss goodnight or nothing. We just lay down and eventually went to sleep.” He shook his head and looked at his hands folded in his lap. “I may not be cut out to be a husband.”

  “Brent, we’re all in the same boat. I only met Abigail this morning. We’re all strangers together, and that’s not the way we grew up thinking about life.” He looked Brent in the eye. “Back then we were told we would meet someone, get to know her, and fall in love. Then you’d settle and be together for life.” Burns shook his head. “Life is different out here. We’re doing it in reverse. We’ve gotten married, then we’ll get to know each other and fall in love. This will take time and patience, Brent.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” said the man with red hair. “Lucy must be just as scared and uncertain as me.”

  “It’s how we all feel,” said Burns. “So now be friends, and even start courting her a bit. In fact, pick one of the wild roses outside the church and give it to her. Let a little romance start tonight.” He winked and shook Brent’s hand. “Let’s go find our women.” They stood and walked outside, where they each picked a small red rose from the bush. Smiling at each other, they strolled up the street to the saloon, seeing the CLOSED sign by the door. Inside, Clara Mayfield, who played the pump organ in the chapel, was playing the saloon piano. The new brides and their husbands were sitting at tables together, while Jed and Mrs. Daniels brought beer or whiskey to them. He had pitchers of home brewed root beer as well, for those who didn’t drink.

  “Hello, Mrs. Bernstein,” said her husband, handing her the red rose.

  “What name will we use?” She looked at the rose with a smile and fixed it to the collar of her dress.

  “I guess we have to choose,” said Burns. “We can worry about it tomorrow, though. Or maybe you can just choose which name you like best.”

  “As long as it’s your name, I don’t care,” said Abigail. She noticed Brent helping Lucy pin a red rose onto her dress and smiled. Couples were beginning to dance, now that the doctor had shown up with a fiddle to play along with the piano. “Let me get us some root beer,” she said. “And then I’ll see if you can dance.”

  The evening came on, and soon the lanterns were lit in the saloon. Burns excused himself and slipped out at dusk. He walked over to the hotel and booked their nicest room for the night. Then he walked back to the saloon and found Abigail and told her about the room.

  “How far a ride is it to your ranch?” she asked.

  “A little over an hour,” he said. “But this way we don’t have to hurry and we can go home tomorrow in daylight.”

  “Home,” she said, hugging him. “I can’t wait.”

  Soon the new brides and their husbands filtered out, having a bit of a ride home. Before long Clara and the doctor stopped playing, which was a signal to the other guests to leave. Soon it was just Burns and Abigail, helping to clear the tables. When the glasses were lined up on the bar, Jed told them to leave.

  “We do this every night,” he said. “We have a system. You two need to go start your honeymoon.” And so they thanked the couple for all they had done and headed across the street to the hotel.

  On the porch, Burns took Abigail in his arms and kissed her. He kissed her ear and neck, then pulled away slightly.

  “We only met each other this morning,” he said. “If you feel a bit uncomfortable, I will happily sleep on the settee in the room.”

  “You will not,” she said. “When I saw you this morning I knew you were a gentleman. I also knew you were the one for me. And now that I have you as my husband, I want to sleep in your arms every chance I get.” She kissed him hard. “Let’s go to bed,” she whispered.

  They went into the hotel, past the desk clerk, up one flight of steps, and found their room. Burns unlocked the door, and without another word, Abigail led him into the room and shut the door.

  Chapter 11- The Road Home

  In the morning Burns and Abigail ate fresh eggs and warm scones in the hotel dining room. They were just finishing when Jed Daniels came in and joined them for coffee.

  “The doctor wants to check your arm before you leave,” he said. “I told him I did a good job, but he just wants to be sure.”

  “It feels fine,” said Burns. “It’s just a little stiff. We’ll stop by.”

  “About you getting home,” said Jed. “You two could use my wagon.”

  “If we can borrow a horse, I can ride,” said Abigail.

  “The horse is not a problem,” said Jed. “But I’m not sure where we can get a side saddle.”

  “I don’t need one,” said Abigail. “I grew up on a farm, so I can ride a regular saddle or even bareback.” She smiled. “I can change into dungarees while Bob gets his arm checked.”

  “I can bring the horse back tomorrow,” said Burns.

  “No need,
” said Jed. “I’ll bring a wagon out tomorrow with Abigail’s belongings, and I can bring the horse back then.” He stood up and left to get a horse for Abigail.

  Burns kissed his wife, then headed to see the doctor. The wound was clean and ready to heal, so the doctor put new dressings on it and wrapped it. Burns thanked him and headed out to the street, where he found Abigail on a horse, with his saddled and ready to go. His gun belt was draped across the saddle horn. Burns hesitated, then strapped on the guns.

  “Normally I just have a rifle on the saddle,” he said. “But you never know, after yesterday.” He swung into the saddle, adjusted his hat, and they rode beside each other out of town.

  The road was flat at first, winding along through grasslands. They stopped at a creek in about thirty minutes, letting the horses drink while they enjoyed the bright sun. Then the road began to climb a bit, so soon they were entering a wooded area. Tall pines shaded the road a bit, and they enjoyed the cool breeze as they rode. Twice they passed little flowering bushes, and Abigail pointed out the small buds adding color to the towering pines.

  “We’ll be there in about ten minutes,” said Burns. They rounded a bend in the road and there stood the wounded killer, holding a shotgun.

  “Welcome home,” he said. “I was thinking of waiting for you up at your fancy house,” he said. “But this shotgun will make a mess. and I wouldn’t want to do that. I might want to live there for awhile with my wife here.” He smiled at Abigail.

  “Just leave now and you won’t get hurt,” said Burns, his voice cold. “This is my wife and you will not lay a finger on her.” He didn’t move, though. The shotgun was pointed at them, and if it fired both he and Abigail would be hit.

  “Oh, I’ll lay more than a finger on her,” said the killer. “I’ll let her live with me in the house here, as long as she behaves. And if she tries to fight back or escape, I’ll shoot her with your pistol and leave it, so everyone thinks you done it.” When he looked at Abigail hungrily, she cowered and moved her horse closer to Burns.