Forever His Texas Bride (Bachelors of Battle Creek #3)

by Linda Broday

  “No.” He unbuttoned his new shirt and slid his arms into the sleeves.

  “You’ve done more than anyone else ever did. I won’t be a burden.”

  “No.”

  When he glanced up with his dark stare, she thought he was the handsomest man she’d ever seen.

  The black wool matched the midnight hair that he kept pulled back and tied with the rawhide strip. He was so tall that the top of her head didn’t even reach his chin when he stood. The depth of his honor and strength filled her with wonder.

  At the jail, they’d seemed bound by something deep and pure.

  Only she had to go and ruin it.

  “I can’t bear to have you upset with me.” Rayna chewed her lip. “You don’t need to feel responsible. I’m a grown woman. It would be best if we go our separate ways.”

  “I’m not leaving you at the side of the road, and that’s final.” He put his hands on her shoulders and said quietly, “What you did saddened me, but I’m not one to keep chewing on the same piece of hide. You’ll find lots of opportunities to turn over a new leaf in Battle Creek. I’ll help you.” He handed her the new garment he’d selected and gently pushed her toward some tall bushes. “Change so we can get going.”

  Shielded by the greenery, she quickly removed her dirty, ragged clothes and slid into the blue dress. The soft fabric felt heavenly next to her skin. For a long moment, she ran her hands down it, marveling at the delicate texture. She’d never had anything so fine. A bone-picker’s daughter didn’t know what it was to wear a dress no one else had ever worn.

  Digging in the pockets of her threadbare garment, she pulled out the lucky heart and acorn. She stuffed them, along with her prized slingshot—her only weapon, since Sheriff Oldham had confiscated her knife—into the pockets of the new outfit.

  The brothers’ voices drifted on the breeze.

  “We’ll ride until dark before making camp,” Cooper said. “I figure we can be home late tomorrow. How do you feel, Brett?”

  “I’m all right. Don’t slow down on my account.”

  “What about Miss Rayna?” Rand asked.

  Brett answered, “Don’t worry about her. She’ll keep up. The lady has plenty of grit.”

  “What’s her story?” Cooper asked. “Why did Oldham have her in jail?”

  “He didn’t need much of a reason to lock people in his cells. From what little she’s told me, she’s had a hard life. Her mother vanished, and a buffalo hunter killed her brother. Not sure what happened to her father. Seems to be all alone though.”

  Hidden by the thick brush, Rayna put her dirty, threadbare dress into the small bag that held all her belongings. She fought to swallow past the tears clogging her throat.

  Alone. Despite the turn her life seemed to be taking, she knew that was to be her fate for what she’d done.

  Her sins would catch up with her sooner or later.

  Seven

  Streaks of copper and orange splashed across the red evening sky like splattered paint when Battle Creek came into view at last. Brett paused, taking in the sight. The buildings, decked out in whitewash by the Women of Vision garden club, sat like pretty brides waiting on their grooms. And the fragrance of freshly cut lumber from the new sawmill put the jagged edges of his soul at rest.

  He was home.

  Every bone ached with weary exhaustion, and Brett wanted nothing more than to crawl into his tepee that he’d erected a year ago, smell the earth beneath him that was home, and sleep.

  At the edge of town, his brothers rode on toward their ranches, anxious to see their families.

  Now he wondered what he was going to do with Rayna. His thoughts hadn’t gone beyond getting her here. Guilt for that weighed heavy.

  After his ordeal in Steele’s Hollow, he was extremely conscious of the way people viewed him. In light of that, he couldn’t take her to the Wild Horse. He wouldn’t do anything to invite people’s cruelty. He wouldn’t have them calling her squaw or any of the other names he was always braced for. Bone-picker was mild in contrast to some slurs they might resort to using.

  She needed someone to take her under their wing, to show her how to do more than lifting people’s valuables. He’d gladly do that, but he wasn’t sure how often he could come to town. Besides, she needed female guidance, something she hadn’t had much of. Maybe someone like Mabel King.

  Riding beside Rayna, he glanced at the dress he’d bought her. She looked pretty with her russet curls and the vivid blue-green of her eyes. Like the rest of them, she could probably do with a long bath, a plate of hot food, and a month of sleep.

  Even if he wasn’t afraid of what people would say, his ranch didn’t have any of the things a woman needed. He lived in a tepee, for God’s sake.

  Brett caught her horse’s bridle, bringing the mare to a stop. “Rayna, I’m going to put you up at Mrs. King’s boardinghouse. A lady needs a bed, a hot bath, some food, and to get her bearings.”

  Her eyes widened in the waning light. “I thought I was going with you. I thought—”

  “I can’t, I won’t, sully your reputation. I care too much. People would talk, and they can be very spiteful.”

  The tremble of her bottom lip nearly did him in.

  “You’re still upset with me?” she asked.

  “No, it’s because I have a fierce need to protect you.” He pushed back a curl from her face. “I’ll find work for you and make sure you have everything a woman needs, such as clothes.”

  “I have a dress.”

  “One patched dress isn’t a wardrobe. You need shoes other than those clodhoppers you’re wearing, and a nightgown, and all that girlie stuff. When I come back into town tomorrow to put a draft for the sale of my horses into the bank, I’ll take you shopping. Really, this is for the best.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “For you. Isn’t that what you’re saying?”

  “Best for you. I explained all of this that first night on the trail. I thought you understood. I have no culture fully my own. I can take people treating me as lesser.” A muscle worked in his jaw. “It’s what they’ll do to you that scares the daylights out of me.”

  “That talk, those kisses, pretending to be married in Steele’s Hollow has to be like it never happened? I can’t forget those things,” she whispered.

  The words hurt, but what he had to say pained him more. There was no other way. “We have no choice. For those few hours, I tried to grab hold of a life I had always wanted and knew I could never have. I said and did things then that are impossible now. I’m sorry.”

  “But everyone is a stranger here. I’m scared. Maybe you can pretend just a little that you want me. These people will hate me when they find out who I am.”

  The tip of his bowie knife plunging into him wouldn’t hurt like her desperate cries. Damn!

  “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve made a mistake. I’m only going to make things worse.” She pulled the reins to the right and turned the horse around to leave.

  Just before she galloped back the way they’d come, Brett managed to grab her with his good arm. He lifted her from the animal, surprised at how little she weighed.

  “Let me down.” She squirmed and kicked.

  “Not until you quit fighting.” When she calmed, he slid her to the ground and dismounted. “Rayna, what is it you really want?”

  He’d been so concerned with himself he hadn’t truly considered her wishes. He was trying to force this town on her. He’d take her anywhere except to the Wild Horse.

  She stared down at the ground. “Not to be somebody’s trouble for once in my life.”

  Her soft words struck him with blunt force. He didn’t know what it would feel like for people to help only because he was a burden, but he could see how deeply it hurt Rayna. She deserved better. He had to find a solution, but not at this late hour. “I’ll make you a deal. Stay at the boardinghouse tonight. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow. All right?”

  With a jerk of her head signaling agreement,
she reached for her horse. They rode to Mabel King’s and went inside. Brett explained the situation, and the woman assured him she would take care of Rayna’s needs.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, he took her horse to the livery and turned at last toward the land he loved outside of town.

  Rayna was a wounded soul. Maybe that was what drew him to her. Even though he couldn’t change his circumstances, maybe he could fix her, give her a better life where she wouldn’t feel the need to resort to criminal behavior. There was something hidden beneath the layers of hurt and fear. Something worth fighting for.

  He prayed he hadn’t made a mistake bringing her here. How could he make her understand that what they’d had in the jail cell couldn’t exist out in the real world? That only the certainty that he was about to die had given him the freedom to ask for what he knew he could never have?

  First thing tomorrow, he’d try again to make her see and pray she wouldn’t hate him.

  *

  Brett’s footsteps had barely faded before Mrs. King set to work. Mabel, as she asked to be called, scrambled eggs and sliced thick pieces of bread, then added strawberry preserves and a big glass of milk. Rayna didn’t stop eating until every bite disappeared. Food had never tasted so good.

  While she ate, she heard Mabel bustling about the kitchen. The minute she put down her fork and leaned back, the round woman with kind eyes took her hand and led her into the kitchen.

  A tub of warm water beckoned. Rayna clasped her hands in wonder as a big lump rose in her throat.

  “Go ahead, dear. I won’t let anyone interrupt your privacy,” Mabel urged.

  “I don’t know what to say except thank you.”

  After making sure she was safe from prying eyes, Rayna slid off her dress and petticoats, then eased herself into the heavenly water. With a long sigh, she leaned back.

  The icy stream in Steele’s Hollow where she’d done her best to keep clean offered no comparison. Yet she’d braved the chill because the smell of unwashed bodies turned her stomach, and she was determined to be better than her lowly station in life.

  She picked up the fragrant soap that carried the scent of roses and lost no time in scrubbing every inch of her body. Afterward, she washed her hair.

  An hour later, feeling clean for the first time in a while, she lay in her bed upstairs in a borrowed nightgown and stared at the ceiling, willing sleep to come. But despite everything, her busy thoughts kept her wide awake.

  Her mind drifted to Brett. Would he return for that talk like he promised?

  And if he didn’t, what then?

  Hopefully, she could convince him she’d be better off with him at the Wild Horse. She didn’t care what people said. But convincing him of that…

  A tear trickled from her eye and wet the pillow.

  Would she ever find a place where she fit in? She’d tried so hard and waited so long. Surely her punishment wouldn’t last a lifetime.

  Biting her trembling lip, she turned to the wall. Brett Liberty could help her.

  But would he?

  *

  Safe at last at the Wild Horse, Brett fed and bedded down his horse as the sounds of the night swirled around him.

  After making a fire to banish the night’s chill, he stared out over the land that brought peace to his wounded soul. The lush meadow, ringed by trees, provided feed for the horses and wide-open space for his tepee he’d made two years ago after studying drawings of one in a book. Living in something made from buffalo hides had appealed to him, drawn him. He’d wanted to find some small connection to that part of his blood. Now, he couldn’t imagine living inside walls that didn’t whisper as he slept. The babbling creek nearby offered plenty of fresh water for him and his horses. He had everything he needed.

  Almost.

  Bending, he picked up a handful of dirt and let it fall from his fingers. His soul was at peace here. He could forget his parents had abandoned him at the orphanage as a babe. Forget he was unwanted and unloved.

  And he could forget the deep scars he carried where no one dared to look.

  He let his gaze roam the rolling hills and the clearing where his horses bunched together to ride out the night. Worry teased the fringes of his mind. He’d taken his last trip to Fort Concho. The quartermaster had informed him they were closing the fort and would have no further need for his animals.

  For years he’d caught wild mustangs that lived up in the hills and gentled them. But when the army needed larger ones, he’d started a line of Thoroughbreds.

  What was he supposed to do? How would he make a living just selling one now and again to ranchers?

  That wasn’t his only worry. He was also in a dilemma about Rayna. He couldn’t turn her over to Mabel King and go his merry way. He took her from everything she knew and brought her to a strange place where she knew no one.

  You should’ve left me in that jail. Her words echoed in his head.

  Yet, he couldn’t have lived with himself if he had.

  He had a debt to repay. She’d made the difference in maintaining his sanity when it would’ve been so easy to lose all hope.

  That wasn’t the only thing though. What he felt went far deeper. Somehow during those days, she had wiggled her way past the iron shield he’d put up.

  The woman with hair the color of swirling autumn leaves and blue-green eyes made him willing to give everything he possessed for just one more night with her in his arms. The ache never went away. It only grew stronger. When she’d curled up beside him on that jailhouse bunk, she’d also curled up inside his heart.

  Yet no matter how much he wanted the pretty lady, in the world they lived in, she could never be his.

  *

  Golden rays of dawn peeked through the lace curtains the next morning. Rayna opened her eyes and stared at the pretty filigree the light had created on the ceiling. For a long moment, she wondered where she was. As one who depended on her quick thinking in order to stay alive, she hated this muddled sense of not recognizing her surroundings.

  Relief came when her memories washed back. She stretched then snuggled deep in the quilt. She was clean and had slept in a real bed for the very first time in her life.

  The ground, surrounded by sun-bleached bones, had served as a bed when she’d been with her father, and nearly every night since, minus the bones.

  The only exception had been the hard bunk with its thin, moldy mattress in the jail. But when she stretched out beside Brett that one night with his arm protectively across her stomach, it felt like pure heaven. She’d been safe and free from the terror that often plagued her during the nighttime hours.

  Rayna closed her eyes for a second, remembering the feel of his arms around her and his warm breath ruffling her hair. If only she could feel that again. It would be worth all the pain and misery she’d gone through.

  Brett was coming to talk to her today. Maybe he would relent and take her to his ranch. It could be cut off and private, like the jail. She would do her best at convincing him. Her heart raced at the thought of seeing him.

  The Wild Horse Ranch with Brett was where she wanted to be.

  No other place.

  Feeling optimistic that her life was changing for the better, she threw back the covers and quickly dressed.

  Mabel King met her at the foot of the stairs. “Good morning, dear. I trust you slept well.”

  “Yes, ma’am. The bed was like lying on a cloud.”

  “Come and sit at the table with the other diners. I have breakfast ready.”

  Apprehension crawled up her spine. She wasn’t one to make friends easily. Her footsteps dragged as she followed Mabel. Taking her seat, Rayna tried to remember all the proper things to say as Mabel introduced her. She supposed she must’ve said all the right things, because the three boarders—a man and two women—warmly welcomed her.

  After eating and assisting Mabel with the cleanup, Rayna wandered outside to wait for Brett and sat in one of the rockers that were lined up on the front porch
. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm her jitters.

  Maybe he wouldn’t come.

  Maybe he’d only made an empty promise and dumped her here.

  Maybe she was a fool to believe some men still had honor.

  In the midst of struggling to tamp down her fears, Mabel joined her, taking the rocker next to hers. The wide porch offered a good view of the town and people bustling to and fro.

  Rayna’s gaze caught on four gravestones surrounded by a fence that townsfolk and horses alike stepped around. Puzzled, she leaned forward. She found it strange that someone would place a burial plot in the middle of the main street. Curious, she asked Mrs. King about it.

  Mabel smiled. “All newcomers want to know the same thing. No one really knows who’s buried there, but we believe the graves hold the bones of four men who were massacred in 1838. They were part of a group of government surveyors numbering twenty-five. Only seven lived to tell about the fight.”

  Brett was an Indian. Were some of his ancestors to blame? She frowned at that possibility. “But why bury them in the middle of the street? It creates a hazard for those having to avoid them.”

  “Actually, the plot was here first. The town just grew around it.”

  “Were Brett Liberty’s people part of the attackers?”

  Mabel ceased rocking. “Oh good heavens, no. Brett isn’t from around here. He and his brothers didn’t arrive until several years ago. I heard they came from Missouri.”

  “So the folks of Battle Creek accept him?”

  “Yes, we do, and others like him. They’re people just like us. Don’t see a reason to shun them for something they have no control over.” Mabel leaned forward. “Why do you ask?”

  Rayna told the kind woman about Steele’s Hollow and ended with, “I wasn’t sure he’d get out of there alive.”

  “I’m glad he did. And you too, dear. That’s not a fit place to live.”

  “I like it here in Battle Creek.”

  The light caught just right on a piece of metal, and Rayna spied Brett coming down the street on a beautiful black horse. She noticed he had a long feather sticking from the hat pulled low onto his forehead. Her heart beat faster.