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

by Linda Broday

  “Tell me again why we’re taking these horses all this way.” Adam bit off another big bite.

  “To pay a debt I owe.”

  “What kind of debt?”

  Brett wished Adam would sink back into moody silence. If he kept asking questions, Brett would wind up revealing too much. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Adam to know about the ordeal in Steele’s Hollow. He was concerned that learning about the near hanging would worsen Adam’s internal struggle. “For saving my life. Always pay your debts, Adam. It brings honor,” he said quietly. “No more questions.”

  Sounds of the night filled the silence. The coyote’s howl, the hoot of an owl, the musical babble of the spring, the soft nicker of the horses…

  …the sound of a snapping twig.

  On instinct, Brett jumped to his feet and hauled Adam into the darkness, whispering to keep quiet while he slid his bowie knife from its sheath.

  “Hello the camp,” someone called. “Don’t want no trouble. Just want to share your fire.”

  “Come on in, but keep your hands where I can see them,” Brett answered. He whispered to Adam, “Stay here until I tell you to come out. Understand?”

  When Adam nodded, Brett emerged from the shadows as a lone rider came into view. The man positioned his horse so he dismounted facing the campfire, showing Brett he meant no harm.

  “Thanks for the invite,” the rider said. “I’m saddle sore.”

  As the man turned, Brett recognized Hank Maxwell, the old deputy from Steele’s Hollow. “You alone, Maxwell?” Brett stepped toward the light.

  The deputy’s eyes widened beneath his bushy eyebrows. “Never thought I’d see you again, Mr. Liberty. What are you doing with all the horses?”

  Brett stiffened. “They’re not stolen.”

  Maxwell lifted his hands in protest. “Not accusing you. Besides, I ain’t a deputy anymore. I quit when the Texas Rangers rode into town. Do you mind if I have a shot of that coffee? Sure does smell good.”

  Brett poured some and turned toward where he’d left his nephew. “You can come out, Adam.”

  Taking the cup, Maxwell asked, “Who’s Adam?”

  “My nephew.” When Adam came into the firelight, Brett introduced the former deputy.

  “Never thought you’d mosey back this way again after your brothers got you out of jail. Shouldn’t you be riding away from Steele’s Hollow instead of toward it, Liberty?”

  So much for trying to keep things from Adam. Now Brett would have to explain the whole mess.

  And Adam’s hate for who he was would grow.

  “I’m taking five of my horses to the farmer who told my brothers where I was. I keep my promises,” Brett said quietly.

  He could already see the questions forming in Adam’s head. The boy had seated himself on the log and took in every word.

  “Yeah, saving your life calls for a little settling up.” Maxwell’s droopy white mustache twitched with his sudden smile. “Things are different in Steele’s Hollow. The rangers put Newt Dingleby behind bars when the fool shot one of them. Oldham is on the loose, but it’s only a matter of time till they catch him.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Where are you headed?”

  “Got a little spread up by Flat Creek over in Henderson County. Not much.” Maxwell stared into the flames. “But it’s a good place to die.”

  If a man was lucky, he’d have one of those places staked out. For Brett, his soul would be at peace only on the Wild Horse.

  And if he was lucky and the world would allow it, Rayna Harper would lie beside him. He’d take comfort in that.

  Thirteen

  Though Rayna tried to keep her mind occupied the following morning as she worked under Doc Yates, her thoughts were far away on a certain man with bronze skin. She’d never known what a grin could do to her until he came along. He didn’t smile often, but when his mouth deepened at the corners to show his white teeth, her heart ran away with hope and possibilities.

  Pleasing as his looks were, there was much more to him than that.

  Brett Liberty was one of those men who was forged by a hotter fire. The fire gave him power, and the blows he’d taken provided strength so he was able to stand when other men fell. She’d seen this with her own eyes in Steele’s Hollow. No one else would’ve faced death with dignity like he had.

  She couldn’t wait for him to return. Even though she might not see him much, just knowing he was near would put her at ease.

  Finding a free minute between patients, she closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. She’d seen inside a church only twice in her life, so she didn’t know if praying worked, but she wanted to try anyway.

  Pain rose up, swift and powerful. She’d gotten up early one Sunday morning a few months ago and bathed in the icy water of the creek so she wouldn’t smell. She’d washed her dress, and after it dried, she went down to the church and took a seat near the back. Just as the singing started, two men came and told her they didn’t allow her kind in there.

  With her face flaming, she ran from the building. That was the last time she’d made that mistake. She decided if she wasn’t good enough for the churchgoers, maybe she’d just stay with her own kind—whoever they were—and not think too much about praying.

  Those preachers preached about repenting, and Lord knew she had a lot of things weighing on her heart. Only she couldn’t face up to them. If only she had a trace of Brett’s steely courage, she would own up to her sins.

  Rayna sighed, ignoring the worry rising up, and turned to the task of rolling bandages.

  Shortly after the doctor had finished his rounds, the door banged open. She glanced toward the noise and saw the man she’d spoken to on the street yesterday. He carried his frail wife in his arms.

  “Doc, come quick.” Rayna’s heart thudded against her chest as she hurried toward the bone-picker.

  His wife must’ve taken a turn for the worse. Rayna had lain awake thinking about their wagon moving slowly down the street with those five crows perched on the bones piled high.

  Doc Yates directed the husband toward a curtained area where he examined patients. Rayna didn’t know if she was supposed to follow, but the couple’s three children standing in the doorway caught her attention. All three had tears streaming down their cheeks as they watched both parents disappear behind the curtain.

  Going to them, she spoke to the oldest. “Hello, do you remember me? You told me your name is Alice. Mine is Rayna.”

  The eight-year-old sniffled. “My mama is sick. I’m scared.”

  “I know you are, honey.” Rayna knelt and put her arms around the girl. “Doc is going to make her all better.”

  “Promise?”

  Could Rayna state with certainty that Alice’s mother would get well, when she knew too often people didn’t make it? All three children stared, waiting for reassurance. “Doc will do everything in his power to give her back to you. I promise.” At least she could pledge that.

  She led them to an area in the corner where three straight-back chairs stood. “You sit here quietly, and I’ll see what Doc says about what’s wrong with your mama. Okay?”

  “Can you hurry?” Alice pulled her baby brother into her lap. “Ain’t askin’ for me. I’m big. But my little sister an’ brother ain’t never been away from her. They need Mama.”

  A lump blocked Rayna’s throat. “Yes, honey, I’ll hurry.”

  Mamas left such a hole when they suddenly weren’t there. She glanced back at the children who were trying so hard to be brave.

  After the doctor’s examination, he announced that Mrs. Clark had pneumonia and would need to stay in the hospital. Rayna’s heart sank. She knew it was very bad.

  “For how long?” Mr. Clark asked.

  “It’s as tough a case as I’ve ever seen. I can’t tell you how long it’ll take to clear up. I don’t know how fast she’ll respond to treatment.”

  Mr. Clark set his jaw. “Then I’ll be thanking you for your time an’ taking my wife
.”

  Doc Yates laid a hand on his shoulder. “You do, and you’d better dig her grave, because she’ll be dead in a few days.”

  “I have three children who need their mother. What am I supposed to do? I need Elizabeth.” The man sank into a chair and buried his head in his hands.

  “I can help with the children, sir,” Rayna said quietly.

  When he raised his eyes, he wore the look of a man who’d been battered and bruised by life. “I’ve never left my young’uns with strangers, an’ won’t do so now.”

  Rayna pressed on. “It’s the only choice you got, sir. Just an hour or two a day while you visit your wife.”

  “Listen to her, Clark.” Doc Yates peered over his wire-rimmed glasses. “My nurse makes a whole lot of sense.”

  Finally, Mr. Clark gave a curt nod and rose. He turned to Rayna. “Thank you for your kindness yesterday. We camped outside of town, but I saw how weak an’ sick Elizabeth was gettin’ each passin’ second. I knew the only thing to do was bring her to this hospital you told us about.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Rayna held out her hand and introduced herself.

  He briefly touched her palm as though he feared he’d taint her. “I’m Silas. Silas Clark. I won’t be forgettin’ what you done.”

  Alice and her siblings ran to him when he stepped around the curtain. A little of the heaviness in Rayna’s chest lifted to see the love Silas showed his children. This was how it was supposed to be—a father who thought his children hung the moon.

  A father who didn’t try to sell his daughter for a jug of corn liquor.

  The powerful memory rose like a sudden summer storm, churning and black. Rayna squeezed her eyes shut against the pain stabbing her chest, so severe it hurt to breathe.

  Shoving the memories to the back of her mind, she turned toward the Clarks. Nothing washed away heartache like helping other folks deal with theirs.

  *

  Brett parted ways with the former deputy as the sun peeked over the horizon. The frisky horses nickered in the cool air, talking to each other and swishing their tails happily.

  Riding beside him, Adam glanced back at the man who’d shared their campfire. “This town—Steele’s Hollow—what happened there?”

  Brett winced. So much for hoping to avoid this. “Trouble.”

  “What kind?”

  Pulling back on the reins, Brett sighed and stopped. He should probably get this over with. “I had a bad time there. You might as well know that the sheriff tried to hang me.”

  “Why?”

  “For being born, he said. He hates people with our skin color.”

  Adam’s anger returned. “See? It’s never gonna change. People hate us. They won’t give us a chance.”

  “Some like Hank Maxwell do. He’s one of the good ones. So is the farmer I’m taking these horses to. I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t cared. For every person who clings to hatred, there is one who’s willing to go the extra mile. In a way, I guess it all evens out.”

  “Says you,” Adam spat, galloping off down the trail.

  Things had gone as Brett feared. Learning about the near-hanging had added more fuel to the boy’s anger.

  They didn’t say two words to each other until time to make camp that night. As soon as Brett found a good spot in a clearing near water, he dismounted and handed Adam the rifle. “I guess you know how to shoot.”

  “I ain’t stupid. Learned a long time ago. Why?”

  “Your turn to find some supper.”

  Adam wore a puzzled look. “Me? What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m not going to do it all. It’s your turn to step up and shoulder more responsibility. I let you by last night because I realized this is all new and you’re hurt. But it’s time you learned that no one is going to carry you through life. If you want to eat tonight, you’ll kill it.” Without waiting for Adam to think of a reply, Brett turned and led the horses to the stream to drink. When he glanced back, he saw no sign of his nephew.

  He prayed he made the right decision. Maybe he was wrong and should’ve given the fourteen-year-old something easier. It ate at him that Adam might’ve stretched the truth about being able to shoot.

  Sarah would have his hide if her son shot himself in the foot.

  Still, he hadn’t been wrong in showing the youth he trusted him. Even if Adam messed up, this could give him some confidence in himself. He needed to know that he was capable of seeing to his own welfare when he had to. Brett had a feeling that Sarah had been far too protective.

  An incident with Isaac Daffern crossed his mind. Brett had probably been about eleven at the time. Daffern told him about a magnificent white stallion up in the hills that he wanted brought down and gentled. Cooper and Rand wanted to go along, but the old rancher wouldn’t let them. He said this was Brett’s time to find out what he was made of.

  Brett had gathered up a week’s worth of supplies and saddled a horse. For six days he chased that animal. On the seventh day, he managed to throw a rope around the stallion’s neck.

  He still remembered the satisfaction he felt and the look of pleased surprise on Daffern’s face when he rode in with the stallion.

  This was what he wanted for Adam—a chance to find his self-worth.

  An hour passed as Brett laid a fire and sat down to wait.

  At pitch dark two hours later, he still hadn’t heard the sound of a shot. His stomach rumbled. Maybe he needed to go look for Adam. Something might’ve happened, and he lay hurt in the trees. Brett got to his feet and made it to the edge of the clearing before he retraced his steps. He’d wait a while longer.

  A blanket of stars popped out overhead, and the moon rose.

  The rifle shot made Brett jump out of his skin. A smile slowly crossed his face. Now the only thing to do was to see if the boy had killed something. Brett sure hoped it wouldn’t be a skunk.

  Thirty minutes later, just as he finally decided to go look for him, Adam raced into camp carrying a turkey. “I did it. I got us some supper.”

  The happiness shining in his eyes did Brett proud. Adam had done something he’d never known he could do. And over the shared cleaning of the bird, he talked, relating every detail of how he stalked the turkey and didn’t take a shot until he was sure.

  Brett was quick with praise, keeping to himself that he could find no sign of a bullet fragment or hole. He guessed the shot came so close it had given the bird a heart attack.

  What was important was for Adam to know he had inner strength worth discovering.

  It probably neared midnight by the time they finished eating and lay down on their bedrolls.

  Thoughts of Rayna filled Brett’s head. He prayed she was staying busy and out of trouble, though something told him she’d given up her pickpocketing for good.

  She was learning new skills and thriving in a strange place.

  And she was waiting for him.

  He frowned when a thought occurred to him. What if someone else came along in the meantime, and she decided she didn’t want to waste her time on a happenchance? After all, he hadn’t exactly given her much of an incentive. He groaned silently, remembering his offer of friendship—if she was willing to give that a try.

  What woman would leap at that chance when she could have more with someone else?

  He was conflicted, torn between what he wanted and a powerful fear beaten into him by years of facing men like Sheriff Oldham.

  Or maybe he needed to forget Rayna Harper and stay with his horses. Long as he gave them plenty of sweet grass and water, they were content, and being near him could never hurt them.

  But one thing worried him.

  How did a man go about forgetting someone who’d made him feel truly alive for the first time in his life?

  *

  On the third night following Brett’s leaving, the boardinghouse clock downstairs struck twelve times, and Rayna hadn’t closed her eyes yet. She rose from her bed and went to the window overlooking the town.


  A lantern still burned next to the Clarks’ wagon that Silas had pulled up on the property at Mabel’s insistence.

  Rayna frowned. Was one of the children sick? She hoped not. The little family didn’t need anything else to come their way, unless it was good fortune. They could sure use some of that. Elizabeth Clark seemed to be a tad better. Doc Yates appeared happy with her progress. Maybe soon the children could have their mother back.

  And then what? Where would they go? And what would happen to them when work dried up? Everything came to an end eventually, and so it would with their trade. Once the buffalo were gone, there wouldn’t be any more.

  She remembered the grueling days under the hot sun, picking up bone after bone and throwing them into the wagon until her arms ached. It was no kind of life, especially for children.

  As she stared out, she saw Silas Clark lift Leo and cradle the two-year-old in his lap. He was a good papa. She wondered if he had hopes and dreams, or if he was like her and didn’t let them come. Maybe like her he, too, felt he didn’t deserve them.

  Brett had told her they weren’t restricted to only a few, that everyone could have them. He’d been right about a lot of things—maybe he was right about this.

  She hoped so, because she couldn’t stand any more disappointment. Still, what if he was mistaken?

  Leaning her head against the windowpane, she thought of the tall man who made heat rise to her cheeks.

  Where was he? Was he thinking of her?

  Touching her fingers to her lips, she remembered the kiss under the evergreen tree. She remembered the way her hands had slid around his neck, the way she’d drawn him closer. Just recalling how her heart had raced when he’d touched his lips to hers made her feel as quivery inside as she had that night.

  Oh, to feel that every night.

  “Come home, Brett,” she murmured against the windowpane. “And please don’t forget I’m waiting. I’ll wait as long as I have to.” All she had was time.

  Fourteen

  At sundown, six days from when they’d left, Brett and Adam rode back into Battle Creek. The trip went without a hitch, and the farmer was really excited that Brett kept his promise.