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

by Linda Broday

  Hands slowly raised.

  Brett moved toward them. “What are you doing on my land?”

  “Get rid of the sick orphans,” Dowlen spat. “I’m warning you.”

  “Guess I’m happy with them right where they are. The only question I have is where do we go from here? Do I cart your mangy carcasses into town draped over a horse or sitting upright?”

  “Ain’t no law against protecting yourself from disease,” whined Dowlen’s accomplice.

  “What is your name, mister?”

  “Oscar. Oscar Fenton.”

  “Well, Fenton, if you’re so all-fired worried about catching something, why are you coming toward it instead of going away from it?”

  “Doin’ a service to the community,” the man mumbled. “We were just gonna scare you into gettin’ rid of ’em.”

  Though Fenton’s hat shielded his eyes, Brett recognized a shifty sort when he saw one.

  Adam came up beside Brett with his rifle pointed at the men. “You don’t want this fight, so go home or go to jail. Your choice.”

  The hardness of Adam’s words had Brett doing a double take. The fourteen-year-old sounded like a grown man. The youth had come a far piece from the belligerent boy who’d gotten off the stage over two weeks ago. Brett was proud to have Adam stand beside him.

  “Threatening us, Injun boy?” Dowlen sneered.

  “Nope. Just statin’ facts.”

  “So what’s your choice?” Brett prodded. “My nephew gave you a better deal than I did. I think I’d take it.”

  Dowlen spat tobacco on the ground. “I think I like my chances.”

  When Brett inched closer, sudden gunshots came from the direction of the trees. Brett and Adam dove for cover beneath the low, overhanging branches they’d been under, and returned the unknown gunman’s fire.

  In the pitch black, everything blurred. Brett couldn’t tell for sure where Dowlen went. Since they were on foot, they had to be near.

  Orange flame shot from the darkness on Dowlen’s land. Deciding it was crazy to blindly return fire, Brett settled back and tried to focus on where his neighbor might be. Seconds passed as he watched, waited, listened. Every muscle tensed for the next bullet that might come his way. His finger never left the trigger of the rifle, nor did he lower it.

  Hoofbeats and the blowing sound made by a galloping horse first alerted him. Suddenly a horseman burst from the trees, leading two riderless horses. They headed straight toward Brett. As the animals drew closer, Dowlen and Fenton tore from the dense cover of cedar and ran shouting toward the horses.

  Brett’s heart hammered as he opened fire, managing to wound Oscar Fenton. Though it made his gut clench to know he’d harmed anyone, strange satisfaction filled him.

  The man gave a loud curse and grabbed his arm. Brett ratcheted another bullet into the chamber and fired again, this time missing. Both Fenton and Dowlen grabbed one of the extra mounts and pulled themselves into the saddle. Two more shots missed, but Brett kept firing until the hoofbeats faded into the night and the only sound was a low moan.

  With his breath coming in raspy pants, Brett ran toward the sound. “Are you hurt, Adam?”

  The boy stood but was visibly shaken. “I’m fine. Is it always like this?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The fear. The danger. My hand’s shaking so bad I couldn’t fire my rifle.”

  “I’m afraid to tell you it’s always like this. A man who remains unaffected by getting shot at has ice in his veins. You wouldn’t be normal if you weren’t scared.”

  “Do you think they’ll be back, Uncle Brett?”

  “Maybe not tonight, but we haven’t seen the last of them.” Through narrowed gaze, Brett stared toward his neighbor’s land. “Men like Dowlen don’t give up. The hate inside them is too strong. They don’t stop until they’re dead or someone makes them.”

  Someone like him, Cooper, and Rand. This wasn’t the first time they’d faced such men before.

  “Why can’t people leave us alone?”

  Brett put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. “That’s a question I wish I knew the answer to. I’m really proud of you. You’re a man with a heart. You care about the fate of these orphans and the two elders.”

  His nephew shrugged. “They can’t help who they are.”

  “No, they can’t. And neither can you.” Brett prayed that Adam had gotten his eyes opened for good. “Let’s settle back down. See if they return.”

  Adam went back to his post, and Brett resumed his position under the tree. He took off his medicine bag. Opening it, he took out Rayna’s curl and held it up to the moonlight, watching a silvery ray kindle a flare of fiery warmth. He’d been right. She’d brought him powerful medicine. When Bob had spoken with reverence of the Great Spirit, it had sounded foreign. Brett had never heard it before and had always referred to the heavenly being as his creator or God. Somehow he liked the idea of a Great Spirit, a commanding force who watched over people like them.

  It was nice not to feel alone anymore.

  With a warm glow in his chest, he rubbed the few treasured strands of hair Rayna had let him cut. The thought hit him that he hadn’t given her anything. He needed to make her a medicine bag. She could wear it under her dress if she didn’t want anyone to see. Knowing she was safe meant everything to him, and if the bag helped keep her that way, then she’d need it.

  *

  Cooper rode in the following day. Brett was happy to see him. Even though Dowlen or his men hadn’t returned, he knew it was a matter of when, not if.

  Brett went to greet his older brother. “What brings you out this way, Coop?”

  “Trouble.” The sun glinted off Cooper’s tin star as he dismounted. “Dowlen’s in town, hiring drunks right and left out of the saloon. When he’s done in Battle Creek, he’ll probably hit China Wells and all the other little towns. He’s shooting off his mouth about a smallpox epidemic out here on your place.”

  “Figured as much.” Brett told him about his run-in with Dowlen and the trespassing last night. “Managed to shoot one.”

  “Bad?”

  “Looked like I only grazed him.”

  “It gets worse. Dowlen’s trying his best to get regular God-fearing folks, not just the drunks, to take up arms. Battle Creek’s citizens aren’t going to listen, but those in China Wells and other places will be a different story.”

  Brett recalled that the Comanche had nearly wiped out China Wells a few months before he, Cooper, and Rand arrived a little over seven years ago. Those people still carried a grudge.

  “The feeling in my gut says that we’re about to have a war,” Cooper added.

  Though Brett thought the same thing, hearing it put into words froze the fear in his chest. “I think you’re right.”

  “What are you doing to prepare?” Cooper asked.

  “Just guarding at night. Me and Adam. Too much ground to cover for just us.” Brett stared off toward Dowlen’s land. “How about a cup of coffee while we finish talking?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Bob strode from the tepee in his stovepipe hat with his arms folded across his chest. “Gonna arrest us now?”

  “Nope.” Cooper held out his cup to Brett, who had the pot. “Have you done anything wrong?”

  “Stole this hat from a dead man. And last night dreamed I killed the nun. Stabbed her a hundred times, but she only kept laughing at me.”

  Brett watched Cooper struggle to keep a straight face. He introduced them and explained how Bob came by his name. Curiosity apparently was killing Sister Bronwen, because she wasted no time in joining them.

  Bob bared his teeth and growled low, which prompted the nun to stick out her tongue. Finally, Brett and Cooper walked away, leaving them to their game.

  Cooper shook his head. “You’ve got a mess with those two, Brother.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’m hoping it won’t lead to bloodshed. But back to Dowlen. This could get really ugly.”

  “I
have to ask…do the children have smallpox?”

  “Doc says it’s too soon to tell. He’s leaning more toward chicken pox, but that’s bad enough.”

  “Some people think they’re related.” Cooper tossed his coffee dregs into the tall grass. “They might join forces with Dowlen. Disease can cause panic, and once it does, you can’t reason with them. Fear takes over, and they become desperate.”

  “I’m prepared to protect these orphans with my life. They’re innocent.”

  “Rand and I can bring our hands to help you fight. I’ll put eight at your disposal, but only count on two from Rand, since he doesn’t have as many to pull from. It’ll take a few days to get everything situated so they can come.”

  Ten extra guns would be better than nothing. They’d have fourteen, counting Brett, his two brothers, and Adam.

  “That’s probably best anyway. I don’t want to overreact. Maybe Dowlen will come to his senses and call off this war.” Brett stared toward his neighbor’s cattle ranch.

  “Hopefully. But range wars have started for less.”

  A bad feeling clawed up the back of Brett’s neck. He knew Cooper was right. This fight was far from over, and it would take everything he had to win it.

  *

  After Cooper left, Brett got out the buffalo hides he’d put back for another tepee, and set Bob to work sewing them together. Give the old man something to do, and he’d leave Sister Bronwen alone. Peace might prevail for a short time.

  Once Brett had Bob occupied and Rayna assured him she didn’t need his help with the children, who were breaking out in red raised spots, he located a small piece of supple leather.

  While they worked, Brett asked Bob about some of the customs and traditions of their people. Through the old man, he learned about life in a Comanche village and the tribal laws that governed them. The elders were held in high esteem and settled disputes, assessed penalties for crimes, and taught the youth the ways of their people. He hated the deep sadness that oozed from Bob’s voice when he spoke about losing the land the Comanche loved and a way of life that simply vanished as though it had never been.

  “Gone. All gone. People. Land. Villages. I will die soon.”

  Brett laid a hand on Bob’s shoulder. “I’m sure you feel you’ve outlived your purpose, but I assure you that isn’t true. You still have value. These children need someone to teach them the old ways. They need what you can give.”

  Bob stared toward the horizon with faded eyes. “They will have you.”

  “I don’t know what to teach them. You do.”

  “You will learn.” Bob turned back to his needle and hides and lapsed into silence that no amount of prodding could break.

  An hour later, Brett had finished a simple medicine bag. Of course it needed decorating with beads, but that could come another time.

  He strode to a patch of wild sage and broke off a few small stems. Then some sweet grass. This was a start. The rest would have to be up to Rayna. He couldn’t say what held meaning for her.

  The sun was high overhead when he found an opportunity to give it to her.

  Her blue-green eyes lit up. “Oh, Brett, no one ever gave me a gift before. I’ll cherish it.” She lifted her hair and immediately asked him to tie it around her neck.

  The soft auburn curls brushed his knuckles, arousing feelings he constantly strove to hide.

  “You needed something to keep you safe,” he said gruffly.

  Turning, she quickly brushed his cheek with her lips. “I already have you, but I’ll take more. Thank you.”

  “Put what you want inside.” His cheek burned where she’d kissed him.

  “I intend to. Can I borrow your knife?” Her eyes danced. “That is, if you’ll let me a have a piece of fringe from your moccasins.”

  Brett stilled, overcome with emotion. His breath froze in his chest. That she would put such value on one piece of worn fringe—and its connection to him—rendered him speechless. Touched. After a long moment, he handed her his knife.

  Kneeling, she cut a small piece off and tucked it inside her bag. He helped her stand and stuck his knife back into the sheath.

  “How are the children?” he asked, low. “I saw the spots.”

  “I wish Doc would come.” She drew her eyebrows together and chewed her lip. “I don’t know if it’s smallpox or not. While it may not help, all I can do is to keep on with what I’ve been doing.”

  Brett took her hand. “He’ll be here soon. Maybe he got held up at the hospital.”

  But though midday arrived with still no sign of the buggy, he wasn’t sure. An hour later, he went to Adam. “Saddle a horse. I need you to ride into town to see what’s holding up Doc.”

  The boy seemed grateful for something to do. Like the rest, he could do nothing but stand around waiting for whatever was coming. He lost no time saddling a mount, and within a short space, galloped out.

  With Adam gone, Brett strode to Rayna’s side and helped her soothe the sick ones. She seemed to appreciate his help, since Sister Bronwen had gone to lie down.

  Brett was holding a small bucket for Flower to throw up in when Adam raced onto the land and jumped off the horse before it completely stopped.

  The hair on Brett’s neck rose in warning.

  Rayna took the bucket. “Go. See what’s happening.”

  Frustration spewed from Adam’s mouth before Brett reached him. “Never got to town. Men blocked the road. Must be why Doc couldn’t get here.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “Nope. Got out of sight before they could.”

  “I’m glad you’re safe. You did well, Adam.” Brett’s heart sank. This had to be Dowlen’s doing. He hurried to tell Rayna the doctor wasn’t coming.

  Panic and worry deepened the shade of her eyes before he even said a word. She seemed to know what he was going to say.

  “What are we going to do?” Her voice trembled, and he could see how scared she was. “Without Doc…”

  Brett pulled her into his arms and held her close. “We’ll get through this. You’re smart. You’ll know what to do. In the meantime, the minute Doc tells Cooper, he’ll lay a blazing path and go through hell if he has to. One thing about my brother is that he doesn’t put up with troublemakers. Has no patience with them.”

  “I’m just so scared. I’ve never had so many lives depending on me. I don’t know enough.” She clutched his shirt. “What if I do the wrong thing?”

  He rubbed her back. “You won’t. Trust your instincts. Do your best. How can I help?”

  Dark, thick lashes framed her eyes when she looked up. “Can you make more of your special vegetable soup? The children could eat some of that.”

  Lightly pressing a kiss to her forehead, he smiled. “I certainly can.” He could hop over the moon if she asked him.

  She gave him a smile. The thing about Rayna was she bounced back fast. She never let despair drag her down for long. Stepping out of his arms, she smoothed her hair, pasted on a smile, and became all business. It was time to get back to work.

  Brett admired her gumption as she marched toward her patients. Such big things lay in that small package.

  He knew one thing for certain—if he dared, she could sure fill his arms.

  And his heart.

  Twenty

  A sound like rolling thunder came about midnight, sending chills up Brett’s spine and knotting his stomach. The noise vibrated the air, shaking the ground beneath his feet. Though their task seemed futile, he and Adam had taken up guard duty near the property line, hoping to stop any trespassers they could. From the fury in the air, he knew it was hopeless.

  Dowlen was back and, judging from the pounding hooves, he’d brought many more with him this time.

  How could two men hold their own against a mob?

  Brett wasn’t afraid for himself. It was Rayna and Adam and the others who concerned him. He had to somehow protect them even if it cost him everything. He flinched, breaking out in a cold sweat.
>
  Despite the odds, he couldn’t quit. He had to give this fight his all, and if he died doing it, then the Great Spirit would reward him for bravery.

  Taking a deep breath, he tightened his grip on the rifle and readied for the assault.

  “Make every shot count,” he murmured to himself.

  The invaders—at least two dozen strong—swarmed across the pasture between his position and Adam’s like a horde of hungry locusts.

  Brett took aim and fired, but it didn’t slow the attackers a bit. He fired again, and this time managed to get one, although the shot didn’t knock the man from his horse.

  On the riders galloped—toward the crude shelters where the children slept.

  Cold fear gripped his heart, freezing him in his tracks for only a second.

  Then his moccasins skimmed the ground as he ran, yelling at the top of his lungs, hoping and praying everyone would wake up and get out of the way. He cursed the fact that he hadn’t ridden a horse to the place where he’d lain in wait. Fact was, he’d been afraid the animals would’ve given away his and Adam’s positions. He’d thought to lure them across, thinking no one stood watch. He called himself a damn fool.

  Now, one of his mustangs could’ve covered the distance in nothing flat.

  When he reached the camp, he thought he’d descended into some type of grisly hell. Everywhere he looked he saw chaos and destruction. The carnage twisted his insides into knots until he could barely draw breath.

  Children shrieked in terror. Horses gave high-pitched screams into the night. Others reared up on their back legs, unseating their bellowing riders.

  The sounds of the frightened children and animals blended into the sort of helpless nightmare from which he could not escape.

  Brett raised his rifle and fired at the nearest invaders, but with the flurry of constant movement, most of his shots missed.

  When he emptied his rifle, he tossed it aside. Reaching up, he jerked the man closest to him from his horse. Drawing back, Brett hit the attacker with every bit of strength he possessed and watched him crumple to the ground.

  He whirled in time to see a beefy figure on foot lunging at him from behind.

  Managing to sidestep a crushing blow, he delivered a quick uppercut to the invader’s jaw.