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

by Linda Broday

  The stocky man returned one that came near to shattering the bones in his face—and would have if he’d hit him square. As it was, it knocked Brett back several feet, but thankfully, he still remained standing. He staggered and shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

  Taking a second breath, he went at his opponent again, marshaling all his power. With a mighty swing, he connected with bone and tissue, and the man fell like a huge oak, lying still upon the ground.

  From the corner of his eye, Brett saw a dark figure duck under one of the canvas shelters he’d erected. Whatever evil the man thought to do, he’d find a way to stop him.

  He was still several yards away when a child’s bloodcurdling scream filled the air.

  With his breath harsh in his ears, he scrambled into the shelter. The dimness couldn’t hide the man standing over one of the sick orphans with his arm raised.

  He wielded a club of some sort above his head.

  Before he could strike, Brett made a flying leap and tackled him. The momentum carried them outside, taking the canvas with them. He quickly bounded to his feet with his fists doubled, as did the enemy.

  The man wore some kind of carved wooden mask that was frozen in a gruesome smile. He turned, and with a guttural cry, launched himself at Brett. Brett caught him under an arm and threw the attacker over his head.

  Spinning, Brett delivered two quick kicks to the devil’s midsection. He was about to put an end to the grunting mask-wearer when a horse galloped straight for him. With not a minute to spare, Brett leaped to the side.

  The rider reached down and pulled his disguised accomplice up onto the horse behind him. In the effort of trying to get away, the man’s mask tumbled to the ground.

  Edgar Dowlen’s face shone in the moonlight.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Dowlen thundered the order to his men. “Retreat! Retreat!”

  While Brett went to check on the child, a little girl about six years old, the unseated riders somehow managed to find horses, and they all melted into the darkness.

  The trembling child threw her arms around his neck. “Save me.”

  “It’s all right, honey. I’m not going to let the bad man get you.” Not even if he had to put a bullet through Dowlen’s black heart and drive him back into hell.

  Brett couldn’t shake a dark thought: it was strange that Rayna hadn’t come running, and that terrified him. It could only mean something had happened to her.

  With gentle hands, he picked up the girl and carried her near the fire where the others had gathered. “You’ll be safe for a minute. I have something I need to do.”

  Trying to contain the worry gripping him, Brett raced into the tepee. “Rayna!”

  Though his hands shook, he managed to light the lamp. Bob and Sister Bronwen huddled low against one side, staring back.

  There was no sign of the woman who filled his dreams.

  “Rayna, where are you?” he yelled, stepping into the cool night. He whirled in a circle, searching for her.

  The instant he saw her, all the chaos of the night faded, and his world righted. She walked out of the darkness toward him, holding the hands of two of the orphans and carrying a third.

  “Rayna,” he said on a trembling breath.

  She began to run, and he went to meet her. Putting down the little boy she held, she threw herself in his arms and clutched his shirt for dear life. “I was so scared. I thought they’d kill us all.”

  Brett kissed her as his trembling hands smoothed back her wild curls. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. When I heard the horses coming, I grabbed these children and ran. I hated that I couldn’t take everyone to safety.” She pushed away from him. “I’ve got to check on the rest.”

  The sob in her voice said she expected to find some hurt. Or worse. He scooped up the little boy she’d been carrying—who was probably no older than four—and scanned the camp the raiders had left in shambles.

  Only one of the three canvas shelters remained standing. Dazed orphans wailed as they walked amongst the ruins. Brett’s heart ached for them. They’d fled terror only to find more here where they thought they were safe. He bent and picked up the hideous wooden mask where it had fallen. A muscle worked in his jaw.

  Somehow, someway, Dowlen would pay.

  The man who had instilled so much terror fueled by his own ignorance and fear would know retribution. But that would have to come later. He had things to do that took priority.

  Namely, finding Adam.

  He’d not seen his nephew since before the attack, and he didn’t like what his gut was telling him. Without a word, he handed the little boy in his arms to Sister Bronwen, who’d come from the tepee. Sprinting to the corral, he grabbed the first horse. Swinging onto its bare back, he galloped to Adam’s position on the property line.

  “Adam! Adam!”

  There was no answer. All of a sudden he spotted a dark form lying in a patch of trampled grass. No! He rushed to the boy’s side.

  Please let him be alive. That was all he asked.

  Adam’s eyes were open, but he seemed in shock. Brett talked while he looked for the source of blood. Finding no visible gunshot wound, he turned his attention to his nephew’s torn clothing and deep cuts. Adam appeared to have been trampled by one of the raiders’ horses.

  Using great care, Brett got him on the mustang and climbed up behind to hold him.

  Rayna came running the minute they rode into camp and helped lower Adam to the ground and into the tepee. Then she shooed Brett away. “Let me do my job. If I need you, I’ll call.”

  “Just tell me this—how many of the children were hurt?”

  “Six, though none are serious. I’ve already tended to their scrapes and bruises. They’re terrified though.”

  Since none had lost their lives, it appeared the main reason for the attack had been to frighten the children so badly that he’d take them far away from the Wild Horse. But where could he take them that they would be free of men like Dowlen? He knew of no place.

  Brett gave Rayna a weary nod. While she cared for Adam, he turned to calming the orphans. One by one, he held them, wiped their tears, and spoke quietly until their trembling stopped. Then he spread their blankets on the grass and got them to lie down.

  He looked at them a good while. Some slept and others stared blankly into the sky. Tomorrow he would put the canvas shelters back up. He sat down and dropped his head onto his folded arms.

  Heartsick, Brett didn’t know how long he sat there numb and hurting. Suddenly, the four-year-old he’d taken earlier from Rayna crawled into his lap.

  The child’s small hand patted Brett’s chest as the orphan began to softly sing in the only language he knew. The comfort the little boy offered soothed some of the misery and anger bubbling inside Brett.

  As the first rays of dawn began to lighten the eastern sky, bringing hope for a better day, Rayna came from the tepee. He gave her an expectant glance.

  “Of course, Doc will have to check Adam for internal injuries that I don’t know how to look for, but I don’t think he’s too hurt,” she reported. “He has a broken rib or two—probably some are cracked as well—and he’s bruised and battered something awful. All in all, he’s lucky. It could’ve been worse, lots worse.”

  “I’m glad. I was just sitting here wondering how I was going to tell his mother that I didn’t take care of him like I promised.”

  Rayna laid a hand on his shoulder and said softly, “You can’t protect him or any of the rest of us from everything. It’s impossible.” Her gaze shifted to the child in his arms. “Your little friend is sound asleep. Want me to carry him to a blanket?”

  “I’d probably drop him if I tried. I’m so tired.”

  Sliding her hands around the snoozing boy, she laid him on a blanket with another small boy. Brett thought they must be brothers, because he always saw them together.

  If the bond between these two boys was as strong as it was between him, Cooper, and Rand, th
ey’d be all right.

  Brett’s gaze followed Rayna as she returned and sat next to him. She looked tired. He rose and stood behind her. He moved her hair aside and kneaded her neck and shoulders in firm, swirling motions.

  “Oh, Brett, that feels so good.”

  “Thought it might.”

  “You need it worse than I do though. You’ve been working like mad and going without sleep, trying to keep us safe.”

  “I’ll rest when this is over.” He let one hand move to a shell-like ear and traced the curve. Bending, he kissed her cheek. “You’re quite beautiful, Rayna. I’ve loved watching you blossom. You’re not the same woman I met in that jail cell. When I couldn’t find you after the raid, I thought I’d lose my mind. If I lost you…”

  “I felt the same way when you left to go stand guard,” she whispered. “I’ve developed a great need to see your face and know you’re all right.”

  He mulled over her confession as he rubbed her neck and shoulders until he felt the tension leave. Would it ever be possible for them to be open with everything they felt? He sure hoped so.

  Sighing, he moved beside her and reached for her hand. “I’ll get some coffee on in a minute. I hate to miss a second of our time, because we don’t get this often. The kids will be stirring soon, and we’ll have to go about taking care of them.”

  Rayna’s gaze swept the damage. “Looks like we have our work cut out for us. Only…what if those men come back and tear it all down again?”

  Brett wished he could tell her that wasn’t going to happen, but it would be a lie. He knew they’d be back, and when they came, it would be far worse.

  For the first time since he was very young, he doubted his abilities. He couldn’t stop this madness.

  *

  The sun had burned off most of the heavy dew across Wild Horse land as Brett sat beside Bob by the dying embers of the campfire, listening to the old Comanche telling stories of when he was young. Some of the healthier children had gathered around, enthralled.

  At the sound of approaching horses, Brett’s stomach clenched. He grabbed his rifle and raced toward the thump of hooves and the clatter of a vehicle of some kind. His only thought was to meet trouble head-on and do his best to stop it before it reached the others.

  Flanked by two columns of men on horseback, the doctor’s black buggy rumbled onto his land. He gave a sigh of relief.

  Cooper rode in the lead. When he reached the camp, he held up his hand for his men to halt and dismounted. “Sorry it took so long to get Doc here. Looks like a tornado came through.”

  Brett clasped Cooper’s hand. “Have to say I’m mighty glad to see you. I sent Adam toward town late yesterday, and he found the road blocked, so I knew the barricade prevented Doc from reaching us.”

  “I take it those same men are to blame for this mess.”

  “Yep. Visited us again last night. My nephew and some of the children were injured.”

  “Damn Edgar Dowlen!” Cooper swore. “Doc couldn’t find me to let me know about the situation until a few hours ago when I went into town.”

  “I figured it was something like that.”

  “This morning, I threatened to shoot the whole damn bunch of rabble-rousers if they didn’t get going back to where they came from,” Cooper thundered. “Hell and be damned! I better not find that road blocked again, or someone will pay.”

  “Want some coffee?” Brett asked.

  “Always,” his brother replied.

  “How about your men? They want some? I can make more. It’s the least I can do for bringing Doc Yates.”

  Cooper grinned. “Never knew those fellows to pass up coffee.”

  The motley group of ranch hands dismounted and untied bedrolls from behind their saddles. Brett counted ten in all, the number Cooper had promised.

  Brett filled a cup and handed it to him. “Thought you said it would take a couple of days before they’d be free to come.”

  “The blockaded road hurried them along.”

  “Glad for the help. I was wondering how I was going to patrol the entire property line tonight.” Brett cast his brother a glance and lowered his voice. “The children began to break out in red raised spots. Rayna is afraid it’s smallpox. If she’s right, stay away from them. I don’t want you taking the disease back to your twins. That’s all you need.”

  Cooper took a swig of coffee and nodded. “I see a few are able to be up.” He motioned toward the ones sitting at Bob’s feet.

  “I think those were only dehydrated and had gone too long without food. Once we got something to eat and water into them, they seemed to feel better.” Brett watched Rayna with Doc as they made their rounds. He sure hoped the report would not mention deadly smallpox. Bob had told him it wiped out entire Comanche villages years ago.

  Brett’s heart froze.

  As closely as Rayna worked with the orphans, she could take ill. She could die.

  If he lost her…

  He couldn’t finish the thought. The mere possibility brought crushing pain.

  Over the next hour, Brett made many more pots of coffee and shared his thoughts with the ranch hands. They’d get the shelters for the children back up first, then go from there.

  He and Cooper were talking when Doc Yates shuffled over. “It’s clear. The children have chicken pox, not smallpox.”

  Relief made Brett’s knees weak. “That’s good news.”

  “The disease is still making them very sick, but they should get through it.” Doc scratched his head. “Now, I’ll see about that nephew of yours. Rayna told me he got trampled.”

  “He’s just inside the tepee, Doc,” Brett said and turned to Cooper. “You and I should ride over and tell Dowlen so he’ll call off this war.”

  “I hope it makes a difference, but I doubt it,” Cooper said. “He’s bound and determined to get rid of you and these orphans. One excuse is as good as another to people like him. I’ll mosey over that way and let him know though.”

  Brett tightened his jaw and reached for the black, carved wooden mask. “I’m coming with you. I’ve got a score to settle, and I’m returning this.”

  Thirty minutes later, Cooper and Brett crossed onto Dowlen’s land. At least three dozen small tents dotted the area around the house, and men gave them sinister stares. Cooper slid his Colt from its holster, sending a message that he was ready if they wanted to start trouble. Brett noticed most looked down when they rode past.

  They pulled up in front of the quiet house.

  Dowlen jerked the door open and stomped onto the broken-down porch when they dismounted. “Wha’d’ya want now, Sheriff?”

  Still holding the Colt, Cooper ordered, “Call off your men. The orphans have chicken pox, not smallpox. Doc just confirmed it.”

  A black bruise covered the side of Dowlen’s face and along his jaw, and he sported a bloody lip. He leaned against the doorjamb, staring at Brett. “They’re still diseased. They spread their vermin an’ filth to good folk tryin’ to take care of their families.”

  “You don’t speak for everyone in this county,” Brett said.

  “I will before I’m done. Mark my words, no one wants a mess of savages livin’ next to them.”

  Brett’s hand curled into a fist, itching to slam it into Dowlen’s face again. Forcing himself to stay calm, he pitched the wooden mask at his neighbor’s feet. “You left this on my property last night. Thought I’d return it, that being the neighborly thing to do. I catch you trespassing again, and I won’t be so forgiving. Heed my words.”

  “Threatenin’ me, breed?”

  “You’ll know it if I threaten you. You won’t have to ask.” When Brett took a step toward him, Dowlen quickly straightened and moved back.

  Cooper stepped between them. “Dowlen, stay on your own property. You should know I brought some men to fortify the Wild Horse. I won’t stand for any more trouble. I’ll haul you to jail so fast you won’t know what’s happening. Got it?”

  “Got it, Sheriff.�
�� With that he stepped inside and slammed the door so hard it shook the windowpanes.

  “That went well, Coop.”

  “I just hope he listens.”

  That made two of them. Brett’s soul craved peace. He’d never been one who thrived on fighting and disharmony, like a few others seemed to.

  Meanwhile, he’d keep his guard up. Rayna and the orphans were his life, and their welfare occupied his every thought.

  All doubt about his abilities was gone. If anyone messed with them again, they’d find out how unforgiving a warrior he could be.

  Twenty-one

  With everyone pitching in, it didn’t take long to set the camp to rights. Even some of the children helped in making them a place to sleep.

  As Brett restored some semblance of order, his blood boiled anew when he discovered a rope around one of the poles sticking from the top of the tepee and dangling down the side, where one of the attackers had attempted to pull it over. Deep sadness and anger permeated his very being and seeped down into his soul.

  They’d invaded his home…his one place of peace.

  At what point would it all end? His heart cried out for the tranquillity that had been stripped from the land he loved.

  This must be how the Comanche felt after the white men took away their land and destroyed their way of life. His gaze found Bob, who was still working on the buffalo hides for another tepee. Though Brett could’ve finished the job in half the time, he knew the old Comanche needed to feel useful.

  After Bob finally completed the sewing, Brett and some of the men cut poles and erected a second tepee. He put Rayna and Sister Bronwen, plus a few of the weakest children, into it.

  While he worked, Brett made a point to check on Adam several times. His nephew had been in a lot of pain, so Doc had given him a big dose of medicine. Now Adam was in a deep sleep. But early afternoon when Brett stepped into the tepee again, he was awake. “I’m sorry, Uncle Brett. I couldn’t get out of the way quick enough.”

  “No need to apologize. You did nothing wrong. You manned your post every bit as well as I did mine.”

  “I left you to face them alone,” Adam pointed out. “You needed me.”