Ellie’s eyes were wide, watching her. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” Carly crossed her arms over her chest and looked to see if Tyson was still there. At least she’d managed not to curse out loud.
Her brother lifted his brows and shook his head. “Safe trip, sis.” Carly merely nodded. What point was there in pretending when she’d just see him again in an hour or so? Too bad she wasn’t really going somewhere. She let her mind wander, trying to decide where she’d go if she could travel anywhere she wanted.
In a matter of minutes, the stage pulled out of Decker with no other passengers. She had never ridden in a stagecoach before and had been excited about the prospect, but as they bumped and shimmied down the road, she wondered how she’d manage until Ty and the gang intercepted the coach, several miles out of town. She watched the landscape speed by, thankful at least she wouldn’t get bugs in her teeth like she sometimes did while riding.
“Sure is bumpy, isn’t it?”
Carly glanced at the woman across the seat. “Yeah, sure is.”
“My name is Ellie Blackstone.”
Carly felt the blood drain from her face. They’d never discussed what to do if someone asked her name. “Uh ... Carly ... Payton.”
The woman smiled, pulled some knitting out of her satchel, and started clicking her long needles together. All the while, Carly wondered if she should have given a false name. And how could that woman knit on such a bouncy stage? If Carly tried that, she was certain she’d end up stabbing herself. She set her handbag on the seat beside her, one hand on it so it wouldn’t slide off and not be handy when she needed it. She hoped she wouldn’t have to shoot Ellie.
“I’m a mail-order bride on my way to Texas.”
Carly blinked and stared at the young woman. “You mean you’re going to marry a man you ain’t never met?”
Ellie giggled. “That’s right, although I have received three letters from him. He’s a marshal in Lookout, Texas. I’ve never been to Texas before. Have you?”
Carly shook her head. “No, but I’d sure as shootin’ like to go some day.”
“I’m excited about the trip, although my brother is worried about me. I just couldn’t stand living under the same roof as him and his new wife.” Ellie stopped knitting and lowered her hands to her lap. “Don’t get me wrong. Charlene was nice enough, but I could tell she didn’t like sharing the house with another woman, even if I did grow up there.”
“How’dja learn about the marshal?”
Ellie smiled. “I placed an advertisement in a magazine, and a month later, I got a letter from a solicitor saying the marshal in Lookout, Texas, was interested in learning more about me. I wrote him, and he wrote back several times and then asked for my hand. I agreed, and then he sent me the traveling money.”
Never having heard such a story, Carly sat back in the seat. “What if ... what if he’s old—and fat?”
Ellie giggled, brown eyes sparkling. “Luke is only twenty-nine, and oh so tall.”
“That’s gotta be a lot older than you are.”
She shrugged and renewed her knitting. “Seven years. But lots of men are that much older than their wives.”
Carly leaned back, staring out the window. She couldn’t afford to take a liking to Ellie when she might have to shoot her in a half hour. She tapped her hand against the hardness of the gun in her handbag. How long would her brother wait to attack the stage? They should be far enough from town so that any shots fired wouldn’t be heard back in Decker, but not too close to the next town. She jiggled her foot.
What would it be like to marry a stranger? A marshal, no less. Carly shuddered. But then she sat up straighter. A marshal would know when payroll shipments would be going out on the stage. If she could get close to such a man, she could learn about them herself and might be able to score a big enough heist that she could quit being an outlaw and live a respectable life. Course, a marshal might have heard of the Payton gang, but he would have no way of connecting her to it.
But there was the issue of Ellie. “Did you send the marshal a photograph of yourself?”
Ellie shook her head and looked out the window, nibbling on her lower lip. “No, I was afraid he might not like what he saw.” She patted her dark hair. “Men often prefer blonds.”
So ... the marshal didn’t know what Ellie looked like. Thoughts spun through Carly’s mind faster than the wheels of the stage turned. If only she could take the woman’s place, but there was no chance of that. Tyson would appear soon with his gang, and she’d have to leave with him whether she wanted to or not. She thought of how Emmett leered at her across the campfire most nights. He’d tried to kiss her once, and even now a shiver ran down her spine. So far, her brother had kept the man away from her, but what if something happened to Tyson?
A shot rang out behind them, and Carly jumped, along with Ellie, even though she’d been expecting her brother.
“Robbers! No, this can’t be happening.” Ellie clutched her knitting to her chest. “I’m not even out of Missouri yet.”
Above them, shots fired back toward the outlaws. A bullet hit the window frame, sending flying splinters of wood toward them. One hit Carly in the face, and she jerked her head to the side. Didn’t the gang care that she was inside the stage?
She reached for her handbag as it slid along the seat. The coach hit a dip in the road, dropped down, and then back out. Carly reached for the edge of the window to keep from being flung to the ground. If this thing doesn’t stop soon, I’ll be black and blue—if I even survive.
The stage lurched side-to-side as the horses thundered down the dirt road in their effort to flee the outlaws. The coach groaned, and harnesses jangled. Dust coated Carly’s lips. Ellie clung to the window frame with one hand and pressed her other hand against the seat, her eyes wide and her knitting forgotten.
Carly reached for her handbag again, but it slid onto the ground. She leaned forward, just as Fred, a new member of the gang, pulled even with Ellie’s window. His gaze sought out Carly’s, and then he fired toward the other passenger. Ellie slumped sideways just as Fred was blasted out of his saddle by either the stage driver or the shotgun rider. Carly jerked to the left and ducked, as if the shot had been meant for her. Why had he shot Ellie when she wasn’t even armed?
Carly dropped to the floor and fumbled with her handbag, knowing how angry her brother would be if she didn’t draw her gun. The coach lurched again, and Ellie fell on top of her. Carly’s heart jolted clear up into her throat. With her bag in her hand, she attempted to rise, but Ellie’s weight and the constant jostling held her down. She fought the panic blurring her vision and making her heart stampede. Was Ellie dead? Or just unconscious?
Behind the stage, she heard more gunfire.
Hoofbeats pulled even with the door. “Carly, you in there?”
Unable to catch her breath, she didn’t respond to her brother’s question. She tried to push up, but Ellie’s limp body weighted her down. The stage swayed right and left, groaning and creaking, until she feared it would tip over.
Ty cursed. “Carly’s down.”
More gunshots echoed behind them.
“Soldiers! Let’s ride.”
Ty was leaving her? She had to get out of the coach or she’d be caught. But even as she struggled to get Ellie’s dead weight off her, an idea formed in her mind. Did she dare go through with it?
She heard more riders pass the stage. “Get it stopped, Chet, and see if the passengers are injured.”
The stage gradually slowed, but the other riders charged on ahead, probably after her brother. Would he fight for her or just keep running like the time a gang member had fallen under gunfire? A sudden thought blasted into her mind. She had no idea where to look for her brother now that they were separated. And she had no horse. They hadn’t discussed this development.
Her breath came in ragged bursts as the stage squeaked to a halt. Footsteps marched in her direction, and the door opened. Carly’s heart
thundered, and she lay still. Since she’d have surprise on her side, she might be able to pull her gun and shoot the man.
He muttered a soft curse. “Looks like they shot two women.”
Carly felt Ellie’s limp body being lifted off of her, and she sucked in a deep breath and tucked her handbag underneath her. Should she continue to play possum or try to get up?
Before she could decide, steady footsteps brought the man back, and Carly froze. She felt herself being tugged toward the door then lifted into the man’s arms as her handbag dropped to the ground. He smelled of sweat, dust, and leather. He gently set her down, and she moaned. Lifting her hand to her cheek, she pretended to be coming around after passing out.
“W–what happened?” She opened her eyes and saw a man with kind hazel eyes staring back.
“Just take it easy, ma’am. You was in a holdup.”
Carly gasped and splayed her hand over her chest. “Oh mercy. What about the other passenger. Is she...”
“Passed out cold. Might have to do with the shot that grazed her head or the sewing needle piercing her side. And she’s got another bullet in her shoulder.” The man shook his head. “It don’t look good for her. I doubt she’ll make it, especially being so far from town. Joplin’s the closest, so I reckon that’s where you two will end up once the rest of my team returns.”
“Returns?”
The man rose and took a canteen off his saddle horn. “They went after them outlaws. Killed one back a ways, but the others rode off.” He stooped down, opened the canteen, and handed it to her. “What’s your name, ma’am?”
Panic sliced through Carly as she slowly sipped the water, delaying her response. Ellie may not have recognized her real name, but a lawman surely would. “Uh ... Ellie. Ellie Blackstone.”
CHAPTER 12
Lookout, Texas June 1886
Luke scanned Main Street, crowded with people from the town and nearby farms and ranches, all come to Lookout to celebrate his thirtieth birthday. At the far end of the street, music filled the air, and five couples danced to a lively tune. Tables filled with food served by the womenfolk lined one side of Main Street. Luke scowled as Garrett approached, knowing the shindig had been his idea. Max, lying on the porch, didn’t bother lifting his head but wagged his tail.
Garrett laughed and wrapped his arm around Luke’s shoulder in a friendly greeting. “Just relax and enjoy the festivities, cuz. You know these folks jump at any chance to get together for a celebration, especially those who live outside of town. Farming and ranching can be a lonely life.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t like being the center of attention.”
Mark strode toward them carrying two cups, a grin widening his face. “Nice party, isn’t it?”
He handed Luke a mug of something. Luke sniffed it, ignoring his question. Apple cider. He sipped the sweet drink, watching, looking for trouble. With so many people gathered in such a small spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later.
“So, how’s it feel to be thirty, ol’ man?” Mark lifted his cup to his lips.
“Where’s mine?” Garrett stood with his hands on his hips. “I sent you off to get us a drink, and you give mine to Luke?”
Mark grinned. “He’s the birthday boy. Fetch your own refreshment.”
Garrett snarled his lip at Mark and muttered a phony growl, making Luke chuckle. His cousins were all the family he had left, and Lookout had been the only town he’d ever called home. He’d prayed long and thought hard before quitting the cavalry and returning to Lookout, but in the end, family and familiarity won out—not to mention he believed it was what God wanted him to do. His gaze journeyed to where Rachel was cutting pies at a table. Tonight the town was filled with women, and he only had eyes for one. He shook his head. How pathetic he was.
“Why don’t you ask her to dance?” Garrett nudged Luke in the arm.
“What?” Luke shot a glance at his cousin, realizing he’d been caught staring.
“Go ask Rachel to dance.”
“It may be my birthday, but I’m still on duty.”
“Someone else will ask her if you don’t.”
At that very moment, Rand Kessler stopped at Rachel’s table. He stood close to her and said something. Rachel offered a half smile and shook her head. Rand leaned closer. Luke’s hackles lifted. Rachel nodded then waved to the doctor’s wife, who came and took her place at the pie table. Rand offered Rachel his arm, and she took it, allowing him to lead her toward the dancing couples.
“If you still have any interest in Rachel, don’t wait too long.” Garrett gave him a knowing look. “Rand Kessler’s been after her to marry him for a year now.”
Luke ignored the comment, though it ate at him. “How big of a ranch does this Kessler have?”
“Big. He’s one of the more prosperous ranchers in this area.”
Great. So Rachel was after another man with money. Even if Luke was interested in her, she’d never give a low paid town marshal a second look. He ground down hard on his back teeth. Maybe the best thing he could do was get married; then he’d have a woman who could help take his mind off Rachel Hamil—
A blast of shots rang out. Luke flung down the tin cup and yanked out his gun. Max lurched to his feet, whimpering, and disappeared into the jail office. Luke scanned the throng of merchants, farmers, and families gathered along Main Street. Where was the shooter?
His heart galloped. A shooter in such a crowded area could be a disaster. “Did you see the gunman?”
Beside him, Garrett held the same rigid stance. “No. It didn’t sound too close, but it’s hard to tell with all the noise here.”
Luke searched the rowdy crowd. The townsfolk square-danced, chatted, and carried on as if nothing had happened. Had the band’s music muffled the gunfire so they hadn’t heard it? Couldn’t they sense the danger?
The rapid pop sounded again. People on the fringe of the mass spun about, turning concerned stares toward the noise. A woman screamed and grabbed her husband.
“Over there.” Garrett pointed toward the bank with his gun, and then he holstered it. “Stupid kids. Don’t they know they can spark a blaze with those firecrackers?”
Shaking his head at the trio of adolescents, Luke pocketed his pistol. “I’ll run ’em off.”
Mark stepped forward. “Let me and Garrett do it. After all, it’s your party.”
“Yeah, but I’m the marshal. It’s what I get paid to do.” He glanced at the nearby table laden with desserts, where Rachel had been serving pie. “One of you could grab me a slice of Rachel’s apple pie before it’s gone.”
Luke loped toward the bank. Truth be told, he appreciated the town’s celebration of his birthday, but he hated having everyone’s attention focused on him. As the marshal, he was more used to standing back, watching everybody else. He stopped in front of the mercantile and gazed across the road, watching the spot where the youngsters had been gathered. Two of the boys were gone, but a small shape huddled near the corner of the bank. The spark of a match illuminated the child’s face.
Jack.
Not again. Luke strode around the corner, gritting his teeth.
The child glanced up, eyes widening. The match fell to the ground, and Jack took off like a rabbit freed from a snare. Luke stomped the flames that flickered to life on the dry grass, sending dust over the boots he’d polished for tonight’s special occasion. No point chasing Jack now. She was long gone, and besides, he knew where to find her when the dust settled. Swiping the tops of his boots on the back of his pants leg, Luke heaved a sigh. Rachel didn’t need this, but they’d have to talk about Jack’s latest antic. She was going to have to face the facts about her ornery child before someone got hurt.
Fifteen minutes later, after taking a spin around the outskirts of town to make sure all was in order, Luke sat with his cousins on the steps in front of his office. He cut a large bite of golden crust and tender apple, shoved it in his mouth, and licked the cinnamon and sugar from his fork. “
Rachel sure does make good pie.”
“Too bad she can’t control that kid of hers as well as she can cook,” Garrett said.
“I’m tellin’ you, Luke, you ought to marry her before Rand does; then you could eat all the pie you want.” Mark’s brown eyes flickered with amusement.
Luke nearly choked on his final bite. “You know I can’t do that.”
“All that was a long time ago, cuz.” Garrett sipped a cup of coffee.
“Maybe so, but after the woman you love betrays you, a man thinks long and hard before risking his heart again.”
The Anonymous Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 1) Page 10
