by Linda Broday
Also by Linda Broday
Bachelors of Battle Creek
Texas Mail Order Bride
Twice a Texas Bride
Forever His Texas Bride
Men of Legend
To Love a Texas Ranger
The Heart of a Texas Cowboy
To Marry a Texas Outlaw
Texas Heroes
Knight on the Texas Plains
The Cowboy Who Came Calling
To Catch a Texas Star
Outlaw Mail Order Brides
The Outlaw’s Mail Order Bride
Saving the Mail Order Bride
Texas Redemption
Christmas in a Cowboy’s Arms anthology
Longing for a Cowboy Christmas anthology
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Books. Change. Lives.
Copyright © 2020 by Linda Broday
Cover and internal design © 2020 by Sourcebooks
Cover art by Gregg Gulbronson
Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.
Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks
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Contents
Front Cover
Title Page
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Twenty-nine
Thirty
Thirty-one
Thirty-two
Thirty-three
Thirty-four
Thirty-five
Thirty-six
Thirty-seven
Author’s Note
Excerpt from Pathfinder
Chapter 1
About the Author
Back Cover
Dedicated to Sarah Mason Stipp, a dear cousin and avid romance reader. Enjoy the fruits of your labor and the rest you so richly deserve. If only I could laugh with you one more time.
One
Texas Panhandle
Summer 1881
Darkness closed around Melanie Dunbar as a clock somewhere beyond the stone wall gonged eight times. The honeysuckle-scented night breeze blowing in through the barred window wasn’t that cold, but with fear added to the mix, it chilled her to the bone. Shivering, she put an arm around her sister Ava and pulled the one blanket they shared around them.
“I’m so scared, Melanie.” Ava’s whisper was loud in the quiet stillness. “And hungry.”
The sheriff had long since locked up and left, not bothering to feed them.
“I know. Me too.” Melanie hugged her sister tighter. Though they were twins, Ava had never been as strong or sturdy. In fact, she’d been sickly most of her life. “Try to think of something pleasant. Remember that time when we were girls and Mac left us with Grandmother?”
“She was real nice. I wish we could’ve stayed there longer.” Ava laid her head on Melanie’s shoulder and fingered the silver locket around her neck. “It was one of the few times I felt loved—really loved. I wish Mama hadn’t died when we were born.”
“Things would’ve been different. She wouldn’t have let Mac drag us from pillar to post.”
Melanie had no misconceptions about their father. Mac—a gambler, a con man, a cheat. And he’d started their lessons in the art of trickery and sleight of hand over fifteen years ago, only they’d never done anything but run an honest game at the tables. They both had skill at counting cards and found enjoyment in besting other players the right way. Anyone could cheat. That didn’t take finesse. But to be the best took much more than deceit.
Now, the sheriff of Canadian, Texas, had arrested them for carrying fraudulent bank notes that Mac had thrust on them.
And the rat had disappeared into the wind, leaving them to take the fall.
Melanie silently called him every vile name she could think of. She should’ve been more careful, but Mac had been charming and for once had seemed to truly care about their welfare.
Damn! He’d conned them just like he did everyone else.
“What are we going to do?” Ava voiced the same question running through Melanie’s head.
“I’ll figure something out.”
“I can’t go to prison. Please don’t let them send me to that horrible place,” Ava begged.
“I won’t,” she promised, knowing she couldn’t very well stop the law.
Twenty years of hard labor, the judge had pronounced with a bang of his gavel. Twenty years locked up. If they survived, they’d be old women by the time they got out—their lives done. She had to think of something. Ava would die in there as sure as she was born.
A scratching sound came from the wall, and a moment later a rodent scurried across their feet. Ava screeched and jerked her legs up.
Heavy footsteps sounded outside on the boardwalk. A key went in the lock. The door swung open. A dark figure moved to the lamp and struck a match. The soft glow revealed the frightening face.
Judge Ira McIlroy.
Melanie’s blood went cold. She wished to pull the blanket over her head, but she refused to cower. She took in his head of thick, silver hair and the long, puckered scar running along one cheek.
The judge crossed the room and stood in front of their cell. “I have a deal for you.”
It seemed too good to be true, and it probably was, but she’d hear him out. She got to her feet and moved to him. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve gone through your belongings and see you’ve been writing to that no-good outlaw Tait Trinity. Talking about being his mail order bride.” He rubbed his cheek. “Marry him and gain his trust. Then deliver him and the money he’s stolen to me.”
“The considerable amount he stole from the railroad. They want it back.” McIlroy gave her a twisted grin that brought foreboding. “There’s a sizeable reward in it for me.”
The man’s greed was only exceeded by his thirst for power. Unease told her to tread carefully. She narrowed her gaze. “In exchange for what?”
“I’ll free your sister.”
Melanie shook her head. “Not good enough. I’ll be risking my life and still go to prison? I don’t think so.”
“Very well. I’ll drop all charges against you both. But I keep Ava as insurance. She’ll be safe here—and once you’re done, you’ll both walk free.”
Melanie hesitated only briefly. Ava’s life meant more to her than anything. “Shake on it?”
The judge stuck his arm through the steel bars and sealed the bargain. “It’s a deal. I’ll release you in the morning.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. “Cross me and I’ll kill you and your sister both. Got that?”
At her nod, he dropped his hold, turned, and left the jail.
What would happen if she did go through with a marriage to Tait and he learned she’d betrayed him? He was a known killer. And there’d be no one to protect her.
Melanie shivered. She’d just made a deal with the devil. How it would end would be anyone’s guess. But for Ava she’d do anything.
* * *
There was an old cowboy saying: Never give the devil a ride or he’d always want the reins. Damn good advice, but even so sometimes the choice was out of a man’s hands.
Especially the ill-tempered man challenging Tait to draw.
Nearby robins gossiped softly in the breeze, sounding like many of the folk in this outlaw town. The rustle of footsteps behind him ceased. The birds stopped as though on command. His world froze.
Tait Trinity waited for death.
He didn’t blink, didn’t swallow, didn’t move a muscle except in his flexing hand, inches from the smooth ram’s-horn grip of his Smith & Wesson. He ignored the single bead of sweat that trickled into the lines of his left eye and stung like hell.
To lose focus for even a second could spell death.
A young man stood twenty paces in front of him, itching to kill him. He too seemed stuck in time. Anger reddened Ed Berringer’s cheeks, and hate filled his deep-set eyes as his palm hovered above the butt of his gun. “I’m giving you a fair chance. That’s more than you gave my brother.”
The sun barely had risen on the new day, and Tait had yet to go bed. A crew of tiny workers inside his head sledgehammered thick iron spikes into his skull, and Berringer’s yelling didn’t help his headache one bit. Tait stood outside Hope’s Crossing’s only saloon and tried to steady the swaying boardwalk beneath his feet. It was far too early in the morning to make life-and-death decisions.
Tait shook his long hair back, wishing he had his hat. Where had he left it? His opponent’s right eye twitched, the only sign of nerves. “Willie tried to shoot me in the back. He was yellow through and through.”
“You lie.” Ed shifted slightly. Except for the sneer, he wouldn’t be bad looking.
“Where’s your father, Ed? Kern’s the one I want. You trying to prove how big you are by coming alone?”
“I don’t need my father—or any of the rest of my brothers—to finish you off.”
“This fight is between me and Kern. Go get him. I’m not going to shoot unless you force my hand.” Damn his blurred vision. Tait blinked hard.
A few onlookers emerged from doorways, the town beginning to awaken. Tait hoped like hell no one else would get caught in the middle of this. Before he could blink, Clay Colby, the founder of the town and himself an ex-outlaw, stalked into Tait’s line of sight and hustled everyone back.
Ed stared at Tait, hate settling in the deep creases around his mouth. His frustration was clear, and that made for a very dangerous situation.
A testy hiss exploded through Tait’s teeth. “Either believe me about Willie or not. Frankly, I don’t give two hoots. I’m tired, I’m grouchy, and I have no patience for bellyachers. Your brother got what he deserved. Now if you’re in such a hurry to join him, let’s get this over with.”
The crowd grew, and Tait wondered who they rooted for. He hadn’t been living in Hope’s Crossing long and was no good at making friends to start with, so he hadn’t bothered trying.
“After I kill you, I’m collecting the five-thousand-dollar reward for your hide!” Ed yelled.
That was a given. And it explained the true reason for this challenge. It wasn’t about Ed’s dead brother. It was all about the money. Just like it had been for Willie.
Sudden shouts and jangling rigging told Tait the early stagecoach was lumbering through the opening in the canyon wall and into town. Dogs barked furiously at the arrival, but Tait didn’t swing to look. His gaze never left Berringer.
The man’s right eye twitched again. He was getting ready to draw.
Maybe Ed would manage to get a lucky shot and Tait would make that final journey to Boot Hill.
Fate was fickle. Maybe Tait’s gun would catch on the holster. Maybe it would misfire. Or maybe the sleep he yearned for would last for an eternity.
Dying would almost be a blessing. He’d messed up too much to straighten out in this lifetime. His road to perdition was already paved with wanted posters, posses, and too many bullet holes. Tait released a heavy sigh. What did a man like him really have to look forward to but a hangman’s rope?
In her letters, Melanie had told him it was never too late to change. Tell that to Ed Berringer and his .45. And if not Ed today, it would be another tomorrow, and another and another. They just kept coming, and the only thing that stood between Tait and certain death was his gun.
He just prayed he’d have the chance to make Kern Berringer pay for Lucy’s death before he died. Anger rose up so thick inside it choked him.
“Did you go to sleep over there, Trinity?” Ed barked. “I think you’re nothing but a coward.”
“Just waiting for hell to freeze over so I can go ice-skating,” Tait drawled lazily.
“Look, a gunfight!” yelled a kid. There was a flurry of movement off to the left and the sound of running feet.
“It sure is.” The second new voice sounded equally as young.
“For God’s sake, Colby, get those kids out of here,” Tait ground out.
A crow’s loud caws came from the roof of the saloon, and Tait heard Clay and his friend Jack Bowdre take the children in hand.
Tension mounted with each passing tick of the clock in Tait’s head.
“Draw, you worthless, low-down son-of-a-sin-eater,” he mumbled to himself.
Another bead of sweat rolled down his face and into his eye, stinging like holy hell. Even so, he didn’t reach to wipe it away. Every muscle stretched to the breaking point, his breathing shallow.
Moments passed.
Ed Berringer whipped out his gun. Half-blinded by the salty sweat, Tait slapped leather with lightning reflexes honed from years of practice. He sent a bullet speeding into Berringer’s heart before the man could squeeze the trigger.
Smoke curled around the barrel of Tait Trinity’s gun and swirled up his nose, the acrid smell of gunpowder mixing with the scent of sweat and stale odor of alcohol. A bright light flashed from a camera that the town’s newspaper reporter must’ve set up. Hell!
Tait stood silent for a long minute, trying to decide if he was alive or dead. He checked his body for holes and, finding none, finally slid his weapon into the holster.
Clay was the first to reach him. “You had no choice, Trinity. He was spoiling for a fight.”
“Yeah.” Tait turned and noticed the two boys and a little girl standing next to Jack Bowdre. “Berringer deserved wh
at he got. But you know this is only the beginning. This’ll bring the rest of the Berringer clan here.” Still it was Papa Berringer that Tait hoped to finally come face-to-face with. They had unfinished business. Lucy business. He ground his back teeth. It’d be a blessing to finally get it over with and end this gnawing in his gut after three long years.
Still, at what cost to the town? People would die. Old man Kern would see to it.
Grim lines slashed Clay’s face. “For sure.”
“Damn!” The outlaw town of Hope’s Crossing had survived so far by laying low and not drawing attention. Tait’s stomach soured. He’d brought trouble.
“Whatever happens, we’ll handle it. We always do.” Clay stared off toward the hotel.
Jack, Clay’s best friend and the local sheriff, brought the kids over. “We have a bit of a situation, Tait.”
“It’ll have to wait.” Tait had more pressing matters. He narrowed his gaze at the newspaper man, Monty Roman, who was pushing his way through the crowd with paper and pencil in hand. Hell! Soon everyone in the Texas Panhandle would know where he was. Pictures and articles were the last thing he needed.
He had to get out of here. But leaving wouldn’t fix the problem. Tait stepped in front of Roman. “I’ll have to ask you not to print what occurred here—not the article or picture.”
Roman blustered. “You can’t silence the press. People have a right to know the happenings in this town.”
Clay released a frustrated whoosh of air. “If you print this and send it out on the wire, it’ll draw every bounty hunter and lawman in the country. Folks might die.”
“Blood will be on your hands, Roman.” Tait prayed that was enough of a reminder to keep the newspaper man quiet about this morning’s set-to. “Do you want that for these women and children?”
“Of course not. But—”
Jack stepped between them, dragging the kids along with him. “When we let you set up your printer here, you agreed to never put any of us in jeopardy. Are you going back on your word?”
“No, but you have to give me something,” Roman pleaded.
Tait released a weary sigh. “I’ll make a deal. Kill the story and picture and I’ll give you that God-blessed interview you’ve been pestering me about.”
