Mail-Order Groom

by Lisa Plumley

  “As long as you’re beside me,” she told him as she lifted her head high, “I’m ready for anything, Mr. Corwin.”

  They clasped hands more tightly and headed for the place where the minister waited—ready to tell lies that, if they were very lucky, might eventually come true for them both.

  Eyeing his brother with trepidation, Linus Bedell shifted nervously from foot to foot. His damned stolen boots rubbed on his big toes, making his movements hurt. But his toes didn’t hurt as much as the rest of him would hurt if things went bad. Ever since riding up to Linus’s secret hiding place, Curtis had been getting himself ornerier and ornerier. If Linus knew his brother, that meant somebody was getting smacked pretty soon. “I knew you was holding out on us!” Curtis said as he paced beside his picketed horse. “I knew you was up to no good.”

  “I wasn’t. I swear! It ain’t like that.” Linus waggled his head from side to side as vehemently as he could without shaking it clean off. “All I was doing was watching the telegraph station, waitin’ for a chance to sneak in and get that money.”

  “Yeah. And ride off with it all to your own self, I bet.” Curtis’s eyes narrowed. “Good thing Roy sent me out here to keep a watch on you.” That was how Curtis had happened to spy the lady and the detective leaving the station this morning—and how he’d come to follow them partway on their journey, besides. “Likely Roy was suspicious of you, too. He’s smart as a whip. He prob’ly knows you’re a no-good, selfish liar, clean through.”

  “Hey. There’s no call for gettin’ nasty,” Linus complained.

  “Why not? You done let that telegraph lady ’most heal up that cuss Corwin, nearly all the way! Would it have killed you to creep down there one night and smother him in his sleep or somethin’?” Curtis frowned. “I swear, you’re plumb useless.”

  “I am not. I just don’t like the idea of killin’, is all.”

  “Even a baby could smother somebody, Linus.” His brother appeared disgusted. “I don’t know why Roy puts up with you.”

  “Probably ’cause I’m going to be the one to bring in all that gal’s nest-egg money.” Driven to the boast by Curtis’s insufferable behavior, Linus pointed to the distant station. It hunkered in the valley below the bluff they were on, peaceful and snug. “I’ve been waitin’ on my chance, and now here it is.”

  “Well, the place is deserted by now for sure, I’d say. Corwin and that woman rode almost all the way into Avalanche. I saw ’em afore I turned around and came back here. They’ll be gone awhile—leaving all the more time for us to git our share of that money and whatever else we can find, besides.”

  “The place ain’t all the way deserted,” Linus pointed out. He nibbled his lip, thinking of that big station helper who scared him. The only reason Linus hadn’t yet investigated the station was that that man was still there. “There’s a—”

  “I wouldn’t have minded if that woman was here, though. She’s a right fine-looking piece of ladyhood.” Clearly ignoring Linus in favor of his latest reverie, Curtis gazed into the distance with a hungry expression. “I sure could use me a woman like that sometime. She would treat me real nice, I bet.”

  Linus couldn’t stand it. “She would not. She’s fancy. She wouldn’t even like you. She’s way too good for someone—”

  Like you, he meant to say, but Curtis hauled off and smacked him—as usual—cutting off the rest of his words.

  Seeing stars, Linus clapped his hand to his stinging jaw. He let loose a yowl of pain, then kicked his brother. His stolen boot made a satisfying clunk as it connected with Curtis’s shin.

  Curtis hollered. A second later, the two of them were in the dirt, rolling and punching. Linus opened his mouth to swear at his brother. He tasted gritty Arizona Territory dust instead. Worse, he got a big lungful of Curtis’s unwashed stink.

  “Tarnation, Curtis! Can’t you take a bath sometime?”

  Another punch. “You shut your mouth, halfwit.”

  Linus rolled and kicked. “You try and make me.”

  “I will.” Another hard blow to the head. “There.”

  “Didn’t hurt a bit.” Dizzily Linus panted. “See?”

  He rolled over to his hands and knees, preparing to get to his feet and show Curtis exactly how wimpy his punches were. But an instant later, a big booted foot caught him in the ribs.

  Linus collapsed with a helpless oof sound. Beside him, Curtis grunted and did the same. That was strange. That was…

  A shadow fell over them both. Newly alert, Linus looked up.

  His brother Edward stood there with his legs spread apart. Like usual, he appeared ill tempered, mean and tidily dressed.

  “Edward.” With his eyes wide, Curtis scrambled himself out of boot-kicking range. “How’d you get here so fast?”

  “Shut up. You’re both pathetic.”

  Curtis nodded dumbly. Linus only gaped in hushed reverence, afeared to move in case he called unwanted attention to himself. Everybody knew better than to cross Edward Bedell. He was almost as smart as Roy, and he was twice as ruthless, to boot.

  Linus’s ploy didn’t work. Edward kicked him anyway.

  “That’s for not hearing me ride up here.”

  “S-sorry, Edward!” Linus cowered. “We was busy.”

  Curtis got a kick, too. He bared his teeth like a dog.

  “There. Now you’re both even. And I hear we got ourselves a party in the making.” Appearing cheered by the whaling he’d given them, Edward rubbed his palms together. He nodded toward the telegraph station. “I’d say it’s about time we got started.”

  Behind him, the final Bedell brother dismounted from his horse—the one they’d filched from that detective, Corwin. Wynn Bedell moseyed over to stand beside Edward. He spat a brownish stream of tobacco juice in the dirt, rousing a buzzing fly.

  Linus couldn’t imagine how he’d ignored the sounds of his other brothers approaching. That was just plain idiotic of him. He knew better. Aggravated to have his sweet setup ruined—and seeing his hopes of impressing Roy with getting that nest-egg money fadin’ fast—he cast a sour look at Curtis.

  “You went all the way to town and told them?” he asked.

  Curtis shrugged. “I had time. ’Specially riding that fast horse I pinched. ’Sides, I didn’t like the way Corwin looked at me on the road to Avalanche, all promisin’ revenge or somethin’. I figured I’d better collect me some backup, just in case.”

  “I coulda been your backup!” Wounded by Curtis’s lack of faith in him, Linus made a face. “I ain’t so small that I can’t git in a lick or two when it’s necessary. I swear, Curtis—”

  “Shut up, the both of you,” Edward said. “I’m thinking.”

  Instantly they fell silent. Curtis offered a meek nod.

  “And what I’m thinking is this: we’re going to that station down there,” Edward announced, “and we’re going to get…whatever the hell we want.” He grinned. But his was a cruel smile, too filled with malice to be likable. “Linus, you stay up here and keep watch. Signal us if anybody comes near.”

  “But there’s still somebody down at the station.” Anxiously Linus pointed. He shuffled backward, too, just in case his warning irked Edward, who was prone to getting indignant over the smallest thing—like a wrinkled shirt. “That woman’s got herself a big colored man for a helper. He’s in the station—”

  “He’ll get what’s coming to him. Don’t you worry about that.” Unconcerned by the notion of an innocent person being present in the place he intended to loot, Edward plucked out his firearm. He checked it, then gave a contented nod and holstered it again. For now. “Nobody stands between me and what I want.”

  “Well, Roy kinda does,” Linus pointed out. “He’s the bo—”

  His words ended in a wheeze as Edward cuffed him in the head. Linus clutched his skull. He gazed sullenly upward. “Ain’t nobody my boss,” Edward told him, just like he’d been one of them gypsies reading Linus’s mind. “Not even Roy.”

  All
the brothers nodded. Wynn shifted his wad of chaw in his mouth, sending a contemplative look toward the telegraph station. Whenever they had a job to do, Wynn got spookily quiet.

  But Linus only got more morose. Especially over what had just happened between him and Curtis, who’d up and tattled on him with no warning at all. And over what had happened between him and Edward, too. His big brother might have given him a chance to help out—to share what tips he’d picked up during all his shrewd watching of the telegraph station over these past few days. That would have been the upright thing to do.

  But since Edward hadn’t done that, Linus vowed right then and there not to worry no more about his brothers’ immortal souls. Not Edward’s or Curtis’s or Wynn’s or Roy’s. Instead he’d start worrying about his own soul. Exclusively from now on.

  Well, maybe he’d think about Roy’s soul, too, Linus amended, feeling guilty about throwing Roy to the devil like that. But only because Roy had been kindest of all to him. And that was it. He was done with watching over the rest of them.

  As his three brothers saddled up, Linus made himself think cannily. He watched the others without moving, then waved them off toward the station—just like he would’ve done if he’d been going to do what Edward asked. Then, the minute that Edward, Curtis, and Wynn rode out of sight, Linus left his watch post.

  Defiantly he scurried through the trees and down the hillside, set to warn that big colored man by whatever means his poor bruised noggin could think up. Hopefully by the time he got down to the station he’d be a few steps ahead of his eternally damned brothers and their always-ready guns, to boot.

  Chapter Nine

  As bad luck would have it, Savannah’s wedding was delayed.

  Not because someone objected to the ceremony. Not because someone turned up, as Savannah had half feared, and exposed her as a scandalous “Ruthless Reed.” Not even because she or her fiancé got cold feet. The reason for the delay was simpler than that. A new member of the minister’s congregation arrived on the doorstep with a shout, carrying a whiskey bottle in one hand and a bundle of mining claim paperwork in the other, and announced his intention to find “the sweet love of the Lord”—a task for which he insisted he needed the minister’s help right then.

  The miner, however, had the misfortune of expressing his eagerness to be saved by waving around his arms in an erratic manner. His gesture earned him a thundering tackle from—of all people—Savannah’s civilized, Eastern-bred, mail-order groom.

  Caught in a chokehold beneath Adam’s elbow, the man yelped. Confused and surprised, he dropped his whiskey bottle.

  It shattered on the anteroom floor, sending liquor fumes into the air. The minister and his wife, their two witnesses, and Savannah all stepped backward, staring in surprise. Savannah blinked, scarcely able to fathom how Adam had moved so quickly.

  For a deskbound telegraph operator, he was surprisingly light on his feet—akin to the dancers she’d met and watched perform during her days onstage in New York City…only more dangerous seeming. Roughly, Adam hauled the man to his feet.

  “I’m sorry! I surrender!” The miner’s bewildered gaze swung around to the minister. He held up his arms in surrender. “I swear, Padre. I didn’t know the Almighty was so hard up for followers that He was getting ’em like this! I was comin’ here of my own free will, to thank Him for my new mining strike.”

  “Who sent you?” Adam demanded.

  “Nobody!” the man said. “Nobody sent me.”

  Adam gave the miner a hard jerk. “Try again.”

  “Well, maybe my lady friend, Lucille, sent me, in a way, I mean,” the man blubbered. “She always was on me to mend my ways, God rest her.” With panicky eyes, he gazed around the anteroom. His attention lit on the minister with his bible, the pair of wide-eyed witnesses, the minister’s wife and then Savannah—with her modest bouquet of wildflowers and fancy dress—in turn. “Oh. I’m sorry, Padre. I seem to be interruptin’ something here.”

  His manner turned unexpectedly contrite, which baffled their entire sextet. Everyone remained silent, unsure what to do in this unusual situation. Adam still appeared fairly murderous, Savannah observed, like he had on the road when meeting the erstwhile Curtis Bedell. She wasn’t at all certain what to do, either. She settled on behaving in a way that best befit a reader of the Guide to Correct Etiquette and Proper Behavior handbook. Civilly she inclined her head to greet the man.

  “That’s quite all right,” she said. “We hadn’t even started yet. Please don’t trouble yourself any further, Mr….?”

  As a hint, she raised her eyebrows, the way Mose did when reminding her to mend some lapse in propriety. Adam, evidently curious about the man’s name as well, gave him another jerk.

  “The lady wants an answer,” he said.

  “H-Haywood.” Casting a sidelong glance at Adam, the miner nervously bobbed his head. “It’s Mr. Jedediah Haywood, ma’am.”

  “Well. I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Haywood.” Savannah gave Adam what she hoped was a subtle hint to release the man. Adam merely frowned at her. “Would you like to attend our wedding? We have plenty of room for one more, I assure you.”

  Over the man’s head, Adam gave a dark scowl. She’d swear his arm tightened against the miner’s dirt-smudged neck, too.

  “I—I don’t think so!” Mr. Haywood said.

  Adam nudged him in the ribs. Quickly the miner amended his refusal. “But thank you very kindly all the same, ma’am.”

  Appearing satisfied by his deferential tone, Adam nodded.

  Exasperated, Savannah approached the pair of them. Gently she took hold of Adam’s burly arm, then pried it forcibly away.

  “I’m so sorry,” she told to Mr. Haywood. “My fiancé is a bit riled up today, on account of our impending marriage.”

  As though in proof of that, Adam scowled more deeply. But he allowed the miner to step free from his grasp—with one further provision. He nodded. “Show me your papers.”

  With shaky hands, Mr. Haywood held out his papers.

  Squinting, Adam examined them. No one else moved. Likely, Savannah reasoned, they feared being assaulted as well. She smiled pointedly at the minister’s wife, hoping to convey the message that Adam wasn’t usually violent…merely overcautious.

  “Fine.” With a suspicious glare, Adam gestured for the man to put away his claim forms. “You can stay until we’re finished, Mr. Haywood. We won’t be long. Just keep away from the lady.”

  What lady? Savannah expected Mr. Haywood to ask. After all, there were three women present, including herself. But the look that Adam threw her just then—protective, concerned and utterly besotted—drove the query straight out of her mind. Did Adam, she wondered in surprise, actually love her already?

  He might, she mused. That would certainly explain his peculiar behavior. In her experience, men weren’t always the handiest with tender emotions. In general, they were more likely to express themselves awkwardly. Even Mose, the kindest man she knew, was gruff sometimes. Considering Adam with newfound insight, Savannah watched as her fiancé jerkily straightened Mr. Haywood’s waistcoat. With a mumbled apology, Adam brushed off his jacket, too, clearly making amends for his brutish behavior.

  Savannah smiled at him in approval. Adam brightened.

  Sometimes when she looked at him, Savannah reflected, she had the sense that he would have done anything for her. But just then, for the first time, she felt a glimmer of a similar emotion herself. Over the past few days, she’d come to know and understand Adam, in person, and she liked what she’d learned. She admired his bravery and fortitude, and she stood in awe of his willingness to take whatever actions were needed in a given situation…regardless of how foolish they might make him seem.

  She did feel protected in his presence. And almost beloved, too. Over time, she knew, Adam would settle in and relax.

  Uncomfortably aware of the chary looks the others in their nuptial party gave him, Savannah stepped closer to him. “Well.
I feel quite confident that no one else will dare to interrupt us now.” Cheerfully she took his arm. “Shall we continue?”

  “Woowee!” yelled the miner. “Let’s get a wedding on!”

  Adam agreed. “My thoughts exactly,” he said with a smile.

  He looked gratefully to her for standing by him, and his hand, when it clasped hers, seemed to communicate a powerful sense of solidarity between them, too. This was how it would be, it occurred to Savannah. She and Adam, together against the world, united in love and bonded by the camaraderie they’d begun over the wires and through the mail…then enriched over eggs and toast and innumerable walks together around the station.

  She was truly blessed, she reckoned. As soon as she had a good opportunity, she intended to acknowledge that blessing by telling Adam the truth about her past. It was the right thing to do. And yet…Savannah still felt reluctant to risk doing so.

  What she needed, she decided, was a dose of Adam’s courage. By following his good example, she could avoid becoming further enmeshed in the lie she was accidentally creating.

  The minister cleared his throat, then opened his bible. “My friends and neighbors,” he began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of Savannah Reed and Adam Corwin.”

  “Yeehaw!” Mr. Haywood hollered, waving his hat.

  A few minutes later, Savannah’s wedding was well underway—rowdy evangelical miner included. And while it was true that the whole place smelled strongly of whiskey, and there were two near strangers present as well, none of those things mattered as much to Savannah as did the fond way her handsome groom clasped her hand. Or the way he gazed at her as he promised to love and cherish her. Or the way he stood tall beside her, alert and proud and heartwarmingly attentive to the proceedings.

  Savannah stood beside Adam with equal attentiveness, savoring every word and detail as she was saved from her past and properly prepared for her future. She did her utmost to remember everything; that was the only way she could properly relay the story to Mose later. And the moment those crucial words were said—I now pronounce you man and wife—Savannah felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from her shoulders.