Mail Order Brides of Wichita Falls Boxed Set (Historical Western Romance)

by Cyndi Raye

  She ran to the little boy who had become a part of her life. Holding him in a big old hug, she lowered herself to his level. “You will always be a part of me now, Billy. I’ll see you in town. I don’t plan to be going anywhere soon. I love you, too.”

  Waving goodbye to Max, the two headed towards Wichita Falls. “I plan to earn my keep,” she told her aunt.

  “Pooey, girl. You’re my relative. No need to.”

  “I’m not sure I can stay here knowing he is so close. If I can’t, I may need to buy a ticket to go back home. The only way I can do that is to get a job. I have nothing left.” She felt empty inside but it wasn’t because of no money or land. It was because she had fallen head over heels in love with a man who despised her.

  How would she ever make things right again?

  <><>

  Marshall knew he was pushing the horse to its limits. “Come on, you can do this,” he urged. One more mile to Wichita Falls. He let the reins slacken a bit and checked his pocket watch, then slammed the cover shut with a click. Ten minutes to ten. Plenty of time according to his watch. Even so, he was desperate to get there before Ward pulled shenanigans.

  His anger had dissipated since leaving the ranch. He wasn’t even sure why he let it get the best of him. Seeing her standing in the ranch yard, waiting for him to come home had tugged at his own heartstrings. Billy was so happy to see her, too.

  In that moment he had ached to pick her up and cover her in kisses. The reality hit him so hard he had made himself so angry. All he knew was he couldn’t be with her knowing she had lied to him. Ruby with the sky blue eyes. It made his heart race thinking of her sitting on the porch with him, looking up at the stars, placing her hand in his every single night. Yet, it was all a lie, all pretense. He thought at first he could live without love. Then she started spending time with him each night, enjoying each others company. Just like a real marriage. It wasn’t to be.Why hadn’t he seen this? Had he closed his eyes to everything else?

  Without realizing, Marshall nudged the horse even faster. She rode like the wind until the town came in to view. She galloped through the dirt street, straight to the land office. Marshall left her tied there, drinking up water from the metal trough. He had some land to purchase. Making his ranch bigger would take all his time and energy. Not a lot left to think about a woman with blue eyes. He turned from the land office and headed for the room Dawson usually spent the night at. Banging on the door, he turned the knob to find it wide open. The woman Dawson had dallied with was gone.

  “Mornin’ Dawson. Wake on up now, we have some business to tend to.”

  Dawson grumbled as usual. He was still in the bordelo on Main street, in a back room where the girls had a tiny broom closet of a room to sleep in, away from their daily lurid activities. Exactly where Marshall knew he would be. That meant one thing, Bryon Ward didn’t stand a chance buying the land out from under him now. “I’m here to purchase a parcel or two of land.”

  “The land with the waterfall you’ve been harping about for the last two years?”

  “That same land,” Marshall told him. “Hurry, I need to get this transaction over and done with before noon.”

  “Too late,” Dawson grumbled.

  A cold fear hit Marshall in the gut. “What do you mean too late?”

  “Someone came by and bought it yesterday.”

  “Impossible. Ward was in meetings yesterday.”

  “Not Ward. Two ladies came bursting through my door with these two land certificates and demanded to purchase the land. I even argues with them but they were insistent.” A big old smile fell across Dawson’s face as he slid on his pants. “Come with me to the office. I’ll show you whose name the land is now in.”

  Dawson stumbled down the stairs, tucking a shirt into his britches. Out side in the warm air, he lifted his face to the sky. “Ah, wonderful weather.” His arms went above his head in a stretch. “I love Wichita Falls. Fresh air, better than city air any day. It’s a great day to be alive.”

  “That I’ll agree with. Come on, now. Show me who owns this land. Do you think they may sell it?” Marshall was hopeful these two women were passing through and could be bought. Many others did the same thing, bought some land only to turn around and resell their parcel when they realized it would take years of hard work, something they weren’t willing to do. Most went back east after realizing it was too rough out west in a semi-lawless country.

  Dawson struggled to pull a set of keys from his pocket. As they walked down the street, a wagon went by, slowly pulling up to the boarding house. Marshall stared straight ahead. He knew it was Ruby, he felt her presence. It didn’t matter. He was done. He almost turned around right before following Dawson inside.

  Dawson lit up the small lantern on his desk, blowing out the long wooden match. He fussed around in the top desk drawer before pulling the black ledger out. Taking his good old time, Marshall’s jaw began to tighten. “Would you hurry up, Dawson. What are you dallying for?”

  Dawson looked at his friend and laughed out loud. “I love this stuff. You got a good woman, Montgomery.”

  Marshall didn’t tell his friend what had conspired earlier between his wife and himself. He was sure Dawson would hear soon enough. “Give me the names of the women.” Marshall’s voice sounded threatening but the two knew each other for years. It didn’t faze Dawson one bit.

  “I can’t keep you in suspense like this any longer. Here’s the owner of six hundred forty acres of land, including a waterfall and watering hole, smack dab rubbing up against your own land.” He handed the ledger to Marshall.

  Almost afraid to know, Marshall tugged the book from his hand. His eyes scoured over the names until he came to the last name. “Dawson, is this a joke?”

  “Afraid not. Here. A check for the other land certificate that was purchased in your name. Congratulations, you’ve got yourself land and some money to boot.”

  Marshall was floored. He stood there, a finger on his name, one he hadn’t put in the ledger. “Is this legal?” he asked.

  “Rightly so. Mrs. Montgomery turned these in, asking for the land to be put in her husbands name. The check, I’m afraid, had to be given to you direct.” He shoved the paper at Marshall, who stuffed it in his pocket without a glance.

  “She did this for me. Before I came back from Dallas.”

  “Sure did. You best go on home and give her some loving. Was a mighty fine thing to do, Marshall.”

  The two shook hands before Marshall left the office in a haze. He worked his way to the saloon, needing a stiff drink. When the barkeep held up a bottle, Marshall nodded but never touched it to his lips. He turned and left, his body steadfast and determined as he walked towards the boarding house. First, he stopped at the parish to speak to Daniel Conner. When he did make it back to the boarding house, his fist knocked three times on the door.

  The door opened. She stood there, dried tears on her cheeks. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her to the parish. So he did. Bending down, he scooped her in his arms, turned and began the long walk back to the church.

  “What are you doing, Marshall?” a man asked, tipping his hat to the lady in Marshall’s arms.

  “I’m going to marry my wife, proper this time,” he said, gazing at her.

  “Marshall, do you mean this? You have forgiven me for lying to you, not telling you?”

  “I do.”

  He stopped outside the door of the parish, placing her on her feet. Taking her hands, he knelt down on one knee. “Mrs. Montgomery, will you forgive me for casting you off and marry me? This time as Ruby Adams, not Catherine Jackson?”

  “Are we allowed to do this?”

  “Daniel says so. He had been so busy he never filed our marriage certificate yet. Seems lady luck is with us. That means we can tear up that last certificate and start new. I’m so sorry, Ruby. I realized how much you cared when you gave up your own land certificates for me.”

  She placed her hands on his cheeks,
bending down to kiss him squarely on the mouth. “Mr. Montgomery, I will marry you on one condition.”

  Marshall tensed. It was never a good idea to put conditions on things. He stared in to those perfect blue eyes knowing he would do anything she asked. “What is it, Ruby?”

  She helped pull him up from his bent knee.They stood on the front porch, cheek to cheek as she whispered in his ear. “That you love me until the end of time, Mr. Montgomery.”

  A deep sigh escaped him. “That’s easy, Ruby. I do love you. In these short weeks, I thought I would be getting a woman who would care for the farm and my nephew. Now, I have a woman I can’t be away from longer than five minutes.”

  She tipped her chin in the air. “As I love you, Marshall Montgomery. I’d be proud to be your wife. Again. This time the marriage will be consumated. Tonight.” She stole a quick kiss and marched into the parish, like a woman on a mission.

  Marshall followed like a lost puppy who finally found his way home. He patted his pocket with the folded up check. Now he didn’t have to go out on another cattle drive so soon. Winter was approaching. They could spend the cooler nights together, curled under the blankets or by the fire, as man and wife. Even though Texas didn’t get as cold as some places, the nights would be perfect for what he had in mind.

  “Are you coming, Mr. Montgomery?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Montgomery. Let’s get married, again.”

  He let the door of the parish slam as he hurried to conclude the ceremony that would make her his true wife.

  Perhaps Dawson was right. It was a great day to be alive.

  **Thanks for reading Ruby. Turn the page for more.**

  Grace

  Chapter 1

  Dawson pulled the rickety high-back wooden chair away from the desk, slinging a leg over the seat and sat down. He flung his arms over the back, pressing his forehead against the wood. It had been another long, hellish night. So bad, in fact, the dreams were so livid, he had tossed and turned so much it felt as if he was still in the horrible nightmare.

  All he could hope is one day they would be gone. What he would do for a decent nights sleep. A heavy sighed left him. If they never ceased, then he would certainly suffer the rest of his life for what had happened. Either way, he figured he deserved to be tormented by the screams of the innocent family he practically had a hand in slaughtering. He knew in his heart he was innocent of the crime but if it hadn’t been for him, they may still be alive.

  With blurred vision, a shaky hand felt around for the top right desk drawer. He needed more, just a slug of whiskey to get him through the morning. He pulled back when the jingle of the bell above the door went off. Who would be at the land office so early? Dawson glanced at the clock, his heavy-lidded eyes trying to make out the numbers as he silently begged his foggy brain to wake up.

  Who would be here at a quarter till eight in the morning? Whoever had the galls to grace his doorstep this early was lucky to find him here. On any other given day he’d still be at the saloon, sleeping off a long night of self-torture. Little did anyone know he wasn’t there to buy women, but to drink his nightmares away. Lily was the only other person on earth who knew of his sickness. She’d been a good friend, even though her job as a serving girl wasn’t the most acceptable or proper. But he liked Lily, like a sister. In fact, Lily spoke more and more of leaving her job after she made enough money to start over away from the saloon.

  He tried to help her many times, offered her money to leave but she refused each time, saying she’d do it on her own. The old owner gave her a small broom-closet like room off the kitchen with a bed and dresser. Every night, the two of them would sit in her room, far removed from the night-life of the saloon and gulp down whiskey until Dawson was so drunk he’d pass out in order to get through the nightmares. She would talk him through his troubles.

  They were friends, doing each other a favor. A new owner had taken over recently and wanted Lily to turn tricks to pay for the room that was given to her by the prior owner since her wages didn’t cover a room. So Dawson bought her every night, paying for her room and board so she wasn’t forced to do what most women had to. Someday she would leave there,she swore. Most people gossiped about the two of them but he didn’t care. Dawson had to do whatever it took to get through each horrible night.

  He risked peeking at the front door. Five figures stood there, stoic, unsmiling. Dawson groaned. “What?” he croaked, his voice hoarse.

  “We came here to help you, Dawson.” His good friend Marshall Montgomery stood in the front of the pack, his legs slightly apart, hands in his pockets, a serious look on his chiselled face. The brim of his cowboy hat covered part of his brow. Beside him stood a miniature cowboy, Billy, his eleven year old nephew, who was wearing the same type of cowboy boots and hat, even down to a look-a-like button down shirt. The kid’s hands were on his hips, staring along with the others.

  Dawson flung his head back, running a shaky hand through his golden brown hair. “Help me? I’m not in need of help.”

  Reverend Daniel Conners and his serious wife stood side by side, their eyes on him, disapproval written all over their faces. “Tsk, tsk, now, Mr. Sloan, we’ve come to help your wandering ways. Besides, your brother is on his way here. Should be arriving shortly.”

  A moan slipped from Dawson’s lips. “How shortly?”

  “A month. You know what you promised him. Right now, you don’t look like no married man, making this business respectable and becoming a rising citizen of Wichita Falls.”

  “More like a man who fell from grace, depending on a bottle of whiskey to get him through his day,” Marshall told him straight out.

  Dawson threw a fist in the air. “Get out, all of you. I don’t need any help. I’ll figure something out. Go on now, every single one of you, please, go.” He laid his head back down against his arms, closing his eyes in hopes when he opened them again, the others would be gone.

  No such luck. Raising his head, when he opened his eyes there they were, a motley crew, brows raised and frowning. “We’re not going anywhere, Dawson. As your friends, we can’t let you ruin your life.”

  “It’s my life to ruin, not yours,” he told Marshall.

  “I’ve known your family a long time. Your brother trusted you to take care of his initial investment. He promised you the business if you could settle down and make a go of it. Now, I’m not so sure you ever heard him.”

  “I heard him alright.” He wasn’t about to tell any of them standing here how he could barely get through the day, let alone the night, guilt of what happened overwhelming his whole life.

  The lady in the rear of the crowd came forward. He had a high respect for Miss Addie, proprietor of the local boarding house and long-standing citizen of their town. She brushed by the others and stood alongside of him. A soothing hand was placed on his shoulder. He turned his head. “Miss Addie,” he said, starting to nod but then the pain shot up his neck to pound his skull again. He let his head flop back down.

  “Dawson Sloan, I promised your brother I would look after you.”

  “No need for that, ma’am. I’m fine on my own.”

  “You certainly are not, young man. I find you abhorrently in need of a bath and a shave. It’s time to clean up your act and make do on the promises you made to your brother.”

  “I was probably under the influence of some spirits when I agreed to his demands.”

  Her hand left his shoulder. “A promise is a promise. Imbibing in spirits will not make a difference to a man like your brother. He will hold you to your word. Gentlemen?” At her last word, two men came through the front door, the bell jangling, making his head hurt even more. They carried a wooden tub and set it dead center in the room.

  Dawson watched them go back out only to bring in steaming pails of water to fill the tub. “What are you doing?” he asked Miss Addie. Although, he already knew. She was going to clean him up.

  That’ll be the day, he grumbled.

  “I’ll give yo
u two choices. Either get in that tub yourself or these men here, they’ll put you in there, clothes and all.”

  She wasn’t joking. Not one lick. Dawson knew when a woman like her meant business. He looked to the others for help. “Marshall?” he begged.

  Marshall shook his head back and forth. “No can do.”

  “Traitor,” he mumbled, pushing back the chair as he stood, tottering on unsteady feet.

  “Just doing what I should a long time ago,” Marshall told him.

  The bell jingled again. Marshall’s wife entered, smiling as if she hadn’t known what was going on here. She could barely hold her goods in her arms. Marshall immediately went to her, taking the packages. “Dang it, Ruby, I told you I would help you. In your condition, you should not carry too much.”

  Ruby took Marshall’s face in her hands and pulled him in for a quick kiss. “It’s not a condition, Mr. Montgomery. It’s a baby.”

  “Everyone, out!” Dawson ordered. If he had to get in the tub, he darned well wasn’t going to have an audience. For Pete’s sake, they all acted as if they were here on a friendly visit. He gazed at the tub, thinking some hot water may actually clear his head.

  Ruby smiled at Dawson, then the tub. Her hand went to her mouth, but he heard her whisper to her husband. “It’s about time, I can barely stand the smell in here.”

  “Out!” he roared, grabbing both sides of his head and teetering forward.

  Addie shooed everyone out, including the men who filled the tub with water. She turned back one last time. “There will be someone else stopping by after you bathe. The barber will get rid of the hair on your face. When you are finished, stop by. We have serious business to discuss.”

  Addie picked up her skirts and followed the others out. She took the knob in her hand and slammed the door, making Dawson’s head ache even more. He began to strip off his shirt, swearing that she banged the door on purpose.