by Stacy Henrie
The sight of her ducked down next to the sheriff, the man’s hand protectively over her head, made Tate want to weep with joy. She wasn’t harmed. Four men rushed forward, grabbing Fletcher and Clem. Lying back on the ground, Tate drank in several gulps of the evening air. His mission was completed. “Thank You,” he breathed out in a prayer.
“Tate.” Essie appeared above him, her expression full of fear. “Are you all right? He didn’t shoot you, did he?”
“No. I’m all right.” He felt exhausted in mind and body but also liberated. “You did it, Essie,” he said as the sheriff came forward and freed him from his bindings. Tate rubbed at his sore wrists. “You made it.”
She knelt beside him once the sheriff stepped back. “It took some softening from the Lord—” she cast a meaningful look over her shoulder at the sheriff “—but it all worked out.” She took over the job of rubbing his wrists with her cool fingers, and Tate momentarily shut his eyes at the gentleness of her touch. “Did they find out who you really are?”
“What is she talkin’ about?” Fletcher groused as the lawmen finished tying him up. “Who is he?”
Essie turned to face the outlaw leader, an amused smile on her lips. “You are looking at the identical twin brother of the Texas Titan, Mr. Fletcher. May I introduce you to Tate Beckett?”
Tate caught Fletcher’s eye. “My real occupation is working as a Pinkerton detective, tracking down outlaws like you.”
Fletcher’s face went dark red and he began spewing incoherent phrases. “Looks like you need a little time to cool off,” one of the lawmen barked. He yanked Fletcher to his feet and half dragged him up the ravine, away from the rest of the group.
Clem gawked at Tate, looking almost hurt, then turned to Essie. “You in on this the whole time, too?”
“No, Clem,” she said kindly as she shook her head. “I only found out the truth about Tate yesterday. My true aim in joining all of you really was to conduct my interviews and that was all.”
His expression bordered on skepticism for a long moment before Clem finally nodded, his demeanor softening. “And we ain’t never had a more agreeable traveling companion than you, ma’am.”
“Hear, hear,” Silas rasped, bringing another smile to Essie’s mouth.
“I’ve got everything we need to fix you up until the doctor can look at you, Silas.” She started to rise, but Tate detained her by taking her hand and tugging her back down. “What is it?” she protested, but she was laughing.
Tate regarded her lovely face framed by her unbound hair. “I just want to look at you. Reassure myself you’re really well and safe.”
Her green-brown eyes sparkled. “I am well and safe. And grateful we made it here on time.” She frowned, the mirth fleeing her gaze as she placed her palm alongside his jaw. “He might have killed you, Tate.”
“But he didn’t.” He leaned into her hand, wondering how he’d ever thought he could say goodbye to her. “There is a part of me that’s hurting, though.” He maintained a deadpan countenance.
Her brow furrowed in concern as she studied him. “What is it?”
Tate brought her hand to his heart. “It sort of hurts right here,” he said, keeping his voice low to avoid being overheard. “’Cause I’ve realized there’s this girl I fear is going to ride out of my life tomorrow.”
Essie’s mouth turned up at the corners. “Ah, I see. And what can I do to help ease this pain?”
He twisted his face in feigned concentration. “Consider sharing your future with me?”
Her eyes went wide. “Are...are you serious, Tate?”
Gently pulling her closer, he nodded, setting all levity aside. “Yes, Essie. I know it’s only been six days, but I want to be your husband, your protector, your provider and your greatest champion.”
“What about your career?” A small frown pinched her forehead. “I love you, Tate. But I don’t think I can be a detective’s wife.”
She loved him! Tate wanted to shout with joy. Instead he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “Good thing I decided earlier today that I want to go back to farming. Once I figured out I don’t need to apprehend every criminal out there, I realized how much I miss working the land. It’s in my blood—being a detective isn’t.”
“You really mean that?”
“Absolutely,” he said, grinning. “And I want you to keep writing.”
Essie lowered her gaze. “I’m not sure I want to.”
Tate tipped her chin upward. “Is this about failing?”
“No.” A blush spread over her cheeks, enhancing their loveliness. “I never thought I’d have a chance at a regular life, as a wife and mother, so I gave up those dreams for other ones.”
“And now?”
Tears glittered in her eyes. “Now I think I’d like to write one more book and then see about going after those other dreams I gave up on.”
A lump lodged in his throat as he thought back over the last six days. Maybe asking her to marry him would seem too soon to some. But Tate knew his own heart now, and there was nothing else in the world he wanted more than to wed this beautiful, wonderful dime novelist kneeling beside him.
“I love you, Essie Vanderfair. And I’m wondering if you’d do me the honor of marrying me.” A sniffle pulled his attention to Clem, who sat tied up nearby, watching them and wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Silas appeared to be sleeping, but the grin on his face told a different story.
Essie followed Tate’s gaze and smiled. “Yes,” she said more loudly, “I will marry you, Tate Beckett.”
Not caring that they had an audience of outlaws and lawmen, Tate sealed her answer with a long kiss. Nothing felt more right to him than kissing Essie and thinking of their future together. It wouldn’t be any less challenging than this mission had been for both of them, but they’d both proved they could do all things with the Lord on their side.
“By the way,” he said, easing back. A flicker of disappointment filled her eyes, and Tate grinned. “I have a pre-wedding gift for you.”
“You do, do you?” She laughed lightly. “And what is it?”
He bent forward and whispered, “I got Fletcher’s story. About how he became an outlaw.”
Her eyebrows shot upward right before she pressed another kiss to his lips. “Thank you, Tate.”
“Once you finish bandaging Silas, I’ll tell it to you.”
When she smiled fully at him, Tate felt as if the sun had sunk from the horizon to lodge inside his chest. “I can’t wait to write it down.”
“Do you know what your next book will be about?” he asked as he rose and helped her stand beside him.
“I have a pretty good idea.” Her impish look made him laugh. “And it starts with a dashing outlaw and his secret.”
Epilogue
Ten months later
Essie added the last page of her completed manuscript to the stack on the desk in front of her and aligned them neatly. Tomorrow she would mail her next, and final, dime novel to her publisher. He’d loved the idea she’d presented to him in her letter last October. She might have had the whole thing written sooner, but there’d been a wedding to plan, her family to reconcile with and a farm to buy.
Running her fingers over the title—A Detective in Disguise—she couldn’t help smiling. She’d long believed fiction to be more adventurous and interesting than real life. But this time she’d taken her story idea from her own experiences, and that had made for a far more gripping novel. When the heroine pleaded to go along with the train robbers, Essie had known exactly how she’d felt. And when she and the hero, who was posing as an outlaw, kissed for the first time, she knew the wonder and happiness of that moment.
Her smile deepened. She no longer harbored a desire to beat Victor Daley. She only wanted to deliver the
best story she could, and she felt deep satisfaction that she had.
Leaning forward in her chair, she picked up the framed photograph on her desk. It was of her and Tate, dressed in their wedding best.
The wedding had taken place on a beautiful autumn day, at the church she’d attended as a girl. All of her family had been in attendance. She’d gone to see them several weeks before to introduce Tate and to finally share her true feelings with her parents and siblings. They’d listened attentively then reassured Essie that they did appreciate her unique gifts and talents. All of them admitted to missing her sunny personality and she promised to visit more often.
“There will be another reason to do so, too,” she whispered to the photograph. Her free hand came to rest against her stomach. She’d suspected weeks earlier what she now knew for certain—she and Tate were going to be parents.
The sound of the front door opening pulled her from her reverie. “Tate? Is that you?” she called, pushing back her chair and standing.
Her husband rushed into the room. He clutched a letter in his hand, but she couldn’t decipher from his expression the nature of what was written there. “I have news,” he said calmly.
“I do, too.” She wanted to tell him about the baby, now that she was sure. But she couldn’t resist teasing him a little by sharing something else first. “I finished copying down my book. It’s ready to mail tomorrow.”
“Excellent,” he murmured, but his gaze was on the letter.
Essie stepped forward and placed her hand on his forearm where his sleeves had been rolled back. “And...we’re going to have a baby, Tate.”
Her words had the desired effect. He jerked his chin up and stared at her in shock. Then his blue eyes softened with tenderness before he tugged her to him and kissed her fully. “A baby,” he repeated when he eased back some minutes later, grinning foolishly. “I’m going to be a father.”
“Yes. And a wonderful one at that.”
He kissed her nose. “Congratulations on your book.” She laughed when he waggled his eyebrows and added, “And even more so about our baby.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head against his chest. Here, in his arms, she felt such gratitude for her new life. “What is your news?”
Tate hugged her back but didn’t speak.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?” She lifted her chin to look at him. That was when she saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. “Is it bad?”
“Not at all.” He cleared his throat. “The private investigator we hired has tracked down Tex.”
It was Essie’s turn to gape in astonishment. They’d been trying for months to find Tate’s brother. “Where is he?”
“In Idaho, apparently,” he said, lifting the letter for her to see. “Near our old farm.”
“Oh, Tate, that’s incredible news.” She embraced him again, her heart overflowing with joy. “We should go to him at once.”
Nudging her to look at him, he searched her face. “Are you sure? You won’t be too tired? It’s a long trip.”
She smiled lovingly up at him. “I’ll be fine. Besides, I had my chance to reconcile with my family, and now it’s yours.”
He pressed another lingering kiss to her mouth. “How did I ever convince a beautiful, talented, independent dime novelist such as yourself to settle down with an average farmer?”
“Because that average farmer was really in disguise.” She let her impish smile break through as she circled her arms around his neck.
Grinning, he nestled her closer. “Disguised as what, I might ask? Not as a detective.”
“No, not as a detective,” she said softly as she gazed into his face, the face of the man she loved with all of her heart. “As my real-life hero.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss these other Western adventures from Stacy Henrie:
LADY OUTLAW
THE EXPRESS RIDER’S LADY
Find other great reads at www.LoveInspired.com.
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE BOUNTY HUNTER’S BABY by Erica Vetsch.
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Dear Reader,
I find the stories of Old West outlaws fascinating, including that of my state’s most famous bandit, Butch Cassidy. He and his gang were known to have used the valley at Hole-in-the-Wall in Johnson County, Wyoming, as one of their hideouts. This hideout was easy to defend because the outlaws could spot anyone trying to enter the valley. Legend has it that no lawmen were ever able to infiltrate the hideout. And while these outlaws appeared to have lived adventurous, carefree lives, they nearly all experienced tragedies in their pasts.
The Grand Central Hotel in Casper, Wyoming, appears to have been in existence by at least 1893. For the sake of the story, though, I have it existing the year before. There were also likely two banks operating in Casper in the year 1892, but for the purposes of this story, I didn’t distinguish which bank the men rob.
The Occidental Hotel in Buffalo, Wyoming, is another actual building, founded in 1880, and is still in operation today. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid reportedly stayed at this hotel.
I’ve very much enjoyed introducing readers to the Beckett brothers in this book, and I’m thrilled to share the story of Tex, Tate’s identical twin brother, later this year. It was also lots of fun to give Essie, this optimistic and fearless dime novelist, her own story and share some of the melodrama of these bygone novels through her.
My hope with this book is that readers will identify with what Tate and Essie come to learn: the importance of being ourselves, our unchangeable and infinite worth in the eyes of God, and the reality that we are only stewards of our own choices. I also hope readers will enjoy the fun adventure of this outlaw-in-disguise story!
I love hearing from readers. You can contact me through my website at www.stacyhenrie.com.
All the best,
Stacy
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The Bounty Hunter’s Baby
by Erica Vetsch
Chapter One
South-Central Texas
June 3, 1888
Folks said Thomas Beaufort could track a housefly through a hurricane, and though he admitted that might be a slight exaggeration, he felt it wasn’t too far off. His reputation as a bounty hunter was unmatched, and he intended to keep it that way. The only blot on his otherwise excellent record was
about to be erased.
“Well, Rip,” he whispered to his half Catahoula cur, half mystery mutt, “looks like somebody’s home. We’ve got him this time.”
He and the dog—named after famous Texas Ranger Rip Ford—lay side by side on a sandy ridge in the heart of Texas brush country, looking down on a weathered shanty forty yards away. A thin wisp of smoke leaked from the stovepipe, and a pair of horses stood in the weak shade of a mesquite inside a pole and brush corral, the only signs of occupancy.
Thomas swiped with his shoulder at the sweat trickling down his temple. Jase Swindell had led him on a wild chase since escaping from the prison up in Huntsville almost a year ago. Thomas had been tracking him off and on for months, taking quicker jobs when they were offered, but never forgetting about his main objective. Every time he got close to making an arrest, Jase slipped away. But not this time. Thomas had him now.
Nothing moved, not a breath of wind to stir branches or cool his skin as the sun pounded the Texas landscape. Thomas surveyed the area once more before easing back from the ridge, keeping low and drawing Rip along with him. He made sure his horse, a sorrel with white socks named Smitty, was tied securely well back from the ridge.
“We’ll circle around on foot to that thicket and get close, and then we can rush the door, all right?” Thomas had grown accustomed to thinking out loud, talking to the dog as if he were human. Might as well talk to Rip. Not like there was anyone else to converse with. The bounty hunter life suited Thomas most days, but he had to admit, it could be a mite lonely at times.
He tucked his rifle into the crook of his elbow and checked his sidearm. Chambers full. Thomas took a deep breath, going over his planned moves, trying to anticipate Swindell’s reactions and how to counter them so they both lived through the next few minutes.
