Hot fury shot through him. Like hell they would. When his strength returned or his kin arrived, wife or not, Dallas would let this bunch eat his dust.
As if sensing the depth of his ire, Mac leaned near and spoke low so Cenora couldn’t hear. “You’re boiling mad about this, but you’ll not be taking it out on me sister.”
Dallas glared at him, insulted at the comment. “Never mistreated a woman in my life. Don’t expect to start now.”
Mac nodded in satisfaction. “A wise enough choice.”
Dallas exhaled a painful breath. “Pointless to fight against what I can’t help. Better to deal with it.” That outlook had served him through hard times. Harder times than this.
Perhaps seeking to make peace, Mac said, “‘Tis a fine horse you rode, and you’ve a fine saddle.”
“Raising horses is my business. I trained the roan from a colt.”
“True?” Mac’s voice changed, and a note of respect crept in. “Weel, now, ‘tis a fine job you did with that one. We have our own string o’ ponies and mules to trade, though none be as fine as yours.”
Dallas surveyed the revelers around the campsite. Hell, he figured they might respect his horse breeding or his fine Mexican saddle, but these people probably regarded him as an outsider to be hoodwinked and robbed. But then, hadn’t he been an outsider all of his life?
Two men walked by deep in conversation, but he couldn’t decipher more than one word in every ten. “I can’t understand your companions most of the time—unless they want me to.”
“Aye, we be Irish and mix in the Gaelic and English with the Sheldroo o’ the traveling folk.”
“Gypsies?” Dallas asked.
“Some call us that, and worse. No, we’re not gypsies, for we’re all Irishmen born and bred. We call ourselves Irish Travelers or the traveling folk. Some call us tinkers, for there’s always one o’ us who repairs metal.”
Dallas nodded. He’d heard them called tinkers—and thieves. Since this morning he’d silently cursed them for stealing his freedom. He’d be lucky if he got out of this with his horse and his money—maybe with his life.
“And how do you make your way?” he asked, curious to learn if Mac would acknowledge to thieving.
“In addition to the ponies, mules, and horses I told you about, some have useful trades.” Mac pointed. “Murphy there repairs metal and makes a bit o’ jewelry. O’Leary—he’d be the son o’ our late leader—repairs crocks and has some fine ponies. Yon Colin McDonald—he’d be the brother-in-law to our leader, Tom Williams—repairs clocks and does a bit o’ gun repair. Others like the McFees and the Callahans sell bits they’ve made or purchased along the way.”
“And your family?”
“Ah, me and me brother help some o’ the lads with their ponies as well as our own, but ‘tis singing and playing Ma and Da do for the coins folks toss us. Finn and me play as well. That and me sister’s singing and dancing earns our keep.”
“Doesn’t seem much to keep a family going.” Dallas wondered how they supplemented their meager earnings. Once again his thoughts came back to thieving. When Cenora warned him to keep his money belt a secret, she probably had her brothers in mind as well as others of this sorry bunch.
“We’ve our own two wagons, as you’ve seen, with mules and ponies as well,” he said with pride. “Sure and we do fine, don’t we now? And we put our fair share into the community pot for the lean times. So don’t be looking down your nose at us.”
Immediately Dallas thought of the plump chickens for tonight’s wedding feast when he saw no live fowl in camp. Were they purchased for the occasion or stolen from a nearby farmer? Maybe he didn’t want to know more of their life after all.
As if unaware of his turmoil, his new wife bit at her lower lip and watched dancers whirl around the campfire. For a brief time, he’d wondered if she had plotted to be caught with him. Her puffy, red-rimmed eyes at their wedding suggested she’d been no happier than he with their forced marriage. That was the only sign of her sadness, for she’d held her head high and walked with a straight back and tempting sway of her hips. She’d looked beautiful in her unusual-styled dress with matching ribbons woven through her hair.
Her strangely made dress and a red silk scarf or shawl at her waist seemed odd to him, but he saw other women in camp wearing similar attire. Now she appeared lost in her own tumultuous thoughts, and he wondered at her emotions. Had she resigned herself to marriage with a stranger?
Early this evening amid heated glares, Tom Williams had officiated at what apparently passed for a marriage ceremony. From what little Dallas had observed, this Williams fellow seemed none too popular with his followers except for two doltish looking men who followed him everywhere. Whether Williams had it in for all outsiders or not, he made no effort to hide the fact he hated Dallas.
Repeating words fed to him by Mr. O’Neill while the O’Neill brothers helped him stand, Dallas had said vows he could hardly pronounce, words that apparently bound him to Cenora. Williams’s angry looks and pointed barbs made it clear the bear-like leader had planned on being the one to wed Cenora.
Since her brother seemed talkative, Dallas figured he’d prod him for information. “Williams wanted your sister for himself?”
Mac glanced at Williams and nodded. “Aye, and he’s plenty mad at you over it.”
“Guess it stands to reason any man would be angry at another poaching on his intended.” Yet even though Dallas didn’t want her, his anger surfaced anew at the thought of that brute Williams with her.
Mac nodded. “Aye, but ‘tis my thinking that she doesn’t want to be his.”
“I watched him this afternoon with his two friends.”
“Augie McDonald, the biggest one there, is his nephew. Mort is his brother.”
Dallas looked toward where the animals were hobbled. “Saw him working with his ponies. He’s rough with them.”
“That he is, but he teaches them to fear him then follow his orders.” Mac appeared to find this normal.
“All bore scars, no doubt from his rough treatment, and that lowers their value.” Dallas looked at his wife. “Besides, any man who mistreats an animal that way would be as mean to a woman.”
The bruise on Cenora’s face from the kidnappers’s rough treatment wasn’t the only bruise he saw on the women in this group. If wife-beating was an accepted practice with these people, at least her life would be more tolerable as a McClintock. Even if she never came to care for Dallas or he for her.
If, that is, she stayed with him long enough to learn about his life. He’d heard of tinkers who pretended to wed one of their women to a man until she stole all she could from her husband and disappeared, likely back to the tinkers.
If—please, God—he succeeded in getting away from this group, would she do the same to him? Would it be worth the loss to be rid of her? Damn, would his ranch hands think he’d gone loco when he showed up with a wife in tow? And what would his family think?
After years of being shunned for his Indian mother, he’d ceased worrying much about what people in McClintock Falls might think. He’d spent wasted hours hoping for their respect, but now he figured they could take him as he was or not.
Damn, his kin were going to be mad as a nest of rattlers when they latched onto him, especially Aunt Kathryn. His aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandfather were a kind-hearted bunch, but he worried about his grandmother. He figured his family would welcome Cenora, and even Gran would probably be polite to her face, but what would they really think about all this?
Beside him, Mac’s words called him from reverie. “If you had to marry a stranger, you’d not do better. Though I’ve heard the rough edge of her tongue often enough, me sister’s a beauty. Don’t you agree?”
Chapter 3
Dallas couldn’t argue with Mac’s words. “Yes, she’s beautiful.”
Only the bruise marred one side of Cenora’s face. On the side nearest him, her pale cheek glowed like ivory satin in the light fro
m the fire. Dallas experienced an almost overwhelming need to touch her skin to see if it truly was soft as velvet as she appeared.
Gold bangles in her delicate ears were her only jewelry except the new band on her finger. Her slender arms tapered to lovely hands now folded in her lap where she absent-mindedly twisted the ring. No bigger around than a minute, except where it counted, he wondered he hadn’t broken her when he held her in bed this morning.
And now he knew her name was Cenora Rose, not Señora Rose. Sin, as in what her family did to him by forcing this so-called marriage. Ceno, as in a cenotaph, a monument to the dead.
Enough. What’s done was done.
The bride in question caught his glance. “’Tis sorry I am Da and the others chose that moment to question you this morn. A few minutes later and I would have been up and dressed with Himself none the wiser.”
He nodded. “What do you expect me to say? Why the hell did you take off your dress and climb into bed with me?”
He wondered if she’d planned the whole thing, if maybe her family gave her the idea, a ploy to trap a wealthy husband? Though he didn’t consider himself rich in material things, he figured he was well off compared to these people. No, he was pretty sure she’d been asleep when he awakened.
“It was me new dress, and I didn’t want to muss it. I—I had no idea anyone, including yourself, would ever know.”
“Aw, why go over it again?” He toyed with a small rock and tossed it at a tree outside the camp.
“I knew green was an unlucky color, but when a lady in San Antonio gave it to me because she’d grown tired of it, she said it’d go with me eyes. I couldn’t resist the good fabric, so I cut it down to fit me.”
“Unlucky color?” Yeah, unlucky for him. “That’s all nonsense.”
Sparks of temper snapped in her eyes. “’Tis no such of a thing. Have you never heard a green dress brings bad luck?”
What rubbish was this luck talk? Hell, manners required he at least be civil, and he hadn’t done well so far, but he’d be damned if he catered to her.
“Too late to worry about it now. Let’s just get through this ordeal.”
“Why’d you have to go and say it like that?” Tears sprang to her eyes, and her lip trembled Perhaps he’d been too terse.
No matter how kind her intentions, she’d ruined his life. He wanted to lash out more at her, but Mama and Aunt Kathryn had raised him better than that.
Calming, he figured it wouldn’t exactly be giving in if he said something to soothe over his earlier remark. “Thank you for nursing me. Can’t think what got into you to take off your dress, but it wasn’t your fault the men came when they did. Appears to me we’re caught in this together. Maybe we can make the best of it.”
Tears still shone in her eyes, and he felt like a snake for having made her cry. She took a deep breath and offered a tremulous smile.
“You won’t be sorry I’m your bride, you’ll see.”
Hell, already he was sorry. He needed a wife like he needed smallpox. So much for helping her. Damned if he wouldn’t think twice before going to another woman’s rescue. Carefully, he adjusted his weight to ease his wounds and wished he were in a soft bed—his own, in his own home, and, most of all, totally alone.
“’Tis lucky we are it was a sunny day for the wedding, for that means good fortune for us.”
Good fortune? Like hell, and more nonsense about luck. Bunch of crooks held him captive, how’s that for luck? What he wouldn’t give to be riding away this very minute.
Cenora leaned toward him. “Are you in pain? I’ll get you some of Ma’s laudanum if you need it.”
Dallas shook his head. “Don’t want my mind numbed. I’ll be fine when I can lie down.”
His bride blushed, and he wished he could call back the words. What expectations would she have for their wedding night? The last thing he felt like right now was playing the randy groom. He desperately needed quiet and sleep.
He wondered at her odd life with these strange people. “The other women your age seem already paired up. Why is it you hadn’t already chosen a husband?”
“Ma’s been ailing and needed me to help her take care of Da and me brothers.” She leaned near and whispered. “Weel, that’s the story we used to keep me from having to marry Tom Williams.”
Had she remained pure in this communal existence? Maybe she’d pulled this same stunt and had gone through those same vows with other men.
Dang, what a situation. When he’d purchased the ranch from old Marston almost two years ago, Dallas had felt king of the world. Sure ranching was hard work, but Uncle Austin had trained him well. Dallas’s dogged determination, planning, and almost endless toil was beginning to pay off.
With the horses sold this trip and the others he’d been breeding now sought after, soon his ranch would have a far-reaching name for fine horseflesh as well as for his cattle and sheep. His healing and training skill with horses also attracted notice, and his reputation had spread for several counties.
Sure there’d been that nightmare with the Vortmanns, but he’d handled that and worked out a bearable solution. It strapped his finances almost to breaking, but he’d managed so far. In spite of the burden of guilt he carried, his future had looked bright. That is, until he’d chanced upon this bunch.
Besides, he had no idea what to do with a wife, this lovely stranger who sat beside him. He cast Cenora a sidelong glance. “Cenora’s an odd name.”
She raised her eyebrows. “So is Dallas.”
Dang, she had him there.
Due to Cenora’s life with these strange people, this girl might be as different from other women he knew as her name. Just the same, a woman deserved niceties not offered on his ranch.
“Loud party.” The music reached a fevered pitch with laughing and dancing.
“No more than usual. You see me brother Finn and Ma playing the violins.”
They each played with zest and flair. “What is that smiling little man beating with a single stick—is it some kind of a drum?”
“Aye, ‘tis Padraic Murphy playing the bhodrân. But we mostly call him Paddy.”
“Looks kind of like a big tambourine. Who are the others?”
“The young man piping is the son o’ our late leader, Will O’Leary the younger. The little elf playing the harmonica is Colin McDonald. He’s only just learning, you see, so mostly he just taps his foot and calls out to others.”
“Join us, Cenora.” One of the dancers Dallas remembered from the wedding as Murphy’s daughter, Maureen, stopped and held out her hand. Pretty girl. Before the so-called ceremony, she had handed Cenora a pretty bunch of grasses and wildflowers then stood by during the vows.
“Yes, lass, leave your groom to rest up for the coming night while you give us a dance.” A snaggle-toothed, gray-haired woman nudged those on either side of her and yelled across the camp. “You’ll be a lying on your back soon enough.” She laughed at her ribald jest and slapped her knees.
Cenora blushed but looked at him. “May I?”
Surprised she consulted him, he nodded.
She should enjoy her own wedding feast, though the Good Lord knew he couldn’t. How could he celebrate being forcibly shackled to a woman he didn’t know and with whom he had nothing in common? Especially when he didn’t want a wife yet, not even one as pretty as her.
Most times he believed himself undeserving of a wife and happiness, but he chanced the occasional hope he’d someday find the right woman. Right now he devoted all his energy to make his ranch a success and build his line of horses. Dang, how would a wife in tow affect his ability to meet his obligations at home? He didn’t know much about women, but he figured keeping a wife cost money, something in short supply.
Watching the happiness spread across her face as she joined her companions, he couldn’t imagine she would be content with the isolation of his Running Horse Ranch. He figured she would expect more from him than he cared to offer. But he’d be damned if he’d c
hange his life for a wife he didn’t want. If, that is, those weird mumblings earlier had even wed them.
Dallas tried to stand but didn’t make it on the first try. Cenora frowned and started his way, but he waved her off and shook his head. He grasped wagon wheel spokes and levered himself up until he leaned over the rim. The effort cost all his energy and pulled painfully at his wounds. He rested, sweating and panting from exertion, and swore he’d never again take his vigor for granted.
Mac stood and glowered at him. “Don’t be thinking to run now me sister’s busy dancing.”
“Are you blind, man? Can you not see it took every ounce of my strength to rise and lean on this wheel? I need to step behind the bushes and relieve myself.”
Cenora’s father appeared in time to overhear the exchange. “Here now, Mac, give the man a hand to stand. When your new brother’s taken care o’ nature’s call, we’ll all have a round o’ drinks.”
“Aye, I’ll help him walk, but then I’m standing behind him a ways to make sure he doesn’t disappear.”
“Well, hell, can’t I even pee in privacy?” Did they think he’d run away when he could barely stand?
Ha, he supposed they knew he’d be off in a flash if he could. Mac helped him through the brush and leaned him against a tree trunk then stepped away. He heard Mac stop a few feet behind him, but at least the man kept his distance.
When he’d finished and turned to call Mac, three men stepped out of the darkness. Tom Williams and his two simpleton kin. Williams stepped close and pinned Dallas to the tree trunk as he grabbed Dallas’s arm.
“Don’t think you’ll get away with stealing me woman, buffer. You’ll pay for this, and then she’ll be mine as is me due.”
Dallas shrugged off the man’s hand, all his damned weakness allowed, and paid for it in pain. “She could have chosen you already, Williams. She didn’t, and that fact tells me she never wanted you in the first place.”
“Arrrrgh. I’ll kill you.” Williams reared back a fist to smash into Dallas.
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 4
