Pony Express Christmas Bride

by Rhonda Gibson

  Josephine carried it to the small chair and table that sat by the window. She was sure Thomas would take his horse straight to the barn, giving her plenty of time to put his gift away before he could see it.

  While she sewed, Josephine prayed. She asked God to help her overcome this fear of trusting. Thomas was a good man and he deserved a wife who would stand by him and trust that what he said and did was true. She asked the Lord to make her that wife.

  When the last button was sewed into place, Josephine stood and stretched. She’d almost forgotten her tea and went into the kitchen to pour it into a cup. Her mother had always preferred her tea hot, but Josephine liked it warm. She scooped up a small spoonful of sugar and stirred it into the cup. Taking the tea into the sitting room, Josephine sat down and picked up the Charles Dickens book.

  Little One followed her into the sitting room, where she flopped down on her rug by the fireplace. “This is a luxury, Little One. Most women don’t have time to sit and sip tea while reading a good book in front of the fire.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Josephine jumped at the unfamiliar voice. Little One barked with excitement. Josephine turned around and saw that a big man stood in her kitchen doorway.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized Mr. Grossman. Her brain screamed that he wasn’t supposed to be there. He must have come through the back door. She scooped up the puppy. “What are you doing here?”

  He ignored her question. “Aren’t you going to invite me to sit down?”

  “No, I’m not. I want you out of my house and I want you gone now.” Josephine tightened her grip on the yelping pup. “Hush, Little One.”

  He shook his head. “Now, that is no way to speak to your husband, Josie.” His large body caused the rocker to creak as he sat down.

  “Mr. Grossman...”

  “Call me, Stan. We are married, after all.” He picked up her discarded teacup and took a sip. Immediately he spat the tea back into the cup. “Josie, don’t you have something stronger than this? I’m chilled to the bone. Be a good girl and go get it for me.”

  Heat rose in her chest. Who did he think he was? This wasn’t his home and he had no right to boss her around. She put the puppy back down on the floor. “Mr. Grossman, we are not getting married and I am not going to get you anything to drink.”

  For a man of his size, he moved quickly. His hand clutched her arm and he yanked her toward him. “I didn’t say we were getting married. I said we are already married. Now do as I say.”

  Josephine tried to pull away from him. “No! I am already married. I can’t and won’t marry you.” Pain shot up her arm where his fingers dug deeper into her flesh. She couldn’t understand what made the man delusional enough to think she was married to him.

  His hot breath fanned her face as he snarled. “If you are married, where’s your man?”

  She swallowed. Josephine wanted to lie to him, say that Thomas was in the barn, but knew it was wrong. Plus, he’d catch her in the lie. “He’s gone to town but will be back soon.”

  He released her arm. “I don’t think so.”

  Josephine rubbed where his beefy hand had been. She took a step back. Maybe if she stalled him, Thomas would return and make him leave.

  “If you aren’t lying, then when did you get married to this man who isn’t home at this time of night?” he asked, sitting back down and extending his hands to the fire.

  “In October.”

  His laugh sounded triumphant. “Then your marriage isn’t legal.”

  Confused by his confident-sounding tone, Josephine argued. “Yes, it is. We got married in front of a judge.”

  “You were married to me in September.”

  Had he gone mad? There was no way they could have been married in September. She’d been working for the Pony Express in September. Josephine decided to keep him talking and sat down on the rocker opposite him. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “We were married by proxy. Your uncle made sure that you belonged to me.” He looked at Little One. The puppy had returned to her rug but continued to snarl at him.

  “Proxy?” Was that possible? Could her uncle do that?

  He looked at her and frowned. “Josie, I still don’t have my drink.”

  She stood. “All I have is coffee, tea or milk.” With distaste she looked at her cup. “Obviously you didn’t like the tea. Would you prefer a cup of coffee or do you want me to warm up some milk?”

  Through clenched teeth he growled. “I want whiskey.”

  Josephine tried not to let her irritation show in her voice. “Mr. Grossman, we don’t keep spirits in the house.”

  “Aw, Josie, even I know country folk keep a bottle around for medical purposes.” He glared at her. “Now get it.”

  She walked to the kitchen. How was she going to convince him that they really didn’t have any form of liquor in the place? Trying not to panic, Josephine said, “You didn’t tell me what you meant by proxy.” Just stall him, Thomas would be home soon.

  “Proxy is when two people get married but one of them isn’t there. Your uncle was more than happy to stand in your place and sign the marriage license for you,” he answered.

  Josephine poured coffee into a big tin mug. She carried it back to the sitting room and handed it to him. Was a proxy marriage legal? Was it possible she could be married to two men at once? The thought of being married to the gambler turned her stomach. He didn’t look as fat as she remembered, but he still smelled worse than rotten eggs.

  His booming voice pulled her back to the present. “This isn’t whiskey!”

  Keeping her voice calm, Josephine answered, “No, sir, it isn’t. We don’t have anything stronger than coffee.”

  He threw the cup against the fireplace. Coffee sloshed onto the little dog, who yelped in fright and pain. “If you don’t have it here, we’ll go into town and get it!”

  He grabbed her by the arm and proceeded to drag her through the kitchen. The big man shoved whatever was in his path to the side. Her pretty side table hit the floor with a crash.

  Going through the kitchen, Josephine grabbed at the chairs to keep from being pulled out into the snow. “I am already married. I’m not going with you!” she screamed, even as the cold air wrapped around her.

  “You are going with me. I bought you and married you, and now we are going home,” he ground through clenched teeth.

  “Why? Why do you want to be married to me so badly?” Josephine grabbed the back porch handrail and hung on for dear life. She ignored the sharp coldness of the ice that had frozen to the wooden bars.

  He stopped and looked at her. “For the money, of course.”

  “What money?”

  He slapped her hard across the face. Pain shot through her lip as she felt the flesh split. Cruel laughter burst from his throat. “I guess I should tell you everything, now that we’re married and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Josephine sighed as he released her arm once more. She touched her mouth and pulled away cold fingers stained by red blood. “Let’s go inside. It’s cold out here.” If she could get closer to the door, she’d lock him out.

  As if he knew her thoughts, he grabbed her arm again and jerked her down onto the step. “No, Josie, what I have to say won’t take long.” He pulled his coat tighter around his thick waist and continued. “Did you know that your pa found gold in California in the early fifties?”

  She shook her head. Why hadn’t she run when she had the chance? Miserable, Josephine wrapped her arms around her waist and prayed Thomas would get home soon.

  He laughed. “Nope, from the look on your face I’d say you didn’t.”

  His grip tightened on her arm. She felt his beefy fingers press against the bone. Josephine clenched her teeth together willing herself not t
o cry out.

  “Well, he did. It just so happens that he and I use the same bank. And the banker there is free with his information.”

  She tried to put space between them by leaning toward the porch rail. The cold seeped through her dress, but she ignored it. Josephine had to keep him talking. “Uncle said something about this when he was here. I thought he was lying.”

  “Not this time. Your pa put a lot of gold in that bank. Only, his will says that no one can touch it except you, and only then on your twenty-first birthday.” He frowned. “That’s in a couple of years, so we’ll have to wait to collect it. But until then, we are happily married.”

  Josephine didn’t correct him about her age; she was already twenty-one. Instead she tried to keep him talking. “That can’t be right. My parents would have told me.” She paused as if seriously considering his words.

  “Oh, it’s right. I pretended not to believe the banker and got him to prove it by showing me your family’s bankbook.” His gaze moved off into the distance as if remembering that day.

  Josephine shook her head. “If Papa had been rich, I don’t think he would have left me in Uncle’s care.” Even in her own ears, her voice sounded small and childlike.

  He shook his head. “Didn’t your uncle tell you? Your pa is dead.”

  Stricken, Josephine whispered, “How can you know that?”

  He leaned down until their noses almost touched. “Because I killed him and dumped his body in the St. Joe River.” Cruel laughter filled the air. “Isn’t that funny? Your uncle thought so. Your papa is in a river named after a saint.”

  Josephine recoiled from him, pulling free. She tried to run, but her feet tangled in her skirt.

  His hand shot out and once more he was dragging her to his horse. “Come on! I’ve waited seven years to finally marry you and take what is rightfully mine.”

  Josephine dug her heels into the snow. She hit him with her fist. Tears streamed down her face. She wouldn’t go with him. She wouldn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Thomas didn’t know what drove the urgency within him to get home, but something screamed at him that if he didn’t hurry he would be too late. He pushed the horse as hard and fast as the snow would allow. Before the horse came to a complete stop, he jumped off and ran up the steps to Hazel’s house.

  Hazel opened the door at his rapid knocking. “Sakes alive. What set your tail on fire?” she asked.

  “Where’s Josephine?” Thomas panted. His body fought for breath.

  A sad expression crossed the old woman’s face. “She insisted on going home about two hours ago.”

  He didn’t stay to hear more. Thomas mounted the horse and turned it toward home. Lord, please let her be all right. The silent prayer repeated itself over and over within his mind.

  * * *

  After a short while, Thomas entered the yard and dismounted beside the front porch. He could hear Josephine’s screams long before he saw her. His boots slipped and slid as he raced to the side of the house.

  A big man was trying to push her onto his horse. She kicked and screamed. He wasn’t close enough to stop the man, and Thomas watched in horror as the man raised his fist and punched Josephine in the face several times. She fell like a sack of seed at his feet.

  A curse filled the air. “Get up.”

  Rage boiled within him. Thomas continued at a dead run. He lowered his head and rammed into the oversize man’s body. His fists worked while his mind shouted that Josephine was hurt.

  The two men rolled in the snow. Thomas felt his body being hit again and again, and he kept fighting. Even as his fists flew, his mind questioned the other man’s motives.

  Why was he trying to steal Josephine away? Who was he and what had possessed him to hit her? Who did he think he was? No man should ever strike a woman. Especially his woman.

  Thomas was vaguely aware of Hazel running to Josephine’s side. The fight continued and Thomas sensed that the big man was about done for. He felt his own body giving out as he punched the older man repeatedly.

  At last the man crumpled at Thomas’s feet. Blood, both his and the stranger’s, marred the white snow. Thomas looked to where Hazel cradled Josephine in her lap.

  Tears poured down the old woman’s face.

  “Is she...?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

  Hazel looked up at him. “She’s not dead.”

  Thomas bent down and scooped his wife off Hazel’s lap. “Let’s get her inside.” He cuddled Josephine close. She had no coat on and her body was cold to the touch.

  “I shouldn’t have let her come home alone,” Hazel said as she held the kitchen door open for Thomas.

  He carried Josephine to her bedroom and gently laid her down on the bed. “Don’t blame yourself, Hazel.” Thomas gasped. Josephine’s left eye was swollen, a tiny stream of blood seeped from her nose and her jaw was turning black before his eyes. A split in her lip also bled freely.

  “Let me see.” Hazel pushed him to the side. “She needs a doctor.”

  Thomas nodded. He gently brushed red curls away from her forehead. “I’ll go get him.” Unable to tear his gaze from Josephine’s bruised and battered face, Thomas wasn’t sure he could bring himself to leave her side.

  Hazel patted his arm. “I’ll take care of her. You have to take care of that man out there and get her a doctor.”

  He nodded, bent over and gently kissed Josephine on the temple. “I’ll be back with Doctor Bridges as quick as I can.”

  “And the man?”

  “I’m tempted to let him freeze out there,” Thomas ground between his clenched teeth.

  Hazel nodded her understanding. “Yeah, but while you’re gone, he could wake up. I’d rather you take him to the sheriff so he’ll be punished for what he’s done to our Jo.”

  Thomas nodded. “Take care of her, Hazel. I can’t lose her now.”

  Josephine groaned but didn’t awaken.

  “I will. You just hurry. I don’t know if she’s hurt anywhere besides her face or not.” The urgency in Hazel’s voice had Thomas leaving the room.

  With the strength of ten men, Thomas shoved the big man onto his horse on his belly and tied his hands and feet together under the horse’s belly. He worked fast and prayed hard. Then he mounted up and rode as fast as the horses could go.

  His first stop in town was Doctor Bridges’s office. Thomas explained as best as he could that Josephine had been beaten up by the big man on the horse. When the doctor promised to leave immediately, Thomas nodded and took the stranger to the sheriff’s office, where he untied the man’s hands and feet and allowed him to fall to the hard, cold ground.

  The sheriff stepped out on the porch. “Whatcha got there, Thomas?”

  “A woman hitter.”

  The sheriff’s spurs jingled as he walked across the boardwalk. “Who’s the woman?”

  Thomas raised his head. “My wife.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “Not yet.”

  The sheriff nodded. “How’s your wife?”

  “When I left her with Hazel, she didn’t look so good.” Experience told Thomas to be patient. The sheriff wasn’t a fast-talking man and often was even slower in his actions.

  The sheriff walked around the big man. “Don’t recognize him, but you didn’t exactly leave me much of his face to recognize.” He looked up at Thomas. “You know him?”

  “Nope. First time I saw him he was hitting my wife.” He ground his teeth. The last thing Thomas wanted to do was stand in the street and discuss the man who’d hurt Josephine. But he knew it had to be done so that the man would be put in jail where he belonged.

  “Does Josephine know him?” The sheriff motioned for his deputy to come on out to the road with them.

 
Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know. All I know, Sheriff, is that I rode with Philip into town. He was heading out to the folks’ to start his Pony Express run, and I came to get Josephine a gift for Christmas. When I got back to the house, this skunk was trying to force her onto his horse, and when she fought him, he hit her square in the face with his fist and knocked her out cold on the ground.”

  The sheriff and the deputy lifted the man by his boots and shoulders, then proceeded to carry him to the jailhouse. “You didn’t ask her if she knew him?” the sheriff puffed as he walked past.

  “Josephine’s not in a condition to talk. Last I saw her, she was unconscious.” Thomas hurried around them and held the door open.

  Thomas saw that a cell was already open and waiting for its next guest. He gleaned some satisfaction when the two lawmen dumped the man onto the cold wood floor.

  “I suppose you want to get home, then?”

  Finally. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Then head on out. When Josephine is feeling up to it, I’ll need her to stop in and let me know who this polecat is. He’ll sit here until I talk to her.”

  Thomas hurried to the door. “I’ll make sure to tell her.”

  He was back in the saddle and pushing the horse hard to return to the house, but his horse wasn’t a Pony Express horse and he just wasn’t as young as he used to be. The old gelding wasn’t up to running at breakneck speeds all the time, especially in cold weather. Thomas slowed down to an easy gallop. “I’m sorry, boy.” He patted the horse’s neck.

  Thomas told himself to take it easy on the horse. Josephine was in good hands. She was with Hazel and hopefully by now the doctor was there and had her patched up.

  He’d known for a while now that he loved his wife. She was kind, considerate and resourceful. It felt good to admit it, and if the Lord permitted him to live long enough, she would know the full force of his love once this had all blown over.

  His hand moved to the scar on his face. And for all intents and purposes Josephine didn’t seem to mind that he was a scarred man. Thomas fought down the doubts in his heart. He’d been pushing feelings of love away because he feared Josephine would reject him. Over the years he’d allowed the scar to make him the man he thought he was.