THE OUTLAW BRIDE

by Maggie Shayne

  "Eldon!" a feminine voice from behind him said. "Waylon said you were dead! Said that trollop had knifed you but good!"

  Elliot turned slightly to see Jessi … only … not Jessi. She was dressed like the madam of some old-west whorehouse, and her face had ten years' more wear on it than Jessi's ever would.

  Okay, his mind was processing the information fast. First, these people who looked like his family were not his family, and second, they were going to realize that he was not who they thought he was—this Eldon character—any minute now. He waved weakly at the Jessi clone turning his back on her just as the Garrett double reached the bottom of the steps and shoved the woman, whose hands were bound behind her, at Elliot.

  "Guess we don't need no hangin' after all," the bully said with a gap-toothed grin. "Hot damn, I'm glad to see you, little brother."

  Elliot caught the woman, his hands on her shoulders. She straightened and stared up at him. And there was pure, unadulterated hatred in her huge black eyes … and fear, too, though she was trying to hide that. A bruise marred her dirt-streaked face, and blood was drying on her dress.

  "Won't Waylon and Blake be surprised when they go back for Eldon's body only to find he's done got up and left!" the one who looked like Jessi shouted. She came up behind him and slapped his shoulder. "You don't know how lucky you are, Esmeralda Montoya. Nobody messes with a Brand in this town and lives to tell the tale." Then she laughed. "Too bad you didn't take five minutes longer gettin' here, little brother. The bitch would've been danglin' by then. Shoot, maybe we ought to hang her anyway, just for sport."

  Instinctively, Elliot pulled the woman—Esmeralda—tighter to him, his arms going around her shoulders. She pulled back, but he held her fast, and she stopped struggling. She probably knew she was surrounded by people who would just as soon see her dead, unless this was all some sick joke. But the look in her eyes just now had hit Elliot hard. It told him in some unspoken way that this was no joke. He would work it all out later. Right now, all he wanted to do was get out of here, and it looked as if he'd best take this woman with him.

  He wished to God his pickup would materialize. Doubting it would, he chose the next best conveyance. A horse stood about ten feet to the left. He tried not to let his fear show as he eased the woman in that direction, though she kept planting her feet and resisting every few steps.

  "So, El, what happened out there? Shoot, we thought you were dead!" the big guy with the badge pinned to his shirt said.

  "Guess I fooled you, huh?" Elliot managed. "Listen, uh, I need to, um…" He was easing to the left as he spoke. But the Garrett twin was frowning, now, squinting at him.

  "Hey … hey, wait a minute. You ain't my bro—"

  Elliot had no time to think. He just snatched the gun from the nearest guy's holster and leveled it. "Stay right there. Don't move."

  The guy's brows went up, and his eyes widened. "Who the hell are you?"

  Elliot was still edging toward that horse, holding the girl in one arm with everything he had and keeping the weighty six-shooter pointed. "Get your hands up," he ordered. "And don't worry about who I am. Now back off, all of you."

  As he looked around, the crowd did what he said. The saloon woman said, "What's goin' on, Garrison?" and the sheriff said, "Danged if I know, Jenny."

  Elliot didn't know, either. Right now, all he knew was that he was beside the horse, and the woman in his arms was still looking at him as if she would like to gut him. "It's me or them," he told her. "And even if I were this fellow everyone seems to think I am—a man I'm assuming you weren't real fond of—you'd still stand a better chance with one bastard than with a pile of 'em, don't you think?"

  Her black eyes narrowed. Dark lashes and dark brows and bronze skin on a fine, small face. Damn, but she was a pure beauty. He turned her around, anchored an arm around her waist, and hefted her right off her feet and onto the back of the horse. The chestnut mare danced a little, snorted. She was small, but looked fast. Good. Elliot climbed on behind the woman, gathered up the reins and dug in his heels.

  They were off like a shot, galloping at full-tilt, and the second they were, men started scurrying like rabbits, pulling guns, shouting and racing for their own horses.

  "Shoot," Elliot muttered, and for once in his life, he was rattled.

  * * *

  Chapter 3

  « ^ »

  "You have to stop!" the woman said. It was the first time she'd spoken, and Elliot found he liked her voice, if not its tone. It was deep and rich, and laced with a thick accent that fit her looks. Dark, exotic and intense. It was exactly how he'd expected her to sound. While he was cocking his head, looking down at her and wondering about her, she spoke again, louder this time. "This animal cannot take much more! You have to stop."

  "Yeah. You're right about that." The horse was damp with sweat, hotter than hell and blowing hard. He looked around, spotted a stream nearby, and guided the tired animal into the water. The mare tugged at the reins, trying to lower her head for a drink, but Elliot held her firm, made her go a few more yards, until they were behind a stand of trees, before he eased up and let her drink.

  He drew a breath, watching while the mare drank, making sure she didn't overdo it. He used the time to untie the woman's hands. "So … Esmeralda, is it? You want to tell me just what the hell I walked into back there?"

  She turned halfway around to glare up at him. "You can fool your own brothers, Eldon Brand, but not me. Never me. You think just by taking a well-needed bath and scraping the whiskers from your face you can convince me you are someone else? Eh?"

  Elliot licked his lips. "My name is Elliot. Not Eldon."

  She studied him for a long moment, tilted her head to one side. "You are a Brand, that is plain enough."

  "Yeah, I'm a Brand. Elliot Brand, but I don't know you, and I never met those bastards in town before in my life."

  "You look like Eldon," she said. "Only … cleaner."

  "Well, I'm not Eldon."

  He tugged the reins when he judged the mare had drunk enough, and she lifted her head. Elliot hated to, but he nudged her into a brisk walk, following the stream for a ways, and finally emerging into a copse of trees. There he dismounted. Then he turned to grip the woman around the waist and help her down. She stiffened at his touch, but she let him help her. She was so wary, though—her eyes on his hands, and her body poised as if ready to react to the slightest move on his part. She pulled away from him the minute her feet touched the ground.

  "Look, it's pretty clear you don't believe me. But I'm telling you, lady, I don't have a clue what's going on here. I don't know where the hell I am, or how I got here, or—"

  "You are in Quinn, Texas, Señor Brand. And what is going on is an execution. I murdered you—or your twin—and I was about to hang for it."

  Elliot nodded slowly. Quinn, Texas. Hell, he'd had a knot in his gut, fearing she would tell him just that. "They … um … don't hang people where I come from."

  "No?"

  "What … um … what's the date, Esmeralda?" He didn't look her in the eye when he asked the question.

  Her voice was softer. "Eleven October, eighteen hundred eighty-one. What difference can that possibly make?"

  He blew a sigh. "A lot. Oh, hell." This was all some delusion. He was probably lying hunched over his pickup's steering wheel right now, with a massive concussion or worse, and all of this was a coma-induced dream. Shoot, he hoped he would come out of it okay. Hoped he didn't die. Wished to hell his brothers would show up and get him out of this mess, the way they always did. Come on, Garrett. Shake me or slap me until I wake up, he thought.

  Someone shook him. Not Garrett. The lady. "Hey? What is the matter with you?"

  He looked at her. "Damned if I know. So why don't you tell me about this Eldon? Why'd you kill him?"

  Again that narrow-eyed look. "Are you pretending … or are you really a different man?"

  Elliot shrugged. "Okay, let's try this, then. How did you kill him?" />
  She lowered her eyes. "He tried to rape me. I drove my knife into his heart, all the way to the hilt."

  Bloodthirsty little thing, wasn't she? He fought off a full-body shudder. "And you know for a fact you stabbed him, right? I mean, that's his blood on your blouse there?" He nodded at the all-but-shredded little half jacket and the bloodstained white cloth underneath.

  "Sí. He bled like a pig."

  Only, when she said it, it sounded like "peeg." Damn near made Elliot grin. He liked the way she talked. Blood lust aside, of course. "Well, then, we can get this out of the way pretty easily." Elliot reached up to his own shirt, untucked it. The woman took a step away from him as he began undoing the buttons, and he realized what she thought. So he gave up the unbuttoning and ripped it open instead. Better to get to the point as soon as possible. Hell, she might just knife him again, otherwise. "There," he said. "Look at my chest. You see any stab wounds? Any blood?"

  She stood stock still, staring at his bare skin, blinking in shock. Slowly, she stepped closer and, lifting her hand, pressed her palm to his chest. Elliot felt a ripple run through him—a delicious little shiver instigated by that touch, and he thought maybe it wasn't a real good idea to have her hands on his bare chest. Not a good idea at all. She was the kind of trouble he didn't need. Even if she was just part of some delusion.

  Finally she lifted her head, met his eyes. Hers were wide and dark and frightened. "You are not Eldon Brand," she said slowly. Her hand was still resting right over his heart, warm and soft and small.

  "No. I'm not. I'm Elliot. You can trust me, okay?"

  Her brows slammed down into a frown, and her hand fell to her side. "Trust you? You are still a Brand, señor."

  "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  She glared at him and, reaching to her throat, fingered the chain she wore. As she did, the pendant at its end came out from beneath her blouse, and Elliot saw it, caught his breath and blinked in shock. It was the crystal skull! "Where … where did you get that?"

  She lifted her brows, then looked down. "This? It has been handed down through my family for generations. My father gave it to me just before he died. Murdered by more of your stinking family," she added with a scowl.

  Hoofbeats sounded in the distance. Their pursuers were coming. Hell. "What is that thing, Esmeralda? What does it … what does it mean, what does it do?"

  "Do?" She lowered her eyes, averting her gaze. "What makes you think it can do anything, señor? I don't know what you mean."

  "You're a really lousy liar." He heard a shout, then splashing. He gripped Esmeralda's shoulders. "Listen, I was perfectly okay an hour ago. I was running an errand, and the date was October eleventh, nineteen-ninety-nine."

  She sucked in a breath, looking up at him fast. "You are loco!" she whispered, taking a step away from him.

  "I'm not loco, dammit, I'm here, and I got here when I held that very stone you're wearing in my hands and read what was written on the back!"

  Shaking her head, she took another step backwards.

  "Look, dammit!" Elliot held up his palm.

  She looked, then came closer and looked again.

  "Dios," she whispered, seeing the burned shape of the skull in his palm. "What can this mean?"

  "I don't know. Let's get out of here, find a better place to hole up, and try to figure it out." He reached for her hand. She looked at it, shaking her head slowly.

  "I cannot go with you. You are a Brand. Your family stole my father's land and his cattle, and then his life. I would sooner take my chances on my own than to trust a Brand. Any Brand."

  Elliot opened his mouth to argue, just before he saw the riders crashing through the trees, guns raised. He grabbed Esmeralda, flinging her to the ground and landing on top of her, just as the first shots were fired. Then he swore as he realized he was trapped. Stuck right here. There were men on all sides, all of them getting off their horses now. They formed a wide circle around them, and began closing in.

  "Toss your gun out, fellow. You don't wanna die for trash like her!" someone yelled. Sounded like Adam, but he would never call any woman trash. The Brand boys hadn't been raised that way.

  "You want her, you're gonna have to go through me," he shouted back.

  She turned her head, staring up at him as if shocked. Then she looked out at the others, moving ever closer around them. "That is Allen Brand, the banker," she whispered, pointing. "And his brothers, Waylon and Blake, the outlaws. Garrison, the sheriff. They will kill you. They will kill us both."

  Elliot was good and riled, a state he didn't remember ever being in before, as he looked down at her terror-stricken eyes. "They'll try," he told her.

  "We have no chance!" she pleaded.

  "We have one." He nodded down at her. "The pendant."

  She shook her head slowly, her hand closing around the skull and lifting it. "It is only carved stone."

  "It got me here," Elliot told her. "I'm sure of it. Maybe it can get us out." He looked up, saw the men coming closer. Men who looked startlingly like Garrett, and Adam, Wes and Ben. Only mean, cruel and murderous.

  Esmeralda grabbed his hand, pressed it over hers, where she gripped the skull, and said a prayer in Spanish. Then she began reading the words on the back of the skull. But even as she did, the men came closer.

  "Toss the gun down, pard, and hand over the lady."

  "Get the hell away from us or I'll shoot!" Elliot said, aiming his stolen six-gun.

  There was a blinding flash of light in his eyes, a huge pain shooting through his head, dizziness…

  …and then clarity again. He lay on top of Esmeralda, who was cringing beneath him, hands to her eyes, shaking all over. He lifted his head and saw the circle of men still closer, all peering at him. Lifting the gun, he said, "I mean it! Back off or I'll blow you to kingdom come!"

  They stopped. They looked at each other, then at him, their faces utterly puzzled. "Uh, Elliot? Hey? You okay? It's us, all right? Take it easy," Garrison, the evil sheriff, said, his star winking in the sunlight.

  Elliot frowned, looking down quickly to make sure the hammer of his gun was pulled back. But there was no gun in his hand. He was pointing a finger at the men around him. And … and his pickup was right behind him, its nose crumpled against that big old oak tree. And the men surrounding him were … his brothers.

  Oh God, thank God, it was all just a dream, and he was … he was … he was…

  Lying on top of a trembling, frightened woman … a woman from another time. And she, in turn, was staring at his brothers, hatred and terror in her eyes as they all surged forward at once.

  Esmeralda blinked the dizziness from her eyes and scrambled out from beneath the stranger's protective body. Facing the others, she backed up slowly. "Stay away!" she shrieked. "Stay away from me!" She backed up until her back pressed against something cool and hard. Jumping, she looked behind her. The thing was so foreign, so strange to her, that she only frowned, staring at it. And then another such beast roared past, made a squealing sound, and slid to a stop. Esmeralda screamed at the top of her lungs and dove facedown onto the ground, covering her head with her arms.

  "What the hell?" someone said.

  "Damn, he must have run her over or something!" another shouted.

  "Wait … wait, guys." That voice was the one she knew. Elliot, the stranger who'd saved her from the gallows. The man who looked like the most evil of men but wasn't him. Couldn't be him, for he had saved her life, risking his own to do it.

  Yet, did that matter? He was a Brand. Bad blood. Bad family, her father would say.

  "Just stay where you are, okay?" Elliot said.

  Then he came to her, knelt beside her, and his hands closed on her shoulders. "Esmeralda, it's all right." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "It was the crystal. It worked. We … we're in my time now. We're safe."

  Blinking in shock, she dared to lift her head and look around. Those evil men were all standing there staring at her in
confusion, and a woman had jumped from the noisy iron beast and joined them now. Jenny Brand, the saloon matron and whore. Only … younger.

  "Esmeralda, do you understand me?" Elliot asked.

  She shook her head. "How can you say we are safe," she whispered harshly, "when they still surround us?"

  "That isn't them. These are my brothers. My real brothers. Look closer. No guns. And … they're all clean. No whiskers. Look at Garrett, he has all his teeth and everything…"

  Blinking slowly, she took a second look, just as the big one, the sheriff who had only an hour ago tried to hang her, tipped his head to one side and said, "Elliot? Did I just hear you tell that girl that I have all my teeth?"

  "Oh, hell, what's going on here, anyway?" the female cried. She came forward, prying Elliot away, and staring down at Esmeralda with concern in her brown eyes. How strange she was, with her red hair cropped so short. "Are you hurt, hon?" she asked. "Come on, let me take a look at you."

  With her hands—gentle hands, Esmeralda noted—she helped her get to her feet. Then her eyes widened as they raked over Esmeralda's bloodstained blouse. "Landsakes, she's bleeding! Garrett, you'd best get an ambulance!"

  "No," Esmeralda said. "I am fine. It is not my blood."

  Elliot came back to her then. "She's right, it's not."

  The girl frowned. "Not her blood? Well, then, whose blood is it?"

  "No one's … probably the deer that caused all this," Elliot said. "I must have hit it."

  "I don't see any deer, Elliot," the sheriff said, looking around.

  "Doesn't matter. Probably ran off. The point is, she's okay. We both are."

  The woman put her hands on her hips. "Oh, sure you're okay, Elliot! Except for that bump on your head, and the bruise on the lady's face, anyway." She shook her head. "What happened out here? Elliot, you were gone for hours. When you didn't come back, we got worried and headed out to look for you."

  Esmeralda watched him, wondering what he would say. He only shook his head. "A deer ran out in front of me, I jerked the wheel to avoid it, and um … Esmeralda was … just there."