Rachel (Bride Brigade Book 5)

by Caroline Clemmons

  They ambled back into the front office.

  Didamia surveyed the room and spread her hands. “No, this is all balanced like just the way it is and shouldn’t be changed. I bet you’re good at decorating stuff.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know about that. This is my first attempt. I don’t think I’m boasting to say I’m a good bookkeeper. At least, I hope Zane agrees about my work.”

  Zillah tapped the box on Rachel’s desk. “First time that’s been empty since he bought it. He hates bookwork and I know he’s relieved he doesn’t have to bother with the accounts and filing.”

  “He said he is and I hope that’s true. I love working here.” She grimaced. “Except, frankly, there’s just not enough to keep me busy when the men are away. I’ve cleaned, swept, waxed, and polished until I’ve run out of tasks.”

  Zillah nodded. “I understand what you mean, but when they return, you’ll be swamped with work. It all evens out. If I were you, I’d bring a book to read while you’re here but don’t have anything to do.”

  Ruby ran a finger over Rachel’s desk. “I like things clean, too, but you can’t get this place any cleaner. You might as well relax while you can. Like Zillah said, when they get here, you won’t have time to say howdy.”

  With great relief, Rachel sensed the women’s approval. “That makes me feel better. I want to earn my pay, but I’ve run out of work. I suppose I’ll bring a book and read when I have time. First, I’d like to do the garden in the front.”

  Lupe nodded. “I will come tomorrow and bring cactus plants. You tell me where you want them so I know what to bring.”

  Rachel took a sheet of paper from her desk and a pencil. “I don’t know how many you have, but this is what I had in mind.” She sketched the little garden on each side of a walk from the road creating an arc to the edge of the building.

  “That looks good.” Lupe examined the drawing then showed Didamia. “We can do this, can’t we?”

  Excitement tinged Didamia’s voice, “Won’t take long, either. Not if we all pitch in… not pressuring anyone.” She glanced at Ruby. “Some like gardening and some don’t.”

  Rachel clasped her hands. “Ladies, I’m all wound up about this now. I’ll be here early tomorrow to get some things planted before the sun gets too hot.”

  Lupe shrugged a shoulder. “I grew up in the desert. I can take the heat.”

  Didamia nodded. “We’ve each had a hard life in some pretty desolate places and have moved too many times. Reckon that’s why I love gardening so much. Means I’m here long enough to plant and reap what I sow.”

  Lorraine smiled at her. “What a good way to look at gardening. You’re right, it means permanence—or at least temporarily remaining in one place through all the seasons. I love that idea.”

  Zillah looked from Lorraine to Rachel. “Have you moved a lot?”

  Lorraine shook her head. “I lived in the same town my entire life. There were no opportunities for me there. The single men who survived the war left to go west unless they had sweethearts to come home to. I didn’t want to spend my life a spinster with no home or husband or children.”

  Rachel nodded her agreement. “Same for me. I lived in the house built by my grandparents. I loved the house, but other things convinced me I’d have to move west to achieve what I wanted.”

  Mary Margaret said, “You two are brave to strike out on your own.”

  Rachel offered an explanation. “Lydia Harrison and Sophie Gaston were with us seven women, so the trip wasn’t quite as frightening. Still, I worried about whether Tarnation would be as we’d been told.”

  Lorraine added, “And whether the bachelors would be. Thankfully, Lydia was truthful and I’m relieved to be here. Now that I’ve met you women, I feel more a part of the community.”

  Rachel watched the pride on the women’s faces. Their wariness had fled. Today had been a great success.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zane found the perfect rug at the same place where he picked up the two for the hotel. Shaking his head, he couldn’t believe he’d changed so much. A month ago, the office had been okay as far as he was concerned.

  Now he realized how much he had missed. A beautiful brunette taught him about the importance of surroundings. And here he was buying a rug and getting glass for a frame that would probably get broken before they reached Tarnation.

  And, that same woman had shown him how lonely he’d been. He hadn’t believed love at first sight was possible, but the minute he’d touched her hand at that reception, he was hers forever. When he got home, he’d learn what put the fear in her beautiful brown eyes. Then he’d take steps to erase whatever frightened her.

  Some man had messed up her mind and broken her trust. He’d love to get his hands on the rat. In the meantime, he intended to court Rachel until she agreed to marry him.

  He knew she wanted to but was afraid. Why would she be? He was a decent man with a home, money in the bank, a good business, and the means to provide for her. She appeared to enjoy being around him.

  He laid the rugs on the wagon and covered the load with a tarp to protect his goods in the event of rain. He cinched down the cover well in case of wind. Ken did the same to the second wagon.

  If anything were damaged, that was Zane’s loss. He had insurance, for which he paid through the nose. The company had paid in the past when they’d been attacked.

  At one time or another, renegade Indians, robbers, and men posing as Indians had made a play for a load he was hauling. Zane and two of his men had been shot. He sure hoped he never needed to collect his insurance again—or staunch a wound for one of his friends.

  After they were loaded, Zane and his men pulled into the yard where they had changed mules earlier. Their two wagons were heavily laden and ready to leave early tomorrow. They fed and watered the horses and mules and released them into a paddock.

  Since they’d be leaving before dawn, they paid for their time there. Zane paid extra for two armed guards for the night. He wanted his men to have a good night’s rest at the hotel.

  Bob shoved the money in his pocket. “Watched that man. Think he figured I was keepin’ tabs on what he did, though. He gave me a go-to-hell look and rode out of here headed west.”

  Zane grimaced. “Thank you. Reckon he’s waiting for us along the trail somewhere. We’re ready for him.”

  Bob called after Zane, “Evans?” When Zane retraced his steps, he stood facing the other man. “I ’membered where I seen him. He’s in Dalton Cole’s gang. I was at the trial that sent them to prison. Too bad they didn’t stay there.”

  Also too bad for Zane and his men. “Broke out. Now they’re looking for an easy hit. That’s not us, as they’ll find out if they mess with us.”

  Bob shook his head. “Take care. They’re known as drygulchers. Soon as shoot you in the back as not.”

  “See you next trip.” Zane hoped he appeared more confident than he was. Dalton Cole and his group of cutthroats were sure to be planning to waylay them. Nothing he could do but make sure his men were wary and ready.

  They returned to the same place where they’d had breakfast. They sat at a round table in a back corner. He passed around the poster on Dalton Cole again.

  Zane leaned back in his chair. “We know someone’s been watching us. Bob said he recognized that man at the yard as one of Cole’s gang. When they hit, I imagine they’ll try a mountain grade where we’re most vulnerable.”

  Vic handed the poster to Bronco. “We’ve been thinking about this, Boss. We came up with the most likely spots but we’ll be watching the whole way.”

  “Then let’s eat and get a good night’s rest. I’d like to get away at three instead of dawn. May not make any difference, but that’ll put us a couple of hours ahead of our usual time.”

  Because they’d leave before a decent café was open, Zane ordered six packages of thick ham slices stuffed between biscuit halves to take with them. He asked for ten per man, enough to stretch fo
r noon too. They’d have water in their canteens to wash down the food.

  Helen, the waitress brought the packages. “The cook put in two fried peach pies for each of you, Mr. Evans. We appreciate your business.”

  “Thank him for us, will you? That’ll be mighty tasty come mealtime.” He paid their bill and left her a generous tip.

  They left Fort Worth by three on Sunday morning. By that time, most saloons had closed and the streets were empty. Rattling wagon wheels, jingling of harnesses, and the soft clip clop of hooves were the only sounds.

  Each of the men expressed eagerness to get back to Tarnation. Certainly, Zane was. His thoughts divided between Rachel and concern for his wagons and men.

  That wouldn’t do. He had to get a grip on his emotions. His attention had to focus on his surroundings and the threat of attack.

  Vic dropped back to talk to him. “Boss, I get the feeling we’re being followed.”

  “Yeah, I’ve got that itch between my shoulder blades that says we’re being watched.” He rode with his rifle at his side and a revolver in his holster. “Don’t know when they’ll hit, but I’m sure they will before we get to Tarnation.”

  With a nod, Vic rode back to speak to Ken and then to each of the others.

  Bronco rode slightly ahead of the wagons, appearing on high alert as lookout. Mick dropped back to cover them from the rear. By the time they reached Weatherford, all six of them were physically and emotionally exhausted.

  After another night, they repeated the same routine as they had in Fort Worth. Zane believed his nerves were stretched taut as a circus high wire. For two days now he’d expected an attack around every rock outcropping or copse of trees.

  Over supper Monday evening, the six men discussed likely places they might be hit the next day. By the time Zane reached his hotel room, he was dead tired but too worked up to sleep. He had a bad feeling about this trip. What if he were killed?

  Immediately, thoughts of Rachel sprang into his mind. Would she mourn him? She was too kind not to do so. Convinced she was his other half, he made a decision.

  He went back to the reception desk and asked for paper, for which he was charged a penny a sheet plus a penny for use of the inkwell and pen.

  He wrote out his message.

  To whomever it may concern,

  In the event of my demise, after my funeral expenses and any debts shall be paid, I leave my home and all the money in my bank account to Rachel Ross of Tarnation, Texas.

  The freight business shall be split between the five men who work for me. I invest Ken Hill as head of the business with Vic Marshall his second. Each man is to retain his home as long as he wishes.

  I ask that my parents be notified: Marcella and Lawrence Z. Evans, 16 Maple View, Shiloh, Pennsylvania.

  Lawrence Zane Evans, Jr.

  Evans Freight and Warehouse

  Tarnation, Texas

  After drying ink on the important paper, he folded and sealed it. “You sell postage here?”

  The young clerk asked, “Where’s it going?”

  “Tarnation just south of Calgondo.”

  The clerk passed him the required postage.

  “Can I leave it here to be posted?”

  The young man indicated a letter box. “It’ll go out tomorrow.”

  He tossed a nickel tip on the counter, irritated that the hotel charged for paper. “Thanks.”

  Back in his room, he stripped to his underwear and crawled into bed. He supposed everyone who knew him would think him a fool for leaving his home and cash to a woman he’d so recently met. Didn’t matter, he knew his mind.

  What he felt for Rachel was a genuine and abiding love. He believed she felt at least a fondness for him, perhaps more. If he wasn’t around to take care of her, at least she’d have a home and the means to take care of herself.

  ***

  By the time the wagons pulled out of Palo Pinto, each of them were on edge. They expected an attack so it had to come today. They were tired and strung out from nerves.

  They passed through Calgondo and headed on the last stretch toward home.

  Vic rode beside Zane’s wagon. “Be home tonight and I’ll sure be happy to see Didamia. I figure that Cole bunch has been trying to make us sweat.”

  Zane glanced at the man. “Well, if that’s what they planned, they’ve succeeded. I could hardly sleep last night. Guess that’s better than you had with you and Buck trading off watch with Bronco and Mick.”

  “I slept enough.” Vic flexed his right hand. “I’m still sharp, leastwise I hope so. They’re coming and I figure along here is where they’ll strike.”

  They slowed to descend a steep hill. With wagons so heavy there was a danger of the weight sending them careening downward, damaging mules and losing the load over a ledge. Fortunately, their mules were used to this trail and didn’t balk. Sweat beaded on Zane’s brow and stained his shirt. A sense of approaching doom settled over him like a shroud.

  This was the most dangerous part of the trip for the wagons. Each rider had blocks ready to chock the wheels in case the vehicles threatened to speed. Zane’s entire focus was on restraining the mules and protecting his load. He had to let his riders handle the Cole gang, or whoever had been dogging them since Fort Worth.

  If he was on horseback and just riding down this road, the view was spectacular. Not like the Rocky Mountains, but as interesting to him. He even loved the rock formations and layers to the left of the trail. They were only a hundred yards from the bottom of the hill when he braced his foot against the wagon to put all his weight into pulling on the reins.

  A bullet hit Zane in the left arm. If he hadn’t leaned back, the shot would have killed him. Firing surrounded him as he reached for his Henry repeating rifle. Kneeling in front of the bench, Zane set the brake and fired at the men who surrounded them.

  Mick was on the ground and crawling under the back wagon. Ken’s shoulder was bloody. Firing as he moved, Zane leaped from the bench and ran to see about Mick and Ken.

  Zane was certain he shot two of the attackers. He’d almost reached Ken when a bullet slammed into his shoulder. Trying to stay on his feet, he staggered. He saw Bronco slide over the edge and into the valley below.

  Vic cried, “Zane! Bronco!”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thursday, the morning after the tea, Rachel hummed to herself as she straightened the office. The ladies were joining her this afternoon to plot out a garden and plant cacti. She was happier than she’d ever been.

  Not only did she have the perfect job working for a man she liked more than she cared to admit, but she had new friends. And, they were helping her beautify the place where she worked. Of course, they could see the office from their homes, so this would improve their view too. Plus, as one of them said, this raised the importance of their husbands.

  She wondered if Zane had any foolscap she could use to draw her garden plan instead of his good stationery. Although she wasn’t the sort to pry, she thought perhaps he wouldn’t mind her opening his desk for a suitable reason. She opened one drawer only to discover fine paper she didn’t want to waste.

  In the next drawer, she found an odd collection of a well-used deck of cards and a jumble of what appeared to be memorabilia. She should immediately close the drawer. But… could it hurt to peek?

  With one index finger she gingerly shifted the cards and discovered an unsmoked cigar, a black string tie, and… what was this, a badge? She picked up the silver to read the inscription. Pinkerton! She dropped the offending metal where she’d found it and shoved the drawer closed.

  Her legs turned to jelly and she grabbed the edge of the desk to support herself then dropped into Zane’s chair. She worked for a Pinkerton agent? Dear heavenly days, how could fate do this to her? Tarnation had become home and she was making friends here.

  Once again, she’d trusted the wrong man. How could she start over again? Only twenty-five cents of her real pay remained. She had the extra salary he’d paid her
but she still couldn’t accept that.

  Did Zane know that awful Richard Brown? Did all the Pinkerton agents know one another? She couldn’t picture Zane associating with Brown.

  But, if Zane learned about her past, he’d hate her. Send her packing. Worse, what if he spread news of her imprisonment around town? No, she didn’t think he’d speak against her, but he wouldn’t want her as his bookkeeper—or his wife.

  Yesterday, she’d decided to accept his proposal. Each night and many times during the day, she recalled the sound of Colin Gallagher’s violin. Zane had been so thoughtful to arrange the opportunity for them to dance.

  Reliving the pleasure of him guiding her around the office flooded her with warmth and something else she couldn’t identify. Was that funny feeling inside her love? She’d never experienced anything like the regard she held for Zane.

  His arms around her created security and strength. At the same time, his nearness set her pulse pounding and sent warmth pooling in her feminine place. She’d never experienced the depth of emotion she reached in his embrace.

  She rose and strode to her office and paced the floor. What was she to do? Of course, she’d have to pretend ignorance, at least until she decided whether or not to tell him her story.

  She’d just returned to her own desk when the sheriff entered. “Hello.”

  He tipped his hat. “Good morning, Miss Ross. Heard about the big doings here yesterday.”

  Pretending a cheerfulness she couldn’t experience, she stood to greet him. “We had a lovely time, Sheriff. Lorraine Stuart brought seeds for flowers and Didamia Marshall had them for vegetables. Zillah Hill has some flower seeds from her family, but you’ve probably seen them growing in her garden.”

  “That I have. The Hills have a colorful yard. Glad the tea worked out. Anything I can do for you?”

  “No, but thanks for stopping by.”