The Texan's Bride

by Dawson, Geralyn

  “And you were born here?”

  “Shortly thereafter.”

  “Sounds more harrowing than romantic to me,” Branch drawled. “But since you brought the subject up, I seem to recall something about a wager.”

  “Now, that’s harrowing.” Katie stopped with a sigh and rolled her eyes. The wolf look was back on his face. She should have known he wouldn’t forget. “All right, do it,” she demanded.

  He halted, arching his eyebrows in innocence. “Do what, Mrs. Starr?”

  “Kiss me. Get it over with.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. She almost punched him in the stomach. “Ah, but, Kate, that wasn’t the bet. You’re to kiss me.”

  “Oh,” she said. Pretty Girl snorted and tugged at the reins. Katie started walking, her thoughts in a whirl as she tried to figure an advantage to this development. So she was supposed to kiss him, was she? She’d best not allow it to happen.

  She liked the idea entirely too much.

  Then the answer came to her. “If I do the kissing, then I get to choose the time and place.” She smiled smugly. “Fifty years from today sounds good to me.”

  Branch just looked at her and grinned. She felt his gaze on her backside as he followed her, whistling, until they reached the remains of the old stone fence that stood a short distance from the tavern. That’s when he grabbed her.

  “Now,” he demanded, backing her against the wall. He rested an arm on either side of her and stared at her lips.

  “Now what?” she asked, but she knew. “Y— you said I was to do it. I get to say when.” Her tongue nervously circled her lips.

  “Do it now.” His whisper soaked through her skin. She felt him everywhere, but he never touched her.

  “No. I don’t want to. I don’t have to. It’s the rules. You said so yourself.”

  He shifted to the right, still not touching, and blew a gentle stream of breath into her ear. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks,” he said.

  Heat seared her body, and Katie surrendered. After all, she’d been dreaming of this for six weeks. “Shakespeare from a Texian drifter?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “Taming of the Shrew.” His gaze melted her mind.

  She pressed herself against him, shaking her head. “Hamlet.”

  “Oh,” he said, and his lips captured hers.

  Liquid heat coursed through her veins. Her arms snaked around him, and the hard cords of his muscles flexed beneath her fingertips.

  Then Branch pulled back. He turned his head and listened, a wild thing sensing danger. Katie gawked at him until the crackle and scent of burning pine broke horrifically through her senses.

  Crack … crack. Gunshots drilled the air.

  “Da! Daniel!” she cried, pushing at Branch’s chest. He held her like an afterthought, his brow wrinkled, his eyes topaz hard, as the whoops of destructive, victorious men reached their ears. “Let me go,” Katie cried.

  “I’m goin’. You stay here.” He grabbed her chin and glared into her eyes. “You move so much as a jackrabbit’s whisker, and I’ll tan your hide.” He gave her a shake. “Do you hear me, Kate?”

  She nodded.

  The moment he let her loose, she darted off. Da always said she moved quick for a gal with such short legs, but Kincaid reached her in three strides.

  She lost her wind when he tackled her. “Blast it, woman, I can throw you farther than I can trust you,” Branch said. He pulled her to her feet as she struggled for breath and dragged her back to the horses. Katie twisted and kicked, fighting him desperately. “Let me go!” she screamed. “I have to help my family!” She viciously bit the hand that clenched her arm.

  “Damn it, Kate. Settle down. This tantrum’s wasting time. I’m gonna take care of your people; you’d just be in the way.” He lifted a rope from his saddle and proceeded to tie her to the nearest sturdy tree.

  “Please, Branch,” Katie begged. “Don’t do this. They’re in trouble and I’ve got to help.” Tears of fright and frustration streaked her face.

  Ignoring her pleas, he grabbed the weapons he always carried on Striker, making sure to snatch up extra ammunition and loading equipment. Branch never went anywhere without his bowie knife, Texas Patersons, and plains rifle.

  When her little brother’s agonized scream filled the air, Katie whimpered. Only the rope held her upright as she gazed helplessly at Branch. He looked cold as a January norther.

  “I can’t lose them, too,” she whispered.

  “You won’t.” Branch kissed her forehead and ran toward the shroud of smoke.

  CHAPTER 5

  TONGUES OF ORANGE FLAME licked the sky. The inn, the barn, the storage shed, even the vegetable garden—all were in the throes of destruction. Chaos reigned as hooded men atop prancing horses held torches aloft, shouting and whooping, with violence and ruin riding their blood like a fever. Men afoot cackled at the spectacle of squawking chickens, their feathers alight, darting about the barnyard in a frenzied dance of death.

  Branch stood motionless just inside the tree line, and the apocalyptic sight before his eyes flashed him into the past. Instead of the inn’s roof crashing to the ground, he saw the Virginia plantation’s huge Doric columns tumble into flaming rosebushes. He heard pops and crackles and screams—oh, God, the screams! The clouds of gray smoke engulfing him stank not of pine but of burning flesh— animal flesh, human flesh. Fear clutched his belly, slithered around his feet, and he could not move.

  Mommy, I’m scared. The man looked to his fist and saw a seven-year-old boy’s hand holding a matchstick.

  Then the groan, a long, agonized wail of pain, snapped him back to the present. The Gallaghers! John lay facedown beside the horse trough. Alive or dead, Branch couldn’t tell. Daniel, strapped lengthwise on a tanning log, his shirt ribboned and bloodied, was sobbing. Damn the bastards, Branch thought. Flexing his fingers, he ached to pull his Colt and drop the bear of a man who wielded the whip.

  Rage constricted his throat as he quickly searched his mind for a way to help the Gallaghers. Outgunned, any of his shots would likely be answered with bullets plugged into his friends. Think, man! Considering and discarding several options, he arrived at a plan. Risky, not much more than a gamble, but a plan nonetheless. He took one bold step from cover when the sound pierced his heart like a Comanche arrowhead.

  Katie’s shriek stopped every man in his tracks as she burst through the trees and launched herself at the man holding the whip. They tumbled to the ground. When sunlight caught the knife blade she raised above the man’s chest, Branch reacted. “Holy hell,” he exclaimed, and fired off two shots.

  The first bit the dirt at her knees. The second sailed wide of her hand. Together they grabbed her attention, buying him time to reach her. Where in the hell did she get a knife, he wondered as he pointed his Colt square at her head. Deliberately, he said, “Drop the knife and get up, Mrs. Starr.”

  Katie stared at him, her eyes frozen blue ice. Her gaze never left him, even when she reeled from the force of the backhanded blow delivered by the man dressed entirely in black, the one who’d been shouting orders earlier.

  Branch’s thoughts turned savage. Fury pounded through his veins. He reached deep for control and swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. Pasting a friendly smile on his face, he extended a hand to the tall man. “The name’s Branch Kincaid, sir.”

  The Regulators closed in on Katie, yanking her to her feet. Branch inwardly recoiled at the hate she hurled his way, and when one yellow-toothed blackguard reached out and cupped her breast, he went rigid. His jaw muscle twitched as he inhaled a deep breath.

  Turning his back to her at that moment was the hardest thing he’d ever done.

  The leader’s dark eyes gleamed through slits cut in the black cotton hood. He brushed dust from his coat and asked in a muffled voice, “Have we met before?”

  Branch looked up a bit to meet his eyes.

  The scoundrel may have been taller, but Branch o
utweighed him by a good twenty-five pounds. And someday he’ll feel every one of them, he promised himself. “No, we’ve not met, but you men are pretty famous in these parts,” he said aloud. “I’ve been looking forward to makin’ your acquaintance.”

  At that, Katie found her tongue. “Damn your hide, Kincaid,” she screamed. He looked casually over his shoulder. Spewing venomous curses, Katie bucked and squirmed. She tossed her head in violent frenzy and twisted to rake her nails down her captor’s face. “Da! Daniel!” she shrieked, straining to free herself.

  Then she stilled and centered all her energy behind her words. “The devil take you, Branch Kincaid, the devil take you all.”

  She laughed hysterically. With her hair in tangled disarray, eyes frantic and breasts thrust forward as she arched away from those who held her, Katie looked like Bedlam’s daughter. And as such, she unknowingly helped his cause.

  He whirled on her, eyes blazing. Nobody stopped him when he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “Shut up. I’ve had all your mouth I’m willing to take.” He stared into her wild eyes, trying to reach her, reassure her, but she was beyond seeing. He grasped her upper arm and yanked her away from the Regulators. She stumbled as he dragged her toward the horse trough and threw her to her knees beside John.

  “Tend to your old man, woman. Don’t let me hear so much as a swallow out of you.” He lowered his voice and pleaded, “Trust me, Sprite.”

  Wearing a disgusted sneer, he walked back to the dumbfounded group of Regulators. “She’s a loon, you know,” he told the man in black. “Her old man told me she’s had these spells ever since her husband died.” He shook his head. “Dangerous thing, too. Why, one morning I woke up and she had a hammer raised above my head. Ready to kill me in my sleep she was. And after a right pleasant night of pokin’, too. I should’ve known her Pa wouldn’t sell her so cheap without a reason.” He shrugged and said, “But she’s an Anglo woman, unattached and clean. They ain’t too easy to find in Texas, you know.”

  “It seems as though lack of sense runs in the family,” the Regulator replied. “All I intended was for us to burn the place. It wasn’t until the boy started shooting and the old man swung his fists that things got personal.”

  Branch waved a hand in a dismissive gesture and said, “They are a strange bunch of pups around here, that’s for certain. I’ve been wanting to talk with you about joining up with the Regs. I’ve got a hankerin’ to get involved in this little war y’all got going. How do I go about it?”

  The Regulator threw back his head and laughed. At the sound, a chill brushed the back of Branch’s neck. “Just what kind of fool are you, Kincaid? the fellow asked. He turned to his men and said, “You men take care, the woman isn’t the only crazy one here today.”

  He shifted his gaze back to Branch, shaking his head. “You show up out of nowhere, help me out of a little difficulty, take control of one of my prisoners, then calmly announce you want to join our organization.” He chuckled, but amusement never touched the sinister gleam in his eyes. “For all I know, you could be a Moderator spy!”

  Now the gamble, Branch thought. But the stakes were higher than he’d planned. Dammit, Kate, why didn’t you stay put? “You’re right.” Branch nodded slowly. “That’s what I am, or at least that’s what I told the Moderator leader, Edward Merchant.”

  The Regulator held up a hand, halting his men, who were going for their guns. “What’s your story?” he asked.

  Branch looked around guardedly. “Well, I hate to go into any detail right about now, what with all the company.” He flicked his thumb toward the Gallaghers. Katie had helped John to his feet, and together they had staggered over to Daniel. She worked feverishly at the knots that bound his hands. Tears flowed down John’s dirty, wrinkled face as he comforted his son, whose soft moans drummed in Branch’s ears.

  “Do you think we might could find a more private place to speak?” Branch asked.

  Cold eyes stared at him a full minute, then the man nodded once and pointed toward the kitchen, which had not been set afire. “In there, after you.”

  “Hey, boss, can we have the gal now?” one of the men called as they crossed the yard.

  Branch shot the leader a hard look. “The woman is mine,” he stated flatly. “I meant what I said about liking my women clean, and I aim to make sure she stays that way. I’ve got four thousand dollars in land certificates that come with this deal, but nobody touches the Gallagher woman but me.”

  “You know, I could have you all killed with a single word,” the muffled voice shot back. He tilted his head and studied Branch. “Four thousand?”

  Branch nodded.

  The Regulator shrugged and called over his shoulder to his men, “Leave the woman be.”

  Only then did Branch relax the viselike grip on his gun. With total concentration focused on maintaining his restraint, Branch followed the scoundrel purposefully into the kitchen.

  They sat at Katie’s worktable, where a white linen towel covered a wooden bowl sitting to one side. Branch lifted a corner of the cloth, then helped himself to a wedge of cornbread left from breakfast. “Needs a pinch of sugar, but still pretty good,” he said. “Want one?”

  The black hood moved from side to side. “Anonymity protects us from individual reprisals by the Moderators. That’s the mistake Gallagher made. It’s become well known that the inn was a meeting place for Edward Merchant’s band.” A gloved hand pulled at the collar of a black shirt. “Enough of this. Tell me about the four thousand.”

  Branch stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. Mentally modifying the story he’d intended to tell all along, he began, “I’m a chemist, a very good chemist. With the aid of my special mixture of acids, I can erase figures in ink from the face of notes without destroying or damaging the paper. Unfortunately, I have some very bad people after me. I need protection, and I’m willing to pay whatever it takes to get it.”

  “Chemist, huh?” The Regulator crossed his arms over his chest. “Who is after you, and what does any of it have to do with your telling Edward Merchant you’d spy for him?”

  One corner of Branch’s mouth lifted in a mocking smile. “Well, mister, like so many others, I came to Texas ten steps ahead of the law, in this case a pair of New York detectives. But I didn’t realize I’d be jumping from one hot skillet into another. This clan war of yours is cookin’ pretty hot, and I want out of the pan.”

  “No one forced you to get involved, Kincaid.”

  “You are right about that. It’s the woman. Isn’t it always a woman? I was just lookin’ for some clean commerce, and I end up getting shot at.” He shrugged. “Hell, I’ve got enough people gunning for me without getting caught in the local cross fire. I figure that if each side thinks I’m working for them, they’ll leave me the hell alone.”

  “Kincaid, I’m sitting here trying to decide whether you’re somewhat smart or real stupid. You’re telling me you’re playing both ends against the middle?”

  “I’m telling you I’m trying to cover my ass.”

  Dark eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re a nervy sonofabitch, aren’t you? What’s to keep me from shooting you where you sit?”

  “Money. Lots of it.” Branch leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Listen, I knew within a week of coming here who was going to win this fight. The Moderators don’t stand a chance against men like Watt Moorman. In another year the Regulators will own East Texas.”

  The lingering scent of burned pine blew into the room on a breeze, a grim reminder of the destruction that lay beyond the kitchen’s walls. Branch’s gut clenched, and it took a conscious effort to appear relaxed. “I’ll feed Merchant whatever information you want him to have, and I’ll pass along whatever I hear from him that you’d be interested in learning, as long as it doesn’t tip my hand.” He sat up straight, folded his hands on the table, and leaned forward. Make this good, he told himself as he said, “But that’s not what I’m
dealing today. Eventually, those detectives on my tail are going to find me. If you’ll put your Regulator guns against ’em when they do, I’ll get you enough money to own all of Texas if you’ve got a hankerin’ for it.”

  “How?”

  “Why, make it, of course.”

  TRUST ME.

  The words echoed through Katie’s mind. But he betrayed me. Betrayed us. Or had he? I could have ended it right then. The Regulator would be dead. I would be dead. I thought Da and Daniel were dead. Sweet Mother Mary.

  Trust me.

  Katie hung her head in despair. Daniel needed some salve for his cuts. She’d washed his back, but he needed the salve. It would sooth the burn. Five lashes, as best she could tell. A boy, he’s just a boy.

  Another boy had brought well water when she asked. She knew him, she recognized his voice. Keeper McShane. Another boy, frecklefaced beneath that awful hood. She had bought him candy, and now he held a gun on her, on them. She remembered what Branch had said earlier about Texas being a hard land. Perhaps he was right. What kind of country was this where boys suffered from the cruelty of men, where boys acted with the cruelty of men?

  “Mavourneen,” John croaked, interrupting her thoughts. “Water. Please.” Katie lifted the pail to her father’s split and swollen lips. Tears burned her eyes. Da, poor Da. Bruises covered his body. When she could get into the kitchen, she’d get something to bind his ribs. If she ever did get in, that is.

  They’d been in there for an eternity.

  The Regulator leader had left the kitchen once, long enough to send a man after Striker and Branch’s saddlebags and to order all but three of the Regulators back to Nacogdoches. Now, along with Keeper, two men guarded her and her family.

  Keeper seemed nervous. Every few moments he’d shift his pistol from his right hand to his left and wipe his palm on his dirt-streaked trousers. Katie began to wonder who was guarding whom.