Texas Brides Collection

by Darlene Mindrup

  “What are you trying to tell me, Ed?”

  “If I ain’t makin’ myself clear, then I don’t figure I ought t’keep talkin’.” He crossed his arms over his chest and got comfortable. “Wake me up when we reach town, would ya?”

  “Yes, sir, I will.” He chuckled. “And, Ed?”

  He lowered his hat, then lifted one eyelid to regard Caleb with a sleepy gaze. “Yep?”

  “You’re making yourself crystal clear.” He tightened his grip on the reins. “And thanks for saying what I needed to hear.”

  “Question is, what’re you gonna do about it?”

  “I don’t rightly know.”

  He crossed his legs at the ankles. “Well, maybe I ain’t done with my advice. Maybe you got some wooin’ t’do with your bride-to-be.”

  Caleb shook his head. “Ed, I don’t even know if I want her to be my bride. She’s the most exasperating woman I’ve ever had the displeasure to know.”

  “Well, that settles it then.” Ed straightened up and set his hat back on his head. “Marry her. That’s love if I ever heard it.”

  “I don’t think you were listening, Ed. That woman drives me to distraction.”

  Ed tipped his hat back down over his eyes. “I don’t think you were listening to me, Caleb. If a woman drives you to distraction, it’s a sure sign the Lord must’ve put her in your life. I don’t know why that is, but that’s how I’ve seen it work out.”

  Caleb pondered on Ed’s words for four days straight. Rather than face Lydia directly, he took his meals at the office or out on the work site. Each time he saw her, he pretended he hadn’t. He felt pretty sure she did the same.

  Every time one of Dime Box’s citizens addressed him as Sheriff Wilson, he felt a little more uneasy. He jumped whenever someone called his name, because he figured someone had found him out.

  Each night he pestered the Lord about his predicament. What he got back scared him.

  God wanted him to have a new start, but Caleb had taken the timing into his own hands. Clean hands didn’t come from a life built on lies.

  Caleb chewed on Ed Thompson’s advice almost as hard as his situation with the sheriff ’s office. Much as he hated to admit it, Ed’s words mostly rang true.

  The only thing he couldn’t figure was whether Lydia had been sent by the Lord or had become his punishment for not telling the truth. In either case, he had a woman on his mind and a serious danger to his heart. If he kept the truth to himself, he’d get to keep her without a doubt. If he told the truth, she might get away.

  Trouble was, Caleb didn’t know which way he preferred things to go. He decided to do as Ed said and take to wooing his bride-to-be. That way, if the Lord released him from his obligations, at least he could part ways with Lydia knowing he’d done his best.

  The next evening, Caleb arrived at the boardinghouse with a handful of penny candy he’d picked up in Millville. He’d thought to keep the sweets in his desk and savor one or two when he felt the urge. Instead, he’d gone against good sense and made a present of them.

  “I hope you like them,” he’d planned to say when he saw her. “I brought them from Millville,” he might add.

  But when she swept into the parlor smelling like flowers and wearing a dress that made her look fresher than springtime, he lost all ability to be clever. He thrust the handkerchief he’d carried them in toward her, then took a step backward.

  “For me?”

  He nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  Again he nodded.

  Lydia popped a sour into her mouth, then made a face. A puckering face. At that moment Caleb was horrified to realize he wanted to kiss her square on her puckered lips.

  Chapter 10

  Lydia offered Caleb a piece of candy, but he couldn’t look at anything except those pretty puckered lips. “No, thank you,” he finally managed. “In fact, I can’t stay. I just thought you might like a sweet.”

  “Thank you.”

  She took his hand to shake it, but he brought her fingers to his lips instead. An awkward moment passed between them until Caleb released his grasp.

  She walked to the window and lifted the lace curtains. “A lovely evening for a stroll, don’t you think?”

  Caleb rocked back on his heels. “Stroll?”

  “Do I need to spell it out? I’m going for a walk, and I’d like you to accompany me.” She paused to let the curtain fall back into place, then turned to face Caleb. “That is, if you’d like to. I’m quite capable of going out alone.” Without waiting for his answer, Lydia reached for her shawl and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  “Hold on there, darlin’.” Caleb grabbed his hat and set it back on his head. “You don’t have to be in such a hurry.”

  “I do if I don’t want to lose my nerve.”

  “Your nerve?” The screen door slammed behind him, and Caleb hurried to catch up. “What’re you talking about?”

  She pointed to the garden, the same place where he’d seen her crying what seemed ages ago. “I’ll be honest. I lured you out here to tell you my story without fear of being overheard.”

  Caleb nodded. “I appreciate that you trust me enough to share it.”

  Lydia stopped short and looked up into his eyes. “It’s not you I trust. It’s God.” She swallowed hard. “I need to tell you about me, Caleb. About why I’m here in Dime Box.”

  He gave her a sideways look. “All right. Why’s that?”

  She took a deep breath and prayed the right words would come. “I’m an only child and quite a disappointment to my parents. You see, I—”

  “Who’s out there?”

  Lydia saw Mrs. Sykes standing at the garden wall in her dressing gown. “It’s me—Lydia. I’m with the sheriff.”

  Mrs. Sykes waved and disappeared inside the rooming house. Lydia stepped away from the wall, and Caleb followed. Somewhere between the garden and the street Caleb slipped his hand around hers.

  She walked beside him in silence, allowing Caleb to lead the way. Before long they were strolling down the sidewalk toward the sheriff ’s office.

  “We can keep walking or talk in here,” he said.

  Lydia peered inside the office, then nodded. “Here’s fine.”

  Caleb bustled around lighting lamps and putting on a pot of coffee while Lydia watched. Before she knew it, he sat across the desk from her with a pair of mugs in hand. He set one in front of her, then leaned back in his chair.

  The time had come. Lydia watched the steam rise from the black coffee, then began. “As I said, I’m an only child.” She lifted her gaze to meet Caleb’s stare. “I’m sure my father expected more from his daughter. My mama, well, I know she did.”

  To his credit, Caleb remained silent.

  “Mama was from a distinguished family. Old money, I guess you could say. Papa, well, he is a preacher. He loves the Lord and my mama.” She paused to take a sip of the best coffee she’d tasted since leaving New Orleans. “He loves me, too, but I’m afraid I disappoint him regularly.”

  Caleb looked concerned. “How so?”

  “Silly things to you, I suppose, but to Mama my antics have been an embarrassment.”

  “Antics?”

  Lydia felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “Yes, you see I’ve been in boarding schools since I was ten. Mama felt it would be good for me to broaden my experiences, but all I wanted was to go home.” She sighed. “I soon learned that fine line between misbehaving and things that could get me sent home.”

  Caleb leaned forward. “Like?”

  She shrugged. “Like dipping my slippers in the punch bowl or dancing a jig in the town fountain.” Before he could speak, she held up her hand to silence him. “I was modest about it, I promise.”

  His grin disappeared. “So how did you end up in Dime Box?”

  “Well, actually, this was Mama’s doing. With Papa’s approval.” She blinked back tears. “She—or rather, they—felt it in my best interest to send me away to find a husband.”


  “I see.” He steepled his hands and stared hard into her eyes. “And how do you feel about this?”

  Lydia let out the breath she’d been holding. “I feel like God must’ve sent me to marry Cal Wilson, so that’s what I am supposed to do.”

  Caleb rose abruptly and set his mug on the desk. He walked around to her and reached for her hand. Rising, Lydia found herself dangerously near to the sheriff.

  “Is that what you want to do, Lydia?”

  She looked up into eyes that glittered with emotion. They were gray, she noticed, the color of the New Orleans sky just before a storm.

  Before she could answer, before she could manage to put together a thought as to how she felt, Caleb Wilson kissed her. Lydia stepped back, touching her lips.

  No man had ever been so bold with her. No kiss had ever been so welcome. With all her heart, Lydia knew God had led her to this place, to this man. Fear slipped away, and peace took its place.

  “This changes everything.” Had she spoken or merely thought this?

  “Yes, it does.” Caleb stepped back and leaned against the desk. “I’m not who you think I am, Lydia. I believe it’s time you heard my story. You see, I’m not Sheriff Cal Wilson. I’m Caleb Wilson, outlaw. Well, reformed outlaw, that is.”

  “This sounds like quite a story. Do you mind if I sit down?”

  Lydia settled back on the chair while Caleb paced the room and told her of his life as part of the Wilson gang. When he finished, he had his back to her and his attention focused on the wall of wanted posters.

  “I know personally more than half the men on this wall.” He turned to face her. “But I know one man who makes all this not matter anymore. See, I found Jesus behind the prison walls. I was locked up, but He set me free. I wanted to do something good for Him, but I haven’t gone about it the right way. I need to go talk to Ed and make this right.”

  “Would you like me to come with you?”

  Caleb shook his head. “I need to do this alone.”

  Chapter 11

  Caleb stole another kiss before he left Lydia at the boardinghouse. Any other time he would have whistled his way home, but tonight he felt like he was walking in lead boots. He knocked on Ed’s door and prayed he would be able to handle whatever punishment he got after he spilled his story.

  Amanda Thompson let him in, then called for her husband. She left them in the kitchen with a plate of cobbler and two glasses of milk.

  Ed shoveled a healthy amount of dessert onto his plate, then regarded Caleb with a frown. “You look like you’re heading for the gallows, Cal. What’s the problem?”

  “In a way I might be.” Caleb refused Ed’s offer of cobbler. “I’m not who you think I am, Ed.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but go on and tell me about it.”

  Caleb started at the beginning. When he finished his tale, exhausted after repeating it for the second time in one night, he sat back and waited for Ed to react.

  To Caleb’s surprise, the man continued to eat his cobbler.

  “Did you hear me, Ed? I’m Caleb Wilson. I’m an outlaw, or rather I was until Jesus got hold of me.”

  Ed set his spoon down and reached for the milk. After taking a healthy swig, he set the glass on the table. “I reckon we all got a story, Caleb. Yours, well, I’ll grant you it’s not like most.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I ’preciate you comin’ clean with me. Now, I wonder if you’re gonna be at the church house tomorrow, because it looks as if we’re gonna need a few extra hands. We’re shorin’ up the ceiling, and we’re gonna have our hands full with keeping it from fallin’ in around our heads before we build the new one.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I don’t believe you heard me. I’m a criminal. An outlaw. It just happens my name is similar to the man you were expecting. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

  “ ’Course it does.” Ed met Caleb’s gaze. “It means the Lord works in mysterious ways. But then we both knew that.”

  He pushed back from the table and stood. “I need to come clean with this, Ed. I’ve got to admit to the folks of Dime Box that I’m not the man you all were expecting.”

  Ed rose and straightened his lapels. “You know Elmer Wiggins?”

  “I do.”

  “You respect him, do you?”

  Caleb scratched his head. “Yes, I heard him preach last Sunday, and he did a good job. I’d say he’s a fine man.”

  “No, he’s a reformed horse thief. Ben Mulligan over t’the general store? He used t’rob stages until he got a good shot of the Holy Ghost.” Ed shrugged. “I could tell you stories that would curl your hair. The Widow Sykes, well, suffice it t’say she can pick a fine lock if she still had a mind to. There’s a reason she don’t live in Savannah anymore. And Ma, the gal who owns the restaurant?”

  He nodded. “Now she’s a rough-looking character.”

  Ed chuckled. “And yet she gives just about every penny she makes to the orphanage back in Dallas where she grew up. Nobody in town but me knows this, so I’d appreciate you keepin’ it quiet. She brings me the money every month and has me send it ’cause she don’t want the man at the bank t’know she’s the one makin’ the donations.”

  Caleb hung his head. Of all the things he’d thought about Ma, picturing her like this was not one of them. “I guess you never know about people.”

  Ed clamped his hand tight on Caleb’s shoulder. “No, you don’t. Folks don’t come to Dime Box, Arizona, for the good weather and fine food. They come, most of ’em anyway, t’forget who they were and concentrate on bein’ who they ought to be. Ever wonder why there ain’t hardly no crime?”

  “I guess I hadn’t.”

  “Well, I have a theory on that. I figure the Lord’s got His hand on this place. I don’t know for sure, but I’d like t’think maybe He created Dime Box as a place where sinners are forgiven.”

  Ed’s son burst into the room nearly out of breath. “Pa, there’s a coach a-comin’.”

  “A coach?” He looked up at the clock. “It’s a quarter of nine. You sure it’s a coach?’

  “Sure as can be,” he said.

  Ed nodded. “Looks like I’ve got work t’do down at the livery. Son, you head on down there and light the lamps.” He waited until his son had gone, then thrust his hand in Caleb’s direction. “I ’preciate you comin’ clean, son, but I have to confess I figured out who you were right off.”

  Caleb shook his head. “You knew who I was from the beginning?”

  “Sure,” Ed said. “You told me.”

  “I did?”

  Ed made his way to the door as the sound of a team of horses drew near. “I called you Cal Wilson, and you corrected me right off. Did that a couple of times. So you never did deceive me, boy. Whilst I was jawin’ with you that day, I felt the Lord tell me you were the one we’d been waitin’ for. Now I’ve got work to do. I believe you need to go home and study on what I told you.”

  Caleb walked out with Ed and watched as a stage halted outside the livery. The driver jumped down to open the door. Two men spilled out into the semidarkness.

  “Welcome to Dime Box,” Ed said. “They’s rooms at the boardinghouse across the street and a good meal to be had there, too. Where you all comin’ from?”

  As Ed continued his mostly one-sided discussion with the weary travelers, Caleb walked away with his heart light and his conscience clean. Before he did anything else, he went straight to the garden beside the boardinghouse and picked up a small rock. He lobbed it against the darkened window of Lydia’s room, then waited for her.

  “Who done been throwin’ rocks?” The maid appeared at the window. “It’s you. What you want?”

  “I’d like to speak to Lydia.”

  “What you want with Miss Lydia?’

  “That’s enough, May.” Lydia appeared at the window. Her hair hung loose, and she appeared to have been sleeping. “I’m here.”

  “I need to talk to you. Can you come downstairs?” />
  She leaned forward as she began braiding her hair. “To the garden? Now?”

  “No, to the parlor. I’ll wait on the porch.” Without allowing her to say no, he made his escape from the garden.

  He watched the activity at the livery until Lydia opened the door. “This is highly irregular,” he heard the Widow Sykes call from somewhere upstairs. “So speak your piece and go on home so decent folk can get their sleep.”

  Decent folk. Caleb swallowed hard. Indeed, tonight he felt as if he could be counted among the decent folk. “Yes’m,” he called back. “I thank you for allowing the interruption.”

  “Anything for a man in love.”

  A man in love? Yes, that just might fit him.

  He followed Lydia into the parlor. While she chose to sit, he knew he couldn’t. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

  “So how did Mr. Thompson take the news?”

  Caleb began pacing. “He said he knew all along who I was. Said it was the Lord’s will I showed up when I did. He told me I was meant to be here.” He stopped to look down at Lydia. “What do you think about that? Or, I guess the better question is, what do you think about me? Will you still have anything to do with me now that you know about me?”

  Lydia rose to fall into Caleb’s embrace. “Don’t be silly. Of course I will.”

  Caleb held her tight. She was a pretty thing, no bigger than a minute, but with a voice as smooth as silk and a pair of big brown eyes that could cause a man to forget his troubles.

  And she was all his.

  Or she could be soon as he asked right and proper.

  Caleb let her go and dropped to his knee, taking her hand in his. “Lydia Bertrand, I’d be right proud to wake up to your biscuits every morning for the rest of my life. Will you do me the honor of—?”

  “Lydia? Oh, sweetheart, is that really you?”

  His intended let go of his hand and sprinted past him as if he hadn’t said a word. Caleb scrambled to his feet and watched as Lydia fell into another man’s embrace.