Even Miss Nellie was mesmerized by the man. He was tall, with a muscular build that stretched the fabric of his shirt and well-fitting pants. His gun belt hung low on his hips, with a pearl-handled pistol snug in each holster.
Miss Nellie was the first one to snap out of the trance the man had put them in. “Good morning to you, too—” she glanced at his badge, “Sheriff.”
He nodded at them both, returned his hat to his head, and left the jail.
“Who was that?” Miss Nellie asked, watching the man’s back as he left the room.
“Sheriff Mace Jensen from Santa Fe. He just rounded up those noisy culprits back there in them cells. They held up a bank in Santa Fe, and Jensen went after them. From what I know of the man, he’s like a dog with a bone when he’s after someone.”
“He is one fine-looking man.” Miss Nellie’s comment was met with Marshal Jones’s scowl.
“Jensen and his prisoners are gonna be on your wagon train. Remember, you’re there to chaperone those women, not to be eying men.”
Miss Nellie’s eyes snapped with anger then she broke into a smile. “Why, Marshal Jones, I believe you’re jealous.”
“I ain’t no such thing.” He fussed with the papers on his desk, not meeting their eyes. “Now, what brings you here, disrupting my jailhouse and gawking at another lawman?”
Miss Nellie’s laugh was deep and had Becky smiling with her. “Marshal, I want to get my things from the Boswick Hotel where Dr. Snodgrass and I had rooms. Since he skipped out on the bill, Mr. Boswick won’t give me my things back. It’s all I have in the world.”
The marshal shook his head. “Snodgrass was a no-good scoundrel. You’re well rid of him.” He nodded to Miss Nellie. “You go with her and tell Boswick to give Miss Davidson her things, and I’ll settle up her part of the bill later.”
Becky frowned. “Thank you, Marshal, but I don’t know how I’m going to repay you.”
“Don’t worry about it; the town will pick up the tab. Now be off with you. I have citizens to protect.”
She and Miss Nellie set off for the hotel. Low clouds hung overhead, the air chilled, a stark reminder that even though spring had started, it was still a long way until steady warm weather would arrive.
Mr. Boswick scowled as they walked into the hotel lobby. “What do you want?”
Miss Nellie gave the man a bright smile and leaned on the desk. “Now, Mr. Boswick, what kind of a way is that to greet people?”
“You don’t fool me none, Miss Nellie.” He gestured in Becky’s direction. “I know that one wants her stuff out of her room, but I need to get paid.”
“I told you Dr. Snodgrass ran off with all the money.” Hell and tarnation, she knew the money was owed, but how many times did she have to tell him she had none?
Miss Nellie fussed with the man’s necktie, his face growing redder as she stared at him. “Mr. Boswick, that’s all this poor girl has in the world. A little mercy, please.” Pulling back, she said in a more business-like tone, “Besides, the marshal will be here this afternoon to pay her bill.”
Mr. Boswick leered at her. “I’ll take payment another way.”
“Goodness gracious. I’m retired, now. Don’t you know I’m a respectable chaperone?” She wrapped her arm around Becky’s waist. “You go on up and get your things. I’m going over to whatever is left of my business and pack up a few things of my own.” She wagged her fingers at Mr. Boswick, and turning, she left the hotel, hips swinging.
***
After a much-needed bath and shave, Mace Jensen, sheriff of Santa Fe County, New Mexico Territory, rubbed his eyes as he sat at a corner table in the café across from the Boswick Hotel. Five days of tracking Dagman and his gang had left him hungry, tired, and smelly. It had been downright embarrassing to meet those two ladies in the jailhouse, stinking the way he had.
He had no idea who they were, but the older one had a look about her that said she’d been around the block a few times while the younger one was all youth and innocence. Lord almighty, had he ever been young and innocent?
Born to a slave and an Irish plantation overseer, he’d been working from the time he’d been able to walk. He’d done everything from hauling water to picking cotton. When he was sixteen, his master’s house burned to the ground, and he was set free.
Since his mother was dead and his father missing for a few years, he set out for the West, where he heard life was better for newly freed slaves. He took a gun off a dead Union soldier along the way and practiced for months, doing odd jobs for money to eat and buy ammunition.
When he felt his ability to handle a gun was good enough, he roamed from town to town seeking work. Most of the jobs he was offered were tracking down outlaws who had escaped the law one time too many. After a while, he’d decided it was better to have one place to hang his hat and took the job as County Sheriff. At thirty years of age, he was proud of his reputation as “the lawman who never gave up.”
He kept his county clean and enjoyed the respect of the Santa Fe townspeople. If there was anything missing in his life, it was a woman. There were several Mexican women who welcomed him into their beds—for a price—but what he craved was the life he’d been denied.
A wife, a real home, and children who he would love and care for. He still lived in the back room of the Santa Fe jail, saving his money to buy a house one day.
“Thank you, ma’am.” He addressed the waitress who placed his breakfast in front of him. A thick slice of ham, eggs, potatoes, grits, flapjacks, and biscuits with gravy. He had a whole lot of eating to catch up on.
It didn’t take long for him to finish his meal. He took a final sip of coffee and wiped his mouth with the red-checkered napkin as he glanced out the large plateglass window. The young woman he’d seen earlier at the jailhouse was leaving the Boswick Hotel, loaded down with a satchel and two boxes. She’d only gotten a few steps when she dropped one of the boxes.
His impression of Dodge City so far was not a good one, but when two drunken cowboys walked right past her without helping, he shook his head and pushed his chair back. He reached into his pocket and peel off two bills, threw them on the table, then left the restaurant.
“Hey there, little lady, it looks to me like you could use some help.” He strode across the street and hopped up onto the boardwalk where the woman struggled with her burden.
She grimaced. “Yes, I’m afraid I underestimated how much stuff I had in that room.”
He hefted one of the boxes onto his shoulder and with his other hand picked up the satchel by the straps. “If you can grab that smaller box, we can be on our way.”
“Oh, thank you so much.” She pointed down the street. “I’m headed to the Dodge City Hotel.”
He grinned. “Moving from one hotel to another?”
She walked alongside him, dodging dogs, kids, and shoppers. “I’ll be leaving the Dodge City Hotel tomorrow morning. I’m joining the wagon train.”
“You don’t say? I’ll be joining that group myself.” He studied her for a moment. “You traveling with your family?”
Now why did he ask that? It sounded like he was fishing for information he had no right inquiring after. Although, if she did have a family that included a husband and he’d left her to move all these things on her own, he would be sure to speak to the man should they cross paths.
“No.” She shook her head, the dark brown ringlets that had escaped her bun dancing at her face. “Miss Nellie and I—she’s the one I was with this morning at the jailhouse—are going to Santa Fe, along with three other women, to be mail-order brides.”
The surprise at her statement almost had him dropping the box he carried on his shoulder. Why in the good Lord’s name would this beautiful young woman be marrying up with a stranger? She must have men lining up to marry her.
“Why?” He cringed at his boldness. “I mean, with all the men here in town, why would you marry a stranger?”
They came to a halt as a horse and carriage rumbled
by. Once it passed, they crossed the street and continued their walk. “That’s what the marshal ordered the other women and me to do.”
“What? He can’t do that. There’s no law on the books that I’m aware of that can force a woman to get married.”
She gave a sigh as they reached the front of the Dodge City Hotel and turned to face him, the box clutched in her arms. “No, there probably isn’t, but I managed to land myself in jail, and Marshal Jones said either join up with the wagon train to Santa Fe as a mail-order bride or sit in jail until the circuit judge shows up.” She turned and had pushed the door open and walked inside the hotel before he processed what she’d said.
The lobby smelled of cigar smoke, dirt, and whiskey. The girl laid the box on a worn-looking couch and turned to him. “If you will just place that here, I will have someone from the hotel carry it up to my room.”
He slid the box off his shoulder and deposited it, and the satchel, next to the other box. “I should have introduced myself before now. I’m Mace Jensen, sheriff of Santa Fe County. I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
She smiled and stuck out her hand. “Miss Becky Davidson.”
He took her delicate little hand into his large rough one, feeling like a bear shaking hands with a fairy. “It was very nice to meet you, Miss Davidson.” He tugged on the brim of his hat. “I guess I will see you on the way to Santa Fe, then.”
“Yes. Thank you very much for your help.”
He strode from the hotel, the sound of his boot heels beating a staccato as he made his way down the boardwalk. Either because of his race, size, or general appearance, most people moved out of his way, clearing a direct path to the jailhouse.
“Marshal, what gives you the right to force women to marry strangers?” He knew the minute he opened his mouth he should have stayed out of it. But something about that woman had his stomach in knots. She seemed so young. And innocent.
The marshal looked up from his desk where he was filling out reports. “I gave them a choice. Jail or the wagon train. They took the smart one.”
“But you don’t know that things will be better for them.”
“Well, you tell me, Mr. Big Time Sheriff of Santa Fe County. You’ve been through Dodge City before. Are they better off sitting in jail here or under the care and protection of a husband?”
Mace spread his feet apart and rested his hands above his gun belt. “Depends on the husband.”
Marshal Jones stood and grinned, causing Mace to narrow his eyes. Slapping him on the back, the marshal said, “Glad you said that, Jensen. I hereby put the custody and well-being of Miss Becky, Miss Nellie, Miss Cinnamon, Miss Adelaide, and Miss Miranda into your hands. Have a good trip.”
Chapter Two
Becky pulled on the stubborn mule’s harness and cursed, using the fine words Dr. Snodgrass always used to get his horses moving. Lord, hopefully, no one heard her. She hadn’t been raised to use such language, but after four years with Dr. Snodgrass, the words seemed to fly from her mouth.
“Maybe if you rubbed his back or something.” Miranda, who was trying to get the other mule to move as well, shared the very unhelpful information.
“Miranda, we don’t have time to make nice with the animals; we need to get started.” Miss Nellie sat on the wagon seat, slapping the two donkeys with the reins, sweat beading on her forehead.
They hadn’t even left Dodge City yet, and already they couldn’t get control of the animals and the wagon. Since both Adelaide and Mindy had already found husbands, the two of them, along with Miss Nellie, had just finished packing everything they owned into the wagon that would take them to Santa Fe for a new life.
If they could get the blasted donkeys to move.
“Ladies, can I be of assistance?” Sheriff Jensen rode up to their wagon with three prisoners, their hands tied in front of them, trying to control their own horses.
He jumped from his horse, his lengthy stride reaching the donkeys in no time. He climbed up alongside Miss Nellie as Becky glanced askance at the outlaws. They were a rough-looking lot, but instead of trying to run off, they sat placidly while the sheriff yelled at the mules then snapped the reins. To her amazement, the animals moved forward.
“Well, Sheriff. It appears you know how to handle mules.” Miss Nellie practically purred at the man. “Are you the same way with the ladies?”
Sheriff Jensen grinned back and handed her the reins. “Perhaps.” He jumped from the slow-moving wagon. “Are you ladies riding with Miss Nellie or walking?”
“Why would they walk?” Miss Nellie asked as they continued down the main street at a slow pace.
“Wagons are heavy. Most times, travelers walk alongside the wagon to keep the weight down.”
Walk? They were expected to walk to Santa Fe?
“I’ll tell you what, Miss Nellie. One of the ladies can ride with you, and I’ll take this one,” he nodded toward Becky, “on my horse. Once we get to the fort, y’all can make whatever arrangements you want.”
“Well, thank you, Sheriff, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Miss Nellie cast an appreciative glance at the sheriff as his muscles rippled under his tight shirt when he lifted Miranda and plopped her onto the wagon seat.
“You’re next, young lady.” He grabbed Becky around the waist and tossed her onto his saddle. With a quick move, he followed behind her, unwrapped the reins from the saddle horn, and squeezed his knees to signal the horse to move.
He wrapped his warm arm around her waist. “Relax, Miss Davidson. I promise I won’t bite.” His deep chuckle in her ear did nothing to relax her. Her back felt as though it was on fire where it touched his chest. She glanced down at his dark hand where it rested on top of hers. The contrast between his caramel-colored flesh and her pale skin mesmerized her and sent tiny little prickles along her skin.
She’d never been this close to a black man before. He smelled good, felt strong, and made her feel protected for the first time since her parents died when she was seven years old.
“Tell me what makes a pretty young lady such as yourself end up in jail, forced to marry a stranger.” His warm breath on her neck caused tingles in her middle and gooseflesh to rise on her skin.
“I am not a criminal, Sheriff.”
“Never said you were. Just asked about the jail and mail-order bride business.” The trotting of the horse caused her body to come into constant contact with his, no matter how stiff she tried to keep herself.
“My parents died when I was seven—influenza. With no family to claim me, I was sent to an orphanage where I lived until I was put on the orphan train when I was ten.”
“Orphan train. Yes, I’ve heard about them. Good for some tykes, bad for others.”
She grinned, the memories warming her. “Mine was good. I was adopted by a fine family with one son. I loved my adopted family as much as my first family.”
When she grew silent thinking about Ma and Pa Davidson, he said, “What happened?”
“They were killed in a carriage accident when I was thirteen. My brother, Alex, wanted to go to California Territory, and I didn’t want to do that. He found me a job as a maid in a fine house, but after three years, that…came to an end.”
His body tensed at her hesitant words, and he growled, “Why?”
She shook her head. “No. Not anything you might be thinking. The family fell on hard times and had to let me go. That’s when I met Dr. Snodgrass.”
“Ah, the snake oil salesman. Yes, I’m familiar with the good doctor. He’s been all over these territories for years.”
“He was a bit rough, and when he drank, not the nicest of men, but he fed me and took care of me for four years.”
Again, she felt the tenseness in the sheriff’s arm. “What did you do for his protection?”
“I worked as his assistant. He never tried to do anything naughty with me, if that’s what you’re thinking. In fact, I had the feeling he would have preferred if I were a boy. If you get what I mean.” She tw
isted her body to look at him.
He seemed to swallow a chuckle. “Yes, I believe I know what you mean.”
***
Mace could not remember the last time he’d been so affected by a woman. Although, it was hard for him to think of this little imp as a woman. She was so fragile, it almost frightened him that she’d been on her own for so long.
Somehow, even with all that had happened to her, she’d kept her innocence. He shook his head at that remarkable feat. “So, if Dr. Snodgrass was doing the selling, how is it you were the one who ended up in jail?”
Miss Becky shrugged. “Dr. Snodgrass left town without telling me. I was tossed out of my hotel room, and when people complained to the marshal about the colored water Dr. Snodgrass had sold them instead of the miracle elixir he claimed it to be, Marshal Jones arrested me. That’s where I met Miranda, Adelaide, and Mindy.”
“The other mail-order brides?’
She nodded, the curls alongside her head bobbing in rhythm with the horse.
He smiled down at her, feeling so much older than the ten years that separated them. “I have a feeling he was merely trying to protect you from the town’s wrath.”
She regarded him wide-eyed. “Do you think so?”
Lord, her guileless expression tore him up. He would have to add Miss Becky’s name to his nightly prayers and ask the good Lord to provide her with a good husband.
Husband.
The word rocked him. He would keep an eye on her once they arrived in Santa Fe and make sure whoever she hooked up with was a good man. She deserved so much for what she’d gone through in her short life. A good man. An honorable man. A man who would cherish her and take care of her for the rest of her life.
A man like me.
He shoved that ridiculous notion to the back of his mind and placed it securely under lock and key. He was accepted by the people of Santa Fe because he kept their town, and the county, free of crime. How they would turn on him should he marry a white woman. “Yes, I believe Marshal Jones had only your best intentions in mind by putting you in jail and then arranging for the four of you to become mail-order brides.”
Prisoners of Love: Becky Page 2
