Miss Nellie patted her shoulder. “It will all work out, Becky. You’ll see. Mr. Stillwater is a good man and will make you a fine husband.” She kissed her lightly on the cheek. “With you and Miranda now married, I guess my job here is done.”
“What will you do, Miss Nellie?”
The former madam shrugged. “I’m not sure. I haven’t given it much thought, but it’s not something you need to be concerned with. This is your day.”
They left the house and headed in the direction of the church. Would she have one more glance at Mace before she became Mrs. Stillwater? One thing she was grateful for was that Mr. Stillwater’s house was far enough from the jail that she would not see him every time she left the house.
She could make her shopping trips during the time he was doing his paperwork. From working with him, she knew his schedule, and she would avoid the times of the day when he made his rounds.
Even though it was a small building, the church loomed in front of her, slowing her steps and once again threatening to bring her breakfast up. They reached the top step of the church, and she broke into a sweat. Marriage was forever. She knew so little of this man she was pledging her entire life to.
“Miss Nellie, you go on ahead to your seat. I just need a few minutes to compose myself.” She tried very hard to sound normal, but her head was spinning and she felt on the verge of collapse.
“You do look a little pale, sweetie. Can I get you a glass of water?”
“Yes, yes. A glass of water would be wonderful.” She took a deep breath as Miss Nellie hurried away. Becky peeked through the doors of the church. The pastor stood at the front of the church speaking with Mr. Stillwater. Miss Nellie spoke to them briefly, and the preacher turned and entered a door in the sanctuary.
Becky closed her eyes and gripped the handle of the church door to enter. She turned the knob, and before she could pull it open, her hand dropped to her side.
No.
She couldn’t do it. If Mace would not marry her then she would marry no one. She had some money in her pocket that she had intended to bring with her to her new home. Mace had paid her a little bit for her work at the jail, and she’d saved every dime.
Before she could change her mind, she tossed the flowers she held into the bushes alongside the church, picked up her skirts, and ran like the devil toward the stage depot. She dodged dogs, kids heading to the schoolhouse, hurried past women starting their morning shopping, and nodded briskly at the old man who occupied his normal seat in front of the mercantile.
The stagecoach that was headed to Trinidad, Colorado, sat on the corner of Main and First Streets. The driver’s seat was empty, bringing a sigh of relief to Becky since she would have time to buy a ticket and get as far away from Santa Fe, Sheriff Jensen, and Mr. Stillwater as her money would take her.
She would find a job somewhere and take care of herself. Maybe one day she would have enough money to go to California and find her brother. How big could California be?
Luckily, her path did not take her past the jailhouse. The last thing she wanted to do was go flying by, her skirts billowing behind her, if Mace was there. Where he probably would be at this time.
“A ticket to Trinidad, please.” She barely got the words out as she fished in her pocket for the money. The man behind the counter in the leather store where the stagecoach tickets were sold pulled out a box from underneath and opened it. “Fifty-five cents.”
She counted out the coins and slid them across the counter. With her ticket fisted in her hand, she left the store and took the step up into the coach at the same time the driver climbed onto his seat.
With a shout, the driver snapped his reins, and the vehicle moved forward. Leaning her head against the cushion, Becky closed her eyes as one small tear slid down her cheek.
Chapter Ten
Mace sat at the jail, his feet crossed on the top of the desk, his hat pulled low over his forehead. By now, Becky was married. As hard as he’d tried to not know about it, word had gotten back to him that Miss Becky Davidson and Mr. Joseph Stillwater were taking their vows this morning.
Miss Nellie stopped in to tell him.
Aggie from the café stopped in to tell him.
Pastor Devon stopped in to tell him.
Miss Miranda—now Mrs. Stone—stopped in to tell him.
Miss Priscilla stopped in to tell him.
Hell, he swore the next person who came through that door to tell him what he didn’t want to know but everyone in town seemed to think he should know he would toss him or her in jail. He would think of the charges against them later. There must be a law somewhere against telling a man what he didn’t want to know.
Especially a stubborn, foolish man.
He jerked as the front door flew open and slammed against the wall. “What the hell?”
Miss Nellie strode into the room, her face flushed, panting heavily.
Swinging his feet off the desk, he stood. “What? Did something happen to Becky? Is she all right? Is she hurt?”
Miss Nellie was having a hard time catching her breath, but he hated wasting time not knowing what horror she was about to tell him. “Becky.” She gasped the one word out.
“What about Becky?” His heart was now hammering in his chest so hard it was choking him. “Woman, you better spit it out.”
“She’s run off.”
“Doesn’t her husband know where she is?” Damn and hell, he hated that word.
Miss Nellie shook her head. “No husband. Ran off before the ceremony.”
He collapsed back into his seat, dropping his head into his hands. She’d run off. Before the wedding.
“You have to go after her.”
His head jerked up. “Why me? I have no claim on her.”
Miss Nellie looked as if she could chew him up and spit him out. In fact, he’d seen friendlier eyes over the business side of a shotgun. Pointed at his heart.
“She has broken the law.” Miss Nellie’s voice was returning to normal. “Marshal Jones has ordered her to marry. If she does not, she is to be returned to Dodge City to await the circuit judge’s return to face charges of running a scam.”
“You really expect me to arrest her?”
She leaned over the desk her hands fisted on the pile of wanted posters. “It’s your job, Sheriff.”
Well, wasn’t this a fine pickle. But then he thought of Becky being out there, all alone, with nowhere to go, no one to care for her. She was too innocent. She would likely get hooked up with another scam artist. Get abused. Raped. Left in an alley somewhere to die.
Before he could block that vision from his mind, he strode past Miss Nellie and after checking his guns, headed to the door. “I’ll get her. And bring her back to be married. I refuse to send her to Dodge City.”
The doorjamb rattled as he slammed the door shut. He headed to the leather shop since most likely Becky had taken a stagecoach. Once he had confirmed where she was headed, he’d be right behind her.
Blasted woman.
***
“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a stagecoach by herself?” The annoying man who they’d picked up at the last stop had continued to ask Becky questions since he’d joined them. He’d taken the seat right next to her, even though the one across from her was empty. Becky had scooted over as close as she could to the wall of the coach, and the man still touched her thigh with his knee.
“I’m meeting my husband.” She mumbled the words to the window.
The man smirked. “If you have a husband, why are you not wearing a wedding ring?”
“I lost it.” Oh, Lord, would he ever stop talking to her? The only blessing in his constant chatter was the distraction the annoyance caused her, so she didn’t have to think too hard on what she’d done.
She’d left Mr. Stillwater standing at the altar. What a horrible person she was. He would likely never forgive her, but then she would not ever see him again, anyway.
The man leaned in as if he wa
s sharing a great secret with her. “If I had a sweet little gal like you, I would make sure she never lost my ring. And I would never allow her on a stagecoach by herself.”
Becky refused to acknowledge his words, hoping if she did so, he would leave her alone. No such luck. “If that husband of yours doesn’t show up, I’ll be mighty glad to bring you along with me.”
She cringed just as the coach came to a rolling stop, most likely to give the passengers a chance to stretch their legs. The driver jumped down and opened the door. “We have about a ten-minute stop here, if y’all want to get out and move around.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to the ramshackle building behind him. “If you can stomach it, Saul serves food in there. Or at least what passes for food.”
With a chuckle at his own comment, the driver wandered off. Becky climbed down and entered the building. Whatever this Saul was cooking did nothing but turn her stomach even more than it had been since she’d awoken that morning.
Grateful that the annoying man had found someone else to talk to as he leaned on the counter, gabbing away with the cook, Becky made an abrupt turn and went back outside. She found a seat on an old wooden bench in front of the building and sat there, fanning her face with her bonnet.
She tried not to think of what she’d done, and the predicament she found herself in, because now not only was she without a husband, she was a criminal running from the law.
How in heaven’s name had her life become so mixed-up?
***
Mace swung his leg over his horse, Whiskey, and headed out of town. Luke at the leather shop had confirmed that earlier, Becky had bought a ticket to Trinidad, Colorado, and left on the stagecoach. What was that fool woman thinking?
He made a quick stop at the church to tell the preacher he was on his way to fetch the bride. He hadn’t cared too much for the grin on the preacher’s face. You would think a man of the cloth would be a bit more serious about the dilemma she’d created. “I’ll be here waiting for you,” the man had said as Mace rode off.
The knot in his stomach grew as Whiskey’s hooves pounded the earth beneath them. What if he caught up to the coach and she’d already gotten off? Just because she bought a ticket to Trinidad didn’t mean she would go all the way there. She could get off at any one of the stops along the way.
One comforting thought was the stagecoach hadn’t left more than an hour before, and since he was riding his horse, he should catch up to them before she could get into too much trouble.
He hoped.
He arrived at the first coaching inn, and a quick conversation with the innkeeper confirmed the coach had stopped and gone on its way, and there had been a young lady traveling by herself. At least the innkeeper said he thought she was alone, but there was a man who kept talking to her that she seemed to be annoyed with.
Mace pressed on, ready to smash the man in the face who’d been bothering Becky. That was precisely why she needed a husband. She managed to get herself into trouble all the time.
His thoughts were still tying him into knots when he spotted the stagecoach about half a mile up ahead. She had better still be on the coach, or he would throttle the driver. In fact, he might throttle him, anyway, since he allowed her to get on to begin with.
“Pull over!” He rode alongside the driver, shouting at him. The noise of the horses and jangling of the reins muffled his voice. Mace rode farther up and turned to shout at the driver again. He dared not bring out his gun to shoot into the air. If the driver didn’t recognize him, he could end up bleeding to death on the ground.
The driver eventually saw him and pulled up on the reins. “What’s up, Sheriff?”
“You got a woman on here? Miss Becky Davidson?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know her name, but there is a gal with us.” The driver spat over the side of the stagecoach. “Take a look.”
Mace jumped from his horse and strode to the stagecoach. He flung open the door and took his first full breath since Miss Nellie had stormed into his office earlier. Becky sat huddled in the corner, her eyes wide. He didn’t know whether to haul her out and kiss her or strangle her.
He fisted his hands on his hips and frowned. “Miss Becky Davidson. You are under arrest.”
***
Becky swallowed the lump in her throat and stared at Mace, whose body blocked the sun from the door. But even not able to see his face, she knew him. His voice, his stance, the way he pushed his hat back from his forehead with his thumb.
“What did you do?” The annoying man on the stagecoach glared at Becky and slid as far from her as he could.
Mace held out his hand. “Let’s go, Becky.”
She climbed over the annoying man and placed her cold hand in Mace’s warm one. Once she was out of the coach, she shook out her skirts and looked up at him. “Am I really under arrest?”
“You can go, now,” Mace shouted up to the driver then placed his hand on her lower back and led her to his horse. With one swift move, he grabbed her around the waist and tossed her up onto his horse and swung up behind her. “Yes, you are under arrest.”
She twisted to look at his face as the horse moved forward. “What for?”
He looked down at her, his stern expression causing her heartbeat to speed up. “Were you not ordered by Marshal Jones to either marry or wait on the circuit judge in Dodge City?”
She nodded.
“And did you not run out on your intended husband?”
Her lips quivered at his tone. He was actually going to arrest her and send her back to Dodge City. “Are you going to send me back to Dodge City?”
“No.” He stared straight ahead. “I’m bringing you back to the preacher to get married.”
Well, then.
It seemed there wasn’t anything left to say. She turned and faced forward, accepting her fate. She’d tried to marry the man she wanted, but he refused. She tried to escape from the man she didn’t want to marry and was hauled back.
The rhythm of the horse soothed her, even though her heart was shattering with every mile they passed. This would be the last time she would be this close to Mace, to feel his strong arm around her waist, to smell the familiar scent of leather, horse, and man. She tried as best she could to avoid it, but the tears slid down her cheeks.
Before she had time to pull herself together, they had arrived in Santa Fe and the church she’d run from only a few hours ago. She quickly wiped the tears from her face as Mace placed his hands around her waist and lifted her from the horse.
“You don’t have to walk me inside. I won’t try to escape again.”
He ignored her words as the two of them bypassed the church and headed for the pastor’s home next door. Mace rang the bell, and they waited until Mrs. Devon opened the door. “There you are! We’ve been expecting you.”
Mace removed his hat and placed it on the low table next to the door. “Is the reverend ready?”
“Yes, he is.” She smiled brightly at them both. They walked the short hall to the parlor. Reverend Devon stood as they entered, a huge smile on his face.
Becky looked around, puzzled. “Where is Mr. Stillwater?”
Mrs. Devon waved her hand in the air. “Oh, he left some time ago.”
Her puzzlement turned to downright confusion. “Then how am I going to get married?” Had Mace changed his mind and decided he would simply send her back to Dodge City since she’d run out on her wedding? If so, then why were they at the pastor’s home?
Mace placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her toward him, a slight smile on his handsome face. “I am going to marry you, Miss Davidson. That is, if you will have me.”
***
Despite her determination to marry him, Mace still held his breath, waiting for Becky to say something. Anything. Did she no longer want him for her husband? Had he been so heavy-handed that she now despised him?
Instead of speaking, she burst into tears, but before he could react, she wrapped her arms around his waist and
cried into his shirt. “Yes, yes. I will have you.”
At least that was what he thought she’d said. It was hard to tell with her mumbling into his chest. He placed his knuckle under her chin and raised her head. “I don’t know what life holds for us, darlin’, but I promise I will do everything I possibly can to give you the life you deserve.”
“Let’s get this wedding done. I’ve been waiting all day.” Pastor Devon opened his book, and Mrs. Devon and their daughter, Miss Laura, stepped up to act as witnesses.
After the quick ceremony, Mrs. Devon insisted they stay for cake and a bottle of wine she’d been saving for a special occasion. Mace, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to hustle his new wife over to the hotel and make her truly his. When he’d left the grinning preacher earlier, Mace had asked him to arrange for a room and a bottle of wine for him and Becky at the hotel. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too soused to enjoy their wedding night.
The room was the best the hotel had to offer, but in Mace’s eyes, nothing would be good enough for Becky’s wedding night. She deserved so much more than what he could ever give her, but if she were willing to marry him, he would do whatever it took to make her happy.
“I never did this before.” Becky stood in the middle of the room, eyeing the bed, twisting her fingers.
Mace tried to hold in his laughter. She looked so nervous. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
“Have you? I mean, have you ever done—” She waved at the bed.
He was overtaken by a fit of coughing. How the hell did a man answer that one? There was simply no right or wrong answer, so he decided on distraction. “I’m sure it will go fine, but I don’t want you to be nervous.” He walked toward her and took her in his arms. “We will take it slow and stop anytime you feel uncomfortable.”
She let out a deep sigh and laid her head on his chest. “Thank you.” She looked up at him, her eyes shining. “I love you.”
It took some effort, but he finally got it out. “I love you, too.” He pulled her to him, loving how well they fit together. He took her lips in a gentle, yet possessive kiss, pouring into it all the pent-up feelings he’d been denying ever since he’d laid eyes on Miss Becky Davidson.
Prisoners of Love: Becky Page 10
