The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  “Yeow!” His hand came up in a terrifying moment.

  She saw the sheer hatred in his eyes just before his hand slammed into her face and pain exploded in the side of her head.

  Chapter 16

  Titus heard the gut-wrenching cry tear from his throat as though it came from outside his body. The sight of that filthy, foul man touching Alisa, manhandling her, attempting to violate her, was more than his very soul could take. Everything in him wanted to draw his pistol and shoot, but he couldn’t take a chance on harming Alisa.

  He rushed forward and clamped down on Amos’s coat with both hands and, with strength he didn’t know he possessed, flung him away from Alisa and onto the ground. Titus grabbed his gun from his holster and pointed it toward Amos, using all of his control to refrain from squeezing the trigger and sending a bullet into the man’s skull.

  A stream of profanity flew from the outlaw’s mouth, fouling the air as much as his stench.

  “Get out of the way, Alisa,” Titus ordered and, from the corner of his eye, noted that she backed toward the other side of the barn.

  Amos quickly regained his footing and started to go for his gun.

  “I wouldn’t,” Titus warned. “Real slow-like. Take the gun out and toss it this way.”

  Keeping his hate-filled eyes fixed on Titus, Amos reached for his gun and eased it out of the holster. “I shoulda killed you the night I took this Colt off of you.”

  “Probably,” Titus replied, matching him sneer for sneer.

  “Bart, no!”

  At Alisa’s scream, Titus’s world slowed its spinning. Just as Titus turned to the woman he loved, he saw Amos lunge from the corner of his eye.

  Horror filled Alisa, and she made a dash for Bart. She kicked at his arm as hard as she could. Gunfire filled the barn as his pistol flew from his hand. He hollered and reached for her, but she jumped back in time to avoid his massive hand.

  The sound of Titus’s grunt brought her about, a sense of dread knifing into her gut. He lay on the ground, Amos stretched sideways across him.

  She rushed to his side. He pushed at Amos’s lifeless body. “Help me get him off of me,” Titus said.

  She helped him roll Amos aside. “You killed him, Titus. I’m so sorry.” Her heart nearly broke for him at the necessity of taking a man’s life.

  He took her into his arms and held her tight, as though clinging to life. “I didn’t,” he whispered against her hair. “I would shoot him to protect you. But I didn’t fire my gun. I didn’t have time.”

  Frowning, Alisa pulled away. “What do you mean?” Then she turned to Bart as realization dawned. “You shot your partner?”

  Bart grimaced. “I’d rather take my chances in jail than be at the mercy of that snake.”

  “I—I thought you were trying to shoot Titus.”

  He responded with silence, his eyes closed.

  Alisa turned in Titus’s arms. “Are you all right?”

  “I am now. Did they hurt you?”

  Heat rose to her cheeks. “No.”

  “Praise the Lord.”

  The barn door opened, and Mr. Meyers stood, rifle in hand, ready to defend his home. “What’s going on in here?”

  Titus quickly explained the situation. Mrs. Meyers slipped her arm around Alisa’s shoulders. “I could just kick myself for not following my instincts. I knew a sweet young thing like you wouldn’t take up with the likes of those vermin.”

  “It’s all right,” Alisa assured her. “But if you don’t mind, I will accept the hospitality of your extra bed.”

  “Of course.” She bustled Alisa inside while the men tended to Amos’s body.

  They spent the next four days waiting for the rain to stop and the ground to firm up enough for safe travel. Alisa avoided time alone with Titus as much as possible. She knew by his possessiveness that he considered their future sealed. But the fact still remained that she had to turn herself in and hope for God’s justice to prevail. Otherwise she would never have a life with Titus. But she didn’t bother to tell him. She knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  On the morning of the fifth day, he found her on the front porch enjoying a glorious pink and blue sunrise. He slipped his arm about her waist and pulled her against his side. A sigh escaped her as she gave herself to the moment and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “This is just the first of many sunrises we’ll share,” he said, his voice wrought with emotion and longing.

  Oh, how she wished that were true. And it could be, but only if God willed. First she had to take care of anything that might cause them or their children harm.

  Titus shifted, and Alisa raised her head from his shoulder. He turned her to face him, his hands warm on her arms. “Alisa,” he said, capturing her gaze with blue pools filled with love. “I want to talk to you about something…ask you…”

  Her heart lurched, and she quickly pressed a finger to his lips. “Now isn’t the time.”

  Disappointment evident in his features, he dropped his hands and nodded. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Are you going for the sheriff or taking Bart in?”

  “I’ve been working on a travois to carry him. That way he can lie down, and the horse can drag him along behind. I don’t want to burden the Meyers with him until the law picks him up.”

  “It’s probably for the best.”

  “I plan to leave this morning. But I’ve already spoken to Mr. and Mrs. Meyers, and they’d be pleased to have you stay on until I come back. I’m leaving Logan’s horse as well as Raven here. San Francisco is only a few hours away. It’ll take me a little longer, having to go slow so as not to cause Bart any more pain—not that he doesn’t deserve it.”

  “You’re considerate,” she said softly. “God must love that about you.”

  Tenderness softened his features. He reached out and trailed a line from her cheekbone to her jaw. “There are so many things God must love about you, I can’t even begin to name them all.” He stepped closer, and Alisa had neither the strength nor the desire to protest as he pulled her to him. He pressed his forehead to hers. “There are so many things I love about you, too,” he whispered. “So many things.”

  She took in the wonder of his gaze sweeping over her face as though he were memorizing every contour. His mouth settled on hers, and before she could summon a thought, Alisa felt his lips on hers, warm and so very soft. His tenderness brought tears to Alisa’s eyes. How she loved this man. She allowed herself the sweetness of his embrace, and in that moment, for the first time in her life, she felt cherished.

  Titus pulled away, and concern filled his eyes. “You’re crying.”

  She nodded, unable to speak for the emotion clogging her throat. He pulled her into his embrace once more. Cupping her head, he pressed it against his shoulder. She was so relieved that he didn’t demand an explanation for the tears. Didn’t condemn himself unnecessarily for kissing her. It was as though he understood her feelings, understood she was overwhelmed with all the events of the past months that had led to this moment—the moment she understood once and for all that she was precious and worthy of the love of a good man. And of the love of God as He’d displayed time and again, watching over her with loving care, guiding her to the people who would be His hands to her.

  She wrapped her arms around Titus’s waist and snuggled into his warmth. They remained locked in a tender embrace until the smells of frying bacon and brewing coffee wafted onto the porch, serving as a reminder that the world didn’t belong only to them.

  Titus blinked at the sheriff, fearing for a moment he hadn’t fully understood the wonderful words coming from the man’s gravelly throat. After delivering the outlaws, one dead, one alive, to the sheriff, Titus had been compelled to ask about Alisa. Now, faced with the answer, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You mean Alisa Worthington isn’t wanted for murder?”

  “Already told you. The old lady weren’t murdered. Doc says her heart gave out. She hit her head on the way
down.”

  “Then why would Alisa have thought she was wanted?”

  The sheriff gave a heavy sigh and leaned his chair back on two legs. He laced his fingers over an ample gut and frowned in concentration. “If memory serves, it had something to do with the old lady’s son accusing the girl. Seems she was holding on to Miz Worthington when the lady died. The whole thing was a mite confusing if you ask me.”

  “How so?”

  “Seems the girl was raised an orphan…” The sheriff launched into the tale, his story matching the one Alisa had shared with him. But then he continued, “Miz Worthington left her big, fancy house and all her money—loads of it—to the girl. That son of hers gets most of the shipping company, which will bring him enough to be one of the richest men in town, but he wants it all. I guess that’s why he offered the reward for the girl.”

  Trying to assimilate the information that Alisa was now a wealthy young woman, Titus pressed his fists to the desk and leaned forward. “Do you think he intends her harm to get his hands on her inheritance?”

  The sheriff dismissed the concern with the shake of his head. “Naw. He’s not dumb enough to do that. I figure he’s going to try to talk her out of it.”

  Fury ignited Titus at the thought of this man trying to weasel Alisa’s inheritance from her.

  “Where can I find this Robert Worthington?”

  The sheriff eyed him. “I don’t want no trouble.”

  “Neither do I. But it just so happens that I’m in love with his daughter and plan on marrying her as soon as I get back home. I just want to see that he cancels the reward for her return. I don’t want to be constantly looking over my shoulder, afraid some lowlife like Bart is going to try to take my wife away.”

  The sheriff nodded. He gave him directions to the street. “Can’t miss it. It’s the big brick house—covers most of the block.”

  Alisa guided Raven down the familiar streets of San Francisco. She’d waited until the morning after Titus left before borrowing Raven and heading west toward the city. He’d know where she was going, but by the time he got back to the Meyers’ and back to San Francisco, it would be too late for him to stop her from turning herself in. She had had time to reflect while she rode the few hours alone. A curious sense of peace enveloped her, a reassurance inside that all was well. That God would forever remain on His throne in her heart regardless of the struggles she might have to endure.

  She refused to allow herself to think of the possibility that she might go free, refused to hope for the best. Time had taught her that. Time and one disappointment after another. Mr. and Mrs. Perryman had been kind guardians, but they never pretended they were mother and father. They had a calling to place children with good Christian parents. Their love was evident, but even so, they couldn’t shield any of their young charges from the cruelty of other children or the pain of being rejected by possible parents. Over and over again—more times than Alisa could, or cared to, remember. But all in all, Alisa had been happy, especially during her later years at the orphanage when she finally understood that she wouldn’t be adopted and she might as well throw herself into making life a little sweeter for the younger children.

  Alisa pulled Raven to a stop in front of the orphanage. Before she did anything else, she needed to see her little family. To tell Mrs. Perryman all about Titus. To tell them all good-bye just in case she was locked up for a long, long time. The front gate groaned as she opened it and groaned again when she shut it behind her. Her heart nearly broke at the sight of the sagging porch, the house that had been her home in such need of repair and painting. She knocked and waited. And waited. Then tried the knob. Locked? The orphanage doors were never locked. Not even at night. Worry flashed through her. Had the orphanage been closed down? Where were Mrs. Perryman and the children?

  “You looking to adopt?”

  Alisa turned to find Miss Smithers, the woman who occupied the home next door.

  “No. I’m—”

  “Why, Alisa! I recognize you.”

  “Hello, Miss Smithers.” She walked down the steps and met the elderly woman at the gate. “Where are Mrs. Perryman and the children?”

  “Gone. The roof at the back of the house finally caved in.”

  “Oh my.” She hadn’t noticed the roof from her view.

  “It was a blessing in disguise if you ask me. Those children are better off now.”

  “What do you mean?” Alisa asked, gently touching the woman’s arm to bring her back to focus.

  “Don’t you know?” She smiled broadly. “They’re staying at the Worthington house. Can you imagine those orphans running around that big place?”

  Chapter 17

  Alisa rode Raven as fast as she could all the way across town until she reached the Worthington home. She stared at the massive brick structure and shuddered at the memories it conjured. Tears stung her eyes as she realized that Mrs. Worthington’s beautiful smile wouldn’t greet her when she entered the ornate foyer.

  She climbed the steps, her heart beating wildly in her ears. Grabbing the brass knocker, she hesitated. An image of Mr. Worthington’s face, red with fury, passed through her mind. Would he order her from the house? Her hands trembled as she slowly lifted the ring and brought it down, then lifted it again and knocked once more.

  Marietta, Mrs. Worthington’s longtime housekeeper, opened the door. Her face split into a smile. “Alisa! You’ve come home.” Stepping aside, she allowed Alisa to enter the familiar home, the home her grandmother had left to her, though Alisa knew it would never be hers.

  “How have you been, Marietta?” she asked, catching the woman into a quick embrace.

  “Lonely.” The simple word brought tears to Alisa’s eyes. She reached for the older woman’s hand.

  “I know what you mean. This house seems much bigger without her, doesn’t it?”

  Before she could answer, a crash sounded from the parlor just beyond the foyer.

  “Look what you did,” a child’s voice cried. “We’re going to get thrown out of here now.”

  Marietta huffed. “I’m much too old to run after children.”

  Alisa followed her toward the parlor. “Why are they here?”

  “Young Robert has taken a liking to them, I suppose.” She scowled and opened the parlor door. A vase—one that looked expensive—lay in pieces on the floor. Sarah and Sammy Baker, six-year-old twins who had come to the orphanage two years earlier after both parents succumbed to influenza, trembled before Marietta. “We’re sorry,” Sarah whispered. “It was an accident.”

  Sammy’s gaze darted away from Marietta’s stern face, and his brown eyes widened, then a smile pushed his chubby cheeks out even farther. “Alisa! You’ve come back. We live here now.”

  Alisa returned his tight hug. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  What did he mean, they lived here now? She turned her questioning gaze on Marietta. The housekeeper clapped her hands together and gave the children a stern frown. “Run along and find the broom and clean up this mess. It’s a mighty good thing for you the ugly vase was already cracked.” Alisa hid her smile as the contrite children slid by. Sammy looked back at her before heading out of the room. “You still going to be here when we get back?”

  She nodded. “I’ll be here.”

  When the children had gone, Marietta shook her head. “Those two get into more trouble….”

  “How long have they been living here, Marietta?”

  “Since Christmas Day.”

  “Christmas?”

  She knelt and began picking up the big pieces of the vase. “Mr. Worthington was invited to the orphanage for Christmas dinner, seeing as how he donated a sizable amount of money for the children’s Christmas.”

  “He did?”

  She sat back on her heels. “Wouldn’t have thought it of him, would you?”

  Too stunned to speak, Alisa shook her head.

  “Anyway, while they were enjoying a Christmas goose—”

  “A g
oose?” Oh, God was so good. Every year since she was a child, Alisa remembered Mrs. Perryman’s lament over the lack of a Christmas goose.

  “Goose. Anyway, the way the children tell it, they were just finishing up their dinner when all of a sudden the roof gave way under the weight of all that rainwater. It flooded the kitchen and ruined the pies.”

  “And Mr. Worthington brought them here?” It was a little hard not to question his motives, given their last encounter.

  “That’s right. Packed up the lot of them and tucked them into bed upstairs.”

  The place certainly was large enough. She could imagine the thrill the children must be feeling to have gone from a dilapidated old home to this mansion. When she’d come to be Mrs. Worthington’s companion, Alisa had felt as though she was living in a palace. She frowned. But just as in her situation, this arrangement wouldn’t last. The children would be on the streets if Mrs. Perryman couldn’t fix the roof. And how could she? She could barely feed the children, which was why the house was in such desperate need of repair in the first place.

  “Alisa!”

  Alisa turned toward the door at the sound of Mrs. Perryman’s voice. She rushed toward the only mother she’d ever known and ran into her arms. Mrs. Perryman’s voice shook with tears. “It’s true. You really are here.”

  “Yes. But I don’t understand all of this. Marietta explained why you’re here. But how…”

  “I invited them, of course.”

  Alisa gasped and took an instinctive step back as Mr. Worthington strode into the room. “And I hope they’ll stay as long as necessary.”

  Mrs. Perryman fingered her collar and averted her gaze to the Turkish rug on the floor. Her cheeks grew pink as Mr. Worthington came to stand beside her. Alisa’s eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. “What are you playing at, sir?” she asked, indignation beginning to build within her.

  “I’m not playing at anything. I’m merely offering this good woman and the children in her care a home since theirs is unlivable.” He frowned. “I would have thought this would make you happy.”