The Lawman’s Frontier Bride

by Maya Stirling

  When he leaned his head back, she saw a familiar brightness in his eyes. Gretchen frowned at him. Opening her mouth, she started to speak, but Tate lifted a finger to her lips, silencing her. For the moment.

  Tate shook his head and narrowed his eyes. In a whisper, he said. "You must trust me, Gretchen."

  She had no answer to that. Watching Tate stand, she looked up at him and tried to figure what was happening. Was he planning an escape? If so, what did that mean about his real relationship with the gang of outlaws standing out there waiting to greet him again?

  When Tate emerged out of the cave entrance, he was greeted by loud roars of approval. Gretchen leaned against the side wall of the cave. She wrapped her arms around her knees, feeling like a lost child.

  All she could was follow Tate's instructions. Stay awake and wait. She peered into the darkness. The only light came from the campfire which was being lit outside. What she needed was another kind of light, Gretchen told herself. The kind which had pulled her through so many trials in the past.

  Lifting up her heart, she said a silent prayer. Lord. Grant me Your protection. I have fallen into a nest of vipers and my life is in danger. You are my only hope, Lord. My only salvation. You have protected me all my life. For that I am truly grateful. Guard me, O Lord. Take me away from these terrible people. Deliver me to safety. Grant me deliverance. For I love You, Lord. Amen.

  The prayer settled Gretchen's nerves, calming her instantly. She focused all her attention on God, resting her troubled mind with the hope of His assistance.

  From outside came the sounds of men's laughter. She saw a flash of color as a golden bottle of whiskey was handed from one man to another. A heaviness sank in her middle. Soon, the men would be wildly drunk. And then what? Would Tate keep his word? Would he come for her? His whispered words echoed in her mind.

  There was more to this situation than she'd realized. These men considered Tate to be one of their own. She wondered how that could be. Maybe, once they'd left this place, Tate would give her an explanation. Perhaps he'd renew her trust in him.

  She wrapped her arms even more tightly around her legs. Hunched up into a ball, and with the good feelings of the prayer still filling her spirit, she dragged in a deep breath. Tate would come for her, she told herself.

  All she could do now, was wait.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "You had me worried, Tate," Frank said to him as they stood at the edge of the circle of men seated around the newly-lit campfire.

  "Worried? Why, Frank?" Tate asked, although he figured he already knew the answer Frank would give him. When Frank had ridden into Refuge a couple of days ago it must have seemed like Tate had deserted the outfit. That Tate had betrayed Frank's trust. Because of that possibility, Tate knew he had some work to do to convince Frank that he could still be trusted. Especially now that Tate was about to see his plan to fruition.

  Frank rested a hand on Tate's shoulder. "I thought you'd run off. Billy told me all about what happened in town."

  Tate frowned and stared across at Billy who was sitting in the circle of men. Billy was swigging from a bottle of whiskey the men had been handing around for the last half hour. "Billy had no business stealing from the woman," Tate declared.

  Frank glanced in the direction of the cave. "She's a mighty fine-looking woman." Frank grinned. "I can see why you wanted her for yourself."

  Tate felt his face flush. "That's not it, Frank."

  "You mean to say you don't have an interest in her?" Frank asked sharply.

  Tate knew what Frank was suggesting. Ignoring what Frank was hinting at, Tate shook his head. "I'm taking her to Inspiration."

  Frank scowled. "That flea-bitten dump?"

  Tate shook his head. "She's going there to get married."

  Frank's puzzled expression prompted Tate to tell Frank about how Gretchen had gotten stranded back in Refuge. And how Tate had offered to help her go to Inspiration. After listening to Tate's account, Frank shook his head. "You're going soft, Tate. Dragging yourself all the way across Montana just to deliver a mail order bride to a faraway town don't seem like the actions of a sane man."

  "That's where you're wrong," Tate stated.

  Frank's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

  Tate took Frank by the arm and led him away from the gathering of men. In the shadows, Tate spoke quietly. "When her train stopped at Refuge I heard something you might find interesting."

  "Yeah? What?" Frank asked.

  Tate glanced at the men and leaned closer to Frank. "Gold."

  Frank looked steadily at Tate. The man didn't say anything but Tate could see burning curiosity flare into life in his eyes.

  "I heard the guard mention they were taking a shipment to the bank in Inspiration," Tate explained.

  "You did?" Frank asked quietly.

  Tate nodded. "I figure that's why they were in such a hurry to be leaving when they stopped to take on water. That's why the woman in that cave got left behind."

  Frank rubbed his hand across his scuff-covered jaw. His eyes glazed over as he considered what Tate had just told him. There was nothing like the mention of gold to cloud a man's judgment, Tate told himself.

  Frank eyed Tate carefully. "So you figured you'd take her there and check things out?"

  Tate grinned. Frank was catching on. "Exactly. I reckon, once I deliver that woman to the town, I can get a chance to see how things lie."

  Frank paced back and forth for a minute. He was lost in thought. Tate worried he'd tipped his hand too much. But, the arrival of the gang had forced him into this. In any case, it was the only way he could figure out to get Frank to go into Inspiration. Everything now depended on persuading Frank that it was a good idea.

  Frank halted and faced Tate. "But there's a sheriff in that town," Frank said. "He's going to be on his guard. Especially if the town has just received a shipment of gold."

  Tate shook his head. "We're never going to get a better chance than this. The woman in there will be staying with the sheriff and his family."

  That seemed to take Frank by surprise. "She will?"

  Tate nodded. "The sheriff's wife is the town matchmaker. They'll be worried she got left behind by the train. Maybe they'll be searching for her." Tate grinned at Frank. "When I show up with their lost bride, they'll be so relieved, they'll never think for a minute that I've got something else in mind."

  Now Frank's eyes lit up as he began to comprehend the simplicity of Tate's plan.

  "You'll be a regular knight in shining armor," Frank declared.

  Tate shrugged. "You could say that. They might even give me a reward," he joked.

  Frank laughed quietly. "If we get our hands on that gold, you won't be needing any reward."

  Tate smiled smugly. "You're right. We'll be able to retire. Just like you told me you wanted to, Frank."

  Tate knew that Frank was getting tired of the outlaw life. Frank had drifted across the northern states for the last few years. He'd led a life of crime, robbing and even killing. Frank Wolfe was not a good man, Tate reflected. The killing part had been how Tate had gotten involved. Tate thought about Jack, his best friend. One of the men in Frank's previous gang had gunned Jack down in the streets of Laramie. After that, Tate had gotten involved in law enforcement, with a mission in mind. To bring Frank Wolfe to justice. Tate held Frank responsible for Jack's death. Even if he hadn't pulled the trigger, Frank had made it possible by forming the gang in the first place.

  Tate knew he was one step ahead of Frank. He had been from the day Tate had managed to become a part of the gang. Everything Tate had done in the last few months had been leading up to a moment like this. As far as Frank was concerned, a great prize lay in wait in Inspiration. Tate could see the greed in the other man's eyes. It was like a burning fire.

  There was one thing Frank didn't know.

  Tate was lying. There had been no gold on that train. He hadn't heard the guard make mention of it. It was all a figment of Tate's
imagination. But Frank wouldn't know that. Not until the moment the trap was sprung in Inspiration. If that was going to happen, Tate would have to persuade Frank to do one more thing.

  The air filled with the roaring laughter of the gang members lounging on the ground, leaning their heads back on their saddles. Tate looked at them and schooled his features. No good would come of revealing his distaste of the men.

  "So you see, Frank. I have to deliver the mail order bride to her final destination," Tate explained.

  Frank nodded. "I can see how that would work." Frank strode up to Tate and laid his hands on Tate's shoulders. Frank peered into Tate's eyes. Suddenly Frank's gaze was intensely serious. "You know how I deal with men who betray me, Tate," Frank said in a low voice.

  Tate felt his face flush with heat. "I've seen it, Frank," Tate replied. He recalled how Frank had recently dealt with a gang member who'd got it into his head to help himself to some of the takings from a robbery. The man had been left dead by the side of the trail.

  Frank's features darkened. "If you let me down, I'll show no mercy. You know that, don't you."

  Tate met Frank's dark gaze. "You can trust me," Tate said.

  Frank's fingers dug into Tate's shoulders. Tate didn't flinch. He kept his gaze on Frank. He knew he was being tested. This was a moment of truth.

  Finally, Frank nodded. "You take the woman," he said. "Deliver her to the sheriff and his wife." Tate felt relief sweep through him. "Put your ear to the ground. Find out about the gold." Frank lifted his chin and peered into Tate's eyes. "Then we strike. And take the gold."

  There was a maniacal tone in Frank's voice now. Again, it was the corrupting influence of greed, Tate told himself. This was how evil worked in the world. It turned men against the good. Made them think only of this world and its treasures. During the last few days Tate had gotten a glimpse of a better world. Thanks to Gretchen, Tate knew there was another way.

  The path of love.

  Frank flicked a thumb in the direction of the cave. "About this woman."

  "Gretchen," Tate said.

  Frank frowned. "She knows you're with us. What's to stop her from telling the sheriff?"

  Tate had already considered that and had a response ready. "If she believes I've rescued her from this gang, she might trust me again."

  "How are you going to convince her to do that?" Frank asked.

  Tate grinned. "She already likes me," he said. "Once she thinks I've saved her, she'll believe anything I tell her."

  "You're saying she's become attached to you? That she has feelings for you?" Frank asked.

  Tate felt a slight nausea in the pit of his stomach. He didn't like using Gretchen like this. Didn't like even speaking about her to someone like Frank. But Tate knew he had to do anything he could to get Gretchen away from danger. After all, she was in this situation because of him, Tate reflected.

  "You could say that," Tate forced himself to agree with Frank's assessment.

  Frank sighed and glanced across at the men who were working their way through the bottle of whiskey. "They'll be asleep soon. Then you and the woman can go." Frank narrowed his eyes at Tate. "But make it look like a real escape. It must seem real. Or else we won't get our hands on that gold."

  Tate laid a hand on Frank's shoulder. "You can trust me, Frank. We'll be gone before sunrise."

  The plan was the best he could have hoped for, Tate reflected as he headed back toward the men gathered around the campfire. In a couple of hours, he and Gretchen would be riding through the pass, heading westward. Once past the mountains, it would take a half day's ride to reach Inspiration. Once there, Gretchen would be safe. Tate would have done the most important thing.

  After that, it would be time to end the gang's rule of terror. Then it would be time to get justice for Jack and to put Frank Wolfe where he belonged.

  Behind bars.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  All was quiet when Tate came for her. When he stepped carefully into the cave, she looked up at him. He smiled down at her. She hadn't slept since he'd left her. Not even for a minute.

  Tate walked toward her and squatted down. Gretchen peered into his eyes and saw a familiar steely resolve in them.

  He reached out a hand. "Come," he whispered.

  Gretchen glanced nervously out through the cave's opening.

  Tate shook his head. "They're all asleep. Just be careful. The horses are ready."

  Hope flared into life within her as she stood, holding onto his hand. She hadn't moved for almost two hours. Her muscles were stiff. She stretched for a moment. Tate watched her appreciatively. Still confused about how all this had happened, she frowned at him.

  Then he turned and she followed him out of the cave. The men were sprawled like dolls around the dying embers of the campfire. Almost every one of them was snoring. She couldn't see the leader, Frank among them. Maybe he was sleeping somewhere else, she told herself.

  Tate reached back and she placed her hand in his. Leading her around the camp, Tate guided her across the open ground until the reached the horses. Her pinto already had a saddle and bag, as did Tate's mustang. It seemed he'd been busy while she'd been waiting for him.

  Tate lifted her up onto the horse. She grasped the reins and watched as Tate lifted himself up onto his saddle. Then he started down the pathway up which they'd both ridden a few hours before. The sounds of the horses' hooves on the hard rock seemed terrifyingly loud to Gretchen's ears.

  The moon was low, just above the distant peaks. There was enough light for her to see her way. In any case, all she had to do was follow Tate's lead, she told herself. He was the one responsible for this escape. Because that was what this was, she reminded herself. An escape from deadly peril.

  Thinking back to her prayer, it seemed the Lord had found a way to deliver her to freedom. But she wasn't free, yet.

  Soon, they were down on the dusty floor of the narrow canyon. It was darker down here. She felt cold wrap its tendril around her and shivered. Gretchen strained her eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness. Tate moved his horse close to her. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

  "Yes," she whispered.

  "It'll take us a half hour to get through this canyon," he told her. "We'll have to move slow. It'll be dark in places. You must stay close to me. You understand."

  "I will, Tate," she murmured.

  Even in the almost inky darkness, she could see Tate smiling at her quiet reply.

  Then he turned and she followed close behind him. For what seemed like an eternity, she rode behind Tate. Occasionally she bumped against the sides of the walls. Hard rock grazed her hands. But she didn't complain. This was a time for patience and for inner strength. Three times, Tate called them to a halt. Listening for the sound of pursuers, Tate had seemed relieved when no sound had come echoing down the canyon.

  Continuing on, Tate said nothing to her as he guided them along the narrow canyon. The only time he broke the silence was when he whispered once: "We're almost there."

  Gretchen felt her spirits lift. Soon they'd be out in the open country. She was desperate to be free of the confinement she'd endured. The memory of the evil looks in the eyes of the men would be with her for a long time.

  Finally, they emerged from the narrow pass and out onto a flat plain. The moonlit landscape, barely visible, was one of the most beautiful sights Gretchen had ever seen. She sighed with relief when Tate drew to a halt alongside her.

  "It's over," he said gently. He reached across and placed his hand on her arm.

  Gretchen glanced back at the dark fissure through which they just traveled. "They're not following us," she said with worry still shaking her voice.

  Tate shook his head. "If they knew we were gone they'd be riding after us by now. We've got a head start, so we have to make the most of it."

  Gretchen's mind filled suddenly with questions, but she knew now wasn't the right time. She only wanted to know one thing. "How long is it to Inspiration?"
r />   "Half a day's ride. If we keep up a good pace," Tate replied. "The sun will be up soon."

  Half a day! That didn't seem too much at all, she told herself. Seizing the reins in her hand, she peered at Tate. "Let's go."

  Tate smiled at her and then dug his heels into the sides of his horse. They found a trail within a few minutes. Then they were riding fast. Gretchen hadn't ridden this fast before. The sensation of her pinto lowering its head and settling into a brisk pace was initially scary to Gretchen. But, she understood the necessity of speed. Knew that she and Tate had to put distance between themselves and the gang.

  They were still riding when the sun rose. Tate slowed the pace a little, perhaps sensing that she was getting tired. They'd ridden for a couple of hours when Tate announced they would stop. They reached a river and halted. The horse were allowed to drink water at the river's edge while Tate helped Gretchen recover her strength. He spread a blanket out for her in the shade of a cottonwood tree. After taking water and a small portion of what food Tate had been able to bring, Gretchen lay back on the blanket.

  Tate sat next to her. He seemed thoughtful, and she wondered if he was going to try to explain what had happened during the night. She still had plenty of questions for him.

  "I need to explain a few things to you, Gretchen," Tate said. "Its the least I owe you after what you went through last night."

  Gazing up at him, she said: "I've got questions of my own."

  Tate moved closer. He leaned down alongside her. In the soft light of early morning he looked handsome. She could see worry hovering like a dark cloud in his eyes.

  "I've got a confession to make to you."

  "You have?" she asked.

  Tate nodded. "If you're going to make sense of what happened last night, you have to understand who I really am."

  Gretchen sat up and peered at Tate. "What do you mean?"

  Tate sighed. "I'm not who you think I am."

  "Are you saying you really are a member of that awful gang?"