Justin's Runaway Bride (A Sweet Western Historical Romance) (Dalton Brides, Book 8)

by Kit Morgan

  The food came and they ate, talked, ate some more, had dessert and coffee. Millie had no appetite, and the entire lunch felt surreal to her. She felt locked in a nightmare she could not escape. How long would this last? Did all mail-order brides go through this?

  “We have a little time before the train leaves,” Marcus said. “Is there anything you need for the trip?”

  Millie stared at him, then noticed their waitress had cleared the dessert dishes away, including her untouched one. “Oh yes, a few.”

  “She didn’t bring much with her from back east,” Libby volunteered. “I can come with you, Millie, if you like.”

  Millie nodded and had to fight back tears. The sense of dread kept growing in the pit of her stomach, as if she’d just made the most colossal mistake in the world. Even marrying horrible Hubert held more appeal right now. She glanced at Marcus as they left the café and walked to the mercantile. He was handsome, rich, successful – and yet she wanted to scream and run for her life.

  She closed her eyes and shook her head as they entered the mercantile. “Something wrong, my dear?” he asked.

  “No, not at all,” she lied. She wasn’t about to tell him how she was feeling. She had to sort it out for herself first.

  Libby helped her gather what she needed for the trip, happy to be helping, and asked if something was wrong. Millie told her nothing, letting her draw her own conclusions. “It’s just post-wedding jitters,” Libby explained as she grabbed a can of tooth powder. “It’ll pass. You’ll feel better once you’re on the train.”

  “Where is that Percy?” Nate asked as Marcus paid for their purchases. “It doesn’t take that long to wire Beckham.”

  Marcus stiffened. “Beckham? Where is that?”

  “It’s where we’re from,” Nate told him. “Millie, too. It’s … one of the reasons we wanted to be at her wedding.”

  “Ah, so you all know each other from there?” Marcus asked nervously.

  “Yes,” Nate answered and nothing more. Millie knew that the Daltons and Blues kept their involvement with mail-order brides very quiet – most folks assumed they just had visitors now and then from back home.

  They left the mercantile and began the walk back to the train station. Maybe they should have brought the wagon to begin with, but Millie didn’t mind – concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other helped keep her mind off of Justin and what a life with him would have been like. She wondered where he was, how he was doing, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop. But he was long gone – she’d never see him again.

  But what if he’d been her perfect match? Never had her heart resonated with anyone like it had with him. To be near him was like stepping inside herself, like he’d always been a part of her. Was this what it was going to be like the rest of her life: doomed to misery, married to a seemingly perfect man yet constantly longing for another? The Inquisition couldn’t match that for torture.

  “Ah, at long last we’ve arrived,” she heard Marcus say.

  Millie looked around, spied Nate’s wagon, then looked at Marcus. “Yes,” she said and clutched her reticule as she removed her arm from his. Funny, she didn’t even remember taking it when they’d set out.

  “Mr. Dalton, Mrs. Dalton,” Marcus said with a happy smile. “It was a pleasure meeting you both. I’m glad you were able to make it to the ceremony.”

  “I’m glad Millie was able to fit into the … er, my wedding dress – she didn’t bring one of her own,” Libby said. Of course, they had to cover all the details, keep up the pretense that Millie had stayed with them because they all knew each other.

  “Well, we’d best be getting along,” Marcus said and took Millie’s hand.

  “Thank you for everything,” Millie told Nate and Libby, but with no energy behind her words. She pulled her hand from Marcus’ to give them both a hug. “Tell Percy good-bye for me? And the others?”

  “We will,” Nate said, then glanced around. “When I see him – I still can’t understand where he got to.”

  “Well, he’d better hurry back if he doesn’t want to walk home,” Libby said, annoyed. “Maybe we ought to go look for him?”

  “He probably ran into Preacher Dan. Those two can talk up a storm.” Nate turned back to Marcus. “You take good care of our Millie now.”

  “I shall – thank you again,” Marcus said. He took Millie’s hand again and pulled her closer. “I’m sure we’ll be very happy together.” Not waiting for them to respond, he pulled her along beside him up the steps to the platform. The train was already there, waiting, and Marcus’ arm was locked around hers like a vise.

  “What’s the hurry?” she asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “Is it about to leave?”

  “No, but we want to get good seats.”

  She looked over her shoulder one last time to see if she could catch a glimpse of Libby and Nate, but they were gone. In a few minutes, she would be too.

  * * *

  Percy Blue had had his fair share of lectures from his family over the years: his parents, his sisters, his brothers and every combination of the three. From that, he’d become well-versed in how to give one – he could hold his own with the best.

  So when he ran across Justin Weaver at the telegraph office, the cowboy got an earful. “What do you mean you’re leaving Texas and it’s the best thing? I think you’d be the biggest idiot around if you did that!”

  “Your brother-in-law fired me, Percy, plain and simple and with cause. What else am I supposed to do?”

  “You could have talked to Walton or Bart, or anyone of us. Heck, you love her, don’t you?”

  Justin stiffened. “What are you talking about? Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because it’s written all over your face! Besides, since when do you not put up a fight?”

  “How do you know all this?” Justin demanded.

  “You’re not the only one Abel talks to. He’s just as much my friend as he is yours, and he cares about you. So do I. Now are you going to go after her or not?”

  “What good would it do? She’s already married!”

  “Only on paper – it can be annulled. Trust me, if anyone knows about that, it’s me.”

  “Yeah, I remember what you and Adele went through.”

  “So do yourself a favor, will you? Go after her, or you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

  Justin closed his eyes in resignation. The man was right. Why else had he been hanging around Weatherford the last three days except to see Millie one last time? He nodded. “All right. But I may need your help.”

  Percy smiled. “I’m right there with you.”

  * * *

  Millie sat next to Marcus, the feeling of dread in her gut still growing. She felt as if she had to do something, anything, to make it stop. But she couldn’t purge Justin from her mind.

  “Happy, my dear?” Marcus said, patting her leg.

  All out of fake smiles, she turned to the window just as the train whistle blew. Her heart leapt into her throat. This was it. The locomotive lurched forward with a resounding chug and slowly began to pick up speed.

  “Look at that fool,” Marcus commented as he peered past her out the window. “Chasing after the train like that. Folks ought to learn to be on time.”

  Millie looked to see what he was staring at but the man must’ve already boarded. She sighed and sat back. “At least he made it.”

  “There’s no excuse for such a thing.” He looked at her. “You’re prompt, I’m sure.”

  “As much as I can be.”

  “That’s good.” He sat back, sighed, then rubbed his chin a few times.

  Millie watched him. “Is something the matter?”

  “No, no. Just an itch.” He scratched his chin with his fingernails. “I had a scar here. You can barely see it now, but it still itches sometimes. Funny thing, that.”

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  “Birthmarks too, I hear,” he said and eyed her
.

  “Really.”

  “So I’ve heard. I myself don’t have one, but … do yours itch? I mean, if you have any.”

  She looked at him as the conductor entered their car to check tickets. “You’d better get the tickets out.”

  “Yes, of course.” He pulled them out of his jacket’s inner pocket. “Well, do you?”

  “Not a one.”

  He sat back and blew out a breath, as if annoyed. “Hm.” The conductor reached them and Marcus held their tickets up without giving him a glance.

  Suddenly there was a commotion behind them as someone entered the car. “Stop the train!” a man cried.

  Marcus immediately sat up and turned, as did Millie. “Oh good God!” she moaned. “It can’t be …”

  “It is!” the man said as he strode up the aisle.

  “Millie, who is this?” Marcus demanded as he reached them, a satisfied look on his face.

  “Hubert Pef … Pap … oh for crying out loud! Hubert, what are you doing here?”

  “What am I doing here?!” he spat. “I should be asking you the same question, although I already know!”

  The conductor watched bug-eyed, then snatched the tickets from Marcus’s hand, punched them, and put them back.

  Marcus didn’t seem to notice. “Who are you and just what do you want with my wife?” he asked Hubert.

  “She’s my wife!” Hubert shouted back.

  The conductor held out his hand to Hubert, who did a double take, noticing the man for the first time. “What do you want?” he demanded.

  “Yer ticket, please.”

  “Ticket! I don’t need a ticket!”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but if yer goin’ to be a passenger on this here train, ya need a ticket,” he said sternly.

  “Oh for the love of Pete!” Hubert complained and pulled out his billfold. Millie watched dumbfounded as he reached into it, yanked out some money and shoved it into the conductor’s hand. “There, that should more than cover the cost of wherever this train is going! Now leave us be!”

  The conductor, satisfied, shrugged and made his way back to the front of the car. Other passengers got out of their seats and followed him.

  “Hubert, you’re making a scene!” Millie hissed. “Just go away!”

  “I’m not leaving without you!”

  “But I’m married to her!” Marcus protested as he stood and turned to face him.

  Hubert got right in his face. “I own her,” he growled, “and did long before you came along. You can just annul your farce of a marriage with this woman and get yourself another bride.”

  Millie gasped. “You do not own me!”

  “I purchased you along with your father’s company,” he hissed back.

  Marcus looked between them with a growing smile on his face. “Interesting …”

  “Keep your opinions to yourself,” Hubert snapped and grabbed Millie’s arm.

  “Tell you what I’m willing to do,” Marcus said. “As I hate the thought of a conflict, and as I find this woman not to my exact liking …”

  “What?!” Millie cried.

  Marcus ignored her. “… I would be willing to part with her. For a fair price.”

  “Excuse me?” Hubert exclaimed in shock. “Do you know who you’re talking to?”

  “Frankly, sir, I don’t care,” Marcus said. “But clearly you’re a businessman, as am I. I think we can make a deal.”

  “A deal?” Millie said, just as shocked. “Are both out of your minds?”

  “Shut up, Millie,” Hubert commanded. “I want to hear this so-called deal the man has to offer.”

  “How dare you!” she snapped. She stood with hands on hips and opened her mouth to let him have it.

  She never got the chance. Marcus shot out an arm, yanked her into his lap and clamped a hand over her mouth. “Silence, my dear. As you’re no longer worth my time, I might as well conduct a transaction for you here.”

  “What are you flabbling about?” Hubert asked.

  “I came to find someone specific. I thought she might be the person, but she isn’t. And as you’re so interested in her, I’m willing to negotiate.”

  Hubert studied the man and slowly smiled. “You do interest me, sir. I apparently misjudged you.”

  “Indeed.”

  Millie struggled, but to no avail – Marcus was too strong. She wondered why no one was coming to her aid, then realized the other passengers had all followed the conductor into the next car. She’d been abandoned one again.

  “Very well, then – name your price,” Hubert said.

  Millie’s eyes widened over Marcus’s hand and she wanted to scream at him, at both of them. Mr. Marcus Whitbey, her new husband, was apparently just a handsomer version of Hubert Toilet tissue, seeing her as nothing but a trinket to be traded. Oh, what had she gotten herself into?

  “One thousand five hundred dollars,” Marcus announced. “Not a penny less.”

  Hubert smiled, then looked at Millie. “You’re not worth much to this man.”

  So I’ve noticed, Millie thought as narrowed her eyes at him. Just what did Hubert pay her father?

  “Sir, you have yourself a deal!” Hubert said with a toothy grin.

  “Good,” Marcus announced. “You’ve just saved me a whole lot of trouble – OW!” Millie had just kicked him in the shin. She tried to pull away and run, but he crushed her against his chest. “Trust me, my dear, you’re better off with Mr. … ah …?

  “Pufpaff,” Hubert replied. “Now hand her over.”

  Marcus laughed. “Aren’t you going to have a difficult time getting her off the train?”

  Hubert pulled a small derringer out of his pocket. “Not at all.”

  Millie felt ill, not to mention angry, betrayed and helpless. How was she going to get out of this? Hubert could force her at gunpoint back to Beckham. At least she knew he’d have to go through the trouble of getting an annulment – maybe that would buy her some time. Her mind raced with possible ways to get out of her current predicament, but came up empty.

  Then she heard someone enter the car from behind her. At last, help? She struggled against Marcus again.

  Hubert turned to look at the visitor, hiding the hand with the gun in it. “Whoever you are, mister, you’d better head right back where you came from.”

  Millie couldn’t turn to see the newcomer – Marcus’ grip on her jaw was tight as a corset. Maybe she should kick him again?

  “I said, vamoose!” Hubert yelled.

  Was he speaking to a Mexican? If only she could see …

  Click.

  Oh dear, Millie thought. Did the man behind her just pull a gun on them? Egads! Help!

  Then the opposite door opened, and her eyes widened further as Percy Blue stepped into the train car, drawing a bead on Hubert with a rifle. But if looks could kill, he wouldn’t need it – his eyes would’ve sliced Hubert and Marcus to pieces. “Let her go,” he growled.

  Hubert spun to deal with Percy, but as he did Percy put a bullet in his leg. Millie’s ears were ringing, but she could still hear Hubert hit the ground on his fanny, curse, then whine, “You shot me!”

  “Idiot!” Marcus yelled. “Don’t just sit there mewling – shoot him, you –!” But he never finished the sentence. Millie heard a sickening crack, Marcus’ head flew forward, and his arms went slack. As Marcus slumped to the floor, she stood up in shock and relief, shaking like a leaf.

  And then two arms came around her from behind, and a familiar voice spoke in her ear. “Millie, darlin’, it’s me!”

  And Millie Porter, hopefully no longer Millie Whitbey, did the only thing she could do at that point. She fainted into Justin Weaver’s embrace.

  * * *

  She awoke on a seat at the other end of the train car, with three concerned men leaning over her – the conductor, Percy Blue and … “Justin,” she whimpered.

  Justin Weaver sniffled, clearly trying to hold back tears. “Millie … oh Millie, I thought I’d lost ya fore
ver.”

  She began to shake. He took her in his arms, and she buried her face in his chest and started to cry. He’d come back for her! “Justin!” she wailed. “How did you find me?”

  “I told ya the Daltons and the Blues were good people,” he told her. “Percy put two and two together real quick-like, and when he ran into me in Weatherford, we had a little talk. Ain’t that right, Percy?”

  Percy was now busy tying a handkerchief around Hubert Pufpaff’s leg. “Sure enough. Just like I’m sure this man is going to bleed out if we don’t get him to a doctor.”

  “Oh no – Hubert!” Millie said. She might detest the man, but she didn’t want to see him dead. Preferably, she didn’t want to see him at all.

  “Hang on,” the conductor told him. “I’ll tell the engineer we gotta emergency and hafta head back to Weatherford. Ya just keep an eye on those two varmints ‘til I get back – and see if’n ya can’t patch that one up some.” Just then, two other men with guns entered the car. “Ah, even better. Godfrey, Irish, what took ya so long?”

  “Sorry,” Irish – who really was Irish, given his accent – apologized. “What happened back here?” he said as they lowered their guns.

  “It’s over,” Millie said. “These two men saved me.”

  “That man looks to be in a bad way,” Godfrey said as he stared at Hubert.

  “He is. ‘Fraid we’ll hafta go back to Weatherford,” the conductor told him. “Better late than have a dead man on our hands.” He hurried from the car. A minute later, the train stopped, then began to go in the opposite direction.

  “Millie,” Justin whispered in her ear once they were moving again. “I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I was just doin’ what I thought was right by ya. I didn’t wanna come between you and a good man – a better man than me …”

  Millie raised her head from his chest and wiped the tear tracks off her face. “He isn’t a good man – neither of them are. But you are.” She smiled, truly smiled for the first time that day.

  “Who’s the fella Percy shot?”