The Black Widow Bride (Mail Order Matrimony Book 3)

by Sarah Banks

  The following week Elizabeth spent an entire evening at the saloon for the first time. It wasn’t something she planned on making a habit of, especially since it wasn’t altogether done for her to be there. But every day for the past ten days, she had cooked a different special and every day it sold out.

  It was always simple, hearty fare, but the men seemed to like it. She thought they must be getting used to seeing her around. She met Will fifteen minutes before closing every single night except for the weekends, when the saloon stayed open two hours longer. Will didn’t want her out that late, but it didn’t matter anyway, because even she couldn’t keep her eyes open that long.

  She had made beef stew and biscuits for today’s special and so far, it seemed like another hit. But the reason she was here was to find out what other type of food the men would be interested in purchasing. She had her notebook and pencil tucked in her pocket, taking notes whenever she delivered an order of stew to a table. So far fried chicken topped the list. And she had been surprised at the multiple requests for every flavor of pie imaginable. She hadn’t planned on serving dessert, but now she couldn’t get the idea out of her head.

  Elizabeth stopped near the bar where Shorty sat and waited until he noticed her, looking up from his paper. She crossed her arms and raised a brow. “Hello Shorty.”

  He looked left and right before finally muttering, “Hello.”

  She wondered if he still thought her the ‘Black Widow Bride’ or if he just didn’t like having a woman in the bar. Not that she would blame him for latter. It was the men’s territory and she wasn’t planning on making it a regular occurrence. Except for the fifteen minutes before closing. She looked forward to meeting her husband every day at the end of his shift and walking home with him.

  She dropped her arms and took a step back. “Do you like my dress?”

  Elizabeth watched with a small smile as his eyes flickered down the dress she had just finished the night before. It was as black as death. Her smile widened.

  “Uh, yes? It’s very nice.”

  “Thank you,” she murmured, trying not to laugh. He pulled his paper back up, blocking her from his vision.

  Will was suppressing a laugh when she joined him behind the bar.

  “I thought you were planning on making a veil to complete your outfit.” He reached for her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze underneath the bar. “You look stunning by the way.”

  She tossed her head and gave him a smile. “Thank you. I finally decided the money and time spent making a veil that I would only ever wear once far outweighed the benefits. I thought the dress served quite nicely and I can wear it again.”

  “How much longer are you going to torture Shorty with this Black Widow Bride nonsense anyway?” He asked with a raised brow.

  She arched her own brow in return and asked, “I don’t know, how much longer is he going to think I’m the Black Widow Bride and capable of such terrible things?”

  “Touché.”

  She chewed at her lip while drying a few glasses he had just washed, placing them neatly on the shelf.

  “I know that look,” Will said, studying her as he dried his hands. “Tell me what you’ve gotten in your head this time.”

  She was secretly pleased he paid such close attention to her. “I was just thinking that business is busier than ever.”

  He nodded. “The food you’ve been serving has been a success. Is that what you want to hear, a compliment? How smart I think my wife is.” He looked like he wanted to take her into his arms but remembering his surroundings, thought better of it.

  She too wished they were alone. It was hours yet until the saloon closed for the night.

  “Or how I think she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and can’t believe that she’s my wife.”

  Elizabeth blushed.

  “Or how I think about kissing you all the time.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “Will, you stop that right now! But I think about that all the time too,” she added with a devilish smile.

  He laughed and went back to washing.

  “I wasn’t fishing for a compliment. I was actually thinking we should get a few more tables and chairs. Maybe another barstool or two.”

  He looked up, studying the space. “Yeah, maybe a couple more tables. No more than that though, otherwise it’ll be too difficult to get around. Plus, I like it the way it is now. It has a homier feel than other saloons I’ve been to.”

  “Oh, you’ve been to other saloons?”

  “Only to check out the competition sweetheart.”

  “Hmm,” she replied and tried not to smile. It was such fun to tease him.

  She returned to the floor and served the last of her stew. She took a few final notes about what the men would like to see served and was just about to collect the stewpot and leave the saloon altogether when she felt a sharp pinch on her backside.

  She spun, her skirts swirling. She recognized most of the men that frequented her husband’s saloon by now. The ones that did interact with her managed to be nothing but polite. This man, however, with his greasy black hair and dirty clothes, she didn’t recognize. She gave him a ferocious frown.

  “Keep your hands to yourself!” She demanded with a tilt of her chin.

  He leaned back in his chair and gave her a smug look. “Now why would I want to do that?”

  She was shocked and unprepared when he made a grab for her hand and tried to pull her forward onto his lap. Elizabeth struggled so mightily that when he suddenly let her go, she flew backwards, landing on the lap of someone else, the man deftly catching her and quickly returning her to her feet.

  She heard a roar behind her and looked up to see her husband launch himself over the bar. The next moment he was on her offender, knocking them both to the floor, tipping over the table in the process. Men all around stood up, some to get out of the way, others to get a better look at the brawl.

  Will got in three solid punches, taking at least one himself before dragging the man to his feet. “Don’t you ever touch her!”

  “Why not? She’s a whore, ain’t she?”

  Will plowed his fist into the man’s face again but kept him upright with his other hand. “She’s my wife! We don’t keep ladies here anymore and even if we did, you would have no right to touch a hair on their head without their permission!” Will shook him. “I don’t ever want to see you in here again!”

  The man snarled, ripping himself away from Will’s clutches.

  “Fine! I’ll just go to Ray’s. It’s better there anyway. You can grab as much,” he made a lewd gesture, “as you want.”

  “Get the hell out of here. If you so much step a toe across the threshold to this bar again, I’ll summon the sheriff.”

  The man left with a parting glare. Will held the door open and looked at every man remaining in the saloon. “Anyone else share his opinions, you’re welcome to leave too.”

  Murmurs and shuffling of feet filled the room, but no one made a move to the door.

  “Fine,” Will said, closing the door. He flipped open his pocket watch. “It’ll be 7 o’clock in twelve minutes. Stick around and there’ll be a round of drinks, on me!”

  A cheer went up and people started to take their seats and resume what they had been doing before the ruckus. The table was turned upright, broken glass crunching underneath their boots left for later. She was still standing in the middle of the room when Will’s eyes settled on her.

  Elizabeth was as still as a doe. She had never seen Will so angry. She wouldn’t have thought him capable of it.

  He stalked to her and took her arm, steering her toward the storeroom, closing them inside.

  The room was dark and she fumbled to light a lamp, filling the space with light as well as shadows. Will’s eyes were glittering.

  “Will, I’m so sorry—”

  He yanked her into his arms and squeezed the breath from her. “Are you okay?” He gasped into her ear. His chest was
billowing.

  “Yes, but you’re not,” she said, absorbing his soothing embrace for a moment before pushing back. She touched his chin. “Your lip is bleeding.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Let me grab a damp towel,” she said, but he held her still.

  “I’ll tend to it later,” he said dismissively. “You’re not going back in there. A part of me knew I shouldn’t let you spend so much time here Elizabeth. It’s no place for a lady. You’re going home. Now.”

  Elizabeth wanted to protest but she realized the state of mind that Will was currently in wasn’t the best time to talk about what had happened, let alone the future.

  He let go of her, cracked the door and yelled, “Russ!”

  She recognized the name. Russ had delivered their animals a few weeks back and had returned the following weekend to check in on them and answer any questions they had. She found him to be a very kind man, who didn’t seem to buy in at all to the rumors swirling around her.

  Russ appeared in the doorway, casting her a worried glance before looking at Will. “Yes?”

  “Would you mind doing me a favor and seeing my wife home?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Will!” She protested.

  “Not now Elizabeth,” he said with a slash of his hand. “Go home. We’ll talk later.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Elizabeth had many virtues, but she was pretty sure patience wasn’t one of them. It was well after midnight as she paced the entire downstairs of their home. Every time she passed the clock on the mantle over the fireplace in the living room, it was only a minute later than the last time she checked.

  Everyone in the house had long since gone to bed. Margaret had come back down not long ago, sensing something was wrong. Elizabeth told her about the events at the saloon that had required Russ to escort her home. Her sister listened with wide eyes.

  “I’m so glad you weren’t hurt,” Margaret said, when Elizabeth finished her tale.

  “Will’s lip was bleeding when I left,” Elizabeth said glumly. “He wouldn’t let me tend to it.”

  Margaret patted her hand sympathetically. “You know he’s not going to let you go back there,” she informed her. She hugged Elizabeth tightly before returning upstairs.

  That was exactly what Elizabeth was afraid of.

  She circled through the kitchen. Of course it had to be Friday. One of the two days that the saloon was open until two in the morning instead of midnight and she didn’t meet him. She was usually asleep by the time Will came home, ate his supper and joined her underneath the covers. She only woke briefly when he would pull her back into his arms and press a kiss against her hair.

  She couldn’t possibly wait that long to see him. She wanted to reassure herself that he was okay. And he was so angry when she left. At her? She worried that he’d demand she no longer serve food at the saloon and doing so these past few days had made her so happy, plus it brought in a little extra money each week. She had even started entertaining the thought of opening a restaurant someday. The town already had two restaurants but surely it could support another. After all, it had more than a half-dozen saloons.

  The clock finally chimed two from the other room. Ignoring that little voice inside of her that told her to stay put, the one that sounded remarkably like Will, she grabbed her coat and a lantern. The saloon was closed now. Will was probably already on his way home or soon would be. They’d most likely meet on the hill, but she couldn’t wait another second, she needed to see her husband.

  ∞∞∞

  Will locked the front door of the saloon after the last customer of the night staggered out. He leaned his head against the cool wood frame, closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

  It had been the longest seven hours of his life. He had felt every minute tick by with agonizing slowness. He wanted nothing more than to throw everyone out and run out the back door, up the hill to Elizabeth, to make sure she was okay. She said she was. Except for her pale face, she didn’t look worse for wear. But he had felt her shaking in his arms when he embraced her. She’d practically been attacked right in front of him.

  He clenched his fist and felt the knuckles crusted over with blood stretch and crack. He’d wanted to kill that man for dare touching his wife. He didn’t expect to see that man ever again but tomorrow morning he’d find out his name and stop by the sheriff’s office to make a report, just in case.

  Will sighed and pushed away from the door. He’d go home to his wife and make sure she was alright. She’d be asleep by now, but he’d hold her like he always did, maybe even tighter than normal. And if she woke up, he’d make love to her. If she wanted to talk afterwards, they would. He didn’t want her in the saloon anymore during business hours and that included meeting him just before closing. He loved her meeting him each night, but it would be just as good to crest the hill and see her waiting in the doorway to their home. At least then he’d know she was safe. He wouldn’t put a stop to her making food to sell in the saloon. It had been a brilliant idea that brought in even more business and it was obvious how happy it made her. She could make it and he would sell it. That would need to be their compromise.

  His boots crunched over broken glass as he made his way to the backdoor. He retrieved a broom and dustpan from the storeroom. The children cleaned the bar each morning but he didn’t want them handling broken glass.

  He bent down underneath the table and began to sweep up the debris when he heard the back door open into the storeroom.

  “Elizabeth, if that’s you, expect to have your behind paddled,” he began. He was angry she was there after he told her to go home. It was a given that when he said that, it also meant she stay there. But at the same time, he so badly wanted to see her and hold her in his arms. And now he could do it minutes earlier than anticipated.

  He heard the sound of soft footsteps and saw a flash of black. He started to smile, thinking of the dress she had made especially to tease Shorty.

  He heard a whooshing sound of air, felt a flash of red-hot pain and then…nothing.

  ∞∞∞

  Elizabeth carried the unlit lantern, the moon providing enough light to see the path without tripping. When she was almost to the rear entrance of the saloon she saw the back door open. She was just about to call out to Will when she realized it wasn’t her husband at all, but rather a man she didn’t recognize, all dressed in black, who came out the door. She was pretty sure it wasn’t the same man that had been thrown out earlier that night but in the shadows she couldn’t be sure. A ripple of uneasiness went through her and she was grateful he didn’t appear to see her as he hurried off, leaving the back door ajar. She stared after him in confusion.

  Then she smelled smoke.

  She picked up her skirts and ran into the storeroom. “Will!”

  No answer.

  The storeroom door was closed and she wrenched it open. There were no lamps lit but she had no problem seeing because there was a fire burning in the center of the room. “Will!” She cried.

  She couldn’t see him anywhere in the building, but she also hadn’t passed him on the hill. She was thankful he was somewhere safe. She ran straight to the front door, coming close to the heat of the licking flames that hadn’t yet gotten out of control.

  She couldn’t let the saloon burn. Will loved this place and it was their livelihood. She would fling open the door and cry for help. Someone would hear her. People would come. They’d help her put out the fire. Hank’s would not burn to the ground.

  She tripped over something and went pitching toward the floor. She fell hard, hitting her chin on the floor and almost biting her tongue. She lay stunned for a moment before she pushed up and looked back. Her skirts lay within inches of the flame and she hastily pulled them away. She rolled over and that’s when she saw him on the floor, half hidden underneath a table.

  “Will!” She crawled over to him. He was…oh God! Was he dead? “Will!” She tried to take him by the shou
lders but she couldn’t budge him. She cupped his head and her hands came away sticky with blood. So much blood. “Will! Wake up! Please!”

  She couldn’t see his chest move at all in the orange gloom. A sob wrenched from her throat. She saw a bloody board inches away from where he laid so deathly still. Had someone killed him? No! He wasn’t dead! She refused to believe that he was dead. She reached for his neck, desperate to find a pulse.

  Elizabeth’s head swung up and she screamed as the front door burst open, tearing half the frame with it. Men started pouring through the door, a blend of voices shouting. Some she recognized, some she didn’t. Shorty skidded to a stop in front of her, breathing heavily. He looked at Will and then her, narrowing his eyes.

  “Help—” She was wrenched to her feet by one arm and she turned to see the sheriff. She had never met him personally before but had seen him several times in passing. His metal badge clearly marked his position in this town and glimmered in the dim room only lit by flames that were already being doused with buckets.

  She was thankful they were putting out the fire, but what about Will? Why weren’t they helping him?

  “Please—”

  The sheriff began to pull her toward the front door that was now hanging from its hinges. He called back over his shoulder, “Shorty, fetch the doctor. Or the undertaker,” he added grimly. He turned back to Elizabeth. “You’re coming with me.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Will’s head throbbed like the dickens. He had tried to open his eyes once already, but it was too dang bright.

  “I think he’s coming around,” a gravelly voice said.

  “Shorty?” Will croaked, recognizing the voice. He had no idea why he was laying down on the hardest mattress ever created, let alone with Shorty standing anywhere nearby. He flickered his eyes open and groaned. “Can you turn down the light?”

  “How’s that?” Another voice said.

  He opened his eyes again and it was better. Only one lamp remained burning. He looked around, recognizing where he was. Laying on a table in the exam room of the town doctor. Both Doc Ellis and Shorty stood over him.