The Outlaw Takes a Bride

by Susan Page Davis

  “Sure I do.”

  “Then what is it? Do you wish you hadn’t brought me to Texas?”

  “No! I’m glad you came.”

  “Then what is it? I love you so much, but—” She stopped, appalled at what she’d said. Was she turning into a weepy, clinging shrew? The tears flowed freely now, splashing down on her cotton nightdress.

  He bent over, and after a moment she realized he was putting his boots on again.

  “Mark?” She sat up straight, her heart ripping in two. “Where are you going?”

  He shoved his foot down hard and stood. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I just… I’m not ready, Sally.”

  She stared as he walked out of the room without looking her way and shut the door. She pivoted and flopped on her pillow.

  “Dear Lord, what is wrong with this man? Does he have some morbid fear of marriage?”

  That was crazy. How could he have written those tender letters if he secretly feared intimate contact? There must be some other explanation. Her thoughts swirled, but they always came back to one thing: something about her repulsed Mark, no matter what he said.

  She buried her face in the pillow slip, trying to keep her sobs quiet.

  CHAPTER 16

  Johnny paced back and forth on the grass in front of the corral, where his steps wouldn’t make much noise.

  God, this is a nightmare. What do I do?

  He gazed up at the array of stars in the cloudless sky. More than anything, he wanted to be honest with Sally, but how could he, when he was in this deception up to his neck?

  She was in there crying—he was sure of it. That made him the worst kind of scoundrel. Sally was a lovely, innocent, well-meaning woman. Johnny grabbed handfuls of his hair and pulled until it hurt. He had never aspired to be a ladies’ man, but neither had he intended to be a cad. She deserved better than this.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Cam spoke from the opening to the barn.

  Johnny turned slowly and eyed him across the barnyard. He didn’t want to talk to Cam, but he didn’t want his friend yelling at him, either, which Cam probably would do if he didn’t go closer.

  His wooden legs carried him slowly across the dusty yard until he stood three feet from Cam. “Couldn’t sleep.”

  Cam snorted. “With a woman like that, you ought to be able to think of better things to do than stroll around the barnyard.”

  Johnny’s fists clenched. “Shut up, Cam.”

  “Oh! Trouble in the marriage made in heaven?”

  Johnny thought of several things he might say. He also thought of knocking a few of Cam’s teeth down his throat. He turned and walked quickly back to the cabin. Inside, he shut the door and stood still, trying to calm his breathing.

  The bunk was gone, but a couple of quilts were still folded up in the corner. Johnny shook out one of them and spread it on the floor. Taking his boots off without making any noise was tricky, especially since the pulling motion brought back the ache in his arm. He toed off the first one, but the second took longer. When it finally slid off his foot, he sat panting on the quilt. Carefully, he set the boot down nearby, without making a sound, and then he lay down on his back.

  He wished he had a pillow. Odd how he’d slept on the trail for weeks without one and hardly noticed, but now, in his house, its absence rankled him. He rolled over.

  Light made a slit at the bottom of the bedroom door. The lamp was still on in there. Sally was probably still awake. Maybe still crying.

  Maybe he should just go out and tell Cam what was going on—that he hadn’t consummated the marriage and that Sally was hurt and confused.

  He knew what Cam would say. What are you waiting for, idiot?

  He supposed he could live with Sally as her husband, the way most people did. But once he did that, he couldn’t undo it. He would have to keep the secret from her forever if he crossed that line, and would that be a true marriage? It wouldn’t be the kind of marriage he wanted—or the one Sally wanted, either.

  Lord God, I love her. And I know You don’t take to liars. How can I lie to the person I love most?

  The only other option he could see was to tell Sally everything and let the chips fall where they may.

  He rolled toward the wall so he couldn’t see the stripe of lamplight. As long as he kept his hands off Sally, he had the option of confessing the truth to her. He wasn’t ready to give that up yet. But if he told her now, she would probably leave him. He wouldn’t blame her one bit.

  “Show me what to do, Lord,” he whispered to the corner of the rough board walls.

  In the morning, Sally rose with a heavy heart. Mark had not come to bed. She had heard him come in, or so she thought, a short time after he had left her, but he had not returned to their room.

  She dressed in the early morning light and opened the door cautiously. The front room was empty. Trying not to dwell on last night, she went about her usual breakfast preparations.

  About an hour later, Cam came in with a pail of milk.

  “Morning.” He grinned as he set the pail on the floor near her worktable.

  “Where’s Mark?” Sally asked.

  Cam’s smile faded. “Oh, he said he was going to ride up to check on that new young stock. He didn’t think he’d be back until suppertime.”

  Sally turned her face away and busied herself with the eggs she was frying. Hadn’t Mark checked the young stock recently? Besides, the ranch wasn’t big enough to take all day to ride around. And Mark hadn’t taken any food with him; she would have heard him if he’d rummaged around in the kitchen this morning.

  Cam poured himself a cup of coffee and carried it to the table. “Guess it’s just you and me this mornin’.”

  Sally slid the eggs onto the platter with the bacon. She set it in front of Cam and went back for the biscuits and butter. When everything was on the table, she sat down.

  Cam pitched right into the food, but she paused and bowed her head to ask a silent blessing on the food. And my husband, her heart cried out. Protect him and bring him home safe!

  She opened her eyes. Cam was watching her as he chewed. He swallowed and took a drink of coffee and said, “Really good eats, Sally.”

  “Thank you.” She put an egg and two pieces of bacon on her plate and picked up her fork.

  “Look, maybe it’s none of my business,” Cam began, “but if you and Mark—”

  “You’re right,” Sally said firmly. “It’s none of your business.” She rose and went into the bedroom and shut the door. She walked to the window that looked out on the road and stood staring through the glass. How much had Mark told Cam? And what gave a cowpuncher the right to give his boss’s wife advice?

  She could hear him out there, finishing his breakfast. His silverware clinked on his plate now and then, and after five minutes or so, his chair scraped back over the floor. She held her breath and analyzed his footsteps. Cam took his dishes to the dishpan and then lifted the lid to the stove’s firebox. A moment later, he walked across the room. The front door opened and closed.

  She let out her breath. This would be a long day. If Cam came to the house for his dinner, she would hand him a basket packed with a cold lunch

  Johnny rode up a draw until the shadow of a bluff shielded the ground from the direct morning sun. He dismounted and took off Reckless’s bridle so he could graze. The young stock was fine, but he didn’t want to go back to the house and face Sally.

  Two things kept picking at him, like coyotes gnawing a bone. Sally had found Mark’s grave, and she had said she loved him.

  Did she really love him, Johnny, the man she’d lived with this past month? How could she? He hadn’t treated her fairly. She ought to hate him. If she was truly in love, then Mark was the object of her affections. She loved the man she’d glimpsed through the letters, and she was holding out hope that the man she had married would live up to the promise.

  Cam had been right about t
he grave. He never should have made the cross. To salve his own conscience, he had hurt Sally deeper than before, and he’d spurred her imaginings.

  Sally was a smart lady. He had no doubt about that. Would she put it all together and realize she was living with a fugitive?

  He went over the clues she might have noticed and all the lies he had told to cover them. He couldn’t even tell her that he loved her. When she learned about the other business, she would think that was a lie, too.

  He stared up at the sky, cloudless blue above the rocky walls. This might be one of the few places on the ranch where he could find shade. The willows along the creek were too close to the house. Sally had started exploring, and she might find him there.

  So it had come to this. He loved his wife, but he was hiding from her.

  “Lord God, I hate this. I know You hate it, too.”

  He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. The sun eased its rays over the edge of the bluff, almost blinding him. He sat up. Reckless had worked his way down the draw a hundred yards or so. Johnny tried to whistle, but his mouth was too dry. He got up and walked slowly toward the horse with no solution to his problem.

  The days dragged by with nothing resolved between them. Johnny had stayed away most of the daylight hours, when he should have been working around the home place. He’d promised Sally an outdoor oven and a windlass for the well. Half-a-dozen other projects awaited him.

  Johnny guided Reckless home at suppertime on Saturday. He had asked Cam that morning to make sure there was plenty of fuel and water in the kitchen. While he was quite capable of taking care of those jobs himself, Johnny didn’t want to risk another heart-to-heart with Sally.

  He’d continued sleeping in the main room, and she seemed to accept that. She’d left a pillow and another blanket out where he’d find them. She packed up sandwiches and cookies and biscuits each evening—things he could carry easily and eat for dinner when he was off with the herd or in town. And she hadn’t cornered him again.

  That was how Johnny felt when he thought about their last conversation—cornered. She’d waited for him to come into the bedroom that night, because she figured he couldn’t run away. Well, he had, but he took no satisfaction in that, or in the fact that he hadn’t answered her questions. A wife had a right to know the things Sally had asked about.

  His heart felt like a lump of lead in his chest. The position of the sun told him she would have supper prepared, but he wasn’t ready to face her again. He turned Reckless to his right. They would take a slightly longer route home. He wanted to stop by Mark’s grave.

  He let the horse walk slowly up the hill. No sense making him work harder than necessary in this heat. He spotted the top of the cross, above the grass heads, and pointed Reckless toward it. When he came even with it, he edged Reckless around so he could see the front.

  Johnny drew in a sharp breath. Grass was growing over the top of the grave, but it was sparse, and the dirt showed through. A clever person would know this grave wasn’t old. Lying at the foot of the cross was a bunch of daisies and cardinal flowers. They were starting to droop, but in this heat, they couldn’t have been there more than a couple of hours.

  Sally.

  Nobody else would do that, and she didn’t even know who was buried there. Had she been prodding Cam for more details? For all Johnny knew, Cam could have spun a yarn about the imaginary ranch hand buried here. He’d better find his friend and talk to him before supper.

  Johnny pivoted Reckless and loped for the corral. Cam was at the well, drawing a bucket of water. Johnny trotted over to him and swung down from the saddle.

  “Hey,” Cam said.

  The door of the cabin creaked open, and Sally stood there, eyeing them soberly. “I’m glad you boys are both here. Supper’s ready.” She looked tired. Thin and wrung out.

  “We’ll be right in,” Cam said with a smile.

  Sally glanced at Johnny and nodded. She withdrew and shut the door.

  Johnny leaned toward Cam. “Did you say any more to her about the grave?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She’s been up there, putting flowers on it.”

  Cam’s eyes narrowed. “I told you it’d bring trouble when you built that cross.”

  “I know. It was a mistake. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t told her anything else about it.”

  Cam shook his head. “I’ll leave that up to you, Boss.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  They glared at each other for a moment.

  “Sorry,” Johnny said. “We’re friends. I’m not really your boss.”

  “Yeah, you are. That’s the only way it can be now.”

  Johnny thought about that for a moment. “Are you just saying that so that I’ll pay you?”

  Cam laughed. “No. I’m saying it because it’s true. Whatever you tell Sally now is true, and you’ve told her you hired me. Therefore, I work for you, and you’re my boss.”

  Johnny didn’t like it, but it made sense. If he intended to stay married to Sally, then Cam was no longer just a friend trying to help him avoid injustice. “Fine. Collect your pay on the last day of the month.”

  “I’ll do that,” Cam said. “Now, take care of Reckless. We’d better go in.”

  “Yeah.” Johnny squared his shoulders. Going into that cabin was getting harder every time.

  CHAPTER 17

  The silence between them on the ride to church almost crackled in the hot, stagnant air. They had driven more than halfway to the little church when Sally said, “My pa says there’s an electrical storm coming when the air’s all breathless like this.”

  “Some folks can feel it comin’ on,” Mark said.

  He didn’t offer another word on the rest of the ride, and neither did Sally. She was too tired to turn the weather comments into a discussion, or to bring up another topic. If only she could sleep through the night, she wouldn’t feel so dull in the morning. But Mark was still bedding down on the floor, and she was still tossing and turning and crying out to God half the night.

  The sermon might as well have been made of India rubber. It bounced off her and veered away. She was sure it completely missed Mark, judging by his stony expression. He barely moved a muscle during the hour Pastor Lewis spoke.

  When it was over, they joined the line in the aisle to shake the minister’s hand. Liz Merton squeezed between two people to ask Sally, “Are you going to the ladies’ group Wednesday?”

  Sally hesitated and glanced toward Mark, but he had stepped forward with the line, apparently unaware of Liz’s question.

  “I’ll have to see if my husband can let me have the wagon that day,” Sally said.

  Liz nodded and patted her arm then disappeared into the throng.

  Sally caught up with Mark just before he reached the reverend on the top step. She stepped through the doorway and braced herself against the sun.

  “Hello, Mrs. Paynter.” The pastor smiled and shook her hand. “Another hot one today.”

  “That’s the truth,” Sally said.

  Mark managed a civil reply to the pastor’s comment as they shook hands.

  At the bottom of the steps, Sheriff Jackson walked over and greeted Mark. He was smiling, so Sally didn’t think he had anything to say about Mark’s brother, and she hung back a little.

  The two Mary Hoods, whom Sally had learned were known as “Mary Bill” and “Mary Pete,” found her and launched into a discussion of baby names.

  “Bill doesn’t want to name him William, because he’s Bill Junior already, and it’s too confusing,” Mary Bill explained, one hand protectively resting on the mound of her abdomen.

  “Yes,” said Mary Pete. “My Pete says we can’t have any more Bills or Marys in this family, or we’ll all go loco. I suggested John, after General Hood, but Bill doesn’t like it.”

  “Too plain, he says,” Mary Bill chimed in, “and besides, his sister’s got a John already.”

  “I see,” Sally said. “But what if it’
s a girl?”

  Mary Bill’s face beamed. “Lucinda. We’re agreed on that, at least.”

  “Yes, and I think it’s lovely,” Mary Pete said, “but as sure as you settle on a girl’s name, it will turn out to be a boy.”

  Sally glanced toward Mark and found he was looking at her, too. Apparently the sheriff had moved on.

  “Excuse me, ladies,” she said, smiling at the sisters-in-law. “Seems Mr. Paynter’s ready to go. I hope to see you both on Wednesday.”

  Sally joined Mark, and they walked to the horse shed together. Mark harnessed Reckless to the wagon. When he’d climbed to the seat and started them rolling out the lane, he said, “What’s on Wednesday?”

  Sally was so relieved that he’d spoken, she laughed aloud. “The monthly ladies’ group. We hope to finish the quilt this time. We’re meeting at Mrs. Bill Senior’s—that would be the young ladies’ mother-in-law’s house. Do you think I’ll be able to use the wagon? I know you’ve needed Reckless a lot lately.”

  Mark frowned, and she feared he would say no. She didn’t mind so much missing the group, but it would mean he was still planning to be gone on these all-day odysseys he’d taken to, ever since she’d asked him about the cross. Last month, he’d driven her into town for the meeting at Liz’s, but he probably wouldn’t want to spend that much time alone with her again this week.

  “We should buy a driving horse,” he said.

  She stared at him. “Really? That would be wonderful, but can we afford it?”

  “I think so. Maybe.”

  She half expected him to say he would see what Cam thought, but he didn’t, and she was glad.

  “If we do,” she ventured, “we ought to get one that rides or drives well. Then you could give Reckless some rest now and then.”

  “That’s sound thinking. On most ranches, the punchers have at least three horses each. And in this heat, we’ll need them. Don’t want to overwork Reckless and Paint.”

  “They’re good horses.”

  He nodded and kept on driving, looking straight ahead. Sally didn’t want the conversation to end.