To Marry a Texas Outlaw

by Linda Broday

  “It’s an empty house we built for a ranch family.”

  “Safer here,” Josie said. “I have to be careful too. They still have a warrant out for me for Walt Preston’s murder at Doan’s Crossing.”

  The posse could take Luke but they weren’t getting her.

  Sam shut the door and turned. “They took Pa to the second floor of Houston’s house. We were able to talk to him for a minute. He wants to have a word before you do anything foolish.”

  Luke snorted. “So I just stroll in, like I was going to do in the first place, and those lawmen will let me talk to him out of the kindness of their hearts. Because we all know how forgiving they are of a wanted man with a price on his head.”

  “This is serious, Luke.” Josie planted her hands on her hips, his warrior angel ready to avenge. “Please listen.”

  “There’s a large elm beside the house,” Houston said. “You can crawl up there and talk to Pa through the window.” He scowled. “You can climb trees, can’t you?”

  “I’ve climbed a few,” Luke answered, rubbing his sore jaw. “I just don’t know what this will accomplish. Stoker and me—we can’t reach an understanding.”

  “All we ask is that you listen to him. Then if you want to turn yourself in, go right ahead.” Sam glanced at Houston. “We did our duty. Let’s go. Pa needs us to keep the ranch running.”

  His brothers turned to the door before Houston stopped. “I’ve taken care of those names in your black book. You’re clear of those. The murder charge is only a matter of time.”

  Anger—and shame—rose inside. Taking a handout rubbed against the grain. Luke knew he had to say something, but what? When he finally lifted his eyes, he saw something in Houston’s face he never expected—admiration, love between brothers.

  Luke stood and crossed the space. “I don’t deserve it. You don’t know what I’ve done, the men I’ve killed when it was me or them. I doubt I can ever wash off all the blood on my hands.”

  “Houston and I have some too,” Sam said. “A man can’t live in this lawless land without dispensing a little justice.”

  “There’s a difference in killing because you like it and killing to civilize Texas.” Houston glanced at Josie, who leaned against the wall. “I think she wants to talk to you.” He gave Luke a heavy scowl. “Be nice. Sam and I will be back to bring you food. We’ll talk more about tonight then.”

  “Thanks. A man couldn’t ask for better brothers.” Luke narrowed his eyes at Sam. “You’ve hit me twice. A third time and we’re going to have a bad problem.”

  Sam grinned and lightly patted Luke’s jaw before following Houston out.

  With the closing door, Luke quietly turned to Josie. “When are you leaving?” An ache shot into his chest that she’d soon be gone from the ranch and from his heart. His legs tried to buckle under him.

  “How did you know?”

  “I recognize the look.”

  “I’ll head out at dawn,” she answered. “It’s time. I’ll not stay for the necktie party.” Her voice broke. “Besides, I need to find out who I am. Failing that, I’ll make a brand-new life for myself somewhere.”

  “Don’t go back to Medicine Springs alone,” Luke warned. “That’s a rough place. Too rough for a pretty lady.” He read the stubborn tilt of her chin. “I know. You think you can take care of yourself. But you’re not as tough as you want people to believe.” He lowered his voice. “I’ve seen the woman underneath the hard surface. I held her in my arms and made love to her. Kissed the daylights out of her. Mi princesa.”

  “Please.” Her tortured cry filled the small dwelling as she backed up. “This is hard enough.”

  Luke took one step toward her. “Would you stay if I asked?”

  “Are you?” Hope filled her eyes “Can you say you love me?”

  He tried to control his ragged breathing, the air working its way through the thickness in his chest. To lose Josie would be the end. Without her, life didn’t seem worth living. He’d turn himself over to the law come morning and be done with the running and hiding. He had no reason to keep looking for Ned Sweeney.

  “I have no right to say those words, Josie. I wish I could be what you need. I do hope you find a better man somewhere out there and have those children you yearn for.” Another ragged breath forced its way from Luke’s mouth. He did love her. He loved her enough to let her go. He had no choice but to release her. “Would it be too much to ask that you think kindly of me from time to time?”

  A little sob escaped her. “I’ll always have tender thoughts of you, Luke Rafael Weston. Time will never change that.”

  It took every bit of willpower to curb the hunger to keep her with him. He caressed the dainty curve of her cheek with his eyes, swept down the long column of her throat, skimmed her sinful curves. Suddenly, he discovered he hadn’t curbed a damn thing. All the longing and yearning for her rose up and overpowered him.

  He covered the space separating them and took her face between his large hands. “Here’s something to remember me by.”

  Before he could stop himself, he lowered his head and crushed his lips to hers. Fire raced through him and made his groin ache with a hunger he’d never felt before—the kind that made it impossible to breathe, to think, to see.

  Josie’s breath hitched as she leaned into him and wound her arms around his neck. She returned every bit of hot passion and desire. He groaned. Dios mío! He wanted her.

  His hand slid around her and splayed across her back. Everything inside him cried to hold her and never let go.

  With a harsh cry against his mouth, she pushed away from him. “Please.”

  Luke watched her stumble to the door and then she was gone, leaving him nothing but silence and emptiness. His aching heart felt worse than the fire from any bullet wound. He’d gladly take hot lead over this searing pain that seemed to rip him open.

  “Estúpido.” Why couldn’t he just let her quietly walk away? Why make things worse?

  Because he loved her. And God knows he did.

  It had taken so long to see the truth.

  Now he’d lost everything that mattered. Tightness closed the air to Luke’s lungs as tears filled his eyes. He slumped onto the bed. A broken man.

  A man without a heart.

  Thirty-one

  Struggling to quiet the sobs, Josie crept back to headquarters using the buildings to shield her. Luke’s kiss burned on her lips, his touch branded on every inch of her body. She cried for what she could never have.

  A deep ache pierced her heart, making it impossible to breathe. She knew she’d carry the memory of the tall outlaw’s special scent with her no matter where she went.

  Yet, there was nowhere else she wanted to be than here.

  Would she stay if Luke asked? In a heartbeat.

  But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t tell her he loved her. He couldn’t say the words she longed to hear.

  Instead, he’d sent her to find another man to make a life with. That would never happen. She’d remain a spinster for the rest of her days. To marry someone else, to speak to him of love, would be a lie.

  She slipped in through the kitchen door. Cook glanced up, shrugged, and returned to the vegetables she was chopping.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Josie muttered and kept walking.

  Taking care to avoid the windows, she turned to the stairs and discovered Noah sniffling on the bottom step.

  “Hey there.” She sat next to him. Joining him seemed a good idea. She had no need to ask the reason for the boy’s tears, just sat silently with her arm around him.

  Finally, Noah glanced up. “What are we gonna do, Josie?”

  Good question. For Noah, that is. In her case, it was a bit clearer. She was going to run, ride out before daylight and never return. There was nothing left for her at the Lone Star. But she couldn’t tell Noah that.
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  “I think you should march yourself over to that house and demand to see Papa Stoker.”

  “Do you think they’d let me?”

  “Of course.” She winked. “Those tough marshals are scared of kids. Kids can throw temper tantrums and if that doesn’t work, kick their shins. It’s against the law to hurt a kid. Why, they could even go to jail for it.”

  “I wouldn’t ever be mean, even if I don’t like ’em much. My mama told me to always be kind. If I don’t, she frowns at me from heaven. I don’t want to make her sad.”

  “Then kind you shall be. Go into the kitchen and see what Cook has baked today. I’ll bet you’ll find something to tempt those nasty marshals with. Kill ’em with kindness, I say.” And she hoped they choked on whatever Noah found to take them. She thought about sneaking something sharp inside.

  If she had a mama in heaven, hers probably would share her views, for she must’ve been a hell-raiser like her daughter.

  “What about Luke?” Noah asked. “I need to see if he’s okay too.”

  “Honey, I think Luke is very sad.” She hugged him tight. “But he’d feel a lot better to see you.”

  She told the boy she’d take him to Luke’s hiding place, cautioning him. “We’ll have to be very careful and leave Rowdy here. He’ll bark. We don’t want anyone to know where Luke is.”

  “Nope. We have to keep him safe. Luke is my family now.”

  “Yes, he is.” For however long he lived. Determined, she fought back the tight pain in her chest and gave Noah the biggest smile she could. “Now go and see what Cook has. I have to go to my room to check on Rafael. I’ll meet you here.”

  “Okay.” The boy moved toward the kitchen.

  Noah would be good for Luke right now. The outlaw needed a friend.

  And he’d made it clear he didn’t want her.

  * * *

  Darkness had fallen and Luke’s jitters made it difficult to sit, so he paced the room of the small house. In a few short hours, Josie was riding out of the Lone Star and out of his life.

  He’d always keep her locked in a special place deep inside him.

  What worried him most was that he couldn’t protect her and keep her safe. Everything in him knew she was riding straight for Medicine Springs, and into the worst trouble of her life.

  Talking to Stoker wasn’t going to be easy either. He dreaded that.

  Luke felt a bit better after spending a few hours with Noah, but the kid was too bright. He’d seen through the causes for Luke’s dark mood.

  “Listen to Papa Stoker when you talk to him,” Noah had said. “Tell him you love him, because papas need to know that kind of stuff.”

  Then the kid had startled him when he said, “Sometimes when we find something, we don’t know how important it is until it’s gone. Don’t let Josie leave, Luke.”

  He wished to God he could.

  A slight rap sounded on the door. Luke let his brothers in. It was time. Sam told him the plan and Houston said Stoker would be at the window.

  “Whatever you do, don’t get caught,” Houston growled.

  Luke glared. “I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “We’ll distract the marshals, raise hell about the nerve of them taking over the ranch and interrupting everything,” Sam added and clasped Luke’s hand.

  A few minutes after his brothers left, Luke slipped out the door and melted into the darkness. One way or another, this would end tomorrow. Either he’d head to the gallows or Stoker would do what he did best—bulldog his way over the top of everyone.

  Thirty-two years of practicing stealth proved useful as Luke made his way to the elm. The starless night was like trying to see through a bucket of tar, but the barrel was right where Houston promised. Luke climbed onto it and shinnied up the tree, nothing but a dark shadow.

  Everything had gone too well. When he made it to the limb he needed to reach the window, he found the branch wasn’t as sturdy as his brothers had thought.

  The wood cracked, threatening to snap any second. Luke carefully inched onto the limb and stretched out, not moving a muscle, clinging for dear life.

  The ground was quite a ways down. Falling would hurt, if not kill him.

  Luke held his breath. Sam and Houston should be raising that hell they spoke of by now, but only silence greeted him. Great. Without noise to provide cover, the marshals would hear the cracking wood. He waited for what seemed an hour. Finally, he heard the yelling and threats. He heard them shout that they’d wired the governor about the unlawful use of the ranch, holding their father, and the marshals would find marching orders by morning. His brothers were sure giving the marshals hell. Luke’s mouth twitched. They’d evidently stolen a page from Stoker’s book.

  Luke inched out along the branch, fearing he’d plunge to the ground any second.

  His progress was slow and with each inch gained, his weight dropped the limb a little lower. At last he made it to the window.

  Only there was no Stoker.

  He glanced inside the lit room and didn’t see anyone. The weak branch dropped still lower. If this continued, he’d be below the window soon.

  The minutes ticked by. Luke was ready to return to the main trunk when Stoker appeared. Though his father was fighting mad, the fire was gone and he appeared weary. Luke could see the strain written on his father’s face. Guilt surged over him. Stoker wouldn’t be in this mess if not for him.

  His father raised the window. “Had to wait until my guard left.”

  “Sam and Houston said you wanted to talk.”

  “I know what you’re thinking and hope I can change your mind, son.” Nearby light in the room revealed deep lines in Stoker’s face that hadn’t been there yesterday.

  “What difference does it make? I’ve heard it all. I know what I have to do.” And Luke would make everything right come morning.

  Stoker spoke low. “We only have a few minutes, so listen. You are not to turn yourself in. You’re innocent of that judge’s murder.”

  “Yeah, well, everyone swears I did it. They’ve produced witnesses.” Ones who’d sworn on a stack of Bibles they saw him holding the gun with smoke curling from the end, even though he’d never fired it. “I can’t let you give up everything for me. Your whole life is this ranch. It flows in your veins like blood. You’ve worked yourself to the bone to make it what it is.”

  All while Luke squandered the same years, living the life of a renegade outlaw.

  “Listen, son.” Stoker’s voice cracked, sending more guilt through Luke. “I’d gladly give up every single inch of this land to save your life. I failed you and my beautiful Elena and I want to make it up. I’m a tired old man.” Stoker wearily wiped his eyes. “I’ve done and seen just about everything. You have your whole life—a good life—ahead of you.”

  Stoker leaned from the window and stretched out his hand. Luke stared at it a minute before he reached, straining, to touch his father’s fingertips. The contact brought suffocating tightness to Luke’s chest. A vice squeezed around his heart. He’d yearned for this so long. Now the mere brush of their fingers had cemented their relationship.

  He struggled to breathe. His father would give up all he had…for him.

  That Stoker would sacrifice everything for his son’s love sent waves of guilt over Luke. He’d brought Stoker nothing but shame, while he’d clung to his bitterness. He didn’t deserve such a father. He realized and accepted that he did love Stoker.

  But he didn’t know how to say it.

  Stoker broke the silence. “Think long and hard about what I said. Think before you act. Lay low and keep trying to find the man who’ll clear you. Let me do this one thing,” Stoker rasped, his voice thick. “For you.”

  Maybe it was time he trusted his father. To put aside the bitterness he’d carried. “I promised you never to bring trouble to your door, but
I failed miserably. I can’t let you take on my fight.”

  “Everyone needs—deserves—a second chance. A father doesn’t just love his son when everything is rosy. I love you even when the storm clouds darken the sky. I’ll stand beside you to the very end.” Stoker leaned out so far, he was about to fall. His father closed his whole hand around Luke’s.

  Their skin touched for the first time and the shower of his father’s love washed over Luke. He’d never known anything like this before. This was different from his mother’s and she’d loved him with every bone in her body.

  “We’re all in this together, son.” Stoker withdrew his hand and moved back. “If you think I’m afraid of lawmen or gunslingers, you don’t know me. I don’t intimidate.”

  His father’s vision blurred and Luke wiped his eyes. He couldn’t let him go to prison. “I knew that even before Sam brought me here. I used to sneak up here when the night shadows fell and watch you and my brothers. I always wondered how it would feel to be included.”

  “And?”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I’ll think about what you said.” But Luke already knew he couldn’t let his father take his punishment. A man had to stand tall or he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

  Stoker turned at a noise. “Someone’s coming. Get down from there, and for God’s sake, don’t break your fool neck.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” Luke said.

  “Trust me, I do.”

  “I’m learning”—Luke managed in a hoarse whisper—“Pa.”

  But Stoker had already lowered the window and hadn’t heard him.

  Awash with love that he could finally allow, Luke began the slow crawl backward. He discovered that getting off the branch was as tricky as climbing out on it. He’d almost reached the main trunk when the limb broke off completely, crashing to the ground. Luke dangled, clutching onto the jagged piece sticking from the trunk.

  Using all his strength, he swung his body up to safety and stared down at his narrowly missed fate.

  Two of the marshals rushed from the blackness. Up above, Luke hugged the bark while they argued about what had just happened to cause the break. Hopefully hidden by the leaves and dark shadows, he took slow shallow breaths. The marshals stared up, trying to see.