Fire and Ice

by Mary Connealy

  That errand done, they walked to the land office, where Bailey rescinded her claim with the new land agent, Bo Langley. He’d been given the job, along with sheriff of Aspen Ridge. Gage bought the land, then glared at her a second.

  She crossed her arms. “I can stand here waiting just as long as you can.”

  With a scowl, Gage brought out the title for the homestead land and the canyon.

  “Bo, I need a witness for this.”

  The land agent studied the paper. “A man can’t give title of his property to his wife. All holdings go in the man’s name.”

  “That’s only true if I want to fight over it in front of a judge. Just sign it, Bo.”

  Bailey thought that sounded like she was on mighty shaky ground.

  Bo glanced between the two of them. “This is highly irregular.”

  “A witness is someone who admits he saw something happen. That makes you a witness, even if you think you’re witnessing nonsense. Now sign it.” Gage thrust the paper at the land agent and part-time sheriff, who shrugged and duly signed his name.

  Gage retrieved the paper and handed it to Bailey. “Let’s get married.”

  He took her hand, and together they strode to the church. He reached for the doorknob, then hesitated. “I don’t like barging into a man’s home, even if it is a church.

  He knocked instead, and the door swung open.

  “Howdy, Parson Ruskins.”

  The man was in his shirtsleeves, wearing buckskin pants like Tucker favored. He was a preacher to the fur trappers and the Shoshone. Staying in Aspen Ridge was probably as trying for him as it was for any mountain man.

  “I’m Gage Coulter. I met you at Aaron Masterson’s wedding to Kylie Wilde.” Gage’s introduction didn’t bode well for his own church attendance. Of course, he probably couldn’t get to town all winter, and Ruskins was gone more than here most of the time.

  “I remember you.” Parson Ruskins extended a hand, and the men shook. The parson turned his eyes to Bailey.

  “We’re here to be married, Parson,” Gage said.

  Bailey did her best not to appear as if she’d been bribed into marrying Gage.

  “Fine, come on in.” The parson looked past them. “Nev, fetch Myra. I need someone as witness to a wedding.”

  “Nev tried to kill my sister . . . now he’s attending my wedding?” Bailey gritted her teeth.

  “Kylie forgave him,” Gage reminded her. “And he helped save Shannon’s life when Hiram Stewbold was after her.”

  Bailey appreciated Nev’s help with Stewbold, but she wasn’t so quick to forgive him for nearly killing Kylie.

  Patting Bailey on the shoulder, Gage added, “Nev’s calmed down considerable.”

  “I know that,” she snapped. There were some things about the Wild West that Bailey really didn’t like. A man saying he was sorry and getting out of jail on that alone was one of them.

  And here came Nev and Myra, hand in hand. “And Myra and her brothers tried to steal Kylie’s homestead.”

  “She’s sorry, too.” Gage rested a hand solidly on Bailey’s back and guided her, just short of a shove, into the church.

  Nev and Myra stepped inside, as well.

  Nev gave Bailey a friendly smile. “Howdy, miss. Welcome to Aspen Ridge.” He pulled off his hat and narrowed his gaze. “You look familiar.”

  Bailey scowled at Gage, who said, “You’ve met Bailey before. She’s the oldest of the Wilde sisters.”

  The color drained from Nev’s face, and the smile shrunk away. “Hi, Bailey. I remember you.”

  “I’ll just bet you do.” After his attack, Bailey had kept such a close eye on him that they might as well have been lassoed together. He’d probably even figured out she was a woman, though he’d never seen her wearing a dress, and with a head full of curls.

  “Nice dress.” Nev looked confused, and Bailey would have liked to slug him.

  Myra clutched Nev’s hand with both of hers and watched Bailey as if she might attack her. Which was an idea with merit.

  14

  Now then, let’s get on with it.” The parson picked up his Bible. “You two come and stand in front of me.”

  Bailey was having a hard time doing anything, while Gage seemed willing to do all the thinking for both of them. So when he firmly took her arm and hauled her to stand squarely in front of the preacher, she went along because she didn’t have a better idea of where to go or what to do.

  “Dearly beloved . . .”

  The words distracted her, for there was no one in the church that was dearly beloved to her. Then she thought the parson might be talking about things from God’s point of view, so fine, they were all dearly beloved to Him. Good thing this wasn’t about her.

  “To have and to hold from this day forward . . .”

  Honestly, she was sure Gage had said there’d be no holding. Maybe Bailey should speak up and ask for a different set of vows.

  “. . . for as long as ye both shall live.”

  Bailey backed up a step from that, since she had no doubt a marriage lasted for as long as she lived, but that seemed like longer than it had before, now that they were standing in front of a parson . . . and before God. Gage caught her and pulled her back to his side. He didn’t even look at her, and he did it smoothly as if he’d been expecting an escape attempt.

  “Gage Coulter, do you take this woman . . .”

  Bailey heard Gage swallow hard before he forced out, “I do.”

  Well, at least he wasn’t all that excited about this foolish idea of his. She’d have worried about him if he was.

  “And Bailey Wilde,” the parson said, and that got her full attention, his speaking her name aloud.

  It was like a light flaring bright, blinding her as she realized what she was about to do. These were vows to God. Vows she was taking with full understanding of what they meant. “Until death do us part” did not mean Until your mother falls for our act and goes back to Texas, and by the way, thanks for the five thousand acres of grassland.

  She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t take such a vow in full knowledge that she didn’t mean it. “Let your yes mean yes and your no mean no.” That verse applied to her right here, right now.

  It was barely noticeable that Gage rested his palm on her back and slid his hand up and up and up. She opened her mouth to put a stop to the whole thing just as Gage’s hand gripped the back of her neck. And tightened and tightened and tightened.

  She gasped, “I do.”

  Gage’s grip relaxed.

  Even though she wanted to punch him, she had to admit the man knew her pretty well. Maybe he was the sensitive type.

  The parson said, “And now a reading from the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians, beginning with verse four.” With great emotion he read, “‘Love is patient, love is—’”

  “No time, Parson.” Impatient, Gage cut him off.

  Did he not want to hear the verse because he didn’t like this whole pack of lies, or was he just in a hurry to get home?

  “We got a long ride ahead of us.” Gage caught her hand and towed her out of the church without another word.

  That left out sensitive, she reckoned. But the parson’s advice on the married state was probably a waste of time, anyway. Almost for sure, the Lord disapproved of what had just taken place. Bailey started praying, aware she was far too late with it.

  As they rushed down the wooden steps to the dirt street, the parson said sarcastically, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Bailey looked back to see the parson had tagged after them and now stood, disgruntled, in the church doorway. He must’ve wanted to give a good long sermon. He glared at them and added, “You may kiss the bride.”

  “Maybe later, Parson. We’ll be riding in full dark before we get home as it is.”

  Nope, definitely not the sensitive type.

  Gage hustled her toward the livery, where the sound of banging iron rang out.

  Again she glanced back at
the church. Myra and Nev stood right beside Parson Ruskins. They both waved rather weakly, as if glad to see Bailey go.

  Well, the feeling was mutual. “I suppose those two make decent witnesses. Not much chance they’ll ever forget they saw me get married.”

  “Pretty short service. Why would that be memorable?”

  “Because they came face-to-face with me and lived to tell of it.”

  Gage snorted. “In that case, we were mighty lucky to get them.”

  Sandy paused in his work as they came in. He nodded toward where Gage’s horses stood saddled. “They ate some oats and hay, had a good drink and a rest. They’re ready to go.”

  Gage flipped a coin to the hostler. “Thanks, Sandy.”

  “Elijah from the general store brought your supplies over. But your horse wouldn’t let him do any packing.” Sandy nodded toward a small stack off to the side of the horses, slipped the money into his pocket, and went back to the forge.

  Bailey knelt beside the supplies to split the pile into two smaller packs to tie behind the saddles.

  Gage crouched near her. “Are you okay?”

  Turning, she arched a brow at him. “What if I wasn’t? What would you do about it?”

  “We could eat a warm meal.”

  That she hadn’t thought of, and it was a decent idea because she hadn’t eaten since breakfast. “I don’t like eating in the diner.”

  “It’s closed after the noon meal anyway. Has been all winter. Summertime, Mrs. Langley opens up for supper. But we could find something somewhere else.”

  “I’ve got jerky in my saddlebag.” She was slipping Elijah’s supplies into her saddlebag, so she dug around until she found the strips of meat and handed Gage a few of them.

  “Thanks.” He stuffed them in his coat pocket. “But it was a long, hard ride. If you’re too tired to go farther, I could find a place for you to stay in town. You could rest up, and I’d come back for you tomorrow or the next day, whenever I could get away.”

  “If you can make it, I can make it, Coulter.”

  “Try and get used to calling me Gage before my ma gets here.”

  She looked at him and grinned. “I’ll work on it.”

  “You need to learn your way around the cabin and maybe sew up another dress or two real quick. I want my ma to think we’re well settled.” Gage glanced around the livery. Sandy was banging away, not paying them a bit of attention. “I don’t want her to get any notion that we’re newlyweds. She’ll know I lied. And I surely don’t want her to know I married you because of her.”

  “I doubt she’d believe a man could be that stupid.”

  Gage’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t respond.

  “Let’s go. I don’t want to stay in Aspen Ridge. Never had much use for a town, especially one full of men.”

  “You’ve never told me why you don’t like crowds of men.”

  “You mean there are people who do like crowds of men?” She took what wouldn’t fit in her saddlebags, bundled it with the pretty fabric wrapped around it, and hoisted the pack onto her mustang’s back.

  Gage chuckled. “Still not talkin’, eh?” Well, that was better than his insisting she talk.

  “Let’s head on out to your place.” She tied on the pack while Gage readied his horse.

  “Our place,” Gage said, falling in beside her.

  His words drew her attention in time to see a wince of pain, as if he was remembering all he’d given up by marrying her. He’d lose his canyon if she left, and his privacy if she stayed, and his chance to marry for love should some woman come along that captured his heart.

  “Fine. Our place.” Bailey just wanted him to quit looking at her and ride.

  They led the horses out of the livery just as a stagecoach came rattling into town from the south. At this lower altitude, spring was more in evidence, but Bailey was still surprised a stage had made it through. Yet a supply wagon had made it here with the mail, so why not a stagecoach?

  They kept walking as they watched the coach slow and stop right in front of them. The livery supplied fodder for the horses, so it was the usual stopping place in town.

  The door swung open, and a woman poked her head out. Gage stopped so suddenly his stallion plowed into him and knocked him forward.

  “You’re here!” the woman cried out in a piercing voice that caused every horse within earshot to prance.

  The coach horses reared, fighting the brake. The driver had locked the brake by tying off the reins on the brake lever. He fumbled to tear the leathers loose before the horses broke their harnesses. The coach lurched.

  Leaning out the coach’s open door, the stout middle-aged woman screamed. Gage’s horse started dragging him backward. Why didn’t he let go of the reins? Bailey dropped hers when her horse skittered.

  The woman toppled. Bailey dove for the coach.

  Though she was about half the size of the plump passenger, Bailey, who wrestled thousand-pound steers for a living, caught the woman. Bailey then staggered and went down under billowing gray silk skirts. The lady landed hard on top of her, shrieking even louder.

  Batting the skirts away from her face, she looked up at the woman sitting on her chest. A big woman, tall and round, with eyes of a color Bailey had only seen once before in her life. The color of icy gray clouds.

  The woman on her chest was lifted away. Bailey scrambled to her feet to see Gage had her in his arms.

  “You’re alive!” His ma shouted loud enough, both the riding horses trotted away. Sandy rushed out of the livery. He must’ve heard her shrieks over his banging.

  The land office door flew open, and Bo charged out with his gun drawn.

  Nev and Myra stepped out of the general store, Elijah peeking out from behind them. Parson Ruskins stuck his head outside to see what all the racket was about, most likely prepared to pray over the dead.

  Bailey and Gage noticed all the attention, but the woman clinging to Gage was too busy. She’d buried her face in Gage’s neck and sobbed.

  The coach driver climbed on top of the stage and started hurling trunks and bundles to the ground. No one else stepped out of the stage. Bailey stared at the mountain of packages. Were they all Ma Coulter’s? The driver met Bailey’s gaze and nodded, pointing from the parcels to the crying woman.

  Bailey compared it to what she’d packed to move from her home to Gage’s place. She wondered how many other stark differences there’d be between her and her new mother-in-law.

  Settling into Gage’s house wasn’t going to happen now. Getting to know each other privately was definitely out. Forget a few weeks to adjust. So how were they supposed to act now? From the way Ma Coulter was near to strangling her son, they weren’t going to be allowed to step away so they could cook up a plan.

  “My baby boy!”

  Gage flinched.

  The woman clung to Gage like a burr, her sobs wrenching her whole body.

  Slowly, he lifted his shocked gaze from the woman in his arms to meet Bailey’s eyes. The dull red that crept up Gage’s neck to his cheeks was riveting. And behind the embarrassment, Bailey saw those ghosts in his cold gray eyes.

  15

  It looks like you’re planning a long stay, Ma.” Gage couldn’t believe the stack of trunks and bundles piling up on the ground. The stage driver was throwing them off with undue roughness.

  Gage wondered how difficult Ma had made the journey for the poor man. Considering the way the man cast the load to the ground as if he were on a sinking ship and needed to lighten the load to survive . . . Gage figured it had been a long trip.

  Ma affected most people like that, Gage included. After all, he’d moved to the ends of the earth to escape a woman who loved him until he could barely breathe. With a sigh, Gage admitted it wasn’t far enough, and he mentally kicked himself for letting the ocean limit his thinking. He wondered if she’d have followed him all the way to China. Did they have ranches in China?

  “Ma, I didn’t bring a wagon to town. I’ve got n
o way to haul all these trunks home.”

  Bailey flinched. He wasn’t sure why, and looking over Ma’s shoulder, he tried to ask what her trouble was.

  Bailey rolled her eyes heavenward, gave the mountain of packages a disparaging look, then came up and rested a hand on Ma’s back. “Mrs. Coulter, welcome to Aspen Ridge.” She sounded so cheerful and friendly, Gage was tempted to call the marriage off. It might not be too late. They could march into the church and tell Parson Ruskins to undo the whole thing. The parson’s feelings had been pinched when Gage wouldn’t listen to his sermon, so he might be inclined to save Bailey from Gage. And Myra and Nev were present still. Bailey could probably scare them into denying they’d witnessed anything.

  Ma’s sobs turned to wailing, and Gage remembered exactly why he’d gotten married. He was in desperate need of a wife.

  “Gage is so happy to see you after so long a time,” Bailey said to Ma.

  It was his turn to flinch. He probably should have said hello before he started complaining. He patted the weeping woman on the back.

  “How long’s it been since you’ve seen your baby boy? Five years?” Bailey went on in her perky tone.

  Gage lifted his hand off Ma’s back and reached for Bailey’s throat. She backed up a step and smirked at him.

  He pointed at her in a way that would have been threatening if he hadn’t had his hands so full. He scowled, then went back to holding his mother.

  “Howdy, Ma. It’s nice to see you.” When he said it he realized it was true, mostly. He loved his fussy, nervous mother, and it was nice to see her. He tightened his hold into a genuine hug.

  He held on for a few long minutes and let himself get good and soaked with salt water, then finally relaxed his hold. “Let loose, Ma. I want to look at you. Leave off your crying now.”

  He thought it sounded kind, lighthearted. Of course, Ma was crying so hard he could’ve probably told her flames were shooting out of the top of her bonnet and she wouldn’t have paid it much mind.

  Finally, probably from pure exhaustion, her crying eased along with her strangling grip, and she let him pull back a step.