The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier

by Peggy Darty, Darlene Franklin, Sally Laity, Nancy Lavo

  “Yeah, I’ve got a present for you. Just like the present you gave my brother. Remember him? The one you shot down in cold blood?”

  The raspy voice triggered memories beyond their recent run-in in town. It all came flooding back.

  An attempted robbery. The gunman and his brother hiding out in mesquites to hold up Jed Crandall. When the brother had drawn on Luke, he’d killed him.

  Luke sighed. It was almost a relief to know who it was that wanted to kill him.

  “You killed my brother,” he shouted. “He was all I had left, and you killed him. Now I’m going to kill you.”

  Luke shifted the gun slightly to the left and put his finger on the trigger.

  “Luke?”

  Luke’s heart ground to a halt as he heard Case’s loud whisper.

  “Luke?”

  Luke lowered his gun as he saw Case’s head appear in the kitchen window not four feet from where Luke crouched. Please, God, don’t let the gunman see Case. “Get down,” Luke hissed.

  Case didn’t hear. “Hey, Luke, where are you?” He bobbed around at the window, trying to locate Luke outside.

  Luke saw the assailant move out from behind the trees, the barrel of his gun directed at Case.

  Time seemed to slow. Each sound dragged eerily, each movement became an exaggerated pantomime.

  The man was going to kill Case.

  “No!” Luke shouted as he jumped from behind the woodpile. He saw the gunman pivot, and an evil smile lit his face as he redirected his gun at Luke.

  Luke heard the shot and the screams.

  He waited for the pain.

  The gunman jerked backward and collapsed on the ground in a heap.

  Luke looked at the fallen man, then to his gun hanging uselessly in his right hand, then back to the gunman.

  Adam Waldrip swaggered around the side of the house. “What in the world did you think you were doing?” he demanded. “In my entire life I’ve never seen anything so stupid. Were you hoping his gun wasn’t loaded?”

  “The kid—” Luke was so shaken he could scarcely speak, much less defend himself. For a long moment he stared at his friend. Finally he found his voice. “Where did you come from?”

  Adam shrugged. “I was delivering your horses. I’d have brought them out yesterday, but the weather was lousy, so I figured I’d wait and bring them out this morning.” He glanced back over his shoulder toward the gunman. “Seems like you’re lucky I waited until today.”

  “You saved my life, Adam.”

  “Forget it. I owed you one.”

  “Luke? Luke? My heavens, are you all right?” Deborah rounded the corner of the house, skirts flying, and threw herself into his arms.

  Luke dropped his rifle and pulled her to his chest, stroking her head with a not-quite-steady hand.

  “I was so afraid,” she cried into his shirt. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

  Case limped around the corner of the house to join them, his freckled face wreathed in smiles. “Hey, Luke, did you wonder why I was at the window instead of in the loft like you told me to be? It’s because I saw him ride up.” Case pointed to Adam. “I figured you’d want to know.”

  Suddenly the whole thing struck Luke as funny. Deborah weeping with relief in his arms, Case chattering away as though his life hadn’t been on the line minutes ago, and Adam staring at the three of them as though they were mad. Luke threw back his head and laughed.

  Deborah stepped back, out of his arms, to stare at him with a tear-streaked face. “What is so funny?”

  He couldn’t answer. He could only shake his head and laugh harder.

  She looked to Adam. “What is he laughing about?”

  “I couldn’t say, ma’am.” He doffed his hat. “By the way, I’m Adam Waldrip.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Waldrip. I’m Deborah Marbury. This is my brother, Case.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Adam’s handsome smile faded. “You’re not the lady who lives here, are you?”

  Deborah didn’t seem to know what to make of his odd question. “My brother and I live here.”

  “You’re Cyrus’s people?”

  She nodded. “Yes. We’ve just moved here from Louisiana.”

  “But Luke said—I thought you’d be—” Adam stopped himself, and after shooting a killing glare at Luke, he began to laugh.

  “Tell me, Mr. Waldrip, where do you two know each other from?” Deborah asked as she delivered a cup of coffee to Adam at the kitchen table.

  “Luke and I go back a long way, ma’am. First time we met, I was being chased by a half-dozen desperadoes. Luke joined up with me and helped even out the odds.”

  Case’s eyes glowed with admiration. “You and Luke fought six men? Did you win?”

  “Did we win?” Adam caught the censorious look in Deborah’s eyes and moderated his answer. “Yes, Case, we won.”

  “We spent some time out in California,” Luke said, “then we lost touch with each other when I returned to Texas after the war. I didn’t know Adam was back until I ran into him in town last week.”

  “Luke told me he was here looking after Cyrus’s people.” Adam shot Luke a look that told him just what he thought of Luke’s leading him to believe Deborah to be an old spinster instead of the beautiful woman she was. “I’d been wanting to get out here to meet you, so when Juan brought the horses into town two days ago, I volunteered to bring them out the rest of the way.” Adam turned the full power of his smile on Deborah. “And I’m very glad I did.”

  Luke was shocked and delighted to see Deborah appeared unaffected by Adam’s good looks. She kept her warm gaze on Luke, as it had been since they’d come inside, as she answered, “Any friend of Luke’s is a friend of ours.”

  Deborah was standing in front of the small oval mirror she’d finally gotten around to hanging on the wall of her bedroom, putting the finishing touches on her hair, when she heard the back door open.

  “Hey, Debs!” Case called. “We’re home. And hungry. What’s for supper?”

  She met her brother in the hall. “Chicken and dumplings.” She looked past him toward the closed door. “Where’s Luke?”

  “He’s putting up Horse.” Case hung his hat on a peg in the hall and followed her into the kitchen. “Was that Adam I just saw riding out?”

  Even with her back to him, there was no mistaking the disapproval in his voice. “Yes. He stopped in for a visit.”

  “Seems he’s been out to visit several times over the last few weeks.”

  She lifted the lid on the pot and stirred the bubbling contents. “He’s a good friend of Luke’s, dearest.”

  “Well then, why is he visiting when Luke ain’t around?” Case hobbled up to the stove to look her straight in the eyes. “Are you sweet on him, Debs?”

  “What a thing to say,” she scolded. The back door swung open and she called out, “Hello, Luke.”

  “Evening, Deborah. Something smells mighty fine.” Luke hung his hat next to Case’s and combed his long fingers through his hair before joining them in the kitchen. She noted he was wearing his red shirt tonight, the one that set off his dark good looks so well. It was enough to make her heart flutter to her throat.

  She deliberately turned her back to him, so she could concentrate. “Supper’s all ready. If you and Case will sit down, we’ll eat.”

  Conversation over supper centered mainly on the day’s activities. Deborah reported on the progress of her garden, Case entertained them with stories of Buddy’s adventures, and Luke bragged on Case’s riding skills. On the surface everything seemed light and cheerful, but Deborah couldn’t help feeling the atmosphere was a bit strained.

  Fact was, things hadn’t been the same since last month when that terrible man had ridden out to kill Luke.

  She couldn’t put her finger on the problem; there’d been no obvious changes, but she sensed Luke had pulled back. He worked as hard as ever, maybe harder, and he spent lots of time with Case, but he seemed to avoid spending any t
ime alone with her.

  “Hey, Luke, you want to go outside with me while I teach Buddy to catch a ball?” Case asked as he dried the last supper dish and placed it on the stack.

  “Sure—”

  “No!”

  Both sets of eyes widened at her abrupt response. “I’d like Luke to stay inside with me,” Deborah explained. “There’s something we need to discuss.”

  “Aw, Debs.”

  “Never mind the fussing, young man. You and Buddy run along outside. And keep him away from the chickens.”

  Case whistled, and Buddy raced to his side. When Deborah heard the back door close behind them, she turned to Luke. “Adam was here this afternoon.”

  “So I saw.” Without sparing her a glance, Luke picked up the tub of soapy water and stepped around her to carry it out to the back porch.

  “Don’t you want to know why he rode out all this way?” she asked, following at his heels.

  He tossed the water off the porch and tucked the tub under his arm. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

  Frustration mounted as she trailed him back to the kitchen. He avoided her gaze as he replaced the tub under the cabinet. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Luke! What is the matter with you?”

  “Nothing.”

  She jumped into his path so he couldn’t escape. “Oh no, you don’t. We’ve let this go on long enough. It’s time for it to stop.”

  She thought she saw pain flicker through his dark eyes, but his voice was free of emotion as he said, “I understand.”

  She slapped her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m glad somebody does. I, for one, don’t understand anything. One minute you’re looking at me as though you might gobble me up, and the next minute you won’t look at me at all. And what about the touching?” she demanded.

  He looked truly perplexed. “What touching? I haven’t come near you in weeks.”

  “Exactly. You’ve been avoiding me, and I don’t like it.” The astonishment on his face told her she’d gone too far to turn back. “I love you, Luke.” Suddenly her nerve deserted her and she dropped her gaze. “And I thought you loved me.”

  “I do.” His deep voice was barely a whisper. “I love you with all my heart.”

  She was right. He loved her. She did think he could try sounding more cheerful when he said so. Still her heart soared with hope. She took a step closer and stared up into his handsome face. “Then why are you acting like this? If you love me, why don’t you do something about it?”

  He stared at his booted feet. “Because I love you.”

  For some reason the bleak resignation in his voice made her angry. “And I’m supposed to understand that? You love me so you’re going to treat me like a stranger?”

  He caught her by the shoulders, his eyes searing her with their intensity. “I have nothing to give you.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” she asked with a relieved laugh. “You’re worried that you’re poor and can’t take on a family?”

  “I’m not poor.”

  “You’re not?”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I was very successful out in California. I’ve made some good investments, I’ve got a good-sized herd of cattle south of here—”

  It was her turn to look perplexed. “You have all that and yet you say you have nothing to give me?”

  He laughed mirthlessly. “I could have all the wealth I could ever want, and it wouldn’t matter. I still don’t have what I need to make you my wife. Deborah, I don’t have a name.”

  “But—”

  “It’s no use. For a while I allowed myself to dream that somehow we could be together. I saw us building a ranch, raising Case and more children of our own. But it’s impossible. I love you too much to ever ask you to be mine.”

  The light of understanding finally dawned. “So you did the honorable thing. You pulled back from me so I wouldn’t get the wrong idea.”

  He cupped her face tenderly in his hand, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “How long would you be satisfied with a handyman who can only love you from afar? You deserve so much more.”

  “Like Adam?”

  He dropped his hands and stepped back. “Adam is a good man. He’s honest, kind—”

  “—and he’s got a last name,” she finished for him.

  Luke nodded. “And he’s got a last name.”

  “Well, so do you.” From her pocket she pulled the document she’d read and reread a thousand times since Adam delivered it earlier. She unfolded it and waved it in his face. “Happy birthday, Luke Godson.”

  Luke snatched the paper from her hands and squinted at the tiny lines of writing. She knew he could make out the occasional word, but his skills weren’t enough to decipher the missive. After a second or two he raised his eyes to hers. “What is this?”

  “It’s your new name. Case and I wanted to get you something special for your birthday. We couldn’t think of anything you wanted more than a name so we got you one.”

  Luke stared at her as though she were mad.

  “I’m serious.” She plucked the paper from his shock-stiffened hands and began to read, “In response to the formal petition submitted to the State of Texas for consideration on May 1, 1867, and after due—”

  She glanced up from her reading to see Luke’s expression, something between wild hope and abject confusion. He looked as though he might explode at any minute. She took pity on him and skimmed down the page. “Okay, here’s the good part. By decree of the Governor of Texas, the petitioner is hereby granted the name Luke Godson—”

  “Me? I’m Luke Godson?”

  She nodded.

  “How?” Luke was too overcome to continue.

  “Adam. When Case and I told him what we wanted to do, it was Adam who suggested we petition the state. It took forever to hear back from them, but Adam finally received it today.” She grinned up at him. “That’s why he came out this afternoon, to deliver your new name.”

  “He hasn’t been coming out here to court you?”

  The understanding and relief on his face made her smile as she shook her head. “Adam’s been keeping us posted on the progress of our petition. He knows the only person I’m interested in courting is you.”

  “Luke Godson.” Luke repeated as he looked down at the paper she held. “You sure it’s legal?”

  “Absolutely. It’s signed by the governor.” She pointed to the flourished signature as proof. “You’re Luke Godson.”

  Luke cocked his head. “It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you like it well enough to make it your own? Will you marry me and become Mrs. Luke Godson?”

  “Yes and yes.”

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with all the love in his heart. Just when she thought she might incinerate in his passionate embrace, he lifted his head. “When?”

  She wasn’t quite ready for the kissing to end. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and tugged him back. The second before their lips met, she whispered, “The sooner the better.”

  Nancy Lavo is a gifted author from the big state of Texas where she lives with her husband and three children. She is a lighthearted person who loves adding touches of comedy to her stories to balance with the more serious message of salvation.

  To See His Way

  by Kathleen Paul

  DEDICATION

  In memory of Jan Wayne Paul, a modern adventurer.

  CHAPTER 1

  It’s hot, Tildie,” Marilyn complained.

  “That’s the truth, Mari.” Tildie reached over to wipe the sweat from the little brown face with an old faded scrap of calico. “You’re getting darker, and your hair’s getting lighter every day.”

  “I want my hair to be blond and curly like yours.”

  “It’s not such a blessing as you’d think, Cousin. And I don’t turn a golden tan, but rather red—like a ripe tomato.”

  Marilyn giggled and squeezed her rag doll closer. Her leg
s hung over the back of the wooden seat and swung merrily. The worn canvas tarp covering the bowed frame of the buckboard provided blessed shade. Even so, the sun blazed in the sky, and they found it more and more difficult to ignore the discomfort of the wind, the heat, and the hard surface they sat upon.

  The wagon lurched, and Tildie grabbed both the wooden seat and the shoulder of her littlest cousin, Evelyn, at the same time. How could the little cherub sleep with the sweltering heat and the unmerciful, jostling wagon wheels hitting every rut and ridge in the dirt trail?

  The heat of Colorado’s summer sun permeated even the interior of their wagon. In the distance, the Rocky Mountains rose majestically, looking as if they could be reached by nightfall. It was an illusion. The lone wagon had many miles to travel before it even reached the foothills. Four days would just bring them to their destination, a fort on the Arkansas River.

  The wagon hit a deep rut, and everyone held tight to keep from falling out. Marilyn turned a stormy face to scowl at her stepfather’s back. He drove the wagon in a slumped position, growling at the horses from time to time and never speaking to the woman who sat beside him.

  Tildie followed her gaze, and her own lips thinned to a stern line. She had not expected the unhappy home she found after traveling to Aunt Matilda’s. Maybe she’d made a mistake in coming. She shook her head over her selfishness. It wasn’t the ideal situation she’d dreamed of, but she’d found love from the children and felt she helped her despairing aunt.

  When she left Indiana, Tildie expected to join the only family she had. The situation in Lafayette was bleak, the memories hard to deal with. She’d been alone and desperate to be within the warm circle of family once more. Unfortunately, the decision to travel west had brought her to an even more unsatisfactory situation.

  Aunt Matilda’s three little ones perched with Tildie on the wide shelf across the back tailgate of the old buckboard. The wind blew sporadically from the west, and each cloud of dirt kicked up by horses and wagon swirled away before it could settle on the children. Tildie braced herself against the pole that supported the covering. Evelyn’s wet little head rested on her lap. The toddler’s short, tawny curls clung in tight rings darkened by sweat. Tildie kept a hand on the babe’s shoulder for fear a bounce would toss the sleeping child to the hard, stony ground.