The Outlaw Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides)

by McDaniel, Sylvia

  “Mother, she’s going to figure out I never wrote those letters. I hardly think we’d say the same things.” He took his hat and hit the side of his leg with it. “Besides, did you ever consider that just maybe there was someone I was interested in already?”

  “Really? Who, dear? You’ve never even mentioned seeing anyone.”

  Tucker clenched his fists in anger. Once there had been someone he really cared about, but he wasn’t about to tell his mother. Nothing could ever come from the situation, for he wasn’t a marrying kind of man. And he was not about to give his mother the ammunition she needed, because she would soon have an arsenal.

  “Never mind.”

  “No, dear, tell me if there is someone else.”

  Tucker couldn’t stand this. Now his mother had turned her matchmaking sights on him. He pushed his hat down on his head.

  “There’s no one, Mother. Absolutely no one.” He walked to the edge of the porch. He had to get away. He was in a fine pickle now.

  “So will you at least meet the woman?” she asked earnestly.

  Tucker strode to his horse, his steps heavy and hard. “No. You meet her stage; you marry her.”

  “Think about it. You don’t have to give me your answer today. You have until Wednesday before she arrives.”

  “That’s just great! When were you planning on telling me, Mother? As we drove up in the wagon?”

  “Don’t take that tone with me, young man. This is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks. If you came out more often, I would have told you.”

  “Between you and the lovebirds, I’m safer with a jail filled with criminals,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What did you say, dear? I couldn’t hear you.”

  “Between you and the lovebirds, it’s hard to stay away.”

  His mother looked at him, puzzled, and watched as he swung up into the saddle. “Tell Rose and Travis I said good-bye.”

  She ran to the edge of the porch and leaned over the white railing. “So are you going to go with me to pick up Beth?”

  Beth. The woman his mother had chosen for him to marry was named Beth. He turned his horse toward the gate. “I’m working that day, Mother.”

  “But... ”

  He shrugged and rode away. Let her stew over the situation for a while. She needed to be nervous about his going with her to pick up this woman. It was the least he could do to teach his mother to stay out of his business.

  Hell, Beth probably had buck teeth, stringy hair, and bad breath. Why else would a woman travel hundreds of miles to marry a man she’d never met.

  ***

  Elizabeth Anderson never awoke during the ride to San Antonio, and Tanner wondered if she would live. He gazed down at her ashen complexion, her freckles standing out against her pale skin. She moaned several times as if she were in pain, but she never opened her eyes and looked at him.

  When he arrived in town, Tanner found the doctor’s house. As gently as he could, he lifted Beth off his horse and carried her up the steps to the infirmary, grateful he had managed to get her there alive.

  A sign directed him to the side of the house, where a shingle hung over the door with the word Doctor painted in bold letters. He rapped on the door.

  A man in his late fifties with graying hair slid open a small wooden window on the door that he could simply peer through. “How can I help you?”

  Tanner stood there holding the woman while the man never even opened the main door. “She’s got a bullet in her shoulder. I think she may have lost quite a bit of blood. She hasn’t awakened since the accident. I’d like to leave her here.”

  The doctor glanced at her. “That’s impossible. I’m not accepting any more patients right now. I have a patient who may have cholera. It’s best you take your wife on to the hotel in town. I’ll come meet you there in an hour.” The man assumed that Beth was his wife and that she would stay with him. But Tanner hadn’t planned on staying in town. He had a gang to find. Though what kind of reception he would receive after they rode off and left him, he didn’t know. Yet he was the one who’d told them of the gold shipment.

  He hadn’t planned on delaying, but he couldn’t walk away from the woman, either, even if that meant not meeting up with the Bass gang as originally planned. They would just have to wait.

  “I’ll meet you at the hotel,” Tanner acknowledged. He carried Beth back to his horse and lifted her up in the saddle, then rode back down the main street of town, where he’d seen a hotel.

  A little later, Tanner walked into the hotel with Miss Anderson in his arms. “Which room is available?”

  The clerk stared at him open-mouthed. “Ah, number fifteen on the second floor is ready.”

  Tanner took the stairs two at a time, carrying the woman. She was light, but he felt as if he’d carried her everywhere and he noticed that the wound was beginning to bleed again.

  With a quick twist of the doorknob, he threw open the portal and strode into the room. Gently, he laid Beth on the double bed, centered against a wall in the room.

  Her long auburn lashes lifted slowly, then fluttered briefly before she focused her hazel eyes on him. She glanced up at him in surprise and tried to rise from the bed. With a gasp of pain she sunk back down.

  “Don’t move,” he commanded.

  She looked at him groggily. “Where am I?”

  “You’re okay. You’re in a hotel in San Antonio.”

  “San Antonio?” She tried to rise up off the bed again and then groaned. “Stage? What happened?”

  “We were robbed, and you were shot,” Tanner said, hovering over the bed.

  “The stage,” she said, her eyes fluttering as if she were trying to focus. Her voice became distant. “I’ve got to get back on the stage.”

  He laid a hand on her chest, just below her good shoulder, and applied pressure. “You’re not in any shape to go anywhere.”

  She opened her eyes and gazed up at him in confusion and then winced in pain. “My arm. What’s wrong with my arm?”

  “You’ve been shot, Miss Anderson,” he said, feeling so guilty that she’d taken a bullet because of him.

  He could see her trying to remember and when she glanced at him, her eyes widened with fear. “You . . . you were on the stagecoach?”

  “Yes, I’m trying to help you. I carried you to town, and a doctor is coming to see about that shoulder,” he clarified, hoping she would accept his explanation.

  Her eyes were dazed and frightened. “I—I can’t stay here.”

  “You have to. The doctor is on his way to get the bullet out of your shoulder,” he said, gently trying to ease her fears.

  She eyed him warily, a frightened expression on her ashen face. He could tell she was still not convinced he was not going to hurt her.

  “I’ve got to get out of here. I have to get to Texas,” she said deliriously. She tried to rise off the bed again, but he held her down.

  “You’re not going anywhere right now.”

  “But I can’t be in a hotel room with a strange man,” she whispered, her strength ebbing.

  “You don’t have any choice, lady. You’re hurt. Now lay still before you open up that wound again. The doctor is supposed to be here soon. He’ll fix you up, and then we can both be on our way.”

  “I. .. can’t stay,” she said, drifting off again, her eyes slowly closing.

  Gratefully, she sank back into unconsciousness once again. He took a blanket from the bed, covered her, and then took a step over to the window and leaned against the wooden frame.

  The people of San Antonio bustled on their way to some unknown destination as Tanner looked out onto the street below. He gazed upon the men and women going about their lives and felt more alone than he’d felt in the last ten years.

  Coming home to Texas had disturbed his concentration, even his sleep. For the last three months he’d pushed the memory of his family away while trying to focus on the task before him, with little or no success. Now, just when it
was almost in his grasp, it had been yanked away by fate.

  Staring out the window, Tanner watched as a buggy pulled up in front of the hotel and the doctor, carrying a black bag, made his way inside. A few minutes later, there was a pounding on the door.

  Tanner opened the wooden portal, and the doctor rushed in. “Sorry, I got here as quick as I could.” He held out his hand. “I’m Doc Benson.”

  Tanner grasped his hand. “Tanner.”

  The man walked in and glanced at the still figure lying on the bed. “Any change in her condition?”

  “She woke up for a little bit, then passed out again,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

  “Well, if we’re lucky, she’ll remain out while I dig for that bullet,” the doctor said, sitting down gently on the side of the bed, placing his bag close at hand.

  The doctor pulled away the tom pieces of petticoat that Tanner had applied to stop the bleeding. The outer pieces of material were caked with dried blood; the ones closest to the wound were still damp. Searching for the bullet, the doctor pressed his fingers against the wound, causing Beth to moan, a deep, pitiful sound that left Tanner aching with regret for the woman’s pain. If it weren’t for him, she would still be on that stage headed for Fort Worth. She wouldn’t be experiencing this pain if Tanner hadn’t walked into her life.

  “You’re right. That bullet is deep, but I don’t think it broke any bones. Once we get the slug out, your wife should be all right,” the doctor said, glancing up at Tanner.

  Tanner started to correct the doctor, to tell him that Beth wasn’t his wife, but then thought twice. Why complicate matters? Years ago, he’d have been thrilled to have a woman like Beth as his wife. Now his life had changed and he’d never marry.

  “Extracting a bullet is never easy, and it’s going to hurt plenty. I’m going to need your help holding her down,” the doctor informed him.

  “All right,” Tanner said. Memories of hospital tents and the cries of the men inside rushed back with startling clarity. Recalling the sick, sweet smell of laudanum made him inwardly shudder.

  The doctor opened his medical bag and took out a surgical knife, gauze, scissors, a bottle of antiseptic, and forceps. He stood up and went to the water basin and poured water over his hands. Tanner watched as Doc Benson soaped his hands up past his wrist, scrubbing his skin meticulously.

  When he finished he turned to Tanner and said “Let’s get started. Pull her down on the bed to where you can hold her head and shoulders. I’m going to angle my body over her, holding her chest down, while I try to extract the lead.”

  “Can’t you give her something for the pain?” Tanner asked, knowing how much this was going to hurt Miss Anderson.

  “I’d rather not. She’s weak, and I don’t want her so drugged she never comes awake.”

  Tanner swallowed, suddenly afraid for the beautiful young woman. He glanced over at the girl with the auburn curls and hazel eyes and speculated about her life. Who was waiting for her? Who would miss her when the stage arrived?

  The doctor motioned for him to lift her shoulders. Tanner walked to the side of the bed and gazed down at Elizabeth Anderson. He grabbed her by the shoulders, and as gently as he could, he shifted her down on the bed while the doctor pulled on her feet.

  Beth groaned, moving her head from side to side. Tanner felt the urge to comfort her, to tell her everything was going to be all right. Yet he resisted. She was a stranger, a woman who happened to take a bullet because of him.

  The doctor sat down beside her and started to cut away the material of her blouse from around the wound. “I need to get the bullet out; then I’ll have to wrap the shoulder. So I’m going to have to cut this blouse off your wife.”

  “That’s all right.” Tanner acknowledged, feeling strange giving such permission for a woman he’d known only since the stage had left early that morning.

  Dr. Benson swathed the entire area with turpentine, cleaning away the dark gunpowder left by the bullet. Then he glanced up at Tanner. “Hold on to her.” Tanner grabbed her shoulders and held her firmly to the bed while the doctor took his knife and cut the bullet hole wide enough to get the forceps into the wound.

  Beth jerked at the first cut, her hazel eyes fluttered open, and she moaned. “Stop! It hurts.”

  “It’s okay, honey. The doctor is going to remove the bullet from your shoulder,” Tanner whispered in her ear, trying to soothe her.

  She glanced at him, her big hazel eyes confused. “Hurts. No! Stop!”

  “We’ve got to remove the bullet,” he repeated, taking his left hand and brushing back the silken strands of hair away from her face while his right hand continued to keep her from coming up off the bed.

  She screamed as the doctor inserted the forceps into her flesh, groping for the bullet.

  “It’s almost over, young lady. Hang in there and we’ll be done soon,” he said, his voice breathy as he struggled, trying to get the bullet out. “I found it.”

  Beth started to cry, tears rolling down her face and Tanner leaned down and put his face against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right. Just a few more minutes and it will be all over.”

  “I got it!” the doctor cried, pulling the forceps with the bullet out of Beth’s shoulder.

  Tanner glanced up and saw the bullet between the clasps of the instrument. “Look, Beth, it’s out.”

  He glanced down and saw that once again Beth had lost consciousness.

  Quickly, he looked at the doctor. “Is she all right?”

  “Let her be. She needs the rest.” He dropped the bullet, and it landed with a clang in a metal bowl.

  Tanner released his grip on Beth’s shoulder and stepped back to watch the doctor finish his task. He took what looked like a needle and thread from his bag. Once again he swathed the area with antiseptic before he began to close the wound, stitching the skin back over the gaping hole.

  “I don’t believe you told me how your wife got shot,” the doctor asked nonchalantly while he worked over Beth.

  “No, I didn’t,” Tanner said in a clipped tone.

  Five stitches completed the job, and then he put a salve on the area and began wrapping Beth’s shoulder in clean gauze.

  The doctor tied off the gauze in a knot and then began to pick up his instruments, wiping each one carefully with a clean cloth.

  “Make sure she drinks plenty of liquids. She’ll probably run a fever for a day or two before she starts getting better. I’ll come by tomorrow to check on her, but if you need me before then, just send someone to the house.” He paused and looked at Tanner. “I think your wife is going to be okay.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  Tanner escorted the man to the door, and with a tip of his hat, the doctor was gone.

  Shutting the door, Tanner returned to the side of the bed. He glanced at the woman lying there. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her pale skin as white as parchment paper, her freckles standing out clearly against her skin.

  If he were a boundless man, without the scars of war, Beth Anderson would be the kind of woman he’d court, but he wasn’t free, and his past shadowed his days and tortured his nights.

  No, as soon as she was well enough, Beth Anderson would be on the next stage out of San Antonio, and Tanner would be back to riding with the Bass gang. The very gang that had robbed Beth’s stage.

  Chapter Two

  Tanner knew he was dreaming, but he couldn’t stop the nightmare any more than he’d been able to stop the real-life event when it happened. Once again he was in Georgia in a pasture turned battlefield, littered with dead bodies, men he knew, their limbs blown away. The front line had fallen. The Confederates were being beaten, and Tanner had never been so frightened.

  He fought hand-to-hand combat and jabbed his bayonet into the belly of a Yankee soldier. Pushing and shoving, jabbing and stabbing, he made his way to the front line, looking for Carter. He d been beside his friend a moment ago, and now Carter wa
s gone, lost in the midst of the worst battle they d ever fought. The cannons roared . . .

  The roaring changed into pounding, and Tanner shook himself awake, realizing someone was beating on the door. Instantly, he came awake, jumping up and reaching for his guns in one smooth, quick move. As he made his way to the entrance, he passed the bed and glanced down at Beth, who was still blissfully unconscious.

  The morning sun filtered through the window, and he realized he’d slept later than he’d intended.

  Out of habit, he pulled the gun out of his holster, cocked it, and stood to the left of the door hinges. “Who is it?”

  “Open up, you bloody fool.”

  Recognizing the voice, Tanner released the hammer on his gun and shoved it back into his holster. Dreading opening the door, he freed the lock and pulled the portal open, letting in the man who held Tanner’s life in his hands.

  Tall and muscular with graying hair, the man strode in, his size and attitude filling the empty spaces of the room.

  “What the hell are you doing in San Antonio? Some woman was shot during the holdup yesterday and . .

  Abruptly, the man halted and stared at the woman in the bed. He glanced back at Tanner, questioning.

  “Keep your voice down. She’s been out ever since the doctor removed the bullet yesterday evening. How did you find me?”

  “Been checking hotels all morning. Who is she?”

  “Elizabeth Anderson. The woman who was shot yesterday.”

  “Huh?” the man asked, clearly not understanding.

  “Miss Anderson took a bullet meant for Sam that the driver fired.” He gazed down at the woman, her face flushed with fever. “The stagecoach wasn’t going anywhere near a doctor and I couldn’t very well leave her and have her murder on my hands.”

  “You fool.” He waved his hand toward the woman. “The people on the stage would have gotten her to a doctor. You didn’t have to take care of her.”

  “No, I didn’t have to take care of her, but I did,” Tanner said his voice rising.