The Cowboy's Orphan Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  “Ellen,” Bridgette answered. He didn’t frighten her, just as she’d said, but she was tired of disappointing him. A sigh left her chest. “She’s an orphan.”

  He hissed and cursed beneath his breath. “This isn’t an orphanage, Bridgette. It’s a cattle camp.”

  She pulled on his arm, forcing him away from the tent. Ellen, nor the other dozen sets of ears tuned their way, didn’t need to hear what she had to say. Once they were a distance away, Bridgette said, “I know this isn’t an orphanage, but I couldn’t leave her. Willow will put her to work soon. Upstairs. Not in the kitchen.”

  “Willow?” His eyes widened as understanding hit. “That’s Willow’s kitchen girl?”

  “Was,” Bridgette corrected. “I won’t allow her to go back.”

  “You won’t allow?” He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair and then slapped his hat against one thigh. “You don’t have any say in it.”

  “Yes, I do.” She squeezed at her temples, wishing a plan would pop in, one that made sense and that he’d agree with. Of course that didn’t happen. Miracles were as elusive as rainbows in this country.

  “She can’t stay here,” he said.

  “I know that,” Bridgette hissed. “I’ll think of somewhere for her to go.”

  “Think?” He shook his head. “When are you going to think before you act?”

  “I do think—”

  “Not about the consequences. You didn’t think about that before you ran away, before you claimed to be my wife, before you pitched that egg.”

  Leave it to him to point out every time he’d been disappointed in her actions. “Fine, I didn’t! There wasn’t time, and there wasn’t this time, either. You know as well as I that Ellen can’t go back to Willow’s. She’s just a child, and you can imagine why she ran away. It’s no different than why you let Bat join the trail drive.”

  He slapped his hat against his thigh again and paced in a circle, pausing every now and again to glare at her and mumble a curse.

  “I’m not budging on this, Garth.”

  “You aren’t budging,” he repeated. “You aren’t budging. You—” He stopped walking and stared at her intently before he nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  He shook his head as he started for the campsite. She ran after him, but only as far as the tent, where Ellen stood outside, wiping tears off her cheeks.

  “It’s all right,” Bridgette said softly.

  “No, it’s not,” Ellen said. “I’ll go back. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with your husband.”

  Eyes still on him as he marched toward the cowboys, Bridgette sighed. “You didn’t get me in trouble with him.” To herself only she added, I’ve been in trouble with him since the day I laid eyes on him.

  “He seems awfully mad.”

  “He’s just in a bad mood,” Bridgette said. “Has been for a long time.”

  “He’s got a lot on his mind,” JoJo said. “Over yonder are fifteen men he can’t pay until he sells his cows. He’s worked hard the past decade and has his life savings tied up in this trip.”

  Bridgette flinched inwardly. She hadn’t considered how heavily the sale of his cows could be affecting him.

  “Driving twenty-five hundred head across open range for six hundred miles isn’t easy or cheap.” Looking at her, JoJo said, “The end of the trail is supposed to be the easy part. No man wants trouble or problems there. No man deserves that.”

  A ball of guilt landed in Bridgette’s stomach. She’d been trouble for Garth since he’d arrived in Dodge. No, she wasn’t all of his problems, but she’d contributed to them. Maybe he truly hadn’t changed over the years. He’d always been tall and big and tough on the outside, but gentle and thoughtful on the inside. The kind of person who wouldn’t mind taking a child on a cattle drive, or buying a woman a new dress. Heaving out a sigh, Bridgette said, “I’ll be right back.”

  Garth told himself it was for the best as he watched two of his best cowboys walk toward the remuda. He couldn’t blame Bridgette for taking Ellen away from the Crystal Palace. That’s what she did best. Took care of others. And that’s where she belonged. Back in Hosford taking care of people. As much as he knew that to be true, a part of him didn’t want it to be.

  “I’m sorry.”

  A grin teased his lips at the sound of her voice. Anger no longer filled him, rather, his insides held a touch of sadness. It came from knowing she had to leave.

  He turned around. “I know you are. I’m sorry, too.” Taking a couple of steps closer to her, he continued, “And you’re right. The Crystal Palace is no place for a young girl, but I can’t provide the protection she needs. Not with everything else going on.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “I didn’t expect you to.”

  Maybe not, but he did. That was one of the things he’d thought he’d put behind him, but hadn’t. Couldn’t. It was in his nature. Here too, she was right. That was why he’d allowed Bat on the trail drive, and why he’d pushed himself to become a trail boss in order to protect the other men riding with him.

  As much as he’d thought he’d changed, he hadn’t. He hadn’t changed when it came to her, either. Taking off his hat, he scratched his head. “You know what you have to do.”

  “What?”

  “Go back to Hosford.” Before she could protest, he continued, “I can’t keep worrying about you. There’s too much going on here. Even if there wasn’t, this still isn’t the place for you. Hosford is. You can take Ellen there. The Rodgers family treated you well, you said so yourself, and it would help with our other problem.”

  “Our other problem?”

  “Yes, us being married. I’ll say you had to go help another family. It corroborates with what we told the Solsteads. Once I sell my cattle and go back to Texas, no one will even remember.” It would mean he’d have to find a new market for his cows next year, but so be it. He took a hold of her hands. “You don’t belong here, Bridgette, living in a tent, or the Crystal Palace. You belong in a big house, with trees and a garden, and rainbows. The things you always wanted.” His throat tightened as he said, “Pretending to be my wife won’t get you those things. It won’t get you nothing but trouble. Mrs. Killgrove was right. We are nothing but trouble for each other.” With a sting in his jaw, he added, “Go home, Bridgette. Go back where you belong.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Used to being ridden several miles a day, the horses never slowed their pace. Though their gait was merely a walk, the animals traveled the miles between Dodge City and Hosford in what seemed like minutes rather than hours. The ride to Dodge had taken much longer, at least in Bridgette’s mind it had. Of course the stagecoach had stopped several times, and each time the driver had looked at her, she’d shaken her head, letting him know it wasn’t her stop. She’d ridden on the stage several times before, in order to be dropped off within a few miles of whichever family she was to assist. When she’d left, she’d thought she’d never have to think about that again.

  She’d been wrong.

  Trace and Gil, the two men Garth had instructed to take her to Hosford, followed on the horses behind the two she and Ellen rode. During the past four hours, she’d gone from sad to mad to sad again. As well as a plethora of other emotions. Garth was right. She hadn’t wanted to live at Willow’s place or JoJo’s tent, but what he didn’t know was that where she lived didn’t matter to her as much as being somewhere she knew she was wanted. That’s all she’d ever desired. To be wanted.

  He didn’t want her. It was time for her to admit that and stop chasing rainbows.

  As the buildings of Hosford came into sight, she turned to Ellen. “You’ll be fine here. Dr. Rodgers won’t put you in a home that isn’t safe. He lays down a firm set of rules before offering
assistance, and he’ll check up on you regularly.”

  “How long did you work for him?” Ellen asked.

  “Nine years,” Bridgette said.

  “I bet he’ll be happy to see you.”

  Bridgette held her breath rather than answering. Dr. Rodgers would probably be as happy to see her as Garth had been.

  As if thinking about him could make him appear, she had to blink at the buggy that rounded the corner, driving directly toward them. Nothing like being tossed in water over her head.

  Bridgette pulled her horse to a stop and turned to look over her shoulder. “Wait here, please.”

  “Is that him?” Ellen asked.

  “Yes, that’s Dr. Rodgers.” Bridgette squared her shoulders and urged the horse forward.

  * * *

  Garth stared at the shadows dancing across the ceiling of his room at the Dodge House. The weight on his chest was so heavy it hurt to breathe, as if an elephant sat on his chest. A flashback occurred at the thought. On the train shortly after they’d left New York, many of the children had been guessing what they’d see next. When Bridgette said it was his turn to guess, he’d used a saying he’d heard on the streets. People heading West had often said they were going to see an elephant. They hadn’t meant they’d actually see an elephant, just something new and different.

  She’d laughed when he’d said an elephant, and he’d been shocked when the train had rolled into one of the many stations along the way and there, parked next to their train full of children had been one carrying a circus, complete with an elephant.

  He’d said, I told you so! to all the others, while being as stunned as they had been. Bridgette hadn’t been stunned. She’d been proud. Of him. And she’d told him so.

  He’d been right to leave her on that train all those years ago, and he was right to have sent her back to Hosford today.

  Telling himself that again didn’t help. He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. At the window, he stared into the night sky. Trace and Gil should be back by now. Probably already bedded down near JoJo’s tent. He’d said he’d talk to them tomorrow.

  He would.

  Spinning around, he returned to the bed. Rather than lie down, he grabbed his boots.

  He’d talk to them tonight instead.

  His walk through town was anything but uneventful. Girls catcalled from the upper stories of the buildings as men stumbled out of the saloons. As scheduled, Slim Jenkins had driven his herd of Seacrest cattle into the pens this afternoon—shortly after Bridgette had left—and Slim’s men had thrown themselves into the life at the trail’s end with all the vigor and gusto the town had expected.

  The man walking toward him touched the rim of his hat. “You’re up late.”

  “You, too,” Garth answered, stopping to lean against a light post. After making the suggestion that had been put in his head by Bridgette to Solstead, the two of them had visited Sheriff Myers. A cordial visit had been a welcome change for both him and Myers.

  “Dodge is a town that doesn’t sleep. Not this time of the year,” the sheriff said. “Therefore, neither does the law.”

  “I suspect not,” Garth said.

  Nodding towards two cowboys bustling out of one saloon and into the next, Myers said, “Word’s spreading.”

  Garth nodded. “Slim’s men are telling every bartender, card dealer and woman they encounter that this will be the last time they visit Dodge.”

  “I hope this works.”

  “Me, too.”

  Myers kicked a rock with the toe of his boot. “Word’s spreading your wife left town. Had to go help a family.”

  Garth bit the inside of his mouth as he nodded. He hadn’t said a word, but news of Bridgette’s leaving had still spread.

  “She sure kept things hopping around here for a few days,” Myers said with a chuckle. “Life with her must be fun.”

  Garth felt inclined to admit, “It’s not dull—that’s for sure.”

  Myers laughed. “Gotta respect a woman with that much gumption, and appreciate them.” He then tipped his hat. “Well, I gotta continue my night watch. Promised my wife I’d be home early tonight.”

  “Take care,” Garth said as the sheriff stepped into the street.

  “You, too,” Myers replied.

  Garth turned about and started for the tent city again, thinking harder about Bridgette. Life wasn’t dull with her around, and he did respect her. And appreciate her.

  Just as he had years ago. If he’d used his savings to buy a piece of property and a house, rather than cattle, he’d have something to offer her. But, he hadn’t. He’d bought cattle, and if the plan to hamper the slaughter houses didn’t work, he wouldn’t be able to afford a shack. It would be years before he could buy a real house. Without selling his cattle, he’d not only lose the money he’d invested in the herd, he’d have to use up a good portion of his savings to pay off his cowboys for the cattle drive they’d just completed.

  A heavy sigh left his lungs. From the day he’d entered that orphanage, Bridgette had filled him with all the things life was supposed to be full of. Sunshine and laughter. Escapades and arguments. He didn’t want to admit it, but having her around again had been fun. Leaving her on the train all those years ago had hurt. Hurt more than when he’d been put in the orphanage, more than when he heard his mother had left, and he’d sworn he’d never be hurt like that again. Never care what happened to someone ever again.

  That hadn’t worked out as planned. There was a reason he’d been grumpy all these years. Because try as he might, he couldn’t help but care about others. He cared about his men, and about JoJo and Bat. And he cared for Bridgette. Hadn’t ever stopped caring about her, and probably never would.

  But he’d learn to live without her again. He’d done it once, and the second time around would be easier. That’s how most things in life were. She had everything she’d ever wanted back in Hosford. She’d realize that if she stopped long enough to notice it.

  The noise of town faded as he started across the field. Fires burned near many tents, mainly to keep nighttime visitors away—bugs and four-legged critters, as well as two-legged ones. Although JoJo would have protected her with his own life, the tent city had been no place for her, and his hotel room certainly hadn’t either. Which is where people would expect her to be staying, with him. Her going back to Hosford was best all the way around. She surely had to understand that. He did. The life of a cowboy gave him everything he needed, and would for years to come. That had been his goal for a long time, and nothing was going to change it. Not the slaughter houses and not a girl from his past.

  A neigh had him turning toward the river, where the horses were kept. That was the big mare he favored. The two of them made a good pair. She broke up disputes and kept the horses in line much like he did the men. That neigh was her welcome-back-to-the-herd call. It must have taken Trace and Gil longer than he figured. Garth headed in the direction of the horses, glad in a sense that he wouldn’t have to wake them to ask about how the trip went.

  He hadn’t yet arrived at the roped-off area when he recognized the rider climbing out of the saddle. He cursed and kicked his speed into a jog.

  Bridgette must have heard his approach because she spun around and the carpetbag she’d just untied from the saddle slipped from her hold.

  Garth took a hold of her waist with both hands. “What are you doing here?”

  “Why aren’t you at the hotel?”

  “I came—” He let out a curse. “Never mind what I’m doing, why aren’t you in Hosford?”

  “Because you need me.” She held up a hand. “Don’t start cussing and telling me you don’t. Just, for once in your life, admit that you need help. That you can’t do it all alone. You’re letting Solstead help you, so why not me?”

  Garth wasn’t
sure what overcame him at that moment, but whatever it was, it twisted his insides. She was right. Solstead was helping him, but he was also helping Solstead and all the other cattlemen.

  The thudding of hooves had him twisting about.

  With a final hop, a horse and rider stopped beside them. “Want me to wake the others?” Trace asked.

  Utterly irritated and confused, Garth asked, “Why?”

  Trace looked at Bridgette. “Didn’t you tell him?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to,” she answered.

  “Tell me what?” Garth asked.

  “We think we found who started our stampede and Slim’s,” Trace said. “Actually, she did. Not more than five miles south of here. Gil is there, keeping an eye on them.” Nodding at Bridgette, he added, “We rode to town to tell you.”

  “Who is it?” Garth asked before he twisted to her. “What did you do?”

  “I just saw some men that looked suspicious and pointed them out,” she said.

  “She did. Don’t know who they are, but from the looks of things, they plan on visiting another herd tonight,” Trace supplied.

  “Wake the boys,” Garth ordered. “And send someone to town to find Slim. Try the Bottomless Glass.”

  Trace spun his horse around and Garth looked down at Bridgette. Running his hands up and down her arms, he asked, “How many are there?” A thousand other questions were floating around in his mind, but the cattle had to come first. “Where’d you see them?”

  She glanced in the direction of the tent city. “I don’t know. Your men made me wait on the road.”

  Using one hand, he turned her chin so she had to face him and lifted both brows.

  The look in her eyes told him she had ignored their instructions. “I don’t know how many there are,” she said. “We’d stopped for...” Her eyes snapped at him. “For me to relieve myself, and while I was in the bushes I noticed four men on horseback, riding fast. We followed them to a rundown farm, a lot like the Chaney place. They didn’t see us, but Trace and Gil think they’re rustlers. Trace and I rode here while Gil stayed behind. Trace went to the hotel to find you and I came here so you’d have your saddle.” She twisted to remove the bridle. “This horse is tired. You’ll need a fresh one.”