Shattered Trust: Mail Order Brides of Spring Water Book Two

by Ball, Kathleen

  Not one to stand around waiting for something to happen, she grabbed her bag and strode down the boardwalk. There wasn’t much in the town to recommend itself. The biggest building was the saloon followed by the mercantile. On the other side of the street, she saw, a place called Eats and next to it was a barbershop. Somehow, through Mr. Hardy’s letters, she anticipated a booming town, not a sparsely populated wide spot in the road. There was a sign on the bank, which said, closed, and someone had nailed a plank of wood across the door to the sheriff's office.

  She plodded to the mercantile hoping they’d know where her intended could be. If nothing else, the store would get her out of the blazing sun. She stopped before entering and slid her hands down her skirt trying in vain to remove some of the dirt and wrinkles. All she'd created was a big puff of dust around her. What she wouldn’t give for a bath, but it would have to wait. Maybe she could ask for a cup of water to wash away some of the grit in her mouth.

  The bell dangling above the door rang as she entered the mercantile, and immediately everyone stopped and stared at her. She always believed first impressions mattered greatly but there was no help for it now. Plain and simple, she was covered in dirt. Smiling, she nodded in greeting to the customers.

  A tall, well-dressed woman in her thirties patted her dark hair in place. She stepped from behind the counter and headed right for Shannon, putting forth a big, gracious smile. “Welcome. You must be new around here. I’m Edith Mathers, and I'm the proprietor of this fine establishment. Are you and your husband settling in our town?”

  “It’s so nice to make your acquaintance. Actually, I’m here to marry John Hardy. Perhaps you could tell me where I might locate him?”

  A hush fell over the entire store. As she glanced around, she noted many patrons staring at her with their mouths dropped open.

  “Do you think he got tied up at his ranch? If it isn’t far perhaps I could rent a driver and a buggy to get out there?” A few of the customers whispered to each other. Her heart thumped painfully against her ribs as a shiver went up her spine. “Is something wrong?”

  Edith took her bag from Shannon and led her to a fine upholstered chair near the window. Edith gestured for her to sit down. “Oh dear, how should I say this?”

  Shannon sat in the chair and her shoulders slouched. “Is he dead?”

  Patting Shannon’s hand, Edith shook her head. “No, honey, John doesn’t own a ranch. Oh my, what did you say your name was?”

  Her stomach knotted and she felt the blood drain from her face. He didn’t own a ranch? He deceived her. “Mrs. Mathers, my name is Shannon. What do you mean? Do you know where he is? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “He’s at the saloon. He owns it.”

  Shannon jumped up. “Is it alright if I leave my bag with you? It appears I have something to straighten out.”

  Edith nodded. “Of course.”

  Seeing something akin to pity, she passed by the other customers. She lifted her chin, straightened her back and marched down the walk to the saloon. The scarred, wooden, swinging doors intimidated her. They were imposing as she stood gazing at them trying to gather her courage. A saloon? There had to be a mistake.

  The clinking glasses and roars of laughter stopped the moment she stepped through the doors. She didn’t care if they gawked at her, she had to locate Mr. Hardy and get an explanation.

  “It’s not often we get a pretty little thing like you entering my place.”

  Her heart dropped when she set eyes on the speaker. She studied the rotund man with dirty, greasy, dark hair and the look of the devil in his eyes.

  “Are you John Hardy? The John Hardy who proposed marriage to me?” She held her breath wishing for him to say no.

  “You must be my Shannon.” He smiled showing the lack of bottom teeth. He stepped in front of her and looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her breasts. Putting his arm around her waist, he turned so they were both facing the rag tag bunch in the saloon. “What do you think fellas? A new one to add to my little doves?”

  The crowd cheered as she tried to loosen his bruising grip. “Now look here, you disgusting liar! You misrepresented yourself. I’m not marrying you or becoming one of your little doves. I’m sure I can find another groom much better than you.” She wrenched free from him.

  “Better than me?” he snorted, his voice full of anger.

  “Not better than you, I meant someone more suited to me is all.” Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she could tell he wasn’t buying it.

  “Are you refusing to marry me?” His body tensed and his eyes narrowed as he grabbed her arm again.

  Without thinking, she nodded. The back of his hand flew at her face and sent her crashing into the wall. She stumbled and lunged for the door, but John grabbed her by the hair and led her to the bar pinning the side of her face to the top.

  Fear paralyzed her and she couldn't move or breathe as John slid the knife blade across her face. The throbbing pain made her scream as he threw her out the wooden doors and onto the dirty street.

  John followed and laughed as she wiped the blood from her split lips. “No one will want you now. You might as well get inside before everyone sees how hideous you are.”

  Reaching up she touched her throbbing, painful cheek and felt the blood before she brought her hand in front of her to confirm it. He’d slashed her face with the knife. The pain almost blinded her as spots crowded her eyes, but she held on. “I’d rather be dead than be with you.” Her voice trembled as she tried to put on a brave front.

  John growled and stepped closer. “I can arrange that for you.” His dark eyes flashed at her and she saw such darkness in his eyes, she truly believed him capable of killing.

  The world seemed eerily quiet as she pushed herself up from the hard packed dirt, only to fall back down. Her ankle hurt. Tears filled her eyes, as she glanced around. There stood the women from the mercantile, staring, with their eyes full of terror. She’d get no assistance from them.

  John Hardy strutted into the street and laughed while he gestured for two of his men to pick her up. “Come on, honey, it’s time for our honeymoon.”

  She heard the clomping of hooves and the turn of wagon wheels behind her but the wagon didn’t stop to help her either. By this time, a crowd had gathered and there were men standing with the group of women. She tried to plead for help with her eyes but they glanced away.

  Two men grabbed at her to haul her back into the saloon when a loud cocking of a gun erupted from behind.

  “Put her down.” A man's voice threatened.

  John stepped forward, thrusting out his chest. “Listen, Cinders, this is none of your business. It’d be in your best interest to leave things be.”

  The world began to dim and spin, the smell of blood was the last straw. She fainted.

  * * *

  Shannon heard screams and realized they were her own. Swatting at the closest person to grab ahold of, she tried to sit up.

  “Shannon, dear, you need to lay still so Virginia can sew up your face. She has the finest hand around and her stitches are tiny and uniform,” Edith explained as she tried to hold Shannon’s shoulders still.

  “Edith, let me sit there. I can hold her down better than you.” She heard the voice of the man from the street. The one who'd cocked his gun.

  He sat out of her line of sight and held her shoulders with a powerful, yet not punishing grip.

  “Don’t try to talk, Miss. The faster we get this done the better. I got you. I know it hurts, but I need you to keep your head still. Poor Virginia is trying to do her best by you. I don’t know how you ended up tangled with Hardy but he’s bad news. Shh, it’ll be fine.” He dabbed at her tears with a perfumed handkerchief. “Edith, do have any whiskey or laudanum?”

  “No to both. The laudanum is on order and you know I don’t allow liquor in my house.”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate on his voice, but the fact that she would now have a big scar ac
ross her face whirled in her head. John Hardy was right. No one would want her now. She'd taken a big chance coming to Texas to marry a man she didn’t know, but it was better than ending up at the workhouse. The whole trip she kept imagining what it would be like to be a wife of a rancher. She'd even hoped he’d want children. Her imagination wasn’t wild enough to consider what just happened.

  “Slow, deep breaths, miss. Concentrate on breathing. You’re almost done.”

  Finally, she honed in on his voice and made it crowd out everything in her head. The pain was excruciating but his strong, kind male voice became her lifeline. She was so very tired. She listened to him try to soothe her until her world went blank again.

  She woke up the next morning confused, but the pain in her cheek reminded her of her plight. Sitting up, she fingered the large bandage covering one whole side of her face. Answering John Hardy’s ad for a bride was the biggest mistake of her life. However, considering the alternative, there had been no contest. Weighing the workhouse against her dream for a husband, children and living on a ranch, John Hardy had won out.

  Gingerly she stood up, afraid she’d feel light-headed, but other than the cut, she felt fine. The room was nice, much nicer than anything she’d known. The yellow curtains matched the finely stitched comforter. There was one glaring omission in the room, however. A mirror. There was a faint outline on the wall from where it had hung; at least that was her guess. Her face must look even worse than she imagined.

  She still wore her traveling outfit, and a quick search of the room turned up nothing. Her bag wasn’t there. Quickly she braided her hair until it hung neatly down her back and then she opened the door in search of the staircase. Voices drifted up the stairwell as she made her way down. She recognized one of the voices as belonging to the man who had helped her yesterday. Upon hearing her name, she stopped.

  A woman's voice argued with the man. “She can’t stay here and no man will marry her now. Once the scar heals, it will be a hideous sight. You can’t expect any man to want to gaze at her from across the dinner table,” Edith insisted.

  “She can’t go back to the saloon either. You know what will happen there,” the man said, his voice strong and calm.

  “Cinders, I don’t know what to do. I’ve already done my Christian duty by allowing her to stay the night. I fed her a sandwich for heaven’s sake.”

  Shannon could imagine poor Edith wringing her hands, and she was right, she had done a lot for her. It was time to leave. Straightening her shoulders, she descended the staircase. If ever she needed a backbone, it was now. “Good Morning.” Her words came out as barely a squeak.

  Edith turned and nodded at her. “Morning. I’m so pleased you’re up and around.”

  “Yes, I’ll take my leave now, but I wanted to thank you. Both of you.” She quickly glanced at the tall cowboy. His blond hair and winter-sky blue eyes caught her attention and she stole another look. Boy, he was the handsomest cowboy she'd ever seen.

  “I’m Cinders, ma’am, and I’m glad I was there to help you. I’m sorry for all your trouble. Usually Asherville is a fine town. I’m supposing you’ll want to go home. Can’t say I blame you. The stage will be through here later this afternoon. You could wait for it and start your way back to your family.”

  Trying to offer even a faint smile brought her too much pain. “Yes, well thank you.” Shannon grabbed her bag from the bottom of the stairs and headed out the door. Glancing around the town, there didn’t seem to be any prospects for a job. Edith was right, no man would make her his wife now.

  “I’ve been wondering how long it'd be before you were out in the streets. If you beg me nicely, I’ll let you stay here after all. I can’t marry you now since I’d only be able to bed you with the lights off.” John Hardy smirked as he leaned against his saloon, striking a match on the wall and lighting a cigar. He narrowed his eyes and gave her a snide grin.

  “I…I was just going to look for a job over at Eats. I’m a fair cook,” she hated how her voice trembled. She couldn’t afford to appear weak. “Good day.” She stepped off the wooden boardwalk and into the street.

  “Don’t you dare walk away from me,” he warned.

  She took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning to face him. “We have nothing to discuss. I would think attempted murder would void any marriage promise.”

  “Attempted murder? Are you crazy? You disrespected me and you got what you deserved. Anyway, I’m not talking about the marriage contract. I’m talking about the money I sent you to get out here. I demand you return it right now.” He threw his cigar at her feet and crossed his arms in front of his barrel shaped chest.

  “That’s one of the reasons I’m trying to find a job. I’m good for the money, I promise.”

  Her hopes dashed as his mocking laugh grew louder. “You stupid cow, I own you now. You’ll pay me back. I can guarantee it. I bet there are plenty of men willing to give you a go, even if you’re ugly as sin. Funny how a little liquor changes how a man defines beauty. It makes them willing to take any female offered. Of course, I might have to give them a discount for having to look at you.”

  Boot steps echoed on the boardwalk. “Ma’am, get into my wagon. You’re going home with me.” Cinders hadn’t even glanced her way. Instead, he kept his gaze trained on John Hardy as if daring him to challenge the order.

  John glared at Cinders and laughed scornfully. His stance widened and his right hand hovered over the pistol in his gun belt. “I said she belongs to me.”

  A lump formed in her throat as her heart beat wildly. She didn’t know much about men and guns, but she did know the expression of hate on John Hardy’s face meant he wouldn't hesitate to use it.

  “Thank you, Mr. Cinders, for coming to my aid but I’m not worth getting shot over. The fact is, I do owe him his money back, and truly, who would hire me now?” Her fingers gingerly touched her bandage.

  Cinders didn’t glance in her direction. He kept his gaze fixed on John. “I’ll hire you. Now get in the wagon.” His voice was low and steady as though he anticipated more trouble.

  “Not until I get my money,” John snarled.

  A tall, older gentleman clad in a crisp white shirt and wool pants stepped into the street. He stood between the two men while shaking his head. “I’m warning you, I haven’t had my breakfast yet. What seems to be the problem?”

  “Cinders here is trying to steal my wife.”

  The man turned and faced Cinders. “Is that true? You know a wife belongs to her husband. I can’t get into the middle of this. Now if the town would open its tight purses we’d have a sheriff here to take care of these matters and I’d be eating my breakfast.”

  “Judge Gleason, I’m sorry about your breakfast, but the fact is they aren’t married.”

  “Yet!” John shouted

  The judge turned. “Damn it, John, I’m right here. There is no need to yell in my ear.” He scanned the gathering crowd and rested his gaze on her.

  Shannon quickly avoided his gaze trying to be inconspicuous; however, it was impossible with the huge bandage hugging her cheek. Slowly she lifted her gaze and met the judge’s stare.

  The judge smiled. “Well I can see what all the fuss is about. We don’t often have such a fine woman come to our town.”

  John coughed loudly as he stepped toward her. “I’m still willing to take her even if she is hideous.”

  “You’re too gracious, Mr. Hardy, considering you’re the one who cut me.

  Judge Gleason tipped his flat-brimmed hat. “Ma’am, would you like to join me for breakfast? I'd like you to tell me what this is all about.” He walked toward her, extended his arm and waited for her to place her hand on it. The crowd parted as he escorted her in the direction of Eats Café. The judge called over his shoulder, “Cinders, I want to talk to you too.”

  “What about my story?” John asked.

  The judge shrugged his shoulders and kept walking.

  “Well?”

 
When they reached the door to the eatery, Cinders’ opened the door and held it for them.

  “I already know your story, Hardy.” Judge Gleason huffed and ushered her through the open door.

  * * *

  Cinders had never in his life seen eyes as grand as the chocolate pools Shannon possessed. Her sun-kissed brown hair hung, braided, down her back to her waist. Her hands trembled as she sat down, but he knew her to be a brave woman. How could a woman who traveled across the territories to marry an unknown man and survive tangling with Hardy be anything but brave?

  “Cinders, have a seat,” the judge instructed.

  When he pulled out his chair, the leg scraped against the dirty wood floor. It looked like the entire town wanted to dine at Eats, for the restaurant filled within minutes of their arrival. Nobody ordered food, they just milled about and gawked at the three of them.

  “I’m Judge Gleason, miss…?”

  “I’m Shannon McMurphy, sir.” The effort speaking took, reflected in her eyes.

  Cinders took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “John Hardy sliced her face. I drove the wagon in yesterday and Hardy was instructing two of his thugs to grab Miss McMurphy and bring her back into the saloon. I put a stop to it and Edith allowed me to carry her upstairs above the mercantile.”

  Judge Gleason turned his gaze to Shannon. “Are you and John Hardy married?”

  She shook her head and winced from the pain. “No. But I came from New York to marry him. He said he was a wealthy rancher and you can imagine my shock to find him as the saloonkeeper. I told him I couldn’t marry him. He backhanded me hard enough to send me flying across the room, hitting the wall. He said if I didn’t want to marry him, he’d make sure no one would ever want me. He cut my face and said I could work off my debt upstairs.”

  Cinders didn’t want to feel sorry for her, in fact he wouldn’t have gotten involved with her if it hadn’t been life threatening and if it hadn’t involved John Hardy. The slimy bastard tried to buy his land out from under him. He nodded in satisfaction. He finally knocked Hardy down a peg or two.