The Mail-Order Bride Carries a Gun: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 1)

by Thomas,Wanda Ann

  She took a sip. The cool arid breeze buffeting her face sucked more and more moisture from her pores, leaving her skin feeling dry and chafed. She never would have believed she would miss the sopping heat of Washington D.C. and LaGrange, Georgia.

  “The drought is a bad one, isn’t it?”

  Ty’s tight nod spoke volumes.

  The expanse of bleak prairie, all browns and yellows for as far as the eye could see, gave her a new appreciation for his kind gesture of ensuring she’d had flowers for her wedding. Her unkind reaction made her ashamed. “The teacup is lovely. I was too flustered to thank you properly.”

  “Marrying a stranger will make for an uneasy day.”

  Ty hadn’t appeared a bit ruffled until the fancy-pants man rode into town. “I take it you’ve had other run-ins with that Blackman fellow?”

  “Blackwell,” Ty said, spitting the name.

  “Is he a neighbor of yours?”

  “Beau Blackwell is what is known in these parts as a cattle baron. He drove two thousand head of cattle up from Texas five years ago and has been buying hundreds of acres of land. But what he knows about good ranching practices is shorter than his…” Ty coughed. “Don’t fret about Blackwell.”

  She hadn’t been overly concerned. Until now. “I don’t fret, Mr. Haven.”

  “Call me Ty.”

  “If I was going to fret, Mr. Haven, I would save my worry for more pressing concerns.”

  He blinked repeatedly. “Such as?”

  “The drought.”

  The pinto brushed close to Old Nellie. “You do have a point. But once winter arrives the snow ought to fix the worst of the problem.”

  “Is it always this dry?”

  “I’ve lived here for twenty years and I’ve never seen the like.”

  “Twenty years?” That would mean he’d come to Wyoming Territory shortly after the war. But he appeared to be fairly young. “How old are you?”

  The corner of his mouth curved. “I wondered when you’d finally ask. You’re not the curious type, I take it?”

  “You could have been fifty-five or ninety-five; it wouldn’t have mattered.” Johnny’s saber had been her top concern during their brief period of correspondence.

  “I wasn’t hiding my age on purpose. The best guess says I’m thirty-six years old.”

  He would have only been fifteen years old when he’d killed Johnny. She remembered him as a grown man. But she’d only been eight at the time, so everyone had looked like adults. “Thirty-six. I suppose you’re sure?”

  He chuckled. “No…not at all.”

  “Who doesn’t know their age?”

  The liveliness went out of his eyes. “I was told my momma loved opium more than anything in this world.”

  “Were you an orphan?”

  “Don’t go pitying me.”

  “I’m not. I’m curious.”

  “Now you’re curious?”

  She was tempted to ask him outright if he’d been a Union soldier, but shied from raising the question. “Where did you live before moving west?”

  He stared into the distance. “Everywhere and nowhere.”

  “How did you end up on a ranch in Wy—”

  “We’ll stop by the bend in the stream and bed down for the night,” he said, shortening his hold on the reins. “Excuse me while I speak to Boone about watering the horses.”

  Ella stared at Ty’s broad back as he rode ahead. All long lean muscle from wrestling cattle and long hours spent in the saddle, he was a monument to the rugged cowboy.

  Bed down. With Ty Haven. Surrounded by miles of utter wilderness and a thin promise for protection. Didn’t that twist her stomach into a big, churning knot.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The horses watered and hobbled, Ty stretched out beside the campfire and pillowed his head on the blanket-draped saddle. Firelight flickered across the faces of Boone, Seth, Billy, and Ella.

  Humming softly, Boone cleaned and oiled his revolver, caring for the Colt .45 Peacemaker as tenderly as an infant. Jack rested his snout on Boone’s knee, his tufted ears twitching. Seth and Billy studied Boone’s six-shooter with wide-eyed fascination. Ella stared into the orange and yellow blaze, her knees drawn up to her delicate chin and a gray shawl wrapped around petite shoulders.

  Ty couldn’t stop staring at his mail-order bride. She was far prettier than he’d dared hope, but her porcelain-doll appearance was deceptive. She must be sore and exhausted, yet hadn’t uttered a single complaint. He patted the bedroll beside his. “Come rest yourself, Miss Ella. We will be putting in a long day riding tomorrow.”

  She tensed. “I’m not tired.”

  “Then come tell me about the train ride.”

  She glanced between him and the bedroll.

  “I just want to talk,” he said, careful to keep his voice gentle.

  She stood and shook out her skirt. “I need to go relieve myself.”

  He sat up. “I’ll go with you.”

  “There’s no need. I can find my way to the thicket and back.” She hurried off before he could warn her to beware of snakes, grizzly bears, wolves and a multitude of other dangers lurking beyond the fire.

  “Serve you right if a grizzly eats you,” he mumbled, respecting her gumption and courage, even as his protective instincts put up a fuss.

  Boone’s dark laugh mingled with the crackling of the fire. “Take your bedroll and go set up a camp for the two of you. Your bride might act more friendly without me, Jack, Seth, and Billy looking on.”

  Ty exhaled a long breath. There was no use trying to hide the truth. Sweet Creek Ranch was too small to keep a secret for long. He explained the promise he’d made to Ella. “Why do you think I insisted on hitting the trail today instead of spending my wedding night locked out of my bride’s bedroom for all of Aurora to gossip over?”

  Boone replaced his revolver in a handsome leather holster. “A good blizzard could leave her stranded at the ranch until spring. Did you neglect to mention that to your bride?”

  “A detail or two might have slipped my mind.” Ty didn’t feel overly guilty about the bit of subterfuge as his mail-order bride’s standoffish behavior suggested she had her own secrets.

  Boone’s eyes turned grim. “Blackwell will likely stir up more trouble.”

  “You haven’t even heard about the calves his rustlers stole during the spring roundup,” Ty said, anger flaring.

  Boone added another branch to the fire. “Blackwell is an arrogant bully. He might have his men drive our herd away from the choice pastureland.”

  “We’ll set up a night watch. And you and I and Wyatt can take turns scouting the ranch and checking on the herd.”

  Boone eyes turned guarded. He scratched Jack’s yellow ears. “Don’t count on me and Jack staying at Sweet Creek for the winter.”

  Ty didn’t understand Boone’s wandering ways and hated the lonely life he’d chosen for himself. “Wyatt and I could use the extra help. We have our hands full with Pa and Ma’s passing.”

  “Garrett can handle a gun and ride.”

  “Garrett’s going to make a fine cowboy, but we both know a seventeen-year-old boy can’t compare to seasoned gunslinger.”

  “I’ll take Garrett out target shooting…give him a few pointers.”

  Ty glanced toward the bushes, resisting the urge to go check on Ella. “Where you heading out this time?”

  Boone eased back on his bedroll. “Thought I might go have a look at Californ—”

  “Don’t go,” Billy said, springing to his feet, tears brimming in his eyes.

  Seth’s face screwed with disgust. “Shut up, you big baby.”

  Fat tears rolled down Billy’s freckled checks. “What if I don’t like milking cows or living on a ranch?”

  “You better quiet down before you get a bullet in the head,” Seth said.

  “Mr. Boone wouldn’t shoot me…would you?” Billy asked through a new flood
of tears.

  Ty scrubbed his face. “No one’s getting a bullet in the head.”

  Ignoring Ty, Seth jabbed Billy and pointed at Boone. “The Cowboy Assassin don’t show mercy to no one.”

  Boone’s mouth tightened and his eyes turned hard as flint. “Is that what they’re calling me now?”

  “Tell the boy you won’t hurt him,” Ty said.

  Boone stretched out on his bedroll and pillowed his head on his arms. “Coddling don’t help them.”

  Ty didn’t baby the second-chance boys. Seth and Billy would learn the meaning of hard work and respect, but they wouldn’t live under the choking fist of fear. Not if Ty had anything to say about it. “Scaring them doesn’t help either.”

  “I’ll ride with you to the ranch,” Boone said, rolling onto his side, putting his back to them. “After that I have business of my own to attend to.”

  Boone was a puzzle. He suffered hardship and risked danger to rescue orphaned boys, but he kept them at arm’s length, never sticking around long enough to get to know them or open his heart to them.

  A forlorn wolf howl pierced the dark.

  Seth and Billy swiveled their heads, searching for the source of the danger.

  Ty tossed another log on the fire. Sparks crackled upward. What was taking Ella so long? He’d give her a few more moments of privacy, but then he was going to check on her. He should have spent more time pointing out the dangers of traveling through bear country. “You boys best rest your heads for the night. The fire will keep the wolves away.” Ty and Boone would take turns during the night keeping watch for intruders whether they be human or animal.

  A chorus of wolf howls echoed from the nearby hills. Ty rose to his haunches, and Ella burst into the ring of firelight. She dashed to her bedroll, scooted toward Ty, and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “What does all the howling mean?” she asked, breathless.

  He smiled and eased back against the saddle. It meant he would get to spend the night with his pretty wife pressed against his side, which would go a long way toward acclimating her to his presence. Winning over her trust shouldn’t be overly difficult. After all, a standoffish wife couldn’t be that different from skittish horses and defensive orphans.

  ***

  Cold feet or cold nose? As predicaments went this one was a toss-up between annoying and ridiculous. But Ella would rather walk on glass than complain. Face pointed away from Boone, Seth, and Billy, her nose was freezing cold thanks to the steadily dropping temperature, while her backside was uncomfortably hot thanks to the roaring campfire. Another wolf howl pierced the dark. She wriggled into a tighter ball under the short horse blanket.

  Her husband rolled closer. “Don’t worry about them. They’re still a good way off.”

  “You’re in your element out here, aren’t you?” Surrounded by wild creatures who wanted to eat her and an endless stretch of remote wilderness, she resented his calm.

  He laughed softly, his warm breath a caress on her face. “Sleeping under the stars is like coming home, to a cowboy.”

  An unfamiliar flutter stirred deep in her gut. Sweet jam and biscuits, she felt far safer from wolves than from him. “I don’t know why I can’t sleep.”

  “Tuck in closer to me if you’re cold.”

  The thought of burrowing into his chest sounded as inviting as a steamy cup of tea after a chilly walk in the rain. “Don’t worry your head about me. I’m warm as flea on a Saint Bernard.”

  His lips twitched with a smile. “It’s only going to get colder.”

  He had the most beautiful mouth she’d ever seen. “Why did you steal that kiss?”

  He grinned, managing to appear even more roguishly handsome. “I thought a bride ought to be kissed on her wedding day.”

  If he wasn’t who he was and she wasn’t who she was, she’d be quite enchanted with Ty Haven. “Are you always so considerate?”

  “Truth told, the kiss wasn’t wholly unselfishness.”

  His mouth had been soft and warm. A fizz of desire went through her, and, heating from the inside out, her nose and face became as uncomfortably hot as her backside. “I don’t think I’m going to like the whole kissing thing.”

  “Don’t go being hasty,” he drawled in that devastating, enticing way of his. “You ought to give something a try or two before passing judgment.”

  She licked her parched lips. “Don’t be offended. But your kiss brought to mind a family dog named Ugly Abe.”

  Ty laughed. “Ugly Abe, huh? I’m not detecting any fondness in your voice.”

  “He was a big, old, shaggy Scottish Deerhound that came to live with us when I was five or six. He wasn’t a bad dog…problem was he liked me more than I liked him. He would greet me every morning by knocking me down and licking my face until it hurt.”

  “I’m thinking me and Ugly Abe would have gotten along just fine.”

  “Are you always this difficult to discoura—” She swallowed the complaint, remembering the need to act and speak like a proper mail-order bride.

  The twinkle in Ty’s eyes faded. “How did you reach the age of twenty-eight without marrying? You’re pretty and sassy and bright. Surely plenty of boys came calling, wanting to wed.”

  A frigid coldness invaded her bones, making her feel a thousand years old. Ty Haven and the rest of the Yankee army might have gone on to prosperous happy lives at war’s end, but the South and LaGrange, Georgia and her family had suffered the effects of the crushing defeat for what seemed like her whole life. Her father and brother dead. The family hardware store looted and burned. Her mother’s slow slide into insanity. Years of eking together money for food and medicine. And here she was smiling and teasing and carrying on like a silly girl.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his thumb stroking her cheek.

  She pushed his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Shh…no one’s going to hurt you.”

  She took a steadying breath at hearing Aunt Bessie’s encouraging words ringing in her ears. Gather your wits, girl. Don’t go letting a Yankee get the best of you. “You can stop talking to me like I’m breakable. I’m as hardy as you.”

  Ty’s brow furrowed. “You looked terribly sad. I wanted to help.”

  His kindness was only making things worse. “If you want to help, Mr. Haven, you can start by keeping your promise.”

  He exhaled heavily and sat up. “One month won’t solve whatever problems you’re running from.”

  A fat lot he knew. One month from now she would be headed back east with Johnny’s saber. But that meant lulling the Haven’s suspicions. “On our one-month anniversary I am going to kiss the daylights out of you because I can see now it’s the only way I’ll ever win an argument.”

  He shook his head, draped his blanket over her shoulders, and stood. “It’s my turn to stand watch. Sleep tight, and tomorrow night will see us safe and warm at the ranch.” Hefting his saddle, he moved to the other side of the fire.

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the cold, lonely night. The ranch, the ranch, the ranch—surely she’d find herself on firmer ground once she had work to occupy her mind, once she laid eyes on Johnny’s saber, once the shock of the West and Ty Haven wore off.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ella awoke at the break of morning to the glorious smell of fresh brewed coffee. Stiff muscles and tired bones complaining, she sat up and stretched. If heaven smelled as divine as coffee on a cold morning, she would die a happy woman.

  Ty stared at her from across the fire. “Good morning. I was beginning to think you planned to laze the whole day away.”

  Sure her hair was sticking up at all angles, and irritated that his stubbly growth of beard made him twice as handsome, she wrapped her arms around her knees against the morning chill. “You should have woken me to help with breakfast.”

  Ty rose, shook Seth and Billy awake, and draped his blanket over her shoulders. “You needed your rest. You had a long day of it ye
sterday.”

  “I’d offer to make breakfast tomorrow, except I’m afraid I will be twice as tired and saddlesore,” she said, by way of an apology for her testiness the evening before, relieved Ty didn’t hold grudges. Her former employer, Widow Bonnell, had feathered her nest with grievances, squawking like a cantankerous hen for months at a time over some little sin or indiscreet word from Ella.

  Ty sat on his haunches and held up a battered tin mug full of steaming coffee. “I should warn you, Boone’s fussy about his coffee and oats. Won’t allow anyone else to fix breakfast when he’s about.”

  Boone hunched his shoulders and stirred a wooden spoon through a small kettle of oats. “I hate people who talk too much in the morning and you two are out-chattering a roomful of saloon girls.”

  Ty winked at Ella and handed her the dented cup. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried a cup of Boone’s cowboy coffee.”

  She warmed her hands on the cup, and, taking in the wondrous beauty of the rolling foothills lit by the orange glow of the gathering dawn, she knew beyond a doubt her daily existence up until now had been drab and boring and half lived.

  Seth shuffled over and stared down at the kettle, sour faced. “Don’t you have any real food?”

  Boone pointed the wooden spoon dripping with congealed oats at Seth. “If oats are good enough for me, they’re good enough for you.”

  Jack trotted over and licked the half-cooked oats off Boone’s knee.

  “You and your mushy oats both stink,” Seth said. He turned his backside to Boone and loosed a loud farting noise.

  Boone jumped to his feet and grabbed hold of Seth’s collar.

  Jack barked at Seth’s heels as the boy tried to dance out of Boone’s hold.

  Ty interceded, putting his arm around Seth and narrowing his eyes at Boone. “Your oats will burn if you neglect them.”

  “Don’t kick or slap him,” Billy begged, sidling up next to Ella.

  “Don’t cry, sweetie,” Ella said, patting Billy’s back and glaring at Boone. “Ty won’t allow anyone to harm you or Seth.”