Anger replaced Levi’s lazy grace. “How come you ain't killed Blackwell yet?”
Ty fought against the white-hot anger filling him every time he recalled returning from the spring roundup with Wyatt, Garrett, and Ox, and finding Pa and Ma lying in pools of blood outside the barn. Watching Blackwell get away with murder was killing him, but a shootout with Blackwell’s men wasn’t the answer. “Promise me you won’t go gunning for Blackwell.”
“Someone’s got to make him pay,” Ace growled. “I’ll do it if you and Wyatt and Boone aren’t men enough.”
Ty glanced at Ella. Her blue eyes were full of sympathy. At least she wasn’t frightened or repulsed by the violent discussion. He turned back to Levi and Ace and gave them a stern look. “Pa and Ma wouldn’t want you to hang to avenge them. Be patient. Blackwell will make a mistake and when he does we’ll make him pay.”
Levi and Ace exchanged a long look. “Tell him,” Levi said.
Ace tossed his remaining cider on the fire like throwing away a losing hand of poker. The blaze flared and crackled. “Before the blizzard started howling we came across dead cattle, a dozen or so, all bearing the Sweet Creek brand.”
“Someone had shot them full of holes,” Levi added. “Any guesses who would do something so low?”
Ty dug his fingers into his knees. “Blackwell ordered me to move our herd to higher ground. I told him to go to the devil. This spring we had only half the calves we normally would, while Blackwell’s herd had a bumper crop of twin calves. They all bore the Double B brand, so it was Blackwell’s word against ours. And you know who Sheriff Jordan sided with.”
Ace’s scowl deepened. “Blackwell wants to put Sweet Creek out of business.”
His promise to Pa and Ma aside, the ranch and the second-chance boys were Ty’s lifeblood. “Blackwell will get the ranch over my dead body.”
Ace gripped Ty’s arm. “Levi and I will stay at the ranch until the trouble with Blackwell is settled.”
Levi grasped Ty’s other arm. “You can count on us. We promised Pa and Ma we’d always stick together.”
Tired enough to weep over this piece of good news, Ty exhaled an exhausted breath. “We could use the help. You know Boone. He plans to leave tomorrow or the next day.”
“Even with the blizzard?” Ace shivered. “I don’t envy him.”
“Maybe he’ll change his mind once we tell him about the cattle,” Levi said.
Ace pulled his blanket over his shoulders. “Or maybe another blizzard will blow in and strand him here until spring.”
Levi nodded. “One more good blow and nobody will be going anywhere till spring.”
“Spring?” Ella asked, alarmed.
Ty winced. He had planned to break the news in private.
“Winter is barreling in fast,” Levi said, not helping Ty’s cause.
“‘Tis the season,” Ace agreed.
Not anxious to have this discussion ambushed by his brother’s wry commentary—he’d get enough ribbing once they learned he’d be bunking down with them instead of sleeping in his own bed with his new wife—Ty stood on weary legs. “We best wait until the storm blows over before jumping to conclusions.”
Ella stared in the direction of the front door. “How long do you think the storm will last?”
Ty hoped the ferocious wind and drifting snow were making the storm appear worse than it was. “This one came in fast, so it might move out fast.”
Levi yawned and propped his big, stockinged feet on the hearth. “We like to say Wyoming Territory has two seasons, winter and July and August.”
“Do you remember that one December when the snow was as high as the eaves by Christmas?” Ace asked conversationally.
Ty shot his brothers a dirty look. The rascals were enjoying watching him squirm. Ty knew one sure way to herd Ella along. He strolled to table and retrieved her weighty satchel.
“I can get that,” Ella said, jumping to her feet and hurrying over.
They had a short tug-of-war over the handle. “I’ll carry you and the bag, if I have to,” he warned.
“You don’t fight fair, Mr. Haven,” she said, absent her usual spunk.
His brothers’ chuckles ringing gnat-like in his ear, he nodded toward the door off to the side of the fireplace. “The bedroom’s that way.”
“If it wasn’t snowing, I’d…” Tears brimmed in her eyes. She swiped them away. “Forgive me, it’s been a long day.” Tucking her chin, she hurried across the room.
He felt lower than a snake. She’d demonstrated bravery and fortitude at the tense showdown with Blackwell and in the tiring horse ride and the harrowing encounter with the grizzly, proving she had grit to spare. But the news she might be stranded at Sweet Creek for the winter had her shaken.
He followed her, carrying a small lantern, his feet moving as though mired in clay. “Levi and Ace were just joshing me,” he said, groping for comforting words. “Circumstances might look brighter come morning.”
She made no reply, which was worse than any pert answer or harsh accusation.
Reaching the bedroom door, he paused with his hand on the glass doorknob to the sound of his brothers shuffling off toward the bunk rooms at the opposite end of the house.
Ella raised her eyes to his. The misery in her blue eyes was a slam to the gut. His fingers itched to smooth the furrows from her brow and tuck the wispy strands of raven hair behind the delicate shell of her ear. But it wasn’t the comfort she wanted or needed. All he could do was make matters right. “More than likely, the way back to Aurora is still passable. But we’d have to leave immediately. If another storm hits…”
She gave him a wary look. “Do you mean to send me off in Boone’s care?”
“Holy heck, no,” he said, surprised by the ferocity of his answer. “If you want to leave I will take you to Aurora and see you safely back on the train.”
A healthy ivory color returned to her cheeks. “Seth and Billy need you here. And that obnoxious Blackwell fellow might cause more trouble.”
“All that’s true, and though I don’t fancy the notion of the absence from Sweet Creek, I gave you my word and I mean to keep it. With winter bearing down, you best say so now, if you want to return east.”
“And if I stay?”
He opened the door to the bedroom and nodded at the quilt-covered bed. While the confessing mood was on him, he might as well fess up to the rest. “If you stay, I will do everything in my power to make you my real wife.”
She glanced between the bed and him, and swallowed. “And our one-month agreement?”
“I can’t promise I won’t touch you, because it’s taking all my willpower at this moment not to pull you into my arms and kiss your lovely lips.”
Her hand rose to her mouth. “But you said—”
“There’s more to bedding than consummating.” She couldn’t say he didn’t give her fair warning. “If you don’t like those terms you best leave while you can.”
She shivered. “I…I—”
“You don’t have to decide now.” He reached for her, but thought better of it, and scraped his fingers through his hair. Something or someone had frightened or hurt her. He wouldn’t push until he learned what it was. If she stayed. “Take until tomorrow or the next day to make up your mind.”
She nodded gravely and stared into the bedroom. “I will give you my decision by breakfast.”
He longed to glide a hairbrush through her glossy black locks. Wanted to whisper silly things in her ear. Wondered how long would her lovely feminine scent stay on his sheets if she decided to leave. He didn’t care if such thoughts branded him a sissy. Ella Hunter Haven made him feel all his weaknesses.
CHAPTER TEN
Heartbeat thumping loud in her ears, Ella stepped into a bedroom dominated by a pine four-poster bed, spread with a brown and gold gingham quilt. Ty’s bedroom. There’s more to bedding than consummating. Her neck and cheeks heated again.
> Ty hung a lantern from a peg and set her satchel on the plump blanket, then went to the potbelly stove, stirred the ashes, and shoveled coal from a decorative metal bucket into the smoldering embers. “The room should warm in no time. There’s plenty more coal in the shed. So use all you want.”
His velvet voice slid down her spine like a feathered quill. She searched for a distraction from his powerful presence.
Her eyes went to a white pitcher and basin resting on a lace doily, decorating a cherrywood dresser as fine as any in Widow Bonnell’s mansion. She traced a finger over the crystal doorknob and toed the colorful braided rug covering the pine board floor. “I’m astonished at the amount of finery and goods you enjoy, living so far out in the wilderness.”
Ty’s scuffed cowboy boots came into view. “We pay to have an oxen team deliver the coal. But I can tell you, it wasn’t a picnic hauling Ma’s treasures across the prairie and halfway up a mountain.” Fondness filled his laugh. “Actually, watching Ma Viola’s face light up when we finished with her real bedroom made it worthwhile. Took us ten years to find the extra time and sweat to build the addition. I don’t know how Ma put up with sharing a bunk room with a pack of rambunctious boys.”
A warm cozy feeling filled her heart every time he spoke of his parents. She glanced up. Sandy-blond bangs highlighted the most beautiful pair of amber eyes she’d ever seen. His shy smile made her insides heat.
She pulled her braid over her shoulder and curled the tail around her thumb. It didn’t matter how much she fought it, Ty Haven kept overwhelming her senses. The wise path would be to burn his photograph, hop on an eastbound train, and never look back.
The silence dragged on. Ty cleared his throat. “Sleep well, Miss Ella.”
A moment later the door snapped closed. She exhaled a trembling breath, threw herself flat on the bed, and buried her face in the thick quilt. “It’s not fair. Why did Ty and Sweet Creek Ranch have to be so lovely?”
Hold onto your good sense, my girl, Granny Bessie’s voice rang in the void.
Ella flopped onto her back and stared at the shadows creeping over the log ceiling. What was she doing getting all gooey-eyed over a man who was probably a Yankee soldier? Even if he wasn’t, his family and the North had prospered after the war, while her family and the South had lost everything.
What’s more, she’d been so busy admiring the splendors of Sweet Creek Ranch and Ty Haven that she hadn’t given her mission a second thought. Instead of gawking at the cherrywood buffet and impressive stone fireplace, she should have had her eyes peeled for Johnny’s saber. The Nancy Harts would be plumb ashamed of her.
She ground her palms against her burning eyes. “I will never forget you, Johnny, or Momma, or Daddy, or Granny Bessie.” Then she pulled her satchel closer, opened the latch, dragged out Granny’s Colt Walker, and hugged it to her body.
Granny Bessie and forty other women from LaGrange, Georgia had formed a militia unit for the purpose of defending their homes, meeting every Saturday to drill and take target practice. They called themselves the Nancy Harts, after a famed Georgian Revolutionary War heroine. Ella wanted to be brave and strong like them, and not weak like Momma.
What would Granny or those brave women do in her place?
Ella shifted the revolver to the left, groped inside the satchel, retrieved her prized journal, and studied the photograph of Ty clutching Johnny’s saber. The same blank eyes and unsmiling mouth greeted her, but the two days she’d spent with Ty Haven had upended all her thinking. Where she’d seen a cruel mouth and wicked blank eyes, she now saw a youth not much older than Seth, who might be dazed or frightened. Or maybe Ty hadn’t been in the battle of West Point that fateful day and had a perfectly good explanation for how he’d come to possess Johnny’s saber.
She traced the curves of Ty’s sharp cheekbones. Tomorrow morning, she’d confess her reason for marrying him and ask if he still had Johnny’s saber. Ty would balk and insist on escorting her to the train depot. But she wouldn’t have him getting caught in a blizzard that might impede him from returning to the ranch, or even kill him.
Her leaving now would be best for Seth and Billy, before they became too attached to her. Disappointment had been the mainstay of their young lives. She didn’t want to be someone else who failed them.
And then there were Ty’s unsettling threats. If you stay, I will do everything in my power to make you my real wife. I can’t promise I won’t touch you. Unsettling in a toe-tingling kind of way.
The barrel of the gun a solid, comforting weight against her chest, she knew what she had to do. Much as she disliked the notion of entrusting her welfare to the gunslinger Boone, it was a better option than facing a grizzly bear alone or spending the winter avoiding her attraction to Ty. When Boone left Sweet Creek, she would be going with him. And come first light tomorrow she would search the house top to bottom for Johnny’s saber.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rising at dawn the next day, Ty and Wyatt shoveled paths to the barn, chicken coop, and well. Red-cheeked from the cold and exercise, he and Wy stamped the snow from their boots, headed for the stove to pour themselves some of Boone’s cowboy coffee, and joined Boone, Levi, and Ace around the dining room table.
The smell of fresh baked biscuits and bubbling oatmeal and the soft glow of the lantern shining on his brothers’ faces conjured memories of past winters, the pleasurable hours of quiet family time, making Pa Malcolm and Ma Viola’s absence painfully noticeable. Ty wished White Wolf was here. It had been too long since they’d had all the Haven brothers together. Her six buckaroos, Ma used to say. He used to hate it, but he’d give anything to hear Ma call them by the embarrassing name again.
“The drifts were deceptive,” Boone said, pushing a plate of hot, fluffy biscuits toward Ty and Wyatt. “I expected to wake to more snow.”
Ty split open a biscuit and took his time buttering it. He knew Boone was calculating the difficulty of traveling through the snow, already planning his departure from the ranch. Call him selfish, but Ty was disappointed they weren’t buried under a mountain of snow. Gut knotting at the prospect of Ella’s decision over his offer to take her back to the train depot, Ty directed his attention to the task of convincing Boone not to hurry off. More for Boone’s sake than anything.
Ty and Boone were Pa and Ma’s first second-chance boys. If Boone liked his lonely existence that would be one thing, but Boone and happiness weren’t exactly on talking terms. Not since he’d left the ranch ten years ago with his prized Colt .45 Peacemakers and developed a reputation as a fast-on-the-trigger gunslinger.
Ty daubed honey on his biscuit. “Wouldn’t hurt to lie low for a while.”
Ace gave Boone’s arm a light punch. “Especially for a fella folks are calling the Cowboy Assassin.”
“Don’t go poking the bear,” Levi advised, intervening—a habit having undoubtedly saved Ace’s life more than once and which accounted for the slanted scar on Levi’s chin.
Boone fed a hunk of biscuit to Jack, patted the dog’s yellow head, then skewered Ace with a dirty look. “Where’d you hear that?”
Ace pulled a grease-stained piece of stationery from his pocket and waved the sheet under Boone’s nose. “The same place I got this telegram addressed to you.”
“Telegram?” Boone asked, guarded.
Ace’s smirk was as insufferable as if he held a royal flush. “Looks like Ty isn’t the only one rustled himself up a mail-order bride. A widow by the name of Margaret Lily replied to your advertisement.”
“You best start talking sense,” Boone warned. Jack whined and his tail thumped the floorboards.
“You’re explaining it all wrong,” Levi said, looking like he wanted to strangle Ace. “News that we were passing through Laramie spread quicker than snot from a baby’s nose, and the telegraph operator tracked us down and handed us the telegram. The man said the message was a month old.”
“Too bad Miss Margaret Lily didn’t
send a photograph,” Ace said, not having the good sense to shut up. “Could be she has a bison face. But she sure sounds pretty.” How Ace had made it to the grand old age of twenty-three without getting his teeth punched out was a wonder.
Boone, who was as unflappable as they came, stared at Levi and Ace as if they’d lost their minds. “I don’t know anything about no mail-order bride.”
Wyatt made a loud throat-clearing noise.
All eyes turned to Wyatt. Ty didn’t like the guilty look on Wy’s cattle-rustler face.
Wyatt slathered jelly on a biscuit. “I figured I’d keep the advertisement in the Marriage Gazette a secret, until something came of it.”
Ty had had some surprises in his life, but Wyatt’s announcement was a doozy.
Boone snatched the telegram away from Ace. “You did what?”
Wyatt paused with a biscuit halfway to his mouth, strawberry jam dripping from his fingers. “I wrote up a notice in the Gazette, saying how you was interested in finding an adventuresome bride, and sent them the picture of you herding longhorns. I—”
Boone lunged over the table, knocking Wyatt off the bench, sending biscuit and jelly splattering against the cherrywood buffet.
Wyatt yelped. Ty, Levi, and Ace jumped to their feet.
Boone straddled Wyatt’s chest and drove his fist into Wyatt’s face.
Ty cringed at the sound of nose bones breaking. Wyatt howled and clasped his face. Blood welled between his fingers.
Boone raised his arm again with lethal intent. Levi and Ace tackled him, knocking him off Wyatt.
Ty braced his arms on either side of Wyatt, shielding him and glancing toward the bedroom door. “Stop your wailing.” The last thing he needed was for Ella to wake to a room full of brawling cowboys.
Ace and Levi struggled to keep Boone pinned. Jack made crying noises and pranced in nervous fashion around their heads.
“Get your mitts off me!” Boone growled.
The Mail-Order Bride Carries a Gun: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 1) Page 6
