The Bounty Hunter's Bride

by Janis Jakes

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The bounty. How much are you getting for me?”

  A nighttime breeze swirled about the rocks and cacti. The sound of a hoot owl echoed throughout the canyon below. Then a chorus of coyotes yelped in the distance. Sounds that once frightened her now gave her comfort—reminding her she was still alive despite Caldwell’s desperate plotting and planning.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?” he asked.

  She turned to face him.

  “I’m taking you to someone who can help. Someone to look after your wounds.”

  “I don’t need looking after.” She sounded childish even to her own ears. She needed serious help.

  Gazing at him through the misty glow of the moon’s rays, she noted the slight smile on his face. High cheekbones. Dark eyes. Ink black hair. And lips just wide and full enough to soften an otherwise stony face. Even still, she didn’t trust him. Bounty hunters weren’t respectable lawmen. They shot people for greedy gain. As far as she could tell, that made him as bad as Clovis Caldwell. Maybe worse.

  “I don’t want any part of taking in a woman for bounty.”

  Billie frowned. Was he only saying words to trick her into lowering her guard? “Why not?”

  His furrowed brow showed that he didn’t want to answer.

  She’d seen that same look on the faces of her students when she asked them a hard question. And her students were probably worried. Unless Caldwell had convinced the entire town that she was a criminal. Then they’d be hurt that the teacher who professed to care about them had betrayed them all. The thought caused sudden heat to rush to her eyes. She reached up, wiping away the tear before it could fall.

  “So, why don’t you tell me what happened?” he asked, his voice rumbling deep and drawing. “How’d you end up here, running from the law?”

  The law? Anger rose within her chest like flaming hot coals. No way she was telling this man anything.

  After several seconds of silence, he walked back toward his horse, loosening the bedroll tied to the back of his saddle. “The desert gets cold at night.” He tossed the scratchy wool blanket her way. “Might want to bundle up.”

  She caught the blanket and then opened her mouth to tell him thank you, but he turned his back before she could muster the words.

  He walked to the other side of his horse and laid down.

  Silence surrounded her, followed by the faint sound of the bounty hunter’s slow breathing. How had he fallen to sleep so easy? Murderous men waited only yards away to kill her, and probably him, too. It made no sense that a soul could curl up in a blanket and rest as if tomorrow didn’t matter. He had a very hard conscience or a very clear one.

  Billie shifted slightly onto her good hip. Soon enough, she’d know if the bounty hunter was intending to get help. Would he even care if she were healed, wounded, or outright dead?

  Silver stars dotted the blackness of the expansive Texas sky, glimmering beneath a full, white moon.

  Had God forgotten her? She’d always believed He would never leave her nor forsake her. Yet she felt lost and forsaken. She’d never pictured this as the end of her days. She’d always believed she’d grow old as a teacher with a husband who farmed the land and a passel of grandchildren to warm her lap in her final days.

  Now, she was wanted for the murder of an honorable man, accused of stealing miner’s gold, and charged with taking another man’s horse. Those who knew her would never believe the lies, but others who didn’t, would doubt her innocence—especially when someone as powerful and convincing as Clovis Caldwell made his case with Sheriff McGregor standing beside him.

  Trembling fingers reached up and touched her neck. She could almost feel the noose. Tears gathered in her eyes, and her throat cinched. With her hopes dashed and her faith in shreds, Billie pulled her elbow up to her face, muffling the cries that escaped between swollen lips.

  ~*~

  Luke braced himself. Even with his knees bent, his spine stiffened. He’d fallen asleep quick enough, but in his business, he never slept hard.

  Whimpers had awakened him, followed by barely audible sobs then whispered prayers that gave way to more sobs. Billie could cry a river if she wanted. He wasn’t feeling sorry for her. The woman had shot at him, and even made him drop his holster. Besides, he’d made that mistake before with another female, and it haunted his heart to this day. Never again. There was only one reason Billie wasn’t headed to jail right now—his mother.

  Luke lay still, listening for what seemed like an eternity as faint cries continued to chafe his soul. Like layers of hardened dirt rubbed from a gold nugget, his resolve began to sift away. An unexpected feeling emerged…compassion. The feeling was something long buried, something he never expected to have again. And, for reasons he couldn’t grasp, with compassion came anger. Anger at the world, anger at himself, and yes, anger at Billie. It didn’t matter whether she deserved it or not, it was there.

  3

  Billie opened her eyes, and then closed them against the bright morning sun. But she couldn’t lay around forever, so she opened her eyes again and rose up on her elbows.

  The bounty hunter’s sleeping spot was empty except for a pair of worn boots.

  She sat straight up despite the pounding in her skull. Her hand rested on her stomach—a queasy sensation filling her senses. She held still until the nausea subsided and inspected her surroundings. The air felt cool. After the searing heat of the last few weeks, she welcomed the relief—the crisp breeze, the scent of pine, and even the faint aroma of fire off in the distance.

  Wherever the bounty hunter had gone, he left his horse behind to munch on grass. The only other things he’d left behind was his canteen and a packet, probably pemmican—both sitting near where she slept. Was this his way of being kind, or was something more sinister going on?

  A vision of a young doe being lured into a trap laced with corn came to mind. Billie hesitated, but her stomach overrode her worry. She unwrapped the paper, and looked at the pemmican, giving it a good sniff before taking a large bite. She winced as her swollen lip reminded her to go easy. The dried bison brought her taste buds back to life with its savory tang. She would endure the pain for something in her belly.

  Her hip felt better, and her arm, too. She glanced down, thankful to see the tourniquet gone. Blood crusted over the wound where the bullet had entered her arm. She examined it, afraid to touch it for fear it would start bleeding again. While still painful, it was bearable. With hands that trembled from weakness, she lifted the canteen, taking a drink. Her stomach tightened, but she didn’t intend to let nausea win.

  The muted sound of footsteps drew her attention. She twisted and looked out over the desert, her heart racing.

  The bounty hunter appeared—a small, dead rabbit in his hands.

  “How’d you—?” She could only stare in amazement. He was barefooted. She’d never known a person who caught a rabbit with their hands, let alone barefoot.

  “We’ve got a good day’s ride ahead of us. We both need something to eat. Especially you.”

  Billie’s worry pushed through her gratitude. “Did you see any sign of Caldwell’s men?”

  He pulled his knife from his belt and began skinning the rabbit. Billie would’ve turned her head, but something about his skilled movements kept her attention on his hands.

  “They’re gone. Best I can tell, they’re headed back to town.”

  Hope soared. “You think they’ve given up?”

  Luke gave her an annoyed glare. “Do you?”

  No. Of course not. “Probably getting more supplies and more men.” Hope plummeted.

  “That’s what I figure.” He resumed his skinning, making quick work of it. “Let’s eat so we can get out of here.” He wove a sharpened stick through the meat and placed it over the flames, positioning both ends of the stick on the rocks to keep it off the direct fire. “We don’t have much time.”

  He sounded as if he was helping her,
but bounty hunters only cared about one thing: money.

  The small amount of meat cooked in mere minutes. Though it smelled delicious, her stomach would only allow her to enjoy a small portion. The bounty hunter didn’t seem to mind, eating his share and working on what remained of hers.

  “I found something else while I was out looking for food,” he said.

  It seemed strange that they were having a civil conversation—like two acquaintances who happened to run across each other in town on a Sunday stroll. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, they’d faced each other with guns drawn.

  “Your horse.”

  “My horse?” A smile burst across her lips.

  “Yeah. She’s grazing outside the cave.”

  Billie’s guilty conscience pricked. “She’s not exactly my horse. I…borrowed her from the livery stable.”

  He gnawed on the last piece of meat, stopping long enough to stare at her. “Borrowed?”

  “Yes. Borrowed. I fully intend to take her back—as soon as I can.”

  He tossed the bone over his shoulder, wiping his hands down his pant legs. “Are you ready to tell me what happened? Why you’re wanted?”

  She glanced past him, deep into the cavern’s darkness. She couldn’t tell this stranger. For all she knew, he was showing her kindness to weaken her resolve and make her believe he cared. “I’m innocent. That’s all I’ve got to say.” Her tone was hard, but she didn’t care.

  He stood up, kicking dirt onto what remained of the smoldering fire. He was angry—the clenched jaw, the hard glare, the tight shoulder muscles—but he kept his voice monotone. “Think you can walk?”

  “I can try.”

  She tried to stand but froze halfway up. Her head swam and the hip throbbed. Luke moved to stand behind her. He slid his hands under her arms and offered support as she attempted to straighten her legs. Instead, her knees buckled, and a groan parted her lips. She hated looking so weak—especially to this man.

  Luke braced Billie with his body, his voice an urgent whisper. “Hold still. Don’t try to walk. Just stand.”

  She crumpled, tears threatening to spill over. “I can’t. I feel…faint.”

  “No.” He put his hands around her waist, holding her up. His words came in a hot whisper only inches from her ear. “You’ve got to ride, Billie. Those men are coming back, and they’ll kill you.”

  His words brought an abrupt stiffness to her spine—an icy splash of reality. She twisted around, facing him with only inches separating them. Her hands rested upon his shoulders for support. She’d never been this close to any other man, and her senses exploded. Every part of her wanted to move away from him but if she dared take a step—

  Lord, help me.

  His eyes blazed in seething anger that made no sense to her. It wasn’t her wish to be in such a predicament. Could the man not show an ounce of mercy? “What’s your name?” she asked in her demanding, schoolmarm tone.

  Confusion caused his countenance to grow even darker. “What?”

  “I can’t call you bounty hunter. What’s your name?”

  “Luke Lancaster.” He lifted her into his arms, carried her outside the cavern, and placed her on a nearby boulder. “Stay here.”

  He went into the cavern, came out with a rope, and then disappeared into the cacti-infested brush. A few seconds later, he reappeared with her horse.

  Billie stood, wobbled, and then held steady.

  Luke approached with a wary eye. His sturdy hands lifted and sat her in the horse’s saddle.

  “Ow!”

  One dark brow jumped. “What?”

  “Nothing. I’m fine. My hip—“

  “Sorry.” He sounded as though he meant it. “I’ll be more careful next time.” He placed the rope around her waist, looped it across the horn, and secured her in the saddle seat. “If you faint, you won’t fall.”

  He disappeared inside the cave and returned on his horse. He secured the loose end of the rope to his saddle horn and glanced back at her with something close to kindness.

  It was a new expression on his face, and one she welcomed.

  “Ready?”

  The pain in her hip had eased. She nodded, glad to move on. She was tired of feeling like a sitting duck. “I’m ready.”

  ~*~

  As dusk neared, Luke slowed the pace. Boulders had disappeared from the landscape, replaced with gangly mesquite, pine, and an occasional oak. “We’re almost there.”

  Billie wasn’t sure where there was but looked forward to getting out of the saddle. Her life was on the line, but she needed a rest. Tomorrow she’d be sore.

  “You’re not used to riding, are you?”

  “I’m a schoolteacher. There’s not much need to ride for hours on a horse. I usually spend my days in the classroom.”

  “Teacher? That’s hard to believe.”

  He could believe what he wished. Her scruffy appearance and pulling a gun on him hadn’t helped win his trust. But who cared what he thought? The man was a bounty hunter. He had no right to judge her at all.

  She let her horse pull away. She would rather follow from behind then ride next to him and carry on an annoying conversation.

  The horizon had transformed from a deep blue to a dense gray with streaks of melon gold and pink marking the landscape. Mesquite limbs, dark and bare, etched a web across the dusky sky. The horses wove in and about the branches, ducking and bobbing to keep from getting snagged.

  Luke had removed the rope that kept them connected, seeming confident she would not fall. She sat up straight for most of the ride, only asking him to stop twice so she could reposition her weight. He’d offered pemmican and water at one of their stops, which she gladly accepted. Despite his unexpected kindness, she didn’t know what to think of him.

  He drew his horse to a stop, waving her up next to him.

  She gave the horse a slight nudge, looking out over the valley below.

  A single cabin sat in the middle of a field encircled by trees. A couple of horses trotted about a fenced area, circling a cow and half-full pond. A small shed sat near the cabin, probably a root cellar. An illuminating kerosene lamp shone from the cabin’s window, beckoning them forward. The quaintness of the imagery soothed her soul.

  “We’re here.”

  “It’s lovely,” she said, looking about the wide valley. “Where exactly is here?”

  “You’ll see.” He flicked the reins and headed down the sloping trail that led to the cabin.

  Please, Lord, don’t let this be a trap. Let this be a place of refuge.

  4

  Luke whistled as they rode closer toward the cabin. The shrill, unexpected sound caused Billie to jump and her grip on the reins to tighten. Her horse came up off his front legs, landing hard.

  “For goodness’ sake,” she spat between gritted teeth, her hand covering her hip wound. “Couldn’t you have warned me?”

  “Warned you about what?” He whistled again.

  “That,” she snapped.

  Her horse lifted its head back with a jerk and a snort.

  “Sorry, but if I don’t give the signal, she might blow our heads off.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I’ve dodged enough bullets over the last couple of days to last me a lifetime.” He turned his head back to the cabin. “Except she wouldn’t miss.”

  “She who?”

  He didn’t answer, easing his horse closer to the cabin.

  A woman holding a baby stepped outside, contentment written across her smiling porcelain features. Golden hair framed her delicate face, the tresses lifted upward in a bun, and escaping in flighty wisps. Brown eyes gazed at her with open curiosity. The woman was attractive and several years younger than Luke. Perhaps his wife?

  Excitement filled her gaze. “What a welcomed surprise.”

  “Abigail,” he began, nodding toward Billie. “I’ve brought you a patient.”

  “Really?” She tilted her head. “She doesn’t look as if she needs doctoring.”

&nb
sp; “A bullet hit her in the arm, and another grazed her hip.” His tone lowered in concern. “The one that passed through her arm is starting to ooze.”

  “Clear or green?”

  “Clear,” he said. “For now.”

  “Good. Maybe we caught it in time so she can keep her arm.”

  “I might lose my arm?” Billie stared at the woman, aghast.

  “It’s always possible,” Abigail said. “But with my doctoring skills, it’s not probable.” She offered a reassuring smile that did little to give Billie comfort. “We’ll go inside. Luke can take care of the horses.”

  Billie eased out of the saddle. She slid off the horse and landed on the ground. Her stamina felt fine, though her stomach churned a bit after hearing her arm was in danger. But she would take whatever doctoring might come her way. Not that life without an arm was intolerable, but she would prefer to keep hers attached.

  “How’s Henry, Jr., doing?” he asked, reaching out for the reins. “Looks as if he’s sleeping better.”

  “Yes, much better,” Abigail said. “But I’m still worried about him. Can’t get his fever to break for more than a few hours at a time, and he’s not eating all that much.”

  Henry, Jr.? That didn’t sound like Luke’s child.

  Abigail moved down from the steps. She placed her free arm gently around Billie’s shoulders. Despite the other woman’s frailty, her fingers felt strong—like someone used to hard work. Kindness permeated her presence. “Can you walk? You look a little pale.”

  “She lost a lot of blood,” Luke said.

  Abigail dropped her arm. “Why don’t you carry her inside for me?”

  “No,” Billie stated, embarrassed.

  Abigail’s gaze latched onto her.

  “I can walk fine.”

  “If you’re sure…” Abigail glanced toward Luke. “Come on in after you get the horses settled, and I’ll heat some stew. There’s a little left, along with a bite or two of bread.” Her eyes shone as they turned toward Billie. “Can’t tell you how good it is to have you here. I get lonely this time of year.”