Wild Western Women Boxed Set

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “Or you could have children of your own.” The idea sent a thrill through Lewis. He could see it now, Polly with her arms full of roly-poly, happy babies. “You’re still young enough.”

  She nodded, beautiful. “I think I could.”

  They paused, watching each other. She shone with admiration. It made him happy, deep, deep in his gut where he’d never felt quite happy before. His heart bounced around with wild ideas.

  “Polly,” he smiled, excited and nervous at once. “You don’t think you might want to—”

  He was cut off by the sound of a train whistle in the distance.

  Sure as clockwork, he perked his ears and glanced around. About a mile down the line he could see the thick, dark plume of smoke that heralded a train. It was still out of sight around trees, houses, and a hill, but any second now it would speed into view.

  “We’d better get off the tracks,” he said, reaching for Polly’s hand. “Looks like the 2:45 to Helena is early.”

  Polly gasped and went pale. “Oh, no!” She clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh, no, no!”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  Eyes wide with terror, she said, “I’m stuck. That’s why I was stopped here when you found me.”

  “Stuck?” Fingers of panic began to itch their way up Lewis’s back.

  “My boot,” Polly went on. “I tried to chase after Mr. Kenny when he walked away from me. I chased him halfway across town to ask what was wrong. He…he told me he had sent for a woman, not a cow and kept walking. I was so distraught that I came back here. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and when stepped onto the tracks my heel got caught.”

  The train whistle sounded again. It was already closer than it had been. The trail of smoke inched nearer, like a snake about to strike.

  “Let me see if I can help you,” he said. “Give me your hands.”

  Polly thrust her arms out to him. Instead of taking them, Lewis went straight to grasping her around the waist. He stepped back and tugged.

  “Oh!” Polly exclaimed. She leaned hard into him, but only the top half of her body moved. she was anchored tight. “Oh! Oh! It’s twisting.”

  He set her straight and blew out a breath. Far down the track, the train appeared at the corner. He figured he had about a minute to get Polly free.

  “Begging your pardon,” he said as panic seeped through his chest. “I wouldn’t go doing this unless it was really necessary. I’m a respectable man and you’re a—”

  “Do it!” Polly shouted. “Whatever it is, do it!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Lewis squatted and lifted Polly’s skirts. She gasped and then panted. The sound of the train’s engine chugging grew louder.

  The light under her skirts was dim, but he could see where her boot had gotten wedged against one of the ties. It looked like there was a hole there already, from a mouse or snake or something. He clasped her ankle and pulled.

  “Oh!” Polly shouted.

  Try as he did, her ankle didn’t budge. The train sounded its whistle, loud and close. Lewis could feel the rails vibrating on either side of him. He tugged again.

  “It’s not helping!” Polly called. “Oh, why isn’t the train slowing down? If it would just stop….”

  “It’s an express train,” Lewis said, ducking out from under her skirt for a moment. “It goes straight through without stopping in Cold Springs.”

  Polly screamed.

  Lewis twisted to check on the train. It was coming faster than he’d ever seen a train come, or so it seemed. Steam puffed out of the engine like a warning.

  “Lewis, you fool, what are you doing out there!” Someone yelled from the platform. “The train’s coming.”

  He didn’t have time to be annoyed by the obvious warning. Polly was in serious danger.

  He ducked under her skirt and tried the boot one more time. When it didn’t come, he narrowed his eyes and tried to see why. The corner of the heel was nicked, wedging a piece against the tie. He wouldn’t be able to pull it out in time.

  “Get off the tracks, you two!” another voice shouted from the platform.

  Lewis leaned back. A crowd was gathering on the platform as the train sped closer. He glanced up to Polly.

  “Your heel’s broken. I can’t get it out,” he told her.

  She exclaimed wordlessly, looking from Lewis to the train as it raced toward them. The train was clearly visible now. Thirty seconds, maybe less, was all they had.

  A sudden calm came over Polly.

  “It’s all right, Lewis. You tried your best. I’ve never been so happy in my life as I’ve been in these last five minutes.” She took a breath. “Get back and save yourself. I’m not afraid to die.”

  Something snapped in Lewis’s chest. “I am not going to let you die.”

  He dove back under her skirt, fumbling with the laces of her boot.

  “Please, please save yourself,” Polly begged him. “I…I can’t bear the thought of any harm coming to you. You’ve made me feel brave when my whole life I’ve been nothing but frightened.”

  “Get off the tracks! Get off the tracks!” people hollered from the platform.

  The rattling of the rails and the puffing of the train was growing louder by the second, nearly deafening. Fifteen seconds now.

  The knot in Polly’s boot came loose, but her laces were done up tight. He tugged and pulled, his clumsy fingers working with a sureness that he’d never known before. The laced fought him, loosening one loop at a time. Too slow, too slow.

  “Get back!” Polly cried. “Please save yourself!”

  “I’m not getting off these tracks without you!” He replied. He had to shout over the scream of the train’s whistle. “I want to ask you to stay and marry me, and no train’s gonna stop me from doing that!”

  Polly screamed, but whether with fear or surprise he couldn’t tell. There was no time to think about it. The train whistle blared. The people on the platform shouted and cried and whooped. The laces of Polly’s boot went slack.

  Lewis stood, throwing his arms around Polly’s waist, and lunged back. There was a moment of resistance, then a fierce rush as the two of them tumbled back onto the grass beside the track. A bare moment later, the hot engine of the train rushed past. It flew by with such power that Lewis felt his heart pound to his throat. He rolled to cover Polly with the length of his body. The roar and rumble of the train passing feet away was as terrible as a tornado. Stray stones from the track flew at him like bullets.

  A moment later and the worst was over. The train whistle sounded again, quieter, fading. What followed was thick, hard silence and the mingling of his and Polly’s breath. He blinked, sweating and shaking. Under him, Polly’s eyes stared up, as wide and as beautiful as the sky.

  “Are…are you okay?” he asked.

  Slowly, so slowly, she nodded. She squeaked, then found her voice. “You saved me.”

  She smiled. Tears filled her eyes and she trembled beneath him, but she smiled. He’d never felt so tall or so grand in his life.

  Before he could stop himself, he dipped down and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm. She tasted like sweet salted butter. His heart swelled in his chest. When she kissed him back, a soft hum in her throat, her tongue touching his lips, he was like to burst with happiness. Tugging her out of the way of the train had made him feel like a hero. Kissing her made him feel like a man.

  “Miss Polly Hemmingway, will you marry me?” he asked, more confident than he’d ever been about anything.

  “Yes,” she breathed, full of life and energy. “Yes, I would be honored to marry you, Mr. Lewis Jones.”

  He sat up, stunned and shaking. Polly sat up with him.

  “Well, I’ll be,” he said, blinking.

  A moment later they were surrounded by the people who had been on the platform. Everyone from Mr. West to the greenest porter he’d just hired swooped around them, checking to make sure they were unharmed.

  “You’ve got a cut o
n your face,” Mr. West told him. “We should get you to Dr. Smith as soon as possible. Both of you.”

  Half a dozen hands helped Lewis to his feet. He only had eyes for Polly. He broke away from the people trying to help him to make sure she was all right. She wept freely like she had the moment he’d first met her, but she also beamed through her tears. When she turned to see her boot shredded on the tracks, she wept harder and threw herself into Lewis’s arms.

  He caught her and hugged her close. Who would have thought that so many things could change in one afternoon? He knew with absolute certainty that he’d saved more than Polly from a dark fate. He’d saved himself, saved his children from never being born, saved his heart. He had Polly now. He would love her and cherish her for always. It was what heroes were supposed to do.

  Save Your Heart For Me

  By Caroline Clemmons

  Dedication

  Save Your Heart For Me is dedicated to the memory of my mom, the former Lena Mae Phifer, and her sister, the former Elizabeth Margaret Phifer. Although my aunt was never called Beth, I wanted her included. My loving mom and her sweet sister each worked hard for her family and loved unconditionally.

  Save Your Heart For Me

  Chapter One

  Central Texas, 1885

  The man who ran Oslo’s Livery Stable narrowed his eyes and looked Matt Petrov up and down. He jabbed a thumb to point across the road. “That there’s the place.”

  Riding in from Austin, Matt had entered the small town of Winton Crossing from the east, but it hadn’t taken long to reach this end and the last businesses on the dusty main street. He looked across the road at the large two-story building that appeared to hover on a hill overlooking the Medina River.

  The stableman spat a stream of tobacco juice. “Miz Phifer and her daughter are mighty particular about who they rents rooms to.”

  Matt knew he looked trail-dirty, but time counted and he’d ridden hard. He flipped the man the coins to pay for his horse’s care. “Thanks.”

  Carrying his rifle and saddlebags, Matt strode quickly toward the house. From this angle, it resembled a giant two-story box with smaller one-story boxes at each end. Late morning sun highlighted the building’s peeling paint. In the shade of the long front porch, a child played with a yellow cat.

  On Matt’s ride by he’d missed a small sign hung near the door, Phifer’s Boarding House. He opened the squeaking gate and the boy looked up. The kid appeared to be about five and seeing him tore at old scabs in Matt’s heart.

  Cuddling the cat, the lad hopped up. “The boarders what are here are all taking a nap. You gonna rent a room?”

  “Maybe.” Matt paused on his way to the door. “You live here?”

  “My grandma owns this place. Mama and I live here and help out. This here’s Tiger and my name’s Davey.” The boy stroked the purring animal’s head then looked toward the house and lowered his voice. “You better be careful, mister. Mama and Grandma been spring cleaning and they told me to stay right here out of the way until they said different.”

  Matt suppressed his smile. “That so? Thanks for the warning, Davey.”

  He opened the screen door and stepped inside. The small foyer led to a large parlor. A counter at the far end blocked off another doorway. The furniture appeared well worn but every wood surface gleamed, which accounted for the smell of beeswax. Vases of freshly cut flowers brightened the room’s drab colors and contributed their own aromas of roses and honeysuckle.

  Grunts and groans came from the room behind the counter. Matt set his gear on the floor and leaned against the barrier to peer into the next area, which looked to be an office. Two women wrestled with a small floor safe. The safe appeared to be winning.

  He leaned over the counter. “Need some help?”

  Both women jumped, but only one turned around.

  The frazzled older woman, the one Matt figured owned the place, appeared to be in her early fifties. Silver threaded through the brown hair piled on her head. She was dressed in gray over which she wore a long white apron smudged with dust. Her brown eyes twinkled when she smiled at him.

  “Would you? The men who delivered this thing set it in the wrong place. We decided to move it where it belongs. Land sakes, for all our struggles we’ve not made much progress.” Five feet of scratch marks on the floor showed the trail of their limited success.

  He stepped around the counter into the small office. “Where you want it?”

  She pointed at a place against the far wall. “There, if you can move the thing.”

  The tall younger woman kept her head lowered and all he saw was her shapely backside while she tugged at the corner of her navy skirt caught under one leg of the safe.

  “Let me.” He tilted the safe to free the fabric, and then pushed the unwieldy block of metal into place.

  “Oh, finally.” She shook out her skirt and bent to brush at the stain marring the hem. “Thank you—“ When she straightened and looked up at him, she fell silent and paled as if she’d seen a ghost.

  Hell, he figured she had. A phantom from her past.

  “Beth? Beth Jeffers?” Of all the rotten luck, his friend Ivan would have to land himself in the same boarding house as Beth. Matt tried to mask the sensations raised by seeing her again—surprise, longing, heartache—but doubted he succeeded.

  She, on the other hand, quickly recovered her composure and turned up her nose as if she’d smelled a skunk. “What are you doing here?”

  “Honestly, Beth, I’m surprised at you.” Her mother looked from one to the other. “You two know each other?”

  Beth pushed a stray golden curl from her face and raised her chin. “We met long ago.”

  She wore her blonde hair in a bun, but wisps escaped to frame her face. Time had been good to her. The years had rounded her a bit in the right places and softened her—except for her ice-cold blue eyes.

  She gave Matt a measuring glare and balled her fists at her hips as if challenging him. “Whatever you want, you won’t find it here.”

  Matt wanted to say something sharp to make her think he cared nothing for what she thought, but his mind went blank. Danged if she wasn’t prettier than when he’d known her six years ago, especially without bruises marring her ivory skin from her sonofabitch husband’s fist.

  The older woman touched Beth’s arm and delivered a firm but soft aside to her daughter. “Elizabeth Margaret Phifer Jeffers, there’s no call to be rude.”

  Ignoring Beth’s glare in his direction, the older woman brushed at the smudges on her apron. “I’m Beth’s mother, Lena Mae Phifer. Can I help you?”

  “Likely.” Matt’s mind snapped back to the reason he’d come to Winton Crossing. “I’m supposed to meet Ivan Romanovich here.”

  The two women exchanged worried glances. Mrs. Phifer still fussed with her apron. “Ivan’s not here.”

  “Ma’am, if you know where he went, please point me in that direction.”

  Mrs. Phifer appeared about to cry. “H—He’s gone.”

  “He died?” Surely Matt hadn’t come too late.

  She shook her head.

  Did he have to coax every word from her? “What then? Has he left town?”

  “That’s it.” Beth looked at her mother. “He’s away right now.”

  Didn’t make sense. Why would Ivan leave after asking Matt to join him? “You know when he’ll be back?”

  The women exchanged worried glances again.

  Beth shrugged. “We don’t think he meant to stay away because all his things are here. Why do you want him?”

  None of her business, but Matt fished from his pocket the wire delivered to him late yesterday. “Ladies, he sent for me to meet him here.” He unfolded the paper. “See? He named your boarding house and said he’d be waiting for me. Asked me to hurry.”

  Mrs. Phifer read the message and her lips trembled. “This makes me worry more.” She handed it to her daughter.

  Beth read it and glared at him. “You could hav
e sent this to yourself.”

  Contrary woman. “Why in tarnation would I do that?” He reclaimed the piece of paper. Something was wrong and he suspected it wasn’t anything he wanted to hear. He looked from Beth to her mother. “One of you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

  Mrs. Phifer took a deep breath. “Ivan left yesterday afternoon and said he’d see us for supper. Rented a horse from the livery. When he hadn’t come back by bedtime, we thought he might only be late and left the door unlocked for him. He hadn’t returned by this morning, so we reported him missing to the sheriff.”

  “He wrote me he’d been injured.” Matt looked from one woman to the other.

  Beth snatched the wire. “It doesn’t say that here.”

  Matt exhaled with impatience and pulled the paper from her hands then folded it and stuffed it into his pocket. “Ivan wrote me several letters from here. Had one yesterday that said he’d been shot, then the wire came.”

  Mrs. Phifer fussed with her collar. “We were very worried. But he wouldn’t say who shot him, just that they argued. Only started walking without his cane a couple of days ago.” She looked at Beth and then back at him. “I believe the disagreement was over something to do with a ranch he thought belonged to him.”

  “That ranch is his, ma’am. He showed me the deed when he met me in Austin. The late King Rudolph of Bayergrovenia gave it to him.”

  “So he said.” Beth’s sarcasm let him know she doubted Ivan’s claim—or his. From where he stood, he figured she’d learned a little too late to be distrustful of men. She should have reacted that way when she met Lionel Jeffers instead of falling for whatever fanciful pap the rat had fed her.

  Matt recalled he had no cause to talk about marrying the wrong person, not after his own sad experience. At least Beth had come to her senses and left the man before her kid suffered the same abuse she’d endured.