A Bride for Isaac

by Cat Cahill

  Sebastian pulled the hat from his head and tapped it against his thigh. “It’s good to see you again too, brother.”

  “I don’t have time for formalities. I have a ranch to run here.” Isaac turned and strode into the kitchen.

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Sebastian had followed him into the room. He’d unstrapped his gun belt, dumped it onto the table, and was now settling himself into one of Isaac’s chairs.

  “Yes.”

  His brother laid his hat on top of his guns and leaned back into the chair. “Why are you so angry?”

  Isaac glanced toward the doorway, hoping Maggie was settled in upstairs, far away from Sebastian.

  Sebastian followed his gaze. “Ah, I see. You can relax, Isaac. I’m not after your woman. Congratulations on getting tied down, by the way. That’s a surprise. Where’d you find her?”

  Isaac ignored the question. “She’s a respectable woman.”

  “Mighty sorry if I implied otherwise.” Sebastian glanced around the room. “Nice place you’ve got here.”

  Isaac eyed his brother. He wanted something; he’d made that much clear in the telegram.

  “Sit.” Sebastian kicked the chair next to him. “Let’s have a visit. You got anything to drink?”

  “Coffee,” Isaac said, crossing his arms.

  “Marriage has already done a number on you,” Sebastian said with his usual easy smile. “Look, take a seat and I’ll tell you why I rode all the way here.”

  Isaac held his ground for a moment more, assessing his brother, before sitting.

  “We’ve had some good times together.”

  “We have,” Isaac said carefully. It was true. In between outrunning posses and trying not to get hit by shotgun messengers, they’d traded stories over campfires and been kicked out of more than one saloon together.

  Sebastian was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was more serious than Isaac had heard in a long time. “I’m getting out of this business.”

  Isaac couldn’t have been more surprised if Sebastian had sprouted wings right then and there. “You are?”

  “We’ve been lucky, Isaac, you know that. It’s going on four years, and no one knows who we are.”

  He was right, they had been fortunate. Isaac attributed most of that to constantly moving around, never hitting the same place twice. It was an exhausting life, to always be on the move, but it had been key to keeping them unidentified. If their real names had gone up on posters, it would have been over.

  “I owe that to you,” Sebastian said. “We all do. You were the one who reined us in, kept us smart. I know you didn’t care for any of it.”

  Isaac sat back. This was the first time Sebastian had acknowledged Isaac’s dislike for that life. “What are you going to do now?” he asked.

  Sebastian shrugged. “I’m not certain.”

  “If you’re here to ask me for a job, I’m willing, but you—”

  His brother held up a hand. “I’m not cut out to be a ranch hand.”

  What did he want then? Part of Isaac was grateful he wouldn’t need to keep an eye on his brother day to day again, yet at the same time . . . it would have been a relief to know he was safe.

  “I might head to California. Maybe I’ll go to Europe. But I need money.”

  There it was. Isaac could have sighed in relief. He’d spent most of his inheritance on building up this property and had some set aside to purchase cattle and provide pay for men to work for a few months. But he would spare some to see Sebastian off safely—except he knew his brother had his own money.

  Isaac crossed his arms as light from the setting sun streamed in through the windows. “What happened to all you had?” Their illegal endeavors had been profitable, and even Sebastian couldn’t have spent it all . . . could he?

  Sebastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Prentice.”

  Isaac should’ve known. Prentice was a shifty, cold rustler who’d latched on to Sebastian in a saloon back in New Mexico Territory several months ago. He’d weaseled his way into the gang, and the jobs they’d pulled with him had been a challenge. The man was quick to fly into a rage and took risks that weren’t necessary. He was the one Isaac had peeled away from Maggie on the train the week before. “How much?”

  Sebastian didn’t meet his eyes. “All of it. And not just from me.”

  Isaac smacked the table. “I should’ve sent him packing before I left.”

  “That wasn’t your decision.” Sebastian met his gaze now, a little of the fire Isaac was used to blazing there again.

  “Right.” He stood and paced the room. Sebastian had run the outfit, which had been fine by Isaac considering he was only there to ensure Sebastian remained alive. “How much do you need? I can see what I have left.”

  “I’m not taking your money. You were the good son. You earned that fair and square. What I need is your help.”

  Isaac clenched his jaw. Nothing about that sounded good.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Maggie plastered herself to the wall. What sort of help did Isaac’s brother need? It didn’t sound good at all. The two men were quiet for a moment, and she itched to peer around the corner. But she remained where she was, ready to race up the steps if need be.

  Eavesdropping was wrong, but Maggie was no stranger to bending the rules when she needed to. After all, she’d supported herself for a year, and she’d jumped at the opportunity to do what few other well-bred women would do when she agreed to marry Isaac sight unseen.

  She didn’t know precisely why she’d crept back downstairs after they’d retreated to the kitchen. Yet if she remained in her room, her confusion would grow. She needed to know if Isaac was speaking the truth when he said he wouldn’t return to the outlaw life, if he was truly done with setting aside his own dreams and plans to keep his brother out of harm’s way.

  Isaac’s tone when he’d offered Sebastian a job and money made Maggie’s heart ache. He wanted so badly for his brother to do right. But Maggie didn’t even begin to trust Sebastian. She didn’t know why exactly, but if Sebastian was telling the truth about leaving robbing and stealing behind . . . well, Maggie would happily tuck her tail under her and be proven wrong.

  “What sort of help?” Isaac finally asked.

  Maggie held her breath as she waited for Sebastian’s answer.

  “One more job.”

  “No.” Isaac’s voice was firm, and Maggie’s heart lifted.

  “Hear me out! You owe me that much, at least, after leaving.” Sebastian was a slick one, clearly practiced at finding and exploiting his brother’s weak points.

  When Isaac said nothing, Maggie squeezed her eyes shut and sent up a prayer. She might not have been the best Christian woman back in Plainfield, but she attended services regularly and did her best to keep her attention focused on the sermon. And she sang the hymns with zeal. Surely, that had to count for something.

  “We’re holed up a little ways southwest of here, in an old fur trader’s cabin. In two days’ time, the regular ten a.m. from Cañon City will be carrying a payload for silver mines east of Crest Stone—”

  “And you want to steal it off the train,” Isaac finished for his brother.

  There was no response.

  “You realize how foolish it is to go after that train again, especially after we just hit it?”

  “I know—” Sebastian sounded apologetic as Isaac cut him off.

  “And on top of that, you want to take pay out of the hands of men who work in those mines.” Isaac sounded incredulous at his brother’s greed. Maggie chewed on her lip as she listened. He’d say no. He had to say no.

  There was a shuffling and the sound of a chair moving on the floor. Maggie crept up a stair, her heart in her throat, ready to bolt. But they remained in the kitchen. She worked her way back to her listening post.

  “How is that any different from what we normally did?” Sebastian said.

  “I don’t know.” Isaac’s voice sounded strangled.
“It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Fine, then. We can do it without you. But since we’re down Prentice, and that money will be under armed guard, I thought you might like to help me out. This would be enough to see me off to California.” Sebastian’s voice had a pleading undertone, one Maggie wasn’t sure was truthful.

  “What about Rogers?” Isaac asked. “Last I heard, he’s somewhere around these parts.”

  “He’s gone off to Montana. You’re the only one, Isaac.” Sebastian gave an audible sigh. “But I know you’ve got this spread and your wife, and you don’t need to be running around with us. We’ll deal with the guards.”

  Maggie narrowed her eyes. Sebastian was skilled at trying to manipulate his brother. It was as if he’d saved this crucial bit of information for very last on purpose.

  “Just take my money. You don’t have to do this,” Isaac said.

  There was a thud, and Maggie imagined Sebastian slamming his hand against something, the table, the wall, she didn’t know. “I already told you, I’m not taking your money. I’ll do this myself. With or without you. If I make it, I’ll send you a letter.” And with that, footsteps sounded toward the door.

  Maggie didn’t wait to see if he’d appear. She raced upstairs faster and more silently than a cat.

  She didn’t breathe until she was tucked under the bedcovers, fully clothed. And then she squeezed her eyes shut in thanks that Isaac had stood his ground.

  She’d think more tomorrow about the decision she’d need to make, but as she fell asleep, she smiled, thinking about the man who was—for now—her husband.

  #

  Maggie awoke slowly the next morning. A bird sang to the sunrise outside her window while she huddled under the bedclothes and contemplated what to attempt for breakfast. Perhaps she should master simple dishes first, such as gruel. It was unexciting, but filling. And best of all—difficult to mess up. Besides, if Isaac’s brother had stayed the night, she didn’t want to serve him anything burnt, tasteless, or otherwise inedible. Although he did deserve it, after coming here and attempting to get Isaac to return to his former life.

  But her husband was strong and committed. Maggie flung the covers off herself and hurried over to the washbasin. Her husband. How funny that it was almost easy to think of him as that now. It had been less than a week since she’d met him, and she’d gone from outright despising him to almost wanting to stay here and make a life with him.

  Maggie paused, water dripping from her face, as the realization dawned on her. She did want to stay here. Isaac had proven himself trustworthy despite his initial bending of the truth, and he certainly seemed to care for her, despite her shortcomings. She grabbed the towel and smiled. She would tell him her decision as soon as they had a moment alone.

  She hung the towel and dressed quickly after winding her hair into a chignon she prayed would remain in place at least through the morning. Then she headed downstairs, eager to see Isaac—only to find the house empty. Perhaps Sebastian had already left and Isaac had gone out to work early. Maggie pushed through the front door to the porch, her arms immediately wrapping around herself in the cloudy morning chill. There was no movement she could see. They must be in the barn.

  Every other morning, she’d have turned around and gone back inside to start breakfast. But today . . . she felt a compelling need to lay eyes on Isaac. Maybe it was because of Sebastian’s visit, or everything she’d overheard last night. Or maybe it was because of the decision she’d made over the washbasin this morning. But she needed to see him.

  Maggie scurried down the porch steps and across the yard, entering the barn just as a few cold, fat raindrops began to splash onto her neck. Inside, the meager light from the windows barely illuminated the horses’ stalls. Maggie stilled for a moment to let her eyes adjust. “Isaac? Mr. Hemphill? Is anyone here?”

  A rustling sound came behind her. Maggie whirled around to find a set of narrow steps that led to a second floor. A lamp appeared in the stairway, and behind it, Mr. Hemphill’s worn face. “Mrs. Trenton? What can I do for you?”

  “Good morning, Mr. Hemphill. I’m looking for my husband. Have you seen him?”

  Mr. Hemphill braced his hand against the wall. “He left out of here early this morning, before the sun was up.”

  Maggie’s heart nearly stilled. “He left? Where did he go?”

  “Said he needed to help his brother. Didn’t say with what.” Mr. Hemphill’s voice was cautious, almost as if he, too, were afraid of what Isaac had decided.

  Maggie pressed a hand to her stomach. He didn’t. He couldn’t have. Why would he change his mind after he’d been so insistent last night?

  “Mrs. Trenton?” Mr. Hemphill was holding the lamp aloft and peering at her with concerned eyes.

  “I’m all right,” she managed to say in a wispy voice. “I’m . . . I’ll just . . . I’ll be in the house.”

  “All right,” Mr. Hemphill said uncertainly.

  Maggie thanked him and gathered her skirts before emerging outside in a steady rain. She ran in a most unladylike fashion to the covered porch, where she then collapsed into one of the chairs. She pressed her hands to her face. What had possessed him to help Sebastian after everything he had waiting for him here? Sebastian had said this train was coming through tomorrow. Wouldn’t Isaac know she’d worry if he didn’t return today? Perhaps he’d left her a note, some explanation of what he was thinking.

  Inside, Maggie combed through the house from top to bottom, but there was no sign of a note from Isaac. She stood at the kitchen window, searching the trees that lined Silver Creek as if they’d have the answer. The mountains behind the creek drew her eyes upward. Where was it Sebastian had said he and his other men were staying? An old fur trader’s cabin, a little ways southwest of here.

  Maggie pursed her lips as she scanned the mountains through the rain. It couldn’t be too far away. She could take a horse, and go find Isaac. Maybe she could talk some sense into him. She couldn’t let him do this. Sebastian had hinted it would be dangerous. Maggie felt sick just thinking about the possibilities of all that could go wrong. If Isaac went through with this, he might not come back. And if he did, would he be able to live with himself? Would he ever be able to say no to Sebastian again?

  If only she could speak with him.

  He’d be so angry if she rode off this property again, alone. But he’d put himself in danger, and what sort of wife would she be if she simply let him?

  She paced the room, debating her options. She moved to the back porch, trying to gauge the route she might take if she were to go, then went back inside and paced some more. Mid-morning found her packing bread, cheese, and a bit of the smoked ham they’d purchased in Crest Stone—just in case she decided to go. Noon found her drumming her fingers against the table, unable to concentrate on any other sort of work. Meanwhile, the rain fell steadily and Isaac remained gone.

  At one o’clock, Maggie leapt from her chair. Sitting here, waiting and worrying, was utterly foolish. If Isaac wanted her to follow his rules, the least he could have done was confide in her before he left today. Upstairs, she wrapped a shawl around herself and found a hood. Back downstairs, she gathered the food she’d packed and shrugged into her coat.

  Mr. Hemphill was nowhere to be found in the barn, which was for the best. Maggie found a spare set of saddlebags and tucked her food inside, along with a sharp knife she’d taken from the kitchen. It might not do much, but having it made her feel safer. She saddled a kindly-looking mare, led her out into the rain, and with the help of an overturned bucket, mounted the horse. She sat there for a moment, both legs draped to the side, before shaking her head. This was no time for modesty, and since when did she much care for the rules anyway? She’d make better time riding astride.

  Resituated on the horse, which wasn’t the most comfortable given her skirts, Maggie nudged the mare into motion. She’d head southwest into the mountains. With any luck, she’d find Isaac before he gave up everyth
ing he’d worked so hard for.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rain dripped down Isaac’s neck when he took his hat off. Shaking the water from it, he returned it to its place before nudging his horse into motion again. That old cabin Sebastian and his men had found was only a couple hours’ ride from the ranch, but it had taken Isaac longer than that to locate it. Tucked away behind some boulders and trees, it was a place not meant to be found.

  But he had found it.

  He shouldn’t have ever left the ranch. And he certainly shouldn’t have changed his mind after Sebastian had left last night. His brother had been so upset, he’d refused to stay the night, choosing instead to ride out into the darkness. Isaac had watched him go, with both guilt and anger eating him up inside. He’d stayed awake for hours, questioning his decision. Sebastian was his only living kin, his little brother, and he was about to walk into the most dangerous job yet—all so he could start anew.

  And yet Isaac wouldn’t help him.

  After a couple hours’ of fitful sleep, Isaac rose before dawn, mind reluctantly made up. He wanted Sebastian out of that life as much as he’d wanted to get himself out. And now that Sebastian was poised to leave, the least Isaac could do was help set him up a new life, even if he didn’t agree with the method chosen. But even more motivating, there was no way Isaac could live with himself if he sent Sebastian off alone to do this, only to have him wind up dead.

  And so off he went. It took a few hours to find the place, but when he did, Sebastian greeted him with a warm welcome. Isaac had spent the morning with his brother and the other men, drawing up plans, but it didn’t take long for the doubt to begin creeping in.

  He’d already resigned himself to doing this one last time, but each time he brought up the guards, Sebastian had quickly changed the subject. After it had happened a couple of times, Isaac began watching the other men’s faces when he mentioned it again. Most simply looked confused, but the last time he brought it up, one halted the conversation entirely, demanding to know what Isaac knew about armed men guarding the payroll.