by Linda Broday
"Grant Stafford. I was ridin' shotgun on that stagecoach."
"Mr. Stafford saved my life, Henry," Julia said quickly.
Marshal Everett sniffed. "I suppose I owe you a great deal of thanks, then, Stafford," he said, although Grant didn't think he sounded all that grateful. Everett stepped away from Julia and extended a gloved right hand to him. "I appreciate you helping my fiancée."
Grant gripped the marshal's hand briefly, then asked, "How come you're out here lookin' for us?"
"When the stage didn't show up on time at the Javelina Creek station, the manager there sent word to me in town. With all the holdups recently, he suspected the stage might've run into trouble. Unfortunately, I was out chasing some rustlers and didn't get back until late last night, so I wasn't able to ride out here with a posse and have a look around until this morning."
"You found the stagecoach?"
Everett nodded. His face was grim as he said, "And Reeves' body up on the flats. I've already sent a man back to town to fetch the undertaker and his wagon. But there weren't any bodies in the wreckage, so I was praying that somehow Julia had gotten out alive. I knew she was coming in on that stage yesterday, since today—"
"Today is Valentine's Day," Julia said. "Our wedding day. At least…it was supposed to be."
"It still will be," Everett said, his jaw jutting out stubbornly. "If you think I'm going to let a bunch of no-good owlhoots keep me from marrying the most beautiful woman in the world…"
Julia laughed and hugged him again.
Something inside Grant broke at that moment, and it took every bit of willpower he possessed not to let that show on his face and ruin things for Julia, now that she was happy again.
****
The day had been a breathtaking whirlwind of activity. Henry had gotten back on his horse, then helped her climb up in front of him. He fired three shots in the air to call in the rest of the posse, and Grant had ridden double with one of those men.
As they were riding back to Flat Rock, at one point Henry asked rather gruffly, "So you and this fellow Stafford…you spent the night together in that cave?"
"Yes, but we didn't do anything except huddle over a little fire and try not to freeze to death. It was awful, Henry, just awful."
"Well…I'm just glad you survived. No need to say any more about it."
"No need at all," she agreed.
She had lied to spare his feelings, of course. Even though there had been no…union…between them, she and Grant had been as close as husband and wife could be without doing that. She still burned with shame at the memory.
But was it shame that sent heat flowing and pooling inside her, or something else? As Henry had said, they would never speak of it again, but could she ever forget what she had felt as she lay there in Grant's arms?
She found herself wishing they had kissed while they had the chance. That would have been something else to remember, another memory to cherish…
When they reached Flat Rock, Henry turned her over to a gaggle of middle-aged women who were married to some of the town's leading citizens. She was fed an enormous breakfast, allowed to soak away her aches and pains in a big claw-footed tub of hot water in the mayor's house, and then the preparations for the wedding began. Julia had expected to have at least a day to get ready, but Henry insisted that since today was Valentine's Day, it was an omen and they should go ahead and be joined in matrimony in the town hall this evening.
Julia didn't have the strength to argue. Too much had happened. Her mind was still spinning.
Anyway, this was how everything was supposed to go.
She just wished that nervousness hadn't knotted her stomach into such a ball as she stood waiting in a little room at the back of the town hall with the mayor's wife, the doctor's wife, the liveryman's wife, and several other women who seemed so happy she was here. Julia wore a dress the ladies of Flat Rock had provided, since the one she'd brought with her had been ruined in the river, and she had to admit it was beautiful. Everything was going to be all right, she told herself. The stagecoach holdup was just a little bump in the road, soon forgotten.
The mayor's wife peeked out the door into the hall and said, "The marshal looks so handsome. Aren't you excited, Miss Courtland?"
"Yes. Yes, I am," Julia said, because that was what was expected of her. She drew in a sharp breath as she heard the opening strains of "The Wedding March" played on a piano.
It was time.
She wondered what Grant was doing right now.
****
He ought to stay away. He knew that.
But as he heard the music inside the town hall, he couldn't stop himself. He eased the door open and slipped inside.
Just as he did, Julia emerged from a door to his right, trailed by several older women. She stopped short, and their eyes met. For several seconds that seemed longer, they stood there looking at each other.
Grant had wanted to see her all day, to talk to her, but she was ensconced in a cocoon of wedding preparations. He would have needed a whole company of his fellow Rangers to get through the obstacles presented by the ladies of Flat Rock.
Anyway, it didn't matter. She was about to get hitched to the man she had come out here to marry. Grant's brief part in her life, exciting though it had been, was over and done with.
Standing there in the rear of the town hall, he summoned up a smile from somewhere, nodded to her, and mouthed, Congratulations.
She gave him a weak smile in return and turned to start up the aisle to where Marshal Henry Everett and a dark-suited preacher were waiting.
Everett had questioned Grant about the holdup and its aftermath, and Grant had stuck to the story that nothing improper had happened between him and Julia. That was the way it had to be.
Nor had he revealed to Everett that he was a Texas Ranger. There was no reason for him to keep that fact from a fellow lawman, but Grant kept it to himself anyway. Just playin' his cards close to the vest, he told himself, the way he usually did, but some of it had to do with the fact that he didn't like Everett.
And he didn't like Everett because the hombre was about to marry Julia Courtland, and something in Grant rebelled at that. It just wasn't right, blast it.
Right or not, it was going to happen. She was most of the way up the aisle now, and Everett, a big grin on his face, waited for her with his left hand stretched out to her, welcoming her to a life of wedded bliss.
Grant drew in a sudden, deep breath, and said, "Son of a—"
Then his long legs carried him quickly up the aisle toward Julia as he called out, "Hold it! Stop the wedding!"
****
Julia couldn't believe what she was hearing. Of course, she was grateful to Grant for everything he had done, but that didn't give him the right to interrupt her wedding this way. She had been about to take Henry's hand, but as Grant stormed up the aisle toward them, she turned and said in a voice as icy as that river they had plunged into, "Mr. Stafford, what do you think you're doing?"
"Savin' you from making the biggest mistake of your life," Grant said. "You can't marry this fella."
The nervous-looking minister swallowed and said, "Marshal…?"
"I'll handle this," Henry snapped. To Grant he said, "Miss Courtland and I don't appreciate this interruption, Stafford. I think you should leave now—"
"Why?" Julia broke in. "Why can't I marry Henry, Grant?"
She really wanted to hear his answer.
"There are two reasons," Grant said. "The first is that you don't need to be marryin' the man responsible for killin' ol' Scalphunter and almost sendin' us across the divide."
"What in blazes are you talking about?" Henry roared. His face was dark with fury now.
"I'm talkin' about that," Grant said. He pointed to Henry's left hand.
Julia looked and saw something she had noticed earlier without really paying much attention to it. Henry had a scar on the back of his left hand shaped like a quarter-moon.
"Yester
day I got a good look at the man the other outlaws called boss," Grant went on. "He had a scar on his left hand identical to that one."
Henry shook his head and said, "That's insane. Lots of men have scars on their hands."
"Like I said, the one I saw was identical. And you admitted you were out of town until late last night, Marshal. Only you weren't chasin' rustlers. You and the rest of your gang were holdin' up that stagecoach."
"I've never heard anything more ridiculous in all my life." Bristling with anger, Henry pointed a finger at Julia and went on, "My future wife was on that stage! Why would I endanger her life like that?"
"Maybe you didn't plan on the team stampedin' like they did and runnin' right off the edge of Devil's Ravine," Grant shot back at him. "Maybe you were willin' to risk it because you knew there was a shipment of money in that express box. Bein' the local law, there's a good chance the banker told you it was comin' in."
One of the men in attendance at the wedding, a stout, white-haired figure, stood up and said, "It's true I told you about that money, Henry."
"What if you did?" Henry said in obvious exasperation. "You can't take anything this man says seriously. He's nothing but a shotgun guard!"
"Oh, I'm a little more than that," Grant said. He reached behind his belt into some sort of concealed pocket and withdrew a badge. It was a silver star set inside a silver circle, and although Julia didn't recognize it, she heard the preacher exclaim, "A Texas Ranger!"
That revelation changed the atmosphere in the room. More people looked at Henry Everett with suspicion in their eyes.
"Maybe you never wanted to get married to start with," Grant said. "The whole thing was set up by other folks. But you had to make a show of lookin' for your lost fiancée, and once you found her, well, there wasn't nothin' left to do except go through with it."
Julia looked at Henry, waiting for him to deny this latest awful accusation. But now he looked more scared than angry, and he said, "You can't prove any of that."
"I don't know. I'm pretty good at huntin' for things. I bet if I took a look around your office or the place you live, I'd find a duster just like the ones those owlhoots were wearin' yesterday. I might even find some of that crisp new bank money from the express box."
"You—"
Henry's face twisted in a snarl as his hand darted under his coat. He wasn't wearing a holstered gun, but as he made his move Julia realized he might have a hidden weapon. People shouted and dived for cover, including the minister, as Grant took a quick step to the side and his hand dropped to the Colt on his hip.
Julia read the guilt and betrayal clearly on Henry's face. Fury like she had never known before surged up inside her. She had always been taken care of, and to preserve that, she had been willing to marry a man she didn't even know, a man who wasn't what he pretended to be. It was time for her to do something about this.
She dropped the bouquet of dried flowers the ladies had given her, laced her fingers together, and swung her clubbed hands as hard as she could across Henry's face. The blow took him completely by surprise as it struck him on the jaw and sent him reeling backward. He tripped and fell, but he managed to hang on to the derringer he pulled out from under his coat.
Only for a second, though. Then Grant's booted foot hit Henry's wrist, and the kick sent the little gun sailing across the hall. Grant pointed his revolver at Henry's face and said, "You sure make it temptin', mister, but I'm still the law. I'll see to it that you hang legal and proper-like for Scalphunter and the rest of the folks killed in those robberies." He glanced around at Julia. "Sorry for, you know, ruinin' your wedding."
"You don't need to apologize," she told him. "I think you just saved my life…again. But there's something I have to know. You said there were two reasons I couldn't marry this man. One was that he's an outlaw…"
"Shoot," Grant said with a grin. "You know the other reason. It's because I love you."
Yes, Julia thought, she knew that. Even after only a day, she knew it, and knew that she loved him.
****
There was no Valentine's Day wedding in Flat Rock. But a month later, there was a wedding as Julia Courtland wed newly sworn-in town marshal Grant Stafford. After running the rest of Everett's gang to ground, Grant had resigned from the Rangers to take on the new job. And by the time the next Valentine's Day rolled around…
Well, a Valentine's Day baby was a pretty good thing, too, wasn't it?
About the Author
Under the names Livia J. Washburn and L.J. Washburn, Livia Reasoner has been writing award-winning, critically acclaimed mystery, western, romance, and historical novels for thirty years. She began to write in collaboration with her husband, author James Reasoner, and soon branched out into telling her own stories. Livia and James have had a long career working together, tweaking and editing each others stories. In recent years she's become involved in the publishing end of the business, producing ebooks and trade paperbacks for Western Fictioneers, and now for Prairie Rose Publications. A good day for her includes having time to create something new in the kitchen, on a story, and designing a great cover. Livia lives in the Texas countryside with her husband, and her dogs. Her website can be found at www.liviawashburn.com, and she blogs when she can find the time at http://liviajwashburn.blogspot.com.
Found Hearts
Cheryl Pierson
An enemy from the past threatens Alex Cameron’s future on the day he’s set to wed mail-order bride Evie Fremont. Can they survive their wedding day?
CHAPTER ONE
People were going to talk. A sardonic grin twisted Alexander Cameron’s lips. He was used to it. They’d talked about him from the day he’d been born, nearly thirty years earlier. His latest cause for gossip—procurement of a mail-order bride and his immediate wedding—was sure to set their tongues wagging again.
He stood inside the train depot doors, away from the bitter February winds. Old 95 would be arriving any moment now, along with his new bride, Miss Evangeline Fremont.
Not for the first time, Alex forced down his doubts. It wasn’t as if this was any kind of love match—the boys needed a mother. If he could have hired a suitable nanny willing to travel to Indian Territory with no expectation of matrimony, he certainly would have done so.
As it had turned out, if Miss Fremont’s answer to his advertisement was true, he had succeeded in finding a lady of some breeding who would be able to rein in the boys and teach them a thing or two. Hopefully, she’d be able to cook, as well…Mrs. Blue would be glad for the relief. She’d come to cook and clean for them every day for many years, but Alex knew that wouldn’t last forever. Mrs. Blue was getting too old for that sort of thing.
It would help if his bride-to-be was pleasing to the eye, but he wouldn’t strain his hopes to that point. It wasn’t as if he expected to bed her beyond that first time, on their wedding night—to make their marriage legal. He would close his eyes and make it as quick as possible.
Though she’d written to describe herself as “average height for a woman, with dark brown eyes and hair,” he expected to see a dumpy woman emerge from the train when it pulled to a stop. He could find no fault with “dark brown eyes and hair” since that description fit him, as well. From far away, Alex heard the familiar whistle of the approaching locomotive. In the next ten minutes, his life would be changed forever. He never would have considered such a thing if it had not been for the boys. It was their desperation that fueled his own.
****
Evangeline Fremont sat stoically in her leather seat, pushing away thoughts of her impending doom. In all her years of growing up, she’d never have believed she could find herself in such a situation as this. What on earth had prompted her to reply to Alexander Cameron’s advertisement?
As much as she’d have liked to have charged it off to a lark, she couldn’t lie to herself any longer. She had had no choice. Mr. Cameron’s advertisement could not have been better timed. With the death of her father last year, it hadn’t
taken her brother, Trey, long at all to manage to spend them so far into debt that their childhood home had to be sold to pay creditors.
Her hands clenched her worn reticule as she thought of it. She made herself relax her fingers, until the whiteness at her knuckles disappeared. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. She should pull on her traveling gloves. The train was gradually slowing.
Anger and disappointment at Trey’s impulsive spending and recklessness gave way now to thoughts of her future. A faint smile touched her lips. She’d been brought up with every advantage money could buy. All in vain. Now, she would be the wife of a country farmer, the mother to his two young sons, Eric and Sage. What did she know about any of it—wife…mother? This was never the way she’d expected her life to turn out.
And…what if it didn’t “turn out”?
The train lurched to a grinding, chugging halt. Self-consciously, Evie took a small mirror from her reticule to have one last look at herself before she stepped off the train and into another life. She was inexorably moving closer to her destiny, whatever it might be. Would Mr. Cameron be pleased with what he saw?
Please, dear God, don’t let him be too objectionable. Let him at least be clean and neat. Don’t let him be a drunkard. And…let him be kind.
She patted an errant strand of her brown hair into place and put the mirror away, then stood.
Very few passengers were moving as if to get off the train here in Talihina. Evie pulled on her gloves, then picked up her valise. She took a deep breath, and started for the front of the passenger car.
The conductor took her valise and handed her down the steps. The porter took the small piece of luggage, then turned to her with a warm smile.
“Did you have any other bags, ma’am? Trunks?”
“Uh—just one.”
She noticed the way his eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. No doubt, he must be wondering why she was traveling so light, alone, and with no wedding ring. But he nodded politely and said, “Certainly.”
