Connie and the Cowboy (Outlaw Gold)

by Mildred Colvin

  “Well, I can now.” She stood, holding her injured arm close to her side and wincing with the pain of moving. “I can’t hold the rifle to shoot, though.”

  Brett sat up and pulled his boots on. “No, you can’t. You can’t ride, either.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Connie’s eyes challenged him. “We don’t have to hide out no more. Nobody’s after us now. How far you reckon the next town is?”

  Brett shrugged. “Probably a couple of hours’ ride.”

  “Good. Let’s get packed up and go. We can get us somethin’ to eat when we get there.”

  Brett combed his fingers through his tousled hair. “We aren’t going anywhere today.”

  “Why not?” Connie turned toward the horses. “I’m fit as a fiddle. If you just saddle Chester for me and help me mount up, I’ll be fine.”

  “Nope.” Brett shook his head. “We’re staying right here until your shoulder heals.”

  “But, Brett—”

  “You heard what I said, Connie. You’re not able to ride.” He touched a gentle hand to her battered face. “Besides, if I took you into town all bruised up like this, people would think I’d been beating you.”

  She held his hand to her cheek with her small, callused right hand. “I don’t care what people think.”

  “But I do.” Brett planted a kiss on top of her golden head, before pulling his hand free. “I’ll see what I can rustle up for breakfast.”

  He turned to get the Sharps rifle when she called to him. “Brett.”

  “What?” He looked back to see a stricken look on her face. “What is it?”

  “I don’t want you to leave me. Please, don’t go.”

  He didn’t understand. She seemed afraid, but they had nothing to fear now. “I’m only going to get us something to eat.”

  “I know, but can you hold me, for just a little bit?” She looked so pitiful holding her injured arm close to her side, her face bruised and swollen.

  Brett set the rifle back down and took her in his arms, drawing her close. “I won’t leave you, Connie. Not for real.”

  “Not ever? Not even when we get to Springfield?” She pulled back enough to see his face.

  “Oh, Angel.” He pulled her close again, speaking near her ear. Wondering where the words came from. Knowing he shouldn’t make any promises, but unable to stop. “Not even then. Remember our wedding? The vows we spoke? Didn’t the preacher say, ‘Whatsoever God hath joined together let no man put asunder?’ That’s from the Bible. Joined together means our marriage. Put asunder means to separate. In so many words nothing should come between a man and woman who have been joined in marriage.”

  “Like we was joined in marriage?” Connie snuggled close in his arms as if she belonged there, and he couldn’t help but believe she did.

  He nodded. “Yes, we’re married. Even though we didn’t plan to be, God honors our vows spoken before him. We’ll still be married when we get to Springfield. We won’t separate.”

  Connie blinked her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. “Do you love me, Brett?”

  Did he love her? How did one fall in love with a stranger in a week? Ah, but had it been only a week? He felt as if they’d traveled the gauntlet from one emotional battering to another until he knew Connie better than he knew another living soul. Did he love her? If the anguish he felt at the thought of separating from her meant anything, the answer was a resounding yes, he loved her.

  “Do you?” Connie persisted.

  All of Brett’s defenses crumbled in the face of his newfound feelings. He hadn’t started out to fall in love. He hadn’t even wanted to, but he knew with a certainty that he had. But what of the scripture that admonished Christians to not be unequally yoked with unbelievers? Did God expect them to separate in spite of what he’d told Connie about their marriage vows being true? Confusion filled Brett’s heart even as he knew without doubt his feelings for Connie were real. Regardless of what happened, he had to tell her the truth.

  He kissed her forehead as she lifted her face to him. He kissed her swollen eyelid, then dropped a gentle kiss on each bruise. When he finished, he smiled down at her. “I love you, Connie. In my heart you are my wife forever. Come what may, I’ll always love you.”

  “Then why don’t we—”

  He covered her soft full lips with his own, effectively blocking the rest of her question. He knew what she wanted, what she had started to ask, but he knew it wasn’t possible. Not yet. Not until he could seek God’s counsel.

  Her blue-violet eyes had a luminescent glow and her lips were softly parted when he stepped back from her. “Because we can’t.” He shook his head. “It wouldn’t be right. Not yet. Besides, you are in no condition for that. Now, I’m going to go find breakfast. I want you to stay here and take care of yourself.”

  He caught up the Sharps rifle again and strode away before she could protest and before he gave in to the temptation she offered.

  ~*~

  Connie watched him go and pain grew in her chest until she thought surely her heart would burst. So this was love? This strange yearning for something that was still a mystery to her? When she was younger—locked in the wardrobe in Maggie’s room—she’d peeked through a crack and seen Maggie with different men. That hadn’t been love. She didn’t understand Maggie, didn’t even care to think of her. Still Maggie knew about things. Being intimate . . . that’s what Maggie said kept a man coming back. How could she keep Brett when he didn’t want her that way?

  What she felt in her heart for Brett was love, and she didn’t ever want to lose him. When they truly joined in marriage, their love would be complete. That was what she longed for. Truly belonging to the man she had come to love above all.

  She let thoughts of the last two days run through her mind, including the attack by Sheriff Burns. He said there was a letter that told who her father was. She needed to find that letter. She searched the saddlebags being careful to use only her good arm and had about despaired of finding it when her fingers touched paper. She couldn’t read the writing on the face of the five-by-seven envelope but she recognized Davis’s handwriting.

  She sat on a boulder holding the envelope in her hand. If the sheriff had been telling the truth, she was holding the full name of the man responsible for her existence. Davis had known her father and he’d never told her. She turned the thick manila envelope over and studied the back. The flap was still sealed. Rose Burns had used the ivory-handled letter opener she always kept in her desk to slit the envelope open.

  She laid the envelope on the boulder beside her. Why’d Davis reveal the man’s name to his sister and not to her? If he knew the identity of the man wouldn’t he have told her? The sheriff had probably lied.

  She took the letter from the boulder and slipped it inside the sling that cradled her left arm. The best thing would be to drop it in the fire and watch it go up in flames. She stood and walked to the campfire. The heat from the glowing coals touched her face as she pulled the letter from the sling. Holding it over the fire, she remembered the day Davis had died. She couldn’t turn loose of his last words.

  Reluctantly she returned the envelope to the sling and walked to the tethered horses. She stroked Chester’s smooth neck with her good hand. “I remember them women they took me to in Springfield when Davis died. They mailed this here letter, Chester. They’s another letter with it. They said it was addressed, To Whom it May Concern. I remember they read what Davis had writ, but they didn’t read it to me.”

  She moved on to Fugitive and stroked his long neck while she continued talking. “They said, ‘He wants this letter posted to his sister in Purgatory, Arkansas. And he asks us to send the girl to her on the stagecoach. Her fare’s enclosed.’”

  The big bay turned his head and looked at her. She laughed and went to him. “You’re quality horseflesh, too, ain’t ya, big boy?” She rubbed his nose as he seemed to nod his head in answer.

  “So, that’s what them good Christian women don
e. They decked me out in the ugliest clothes they could find, told me to keep myself pure, handed me a black book and said it were a Bible. Then they sent me to Purgatory.” She laughed again. “At the first way station I traded that Bible for my huntin’ knife. I purely knew that black book wasn’t gonna do me no good since I couldn’t read it nohow, but I reckoned that knife just might.”

  Fugitive nudged her from behind. She turned with a smile. “I reckon you need attention, too, don’t you, feller?” She scratched behind his ears. “I wouldn’t want you gettin’ jealous.” She sighed deeply. “I shorely do love your boss. And I reckon whatever it says in this here letter, he has a right to know. After all we’re married all legal like. He says even God honors our weddin’ vows. He already knows about Maggie, and he knows I never had no daddy. What could Davis have writ that would be any worse than that?”

  She walked over to her own saddlebags. “I’ll just have him read this here letter to me tonight after we eat.”

  “Connie!” Brett called as he ran into the clearing.

  “I’m here.” She shoved the letter into her saddlebags and hurried to meet him. “Did you shoot a deer?”

  “Something better.” Brett grinned. “Soon as we eat, I have something to show you.”

  Chapter 12

  Connie carried one of the dresses Mrs. Sallee had given her because Brett insisted she needed it. What could he have found? Were there other people here? That didn’t make sense. She ought to change before meeting someone. Not after.

  Brett turned to grin at her before brushing the tree limbs aside and letting her pass. “What do you think?”

  Connie stepped past him and looked in wonder at the steam rising from the pool of water in front of her. “Hot springs! Oh, Brett, I can’t believe it. A hot bath. Now I know why you made me bring a change of clothes. I can wash our dirty ones here, too.”

  Grinning at her obvious pleasure, Brett took her dress and laid it with his clothing on a large boulder beside the spring. “The hot water will ease the pain in your shoulder.”

  In no time, they stripped down to their underwear and submerged themselves to their necks in the soothing warmth of the water. Brett undid Connie’s braid and shampooed her hair with her perfumed soap. She lay back while his strong fingers massaged her scalp, letting the warmth soak into her worn muscles and aching shoulder.

  “I wish we could stay here forever.”

  “It is nice.” Brett gave a little tug on her hair. “Tip your head back so I can rinse the soap out.”

  She did as he commanded, relaxing while he worked. Water flowed over her head, and Brett’s fingers soothed her as he rinsed the soap away.

  “Your hair is as pale as moonbeams. Like silk and shiny, too, as if it has a light of its own. You are so beautiful, my very own angel.” His softly spoken words flowed into her heart, warming her as the water warmed her body.

  She slipped her good arm around his neck. “Wouldn’t you like to stay here with me forever, Brett? Just you and me alone together like that first man and woman you read to me about in your Bible.”

  “So you have been listening.” He smiled. “You mean Adam and Eve.”

  “Uh, huh.” She nodded. “They was all alone in the Garden of Eden.” She stepped closer to him, looking around at the pool, an outcropping of rock and green grass surrounding the water, then to the trees beyond. “This place is beautiful like that garden they was in, don’t you think?”

  Brett drew her close. His head lowered until he took her lips for his own. The kiss was long, sweet, and too short. “If you’re finished here, we need to get back to camp.”

  Connie sighed. Brett wasn’t completely hers. He never would be if he kept pulling away. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t know what to do except follow him to shore. “Reckon I need to wash our dirty things.”

  Brett shook his head. “Not this time. You go ahead and soak some more while I do the laundry.”

  Connie turned back to the water. First he said to go back to camp then he said to stay. He for sure didn’t know what he wanted, but the water sure felt good on her shoulder. Brett washed their clothes and spread them to dry on a bush in the warm sun. She didn’t ever figure to see a man doing her laundry. After he finished, Brett sat down on the grass and leaned against the large boulder near the water. Connie lay back to float. She thought of the man and woman in the Bible they’d been talking about. They’d sure had it nice. Then a thought occurred to her and she sat up.

  “Brett.”

  “What?” His voice sounded like he wasn’t really paying attention. His hat covered his eyes.

  “Adam and Eve wasn’t married.”

  He straightened and thumbed his hat to the back of his head. “Adam and Eve were married from the time God created them.”

  “How could they be? There wasn’t no preacher there.”

  “God married them.” His gaze held hers as she stepped from the pool. “You remember when God brought her to him, Adam said, ‘This is now bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh. Therefore shall a man leave his father and his mother, and shall cleave unto his wife; and they shall be one flesh.’ The preacher used that passage in our marriage ceremony.”

  “Reckon I wasn’t listenin’.” She smiled and perched on the boulder beside him.

  He leaned back.

  “Are you gonna leave your folks for me, Brett?”

  He smiled. “After God, you will always be first in my life.”

  “That makes me second. How come I can’t be first?” She sounded like a spoiled brat, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to be first with Brett.

  His face held no smile when he looked at her. “God is a jealous God. He demands first place, and He deserves to be above all. Without Him we would not exist.”

  Connie wasn’t sure she understood. God made the world. That much was easy. But she wanted Brett’s love all for her very own. She’d wait. When they became truly married, he’d change his mind. He wouldn’t leave her then neither.

  Brett pushed up from the ground. “It’s time we headed back. Why don’t you change into your dress while I gather our things? We’ll come back this evening before we go to bed so you can soak again.”

  He turned his back while she changed, and together they walked back to camp. For the next two days, Connie spent a couple of hours, twice a day, soaking in the hot springs. In between, Brett taught her the alphabet and how to read a few simple words. Each evening, he read stories to her from the Bible.

  The third evening, before they settled down for the night, Connie sat snuggled in the circle of Brett’s arm.

  Connie let out a contented sigh. “I shore do like this here place. I hate the thought of havin’ to leave come mornin’.”

  Brett brushed his lips across her forehead. “Not me.”

  She straightened to see him better. “How come? I thought you liked bein’ here with me.”

  “I do, but I’m anxious to see my family, too.”

  The eagerness in his voice sent a chill of warning down her back.

  Connie slumped against Brett’s warmth. “Your family’s gonna hate me.”

  “Why would you say something like that?” Brett hugged her close. “They’re going to love you. Why wouldn’t they? You saved my life twice.”

  “I didn’t do it for them.” Connie grumbled.

  Brett laughed, then stopped short with a quick intake of air.

  Connie jerked away. “What’s the matter?”

  “My folks. They think I’m dead. I told them in the letter I had you mail that I was going to be hanged.”

  “Then they won’t be lookin’ for you.” The quick grin that covered Connie’s face froze when he didn’t smile. “Reckon we have to go see ’em anyhow, though.”

  “Of course, we’ll go see them. I hate to think of the pain they’ve suffered because of that letter.”

  “Guess you wish you hadn’t sent it then.” She eyed him, hoping to find forgiveness for what she’d done.

&
nbsp; “Yeah, but wishes don’t help.”

  Maybe he wouldn’t be mad at her. “I didn’t post your letter.”

  “What?” Brett looked into her eyes as if trying to ferret out the truth. “You didn’t send it? Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I burnt it when I set the Burnett house afire.”

  Brett laughed aloud and hugged her tight. “The Lord moves in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform. I’ve caused my family enough heartache. I’m glad they were spared that final pain.”

  Talk of Brett’s letter reminded Connie of the one Davis wrote to his sister. What better time to find out what was in it? “Brett, I was just thinkin’ if I had a letter that Davis writ to his sister, Rose Burns, do you reckon we should read it?”

  Brett looked down at her, one eyebrow lifted. “Since both Davis and his sister are gone, I don’t think it would be wrong.”

  “No, I don’t reckon it would be wrong in that way.” She looked away before going on. “I mean I have this here letter I found in Burns’s saddlebags. He told me it’s got the name of my father in it. I just don’t know . . .” She took a deep breath, letting it out in a rush. “Oh well, he was probably lyin’ to me, anyhow.”

  “Do you want me to read Davis’ letter to you?” Brett’s voice was gentle.

  “Yes and no. I reckon I’m afeered you’ll find out somethin’ about me that’ll make you not like me.”

  ~*~

  Brett put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face to his. Her bruises were beginning to fade to a greenish-yellow. Her beauty filled his soul as the love shining from her eyes filled his heart. He kissed her upturned lips. He longed to make her truly his wife, but knew he couldn’t. Not yet. Not until he knew their marriage could be in unity under God’s approval. Still, he couldn’t keep from saying, “Nothing anyone wrote in a letter could ever take away my love for you.”

  She smiled. “I’ll get the letter.”

  She hurried back, handed the large envelope to Brett, and sat on the other side of the campfire facing him, as if afraid to get too close. To him or the letter? Brett wasn’t sure which. He removed the sheaf of papers. “There is another envelope inside. Feels like it has a picture in it. Do you want to see it before I read the letter?”