Winning the Lady (Book 4 of the Red River Valley Brides)

by Hestand, Rita

  "You're kidding." Her eyes grew big and round.

  "No, I'm not."

  "Well, aren't you just the virgin of virgins."

  "Would it surprise you to know I was once the same as you?"

  Maria gasped. "Shock is more like it. You!"

  "Yeah, me! And not so very long ago."

  "What happened?"

  "Some friends of mine in the business decided we were gonna become real ladies and become mail-order brides. I came to Veda to find a husband. Purposely. I took Chester. Don't ask me why. I guess I had my head on crooked or something. I took one look at Chester as saw security. Boy, was I ever wrong. He gambled me away to Gil."

  "Girl, you are something! Married to Chester, thrown in a poker game to Gil? What is next with you?"

  "I don't know. But it sure is an adventure." She giggled.

  Gil had been a concerned partner. He checked on her several times a day and doctored her at night as best he could. The first night, he spoon-fed her some chicken broth. Naturally he wanted her downstairs with him, while he played poker, she had to get well. But Trish never expected him to dote on her.

  She felt almost pampered, but she was a valuable commodity for him. They were partners, and they had a deal. That was the only reason he was concerned, she told herself.

  A couple of nights later, he came into her room and lit one lamp by her bed. He moved her chin. Her gown barely hid her, but he seemed to pay no mind. Why?

  She pretended to be asleep, and had her eyes closed.

  She opened her eyes slowly, knowing by the way he walked it was him. Her fear of him was replaced by respect.

  "I thought you would be downstairs?"

  "I have been. Just checking on you. You think you can hide it with make-up?" he asked.

  "Yes, the ice has helped a lot," she assured him.

  He nodded. "Good, then we'll be moving tomorrow. Are you up to that?"

  "Yes. Of course." She tried to rise up, but he gently pushed her back down.

  "Don't get up. I want you as rested as much as possible before we leave. I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry I under estimated him too. We'll travel by stage out of here. It's a long ride and not very comfortable."

  She listened to the eight day clock on the dresser. "Did you have a late game."

  "Yeah, later than usual."

  "And did you win?"

  "It was a big game. And yes, I came out ahead." He smiled.

  "Then maybe you don't need me," she whispered, not knowing how she felt about that.

  "I need you." His eyes grew expressive. "Now, rest easy. I know it's hard for you to trust a man, after what you've been through, but I'm not reneging on our deal, Trish. We're going to Ft. Worth. And I must warn you, that town is not tame by any means. I want you close to me at all times. I don't want to have to worry over you, okay? Let me do most of the talking on the trip. You never know about characters on a stage. They come from all directions."

  She nodded and stared out the window into the street. "I can take care of myself… but I'll do as you say."

  "In most cases I'd say you are right. You could take care of yourself. But not now. No woman can these days, and Chester proved my point. So stay close," he whispered. "We are a team, and we have to work together. We're a good team, Trish. But we won't continue to be if I have to worry about your safety. Just stay close."

  Before he left her, he bent and kissed her on the forehead.

  Trish was left quite shocked. Gil never showed any emotions toward her, and his action puzzled her. Not that it wasn't flattering, but she wasn't prepared for it.

  Her innermost feelings had nothing to do with good sense. Her heart thumped like a drum, so loud she was sure he could hear it. She didn't welcome the womanly feelings that a kiss stirred. But she almost certain that it was merely an act of compassion, nothing more..

  His kiss was meant to comfort and reassure her and she knew that without a doubt, but she couldn't stop her own reactions from it, either. Had she looked so pathetic that she needed that kind of reassurance?

  After he left, she sunk back into the bed, wondering why her heart had reacted so.

  She lay there in the dark, trying to figure out the man she had made the bargain with. It wasn't him that bothered her so much, but her own reaction to him. Tonight, for a second, she felt her heart melting. Tonight, she felt something growing between them that hadn't been there before. Like a silver thread, it weaved its magic through her. It scared her. What would happen when her time with him was up? Where would she go? What would she do? She hadn't contemplated because three years had at first seemed a long time. Now, it seemed… not long enough.

  Later, he came back and checked on her. She was sitting up in her bed in the dark.

  "What are you doing up? You should be sleeping," he said softly.

  "You weren't at a poker game. The one thing I can usually tell about a man, is when he is lying. I can tell when you lie, your eyes avoid me. It's the one time you don't hold a poker face. So tell me, where were you? Have a late date with a beautiful lady, or something? You can tell me, I'm not upset, only that you felt you had to lie to me."

  He stared through the darkness at her but did not come close. "No… it was more… or something."

  "You aren't going to tell me?" she asked huskily.

  "Not now. Maybe another day." He turned to leave again.

  "Should I get the papers for Chester drawn up before we leave?"

  "There's no rush, is there?"

  Pride concealed her frustrations. Gil didn't see the need for her divorce, but she was impatient now. Not that she wanted to be with Chester, but she didn't want this hanging over her head any longer. Now more than ever, she wanted her freedom from Chester. She couldn't expect Gil to understand it, she didn't understand it either.

  "No, no rush," she answered in a low voice, her disappointment resounding.

  He paused a moment and came toward her. "I know you want it over and done with, but be patient. All in good time."

  "I guess I have three years, don't I?" She moved so he couldn't see her face.

  He sat by the bed. Only a sheet lay between them. "You were never married to him, you know."

  "Of course I was. It was legal."

  He pulled her chin about and stared into the darkness at her. "You were never his."

  Her heart thundered in her ears at his nearness. "No, I've never belonged to any man."

  He nodded. "You're a damn good lady, Trish. I promise I won't let anyone hurt you again."

  She thought she saw blood on his knuckles, but he moved so quickly she couldn't be sure. Had he been in some kind of fight? Trish wanted desperately to know where he'd been, but he seemed bent on not telling her.

  She wished she could see his eyes, read what was in them, but it was too dark.

  "Now, get some rest," he said softly.

  She nodded and laid down once more.

  Chapter Six

  The next day, Gil seemed in a rush to get out of the hotel or out of town. Trish didn't argue. He knew what he was doing, and she trusted him.

  Trusted him!

  When had that happened? Just because he didn't take advantage of her when she was down didn't mean she could rely on him. In three years, she would be alone again. And yet, trust grew between them every day and it astounded her.

  She had to be careful though. She'd thought Chester a good man, she'd been wrong. She might be wrong about Gil too.

  They caught the stage to Ft. Worth with two well-dressed men. One was a salesman of some kind, the other a businessman. The salesman was dressed in a suit that only a city dude would wear, with a top hat on his head. The other wore a dress suit, and looked more like a banker than anything with his satchel close to his side. They chatted up Gil about the territory and the changes in the area.

  They both eyed Trish for a long while. "This your missus?" the salesman finally asked.

  "Yes," Gil answered, shooting Trish a quick glance.

>   Trish smiled at the men.

  But for some reason, Trish had an eerie feeling. It was the snide way the two men looked at her off and on, as though they knew the truth.

  Perhaps she was feeling guilty about the lies.

  Trish needed to examine herself mentally. She was letting herself rely on Gil's skills and intelligence. Gil was a well-traveled, self-educated man. He gambled on everything, but she felt his hunches were right most of the time.

  Despite the fact that she did relatively nothing most of the time, she felt she contributed to Gil's confidence, and he admitted that much to her. It gave her a sense of worth, value.

  "So, Mrs. Davis, where are you headed?" the salesman asked, watching her closely.

  " Ft. Worth," she answered, not daring to glance at Gil. He had created the lie about them being married, and she intended to support it.

  "Now that's a town, however, it is rather wild there. I would think Dallas would be better suited for a woman." The gentleman with the satchel smiled sardonically.

  "That's why I'm traveling with my husband. I won't be far from his side at any time." She smiled demurely. "I'm sure he can take care of any problems that may arise. Ft. Worth offers more opportunities at the gambling tables."

  Gil glanced at her, and again something passed between them that had no name.

  "There are lots of saloons there," the man encouraged more from her.

  "So I've heard."

  "You must have quite an adventuresome wife to dare take her to Ft. Worth." The businessman clutched the satchel by his side.

  Gil glanced at the man then his satchel. "Trish loves the excitement of a busy town."

  The easy way he used her first name around them had them backing off a bit.

  "You'll have to have dinner with us some time." The business man looked right at Trish.

  Gil caught his attention. "Perhaps. So what do you sell, sir?" He put his arm around Trish, as he scrutinized the other man.

  "Liquor, of course. That's why I'm going to Ft. Worth. There's a lot of money to be made there, and a great need for my merchandise. Cowboys like to gamble and drink." The salesman looked eager to talk about his trade. But the business man's eyes widened, and his smile curled his lip against his nose.

  "I have a huge case on top this coach full of samples."

  Gil nodded. "I didn't get your name."

  "Oh, it's Pete Fleming. My card sir." He produced a card from his pocket in his suit and handed it to Gil. "Let's hope they make it to Ft. Worth without getting broken. I told the driver to be very careful of it." The man smiled confidently.

  Trish didn't care for either man, and she tried her best to ignore them for the rest of the trip.

  When the stage came through a desolate area, they spied burnt buildings of what used to be a small community. Smoke still billowed through the air. The smell and taste of charred wood lent an eeriness to the place.

  "Indians?" the businessman asked, glancing at Gil.

  "That'd be my guess, yes." Gil looked about the place, then back at the salesman. "I didn't get your name either, sir."

  "Frank Myers, I'm an accountant." The man moved to shake Gil's hand.

  "I'm Gil Davis and this is my wife, Trish. I think I better get out and look around. The driver might need my help here. If you'll excuse me."

  ~*~

  Bodies, half buried by ruin, and smoke still coming from a half chimney told Gil the massacre happened recently, within a few hours.

  The driver jumped down from his seat and joined him.. "We'll be watering the horses and checking for anyone left alive. If you want to help, now is the time."

  Gil stretched himself. He quickly shed his jacket and hat and rolled up his sleeves.

  The others got out of the stagecoach and wandered around, while the driver tended to the horses first.

  Gil's eyes scanned the horizon of death. He began walking down the street where saloons, banks, and even a church once stood.

  The land was still, too still. The sense that death still lurked gave him an edgy feeling.

  As Gil came across a couple of homes that were burned, he noticed something moving. There was a woman in the rubble. Her hand was moving but that was all.

  He went to pull her from the rubble, but one look told him she was about to die. She grasped his hand, and her eyes searched his.

  "My baby… Did you get my baby?" she moaned.

  Gil looked about. Not more than five feet away was the body of a child, a rag doll in its hand.

  "Yes… yes, we got her…" Gil answered, his voice strained from the site. He felt the lady needn't suffer any more than she already had. Trish squatted beside him, offering her water, which she could not sip.

  "Good… Thank you…" The woman cried, and her head turned. Her eyes stared. She was dead.

  Gil laid her down.

  Trish stood, tears running down her face. "That was a nice thing you did."

  "What?" he questioned, not looking at her but the dead child.

  "Telling her you saved her child. To a woman, that is very important. She died in peace," Trish murmured. "All because of your lie. You know, sometimes lying is helpful."

  "We need to form a burial detail." Gil ignored the compliment. "Trish, see if there are some shovels on the stage."

  "Sure." She swallowed hard.

  Gil wasn't prone to emotional outbursts, but a dead child made him choke back his reactions..

  The driver and shotgun rider helped Gil bury the woman and little girl. There were several dead, and each one they dug graves for.

  The salesman glanced around, his hands fidgeting. "Are we gonna be movin' on soon?" He wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

  Gil grabbed him by the collar. "Listen, Mr. Myers, these people died here. Doesn't mean we're gonna leave them for the buzzards. Now, since you can't dirty that suit of yours to help, get back in that stage and shut up."

  "Y-yes… I didn't mean any disrespect." The man gasped and shot Gil a look of pure panic.

  Gil walked over to Trish. He didn't realize that tears rolled down her cheek until he saw what she was looking at. The minister of the church lay a few feet away holding a bible in one hand, but the look on his face was not of terror, but peace and love.

  "At least he knew a peace." Gil took Trish back to the stage.

  The stage driver called to them, "We're ready to roll. This didn't happen long ago, so we can't afford to stay here long. Might be some scouts out double checking the place, to make sure they killed everyone."

  "Very well," Gil agreed, his voice full of concern. No one could be sure all were buried, but the task was too daunting and there really wasn't time for it now. Perhaps someone else would finish the job later.

  "Fill your canteens and get back inside. We are leavin' while we still can."

  The shotgun rider held ammunition from the general store out to them, and Gil and the stagecoach driver grabbed some.

  "This sure might come in handy." The driver looked at Gil.

  "I agree. " Gil nodded and got back inside the coach.

  "You gentlemen keep your guns handy. We might need it. We don't know which way those Indians went. We got to keep our eyes peeled." Gil started to hand them some ammunition.

  "Oh, I never carry a gun." Myers said staring at the bullets in Gil's hand."

  "And you are going to Ft. Worth?" Gil looked incredulous at the man.

  Gil knew their kind. Big important men, except when it came to trouble. Most men would have labeled them cowards. Gil didn't like to label any man, but these two showed little compassion for the deaths they were leaving behind and it grated.

  Gil shot Trish a quick look, evidently she had the same sentiments as he. "Here's our canteens, honey. Hold onto to them." He handed two to Trish and saw the look of distress on her face. "There wasn't time, Trish. The driver was right, we needed to get out of there."

  ~*~

  Trish nodded. She noted the endearment, but realized it had to be
for the benefit of the passengers and driver.

  Trish handed one canteen to the men and kept the other one.

  The two men wiped the sweat from their brows and took a drink. They drank greedily, and Trish felt compelled to warn them, "Use it sparingly. That's all you will get until we get where we are going. I heard the driver say we weren't stopping any more until we got to Ft. Worth"

  Myers studied her a moment, then handed the canteen to his friend next to him.

  Gil checked his gun, and made sure it was loaded.

  "It felt good to stretch my legs. But I sure wasn't expecting something like that there." Trish looked at Gil.

  He nodded.

  "How long ago were they here?" she whispered.

  "Not long, maybe a couple of hours," he answered in a low tone.

  "Will they come back?" Her eyes scanned the horizon.

  "Not usually. Especially when they destroy the entire community. But you never know. They could have scouts out checking things too. And it depends on why they attacked in the first place. I haven't heard anything about any uprising lately, but if the driver was nervous that's enough for me, he knows this territory better than we do."

  She nodded and closed her eyes for a moment.

  "Are you tired?"

  "A little," She admitted.

  He pulled her close so she could rest against him.

  Her heart fluttered. Being in his arms felt like a haven.

  The men continued to stare at her, and she wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. She hated it when old men gawked at her like that. Perhaps it was from the memory of her father. Whatever it was, it sent chills up her spine.

  Annoyed that they didn't have any manners, she muttered aloud, "Gentlemen, if I were you I'd be watching out the windows, rather than stare at me."

  "I'm sorry. It's just you look so familiar," Myers said.

  "I assure you, sir, we have not met." She cringed. Could he have seen her from Al's? Could he have even been a customer at one time? She didn't remember his face. "And my husband doesn't like men to gawk at me. He's a very jealous man."