Benjamin's Bride (Hero Hearts; Lawmen's Brides Book 2)

by Natalie Dean

  “Can the bank president be trusted? Mrs. Cravner said that she got the loan for her dressmaker’s shop because the Townsends convinced the bank president to lend her the money.”

  “I’ve never heard of any mischief going on between Orville Kern and the Townsends,” Benjamin said slowly. “But if you’re not confident that these papers will be safe, we’ll find somewhere else to hide them. They’ll be safe, and you’ll be safe too. You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded, almost overcome with the wave of trust that rushed over her at the realization that this seasoned lawman was guaranteeing her safety in his town.

  “Can you be happy here?” he asked. “Even with knowing that Knox Mills is full of Townsends?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you be happy with me?” he pressed.

  “Oh, yes,” she said emphatically. “I have no doubt about that.”

  “Well then,” Benjamin said serenely, “I guess it’s us against them.”

  Mary-Lee took his arm. “I’d kiss you,” she said, “right here on this path, where anyone could see us, if I dared.”

  “Dare you,” he teased.

  “But what would people say?” she inquired of him, lowering her eyelids as if such a thought were not to be thought of.

  “I reckon they’d think that Deputy Marshal Graves was a right lucky young man.”

  “But . . .” she played with the end of her braid, “if I’m to convince the townspeople that I would be a suitable schoolteacher, I cannot risk my reputation.”

  Deputy Marshal Benjamin Graves didn’t give two bits for what the townspeople thought as he swept his petite wife into an embrace that risked suffocating her as he held her against his chest. Nor did he care what anyone thought when he bent over her and pressed his lips against hers for a long, searching kiss that surely didn’t belong in the broad daylight. As she stood on the tips of her toes to meet his kiss, Mary-Lee forgot about the proper conduct for a schoolteacher.

  If anyone had come by at that moment, neither Benjamin nor Mary-Lee would have noticed. When they at last separated, the color in Mary-Lee’s ivory skin was as red as her lips. Benjamin’s eyes gleamed with a fervid satisfaction that informed his wife, entirely without speech, that the day was going to continue in the same manner once they were in their own bedroom with the door shut behind them.

  They made the rest of the trip with stolen kisses and flirting, courting one another as they had not been able to do before they met because they married as strangers acquainted only through letters. But now, with passion in full force and the liberty of a day to themselves, they were drunk on their desire. Benjamin lifted her into his arms and opened the door to the house.

  “What on earth—?” Benjamin said.

  Then he swore. Mary-Lee gasped.

  The kitchen was in turmoil. The metal plates and utensils were strewn on the floor. The ceramic mugs had been smashed and broken. The pans that had been hanging so neatly by the fireplace had been thrown to the floor as well.

  Then they both heard the sound of horses outside. Benjamin peered out the window and instantly, a bullet shattered the glass. He pulled Mary-Lee to the floor, his body over hers so that she would be safe. Their eyes met in a pledge of unity; he saw that Mary-Lee was frightened, but she was mad as well. He had married a fighter. Even as the shots continued, his gaze held hers, willing her to trust him and rely upon him for protection.

  When the shooting stopped, Benjamin grabbed his gun and strode to the front door, opening it, taking aim and firing with pinpoint accuracy before any of the gunmen realized what was happening. His target yelled in pain as blood began to flow from the wound to the shoulder. Fool, Benjamin thought with satisfaction, sitting astride his horse just waiting to be a target.

  “Stay inside,” he said to Mary-Lee as he took aim again. “Don’t come out.”

  He had the man at the head of the pack in his sights, and Benjamin didn’t miss when he shot. The leader, having seen that Deputy Marshal Graves’ aim was true, called out to the men to put down their weapons.

  “Who are you?” Benjamin demanded. “Who sent you?”

  Even though the leader had called off the shooting, he hadn’t lost his swagger. “You stole Lance Townsend’s woman,” he jeered. “The Townsends don’t take kindly to that.”

  “Is that so? Well, here in Texas, we don’t take kindly to men forcing women to marry them.”

  The leader continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But I have a message for you. Others will be coming for you. You won’t see them coming, but at any minute, a bullet is waiting for you. You’ll hear a twig crack, and for an instant, you’ll think it’s one of us firing. You’ll hear—"

  “You do it and the last thing you’ll hear is the sound of your neck breaking from the noose that’s tied around it,” Benjamin retorted. “A smart man doesn’t kill a deputy marshal unless he wants to face down a posse made up of U.S. marshals out for vengeance.”

  “But just to show that he’s a reasonable man,” the leader continued, “he’s willing to accept something in exchange for your life. You talk to that pretty little wife of yours. She knows what we’re talking about. All she has to do is give up what she’s hiding, and the Townsends are prepared to let her go.”

  “Is that so?” Benjamin said in a conversational tone. “I’ve got a nice, long stretch of rope waiting for you. I think I’ll make a noose of it so that I don’t have to waste any time once I find a tree that’s just right for a hanging. Now you get off my property and take your threats with you. If Lance Townsend has a grievance with me, tell him to be man enough to face me instead of sending his lackeys out to do his killing for him.”

  It was, he knew, an empty threat; he was one man against seven. But they were unlikely to want an altercation against a deputy marshal when they knew that the consequences might go further than old Abel Townsend could shield them.

  Lacking an answer to this slur against Lance Townsend’s courage, the leader dug his boots into his horse’s side and he and the others rode away, shooting off their weapons as they went in a show of bravado. Benjamin stayed out front, his weapon ready in his hand, watching, until they vanished over the crest of the hill and out of his eyesight. Then he stayed outside for a little while longer, trying to process the information that Mary-Lee had provided with the actions that had taken place just now.

  Gold mines. A forced marriage. The Townsends. Gus Jameson. There were a lot of strands in this spider’s web, and Benjamin didn’t much care for feeling like a trapped fly.

  He went inside. If Mary-Lee had any more information that she’d kept back, he needed to know about it. What would have happened if he hadn’t returned to the house today and Mary-Lee had been alone?

  When he entered the house, Mary-Lee was standing by the door. She had one of his rifles in her hands, and it was the first thing he saw upon entering.

  “You know how to shoot?”

  “If you were one of them, I figure I didn’t have to aim, I just had to pull the trigger,” she answered.

  Gently, he took the rifle from her hand, put it down, then took her into his arms. She was shaking. He didn’t say anything as he held her. This wasn’t a time for passion; it was a time for reassurance. She was a brave little thing, and he had no doubt that she’d have shot at anyone who had intruded. But teaching her to defend herself would come later.

  “Don’t be scared, hon,” he said. She was so petite that her head fit under his chin with space left over. He buried his lips in her lovely hair. “They’re trying to scare us. Don’t be scared. You’re not alone, you know. I know that you’re a brave woman, but this isn’t just your battle now. It’s mine, too. We’re married, remember?”

  “I’m not scared,” she said, stung by his assessment. “I’m mad. How dare they come into my home and try to take my belongings? This is my home; these are my plates and cups now, and I could shoot every last one of them straight through the heart and show up for church on Sunday morning with
a conscience as pure as an angel’s wing. I’m mad. I don’t need you or anyone else to keep me safe. I’ve done for myself since I was twelve years old, and I’m not going to turn into a swooning damsel now.”

  That was quite a speech. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but he suspected that Mary-Lee was so scared that she preferred to be angry rather than frightened. “We need to talk,” he said, as he led her into the parlor.

  The room was bright with sunlight. Mary-Lee’s housewifely eye saw that if she didn’t make curtains soon, the sunlight would be overwhelming. But for this moment, it was a relief to be bathed in light, as she remembered, shaking more, the dark, rainy night when she had seen her father for the last time. She had grown up determined never to be frightened again, and she’d kept to that vow. Until today. Now here she was, trembling like a child.

  Mary-Lee straightened up. “I told you everything,” she said in an abrupt tone.

  What was wrong with her? Benjamin’s eyes narrowed. All of a sudden she was acting like the shooting was his fault.

  “I reckon you think you did,” he said, keeping his tone mild with an effort. “But if we’re going to figure this thing out and keep it from happening again, you need to tell me everything. Even if it doesn’t seem important.” He managed a smile. “I don’t think we need to stand up to do it, hon, and a gentleman doesn’t sit while a lady is standing.”

  Impatiently, she sat down on the nearest chair. With a bow, Benjamin sat down beside her. It occurred to him that he ought to start working on making another chair. Carpentry wasn’t exactly his strongest talent; maybe it would be all right to hire someone to do the work. Custis Calhoun was said to be handy with a hammer and saw, and since he’d gone crippled from a stampede a few years ago, he couldn’t ranch anymore. Next time he passed the cabin where the Calhouns lived, he’d stop and see what the man charged for his work.

  “I want them to die!” Mary-Lee’s voice, quivering with rage, broke into his thoughts.

  “Well, hon, that won’t happen without evidence.”

  “They broke in. They set foot on our land. They broke into my home. I want them dead. And I want them to suffer while they’re dying.”

  “Tell me what you know,” he said. He got up and found the bottle of brandy that he kept in his desk. Medicinal. “Have a sip of this.”

  “I don’t drink.”

  “It’ll buck you up,” he said, putting the bottle to her lips.

  Mary-Lee coughed and choked, pushing the bottle away. “I’d rather face the guns,” she said, as tears formed in her eyes.

  Benjamin chuckled. “Is that so?” he asked, putting the bottle away. “I don’t know as I agree, but it’s reassuring to know that my wife isn’t a drunkard.”

  Strangely enough, the brandy did seem to have a bracing effect, even though it had a terrible taste. Mary-Lee, her composure returning, placed her arms on the sides of the chair. “I told you everything,” she said again. She was relieved that she had done so before this episode. Benjamin might have been angry at her, and justifiably so, had he been involved in the violence without any notion of its roots.

  “Tell me about your uncle,” he said, his voice calm and measured as if they were discussing any of the ordinary events which might comprise a typical conversation between a husband and a wife.

  “This isn’t my uncle’s doing, much as I’d like to see him bitten by a nest of rattlesnakes and writhing in his death throes,” she answered. “This is Lance Townsend. And now that Lance is in Knox Mills and planning to run for mayor—“

  “I know all about that,” Benjamin said. “But before I go to Jack and fill him in on what happened, I want the full story.

  Chapter 10

  “I don’t see why I have to run and hide like a coward,” Mary-Lee objected as they neared the sheriff’s office, where Jack Walker and Carson Harlow were waiting for Benjamin. Piper Walker was standing out front so that she and Mary-Lee could do a bit of shopping. Mary-Lee didn’t see the need to shop now when she was riled and mad and frightened all at the same time because of the shooting that had taken place the day before. She despised herself for her fear. During the night, she had awakened, crying, from a nightmare. Benjamin’s arms had folded around her, and he had held her until she fell asleep again.

  Needing his strength was almost as unsettling as the fear that roiled within her. She was not a weak, lily-livered female, who trembled at the first sign of danger. She was the daughter of a Texas Ranger. She’d said as much that morning to Benjamin when he told her that he wasn’t leaving her by herself while he went to work. To which he’d replied that she was also the niece of Augustus Jameson and that carried a threat that paternity couldn’t counterweigh. He had ignored the glare she gave him, nodded approvingly when she donned her blue hat with the concealed gold mine deeds, and hidden a smile while she, in a fit of temper, refused his assistance getting into the wagon.

  “Mary-Lee,” he said, “don’t be foolish. The Townsends are trouble, and you’re not going to be set out to bait them. I want you safe. You’re my wife. If you wanted to marry a man who didn’t want defend you, you should have picked someone else. I’m a lawman, that’s what I do.” He got out of the wagon and came around to her side, patiently holding out his arms to help her down.

  “That’s not what I wanted,” she answered, her voice so low that he almost couldn’t hear her.

  Benjamin smiled. “Good. Now you go with Piper Walker, and I’ll talk with Jack and Carson, and we’ll figure out what we’re going to do next.”

  “We could just give them the deeds,” she said nervously. She had given the matter a great deal of thought during the troubled wakefulness that had interrupted her sleep. She didn’t need the gold mines; she’d gotten along fine without them all these years. Give them to Lance Townsend, and she’d be free of his menace.

  “That’s not what your father wanted,” Benjamin reminded her. The deeds to gold mines meant nothing to him; he was a wealthy man in his own right. But the gold mines were her property, for her to use. That was her father’s bequest to her. It was Benjamin’s responsibility, as her husband, to defend that legacy, and he intended to do just that. Not only that, but it went against his nature to capitulate to a cur like Townsend, who would fight a woman. Rabid dogs needed to be put down. “Besides,” he went on, “do you really think that Lance Townsend will stop just because he gets the mines? People like that are rotten through and through, Mary-Lee. If they aren’t put down, they just spread their venom. This is a new state, Texas; we’ve got our share of problems, but we’re free here, and we’ll only hold onto that freedom if we hold off barbarians like the Townsends.”

  He bent down to kiss her, not sure if she’d accept his affection. But she did, and then, impulsively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, oblivious to the amused smiles of passersby, and kissed him back with fervor. “Don’t you take any chances, Benjamin Graves,” she warned him. “I don’t want to be a widow before I get the chance to be a mother.”

  Piper came up to them in time to hear Mary-Lee’s statement, although she was discreet and did not reveal her interest in the comment. “Mary-Lee, let’s leave the menfolk to their work and we’ll see what kind of damage we can do to their wallets. Didn’t you say that you wanted to sew curtains for your house? The Weissens have just gotten in some new fabric, and I think you might find just what you’re looking for.”

  Benjamin gave Piper a grateful look. Her calm and steady friendship was just what his wife needed as they figured out how to handle the threat from the Townsends. Piper wasn’t the sort to flee in fear; like Mary-Lee, she had a spine of steel beneath that ladylike exterior.

  When he entered the office, Jack and Carson were waiting. The jail cell was vacant, which was fortunate. It allowed them to speak openly without being overheard.

  “Hear you had some trouble out your way,” Jack drawled, as he leaned back in the chair behind the sheriff’s desk.

  Benjamin pulled a chair forward. “
Some,” he said. “Sorry to bring you in, Carson, during the day, when you’ve got the night ahead.”

  Carson grinned. “Sleep is for old men,” he said. “And newlywed husbands.”

  Benjamin grinned in response. “True enough. Last night wasn’t one for nuptial bliss though. Mary-Lee is no coward, but I am. I’m afraid to leave her alone for fear that they’ll come back. I don’t think they will. I think scaring her was their intention. But, now at least, I know what they’re after.”

  He explained what Mary-Lee had told him.

  “Gold mines!” Carson repeated. “They’re after her property?”

  In the West, property was almost sacred. If she had the deed to gold mines, they were her property, fair and square. Any man fixing to take them from her was a man without honor, who was violating the code by which Westerners lived.

  “She’s had them since her father gave them to her when she was just a kid. Then he left, and she hasn’t seen him since. He was a Texas Ranger,” Benjamin said, his gaze on Jack. “Last seen by Mary-Lee about eight years ago.”

  Jack, who had been slouching in his chair, sat up straight. “Last seen by Mary-Lee, or last seen by anyone?”

  “I reckon it’s one and the same. From what she said, he doesn’t sound like the kind of father who’d vanish without a word unless he couldn’t reach her.”

  “Name?”

  “Aurelius Jameson.”

  “Jameson?”

  “Yep. Mary-Lee is a Jameson.”

  “I never put it together, somehow. She’s kin to Augustus Jameson.”

  “Hates his guts.”

  “A lot of folks do. Abilene has never been able to connect him to his crimes, although with Townsends running everything from the legislature to the Independence Day celebration, I’m not sure anyone has tried real hard. They say that the Townsends get a passel of the money they use for bribes and such from their share of the money Jameson makes robbing banks,” Jack offered.

  “I’ve heard that there’s a line of bad money and crooked politics running from Kansas to Texas,” Carson added. “For some reason, no one is able to get anything on the Townsends.”