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

by Natalie Dean

  “Of course they can’t get anything, that’s because they own the votes. This election coming up has me scared, I admit. If Lance Townsend runs for mayor, he’s not going to want U.S. marshals in town throwing a wrench into his works. He’s going to name a weak sheriff who’ll do his bidding. And if the Townsends go high enough, they’ll have federal contacts—who can keep us and any other U.S. marshals out of Texas. Out of the West entirely, if it comes to that.” Jack frowned. “Awful strange that Lance Townsend was going to be mayor of Abilene—and now he’s aiming for mayor of Knox Mills.”

  “The only thing the two towns have in common since Lance Townsend arrived is my wife,” Benjamin pointed out.

  “And the deeds to these gold mines.”

  “You think there’s a connection?” Benjamin asked curiously.

  “You have a fine-looking wife, but I don’t think Lance Townsend is here because of a broken heart. If he had a gold mine, he’d have plenty of money for bribes. Who’s to say a Townsend couldn’t run for Senate? Maybe President?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Benjamin said. “Right now, I’m just concerned about keeping my wife safe.”

  “Maybe she should put those deeds in the bank, where they’d be safe.”

  Benjamin shook his head. “Abel Townsend is on the bank board of trustees. I wouldn’t trust him if Mary-Lee put her possessions where he could get at them. Who’s to say what kind of influence the Townsends might have over Mr. Kern? Just because he’s the president of the bank doesn’t mean he doesn’t owe the Townsends favor. For the time being, the deeds are safe. It’s Mary-Lee’s safety that I’m bothered about. I don’t like her being home alone, and she’s one independent lady,” he said, shaking his head again, this time in a mixture of frustration and rueful admiration. “When I went back in the house after chasing our visitors away, she was inside by the door, with one of my rifles.”

  “Good wife,” Jack said briefly. “She can take care of herself.”

  “Against a gang?”

  He didn’t have to say more. Jack looked troubled. “I don’t know Lance Townsend, but I doubt if he’s got much of a sense of honor. Especially if he regards your wife as his.”

  “She ran away rather than marry him,” Benjamin told them. “She’s not afraid of him. She’s not afraid of her uncle either. But I think she’s fearful of what they might do.”

  “She’s smart to fear that. Men like that don’t have any respect for the law. They want the law to be under their control so that they can use it for their own ends. I reckon I’ll be riding out to the Townsend ranch to have a word with old Abel. The law won’t stop him from what he’s planning, but he doesn’t like trouble that other folks can see. He likes working in the dark. He can keep that young weasel of a nephew of his tethered, I reckon.”

  “I’ll go with you,” Benjamin said.

  Jack shook his head. “Let’s not let this get personal. One of my deputies had to handle a shooting party on his property. I’ll talk to Abel about it. He’ll see why it can’t happen again.”

  “I don’t need you to hold my hand when it comes to protecting my wife,” Benjamin argued. “That’s my job.”

  “I know that. But this isn’t just about Mary-Lee. It’s about violating the law.”

  Carson was shaking his head. “I don’t know, Jack . . . I think that, if it were my wife, I’d want to be sure I was looking Abel Townsend in the eye and letting him know that if anything happens, I’d be coming after all of them with a bullet for each one. The Townsends don’t care about the law. I understand what you’re trying to say, but law is just a word to the Townsends.”

  “It might be just a word,” Jack objected, “but it comes with a noose. What are you thinking?” he asked, noticing that the junior deputy seemed to be very alert and engrossed in the discussion, as if he felt he had something to contribute.

  Carson was leaning against the desk, his hands bracing him. His lean, wiry body appeared to contain too much energy for him to be still. “There’s a camp a few miles down the river,” he said, lowering his voice as if there was a risk of being overheard, even though they were the only three in the office. “I did a little scouting early this morning after I finished up. They look to be strangers. I’m wondering if there’s a connection between them and the gang that shot up your house,” he said to Benjamin.

  “You took a risk,” Benjamin said. “What if they’d seen you?”

  Carson grinned. “They didn’t. These men like to drink hard at night and sleep it off. They don’t figure anyone knows they’re there.”

  “By staying off Townsend land, they keep old Abel looking innocent,” Jack said thoughtfully. “You might have something there.”

  “But first we talk to old Abel,” Benjamin said. “I want him to know what’s going on.”

  “You figure he’ll keep the boys on a leash?” Carson scoffed.

  Benjamin shook his head. “No. He’ll know about the gold mines, and he’ll want to get his hands on those deeds before anyone else does, but we start with him. He’s the one at the center of the web. He’s weaving the strands.”

  “We can talk to him, but he’ll be mighty busy for the next week. I hear tell that the Independence Day festivities are a Townsend tradition. And this year, with a nephew running for mayor, the liquor is going to be flowing freely. We’re going to have our hands full,” Jack warned. “The Townsends are planning on being even more generous for this Independence Day; they’ve got a lot riding on this election come November.”

  Chapter 11

  Independence Day, July 4, 1852, Knox Mills, Texas

  Mary-Lee was doing well in her shooting lessons; Benjamin figured that if she had to, she’d be able to defend herself. He just didn’t want her to have to do that. When the deputies made their call upon old Abel Townsend, Benjamin hadn’t been assuaged by the patriarch’s genial assurance that the young folks who’d shot up Benjamin’s kitchen hadn’t meant any harm.

  “Youthful peccadilloes, no doubt,” Townsend had said when the marshals presented him with the news. Jack had informed him that youthful peccadilloes could have killed Mrs. Graves or Deputy Graves and killing was a hanging offense.

  “I won’t say that my nephew ain’t disappointed at losing that pretty little thing for his wife,” Abel had said, as he’d escorted the lawmen back to their horses. “But just because some strangers decide to avenge Lance’s honor don’t mean that he’s at fault. My nephew is a fine young man, and you watch, he’s going to win that election come November. It’s time we got rid of that gloomy Winslow and got ourselves a young mayor with fire in his belly.”

  “It’s not fire in the belly that troubles me,” Jack had shot back. “It’s fire coming out of the business end of a gun, aimed at an innocent woman. You can make all the excuses you want for all the Townsends you’re lining up for office, but I’m warning you, Abel, that you don’t own the law.”

  “Why, Marshal Walker, I’m a great respecter of the fine work you and these boys do. I’m just saying that we need a mayor who has some life to him. But I’ll make sure that Lance knows that his friends aren’t to go off defending him thataways. He didn’t know anything about that episode, and this is the first I’ve heard of it. I’m right glad you came to me about it,” he said, patting Jack on the back. “I expect these young rascals have gone back to Abilene since Lance won’t let them run wild in his town.”

  Benjamin had set his jaw tight at the reference to Knox Mills as Lance Townsend’s town, but he’d kept from saying anything, contenting himself with warning Abel that if anyone stepped on his property, Mary-Lee would shoot first. Abel had chuckled, claiming that he liked a woman with spirit. He’d accompanied the lawmen out with an invitation to stop by the Townsend for Mayor campaign booth that would be set up just off the Independence Day parade course and he’d see to it that all three got a generous shot of the finest whiskey in Texas.

  Benjamin hadn’t placed much faith in old Abel’s promise that no har
m would come to Mary-Lee, but Jack said that for the time being, they were all right. Abel wouldn’t want anything to go amiss while he was planning the Independence Day activities. But after that, Jack said, they’d need to strike quick before the Townsends could make their next move.

  * * *

  Independence Day had arrived, sunny and warm and perfect for celebrating.

  “There are so many people in town,” Mary-Lee exclaimed. The sides of the streets were crowded with passersby sampling the wares that had been set up to sell. At another table, men were lined up to register for the horse race that would come later in the afternoon. There was a table lined with pies for the pie-judging contest; Mary-Lee wished that she’d known about the contest; she’d been told that no one could match her shoo-fly pie. The Ladies Missionary Society for the church was selling glasses of lemonade; the money was to go toward the roof fund for the church. “Is everyone selling something?” she asked when they passed another table, this one laden with embroidered handkerchiefs and knitted socks.

  “I reckon so,” Benjamin said, enjoying the liveliness of the occasion but also keeping a keen eye out for trouble. Visitors in town could mean anything; thieves and pickpockets also flocked to gatherings where it was easier to commit their crimes and go undetected. “I’ve heard that there’s nothing like a Knox Mills Independence Day. Let’s head on down to the sheriff’s office; Piper Walker will be there, and the two of you can stroll about and see what interests you.”

  Mary-Lee was disappointed that Benjamin couldn’t escort her, but she understood that this day, for him, was one where his work came first. She was tense at the thought of coming face-to-face with Lance Townsend, and much as she hated to admit it, having her broad-shouldered, muscular husband at her side was reassuring. Lance Townsend was a stocky man, not nearly as tall as Benjamin or as strong. She hadn’t chosen Benjamin for his manliness, but if that were an Independence Day contest, Lance Townsend wouldn’t stand a chance.

  The thought made her smile as they approached the sheriff’s office. Piper Walker came forward. “Mary-Lee, I do love that hat of yours,” she said as she took Mary-Lee’s arm. “Benjamin, you go and do your marshaling, and your wife and I will entertain ourselves.”

  “Stay out of trouble,” Benjamin said.

  Piper looked thoughtful. “If we run into any Townsends,” she declared, “I shall use my hatpin. Never fear that women are without defenses.”

  “I know better than to think that,” Benjamin assured her as he opened the office door.

  “Do you think there will be trouble?” Mary-Lee asked Piper, as they joined the throng of celebrants.

  “Oh, certainly,” Piper said calmly. “Do you see that booth at the end of the street, the one with all the red, white, and blue bunting and the sign that says, ‘Lance Townsend for Mayor’?”

  Mary-Lee craned her neck, but it was impossible to see anything except for the crowd of people in front of her. “We won’t be stopping there,” Piper said in her matter-of-fact accent that made Mary-Lee think of Nanny. “But the men are already lining up for their free drink, and you may be sure that they’re being urged to vote for Lance Townsend for mayor come November. By the time the day is half over, Knox Mills will be filled with drunken loons. Jack, and your Benjamin, and Carson, will have their hands full. Jack said he might have to deputize some of the men to help keep order.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is serious. Liquor is the bane of the West. And the East, too, I don’t doubt,” Piper admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with a man taking a drink, but too many of them don’t know when to stop. On Election Day, there will be drunken brawls all day long. That’s what Mayor Winslow tells me.”

  “I liked him,” Mary-Lee said. “I hope he wins another term as mayor.”

  “He’s a good man. Not flash and fire like the Townsends. He’s solid and dependable, and he believes in the law. But he’s going to have to compete with all the Townsend money, and that’s not going to be easy. Heaven help us if Lance Townsend wins the election.”

  “I can’t really believe Lance Townsend wants to be the mayor,” Mary-Lee said.

  Piper stopped before the table where the Junior Girls Sewing Circle was selling their wares. “My stars,” she cried, bending low to admire their work. “Sugared rose petals, you girls are clever. Mary-Lee, we must buy some of these. Have you sampled them?”

  Mary-Lee, like Piper, carried a basket for her purchases. “I made them once, when I was at school,” she said proudly. “You girls have done an excellent job.” Like Piper, Mary-Lee bent down over the table. “They’re going to look so fine on a strawberry cake that I’m planning to make. Hello, Lizzie,” she greeted the girl she recognized as one of the children who had been at the school the day that she and Benjamin had walked into town. “Did you make these?”

  Lizzie gave a self-conscious grin. “Ma helped,” she admitted. “But I picked the roses,” she added quickly. “Mrs. Graves, are you gonna be our teacher when school starts up?”

  “I haven’t been asked,” Mary-Lee said politely. She was aware that Piper was listening closely. Piper might have good advice about what she ought to do to make her interest in the position known.

  “I told Ma that Deputy Marshal Graves married a schoolteacher, and Ma says it’s time we had a young teacher.”

  “I agree,” Piper chimed in.

  The ladies made their purchases and continued on their way. The meeting with Lizzie made Mary-Lee feel as if she were a part of the town in her own right, not merely because she had come here as a mail-order bride. In Abilene, she had struggled to be more than Augustus Jameson’s niece, but that was for entirely different reasons. Perhaps Knox Mills could become her home in a way that Abilene never had been.

  Despite Piper’s warning, Mary-Lee was curious about the Townsend booth. She did not want to see Lance Townsend, but she did not want to be caught unawares by him. Their walk was taking them in that direction, but then, suddenly, the sound of a trumpet brought silence to the crowd.

  “The parade,” Piper explained. “Jack and Benjamin will both march in it. They’re veterans of the Mexican War you know. Mr. Gill will march in it, too,” she said, adding primly, “should he be sufficiently sober to do so. He fought in the War against the British in 1812.”

  As the trumpet notes sounded, Mary-Lee watched while the lines of men, assembled in formation, marched in front. Benjamin looked straight ahead, neither to the right nor the left, as did the others. She felt her heart surge with pride for him. He looked competent and strong, and well able to handle the likes of the Townsends.

  “Perhaps you did not notice,” Piper’s voice said quietly in her ear, “how many veterans of the wars were marching? And only old Abel representing the Townsends among them. I think that Mayor Winslow is likely to make a point of them when the campaigning for mayor really begins.”

  “Is Mayor Winslow a veteran?”

  “He fought in the Indian Wars, I am told,” Piper said. “He has defended Texas with his own life. The Townsends defend Texas with liquor. I hope the men of Knox Mills, when they go to vote on Election Day, remember that.”

  As the parade continued, the musicians struck up Yankee Doodle and the crowd sang along.

  Piper said, “I must confess that, as a woman born in England, I do not have quite the same response as the rest. But my child,” she lightly patted her abdomen, “will be an American, so I suppose I must conceal my true thoughts.” She grinned to show that she was in jest.

  “Do you miss England?”

  “Every day,” Piper admitted. “And yet . . . I would not return if the opportunity arose. There is a spirit here that is lacking in England. Perhaps it is lacking in the rest of Europe as well, I do not know. Perhaps it is only that the story is a new one, and I want to see how it ends. What about you? You are also a newcomer to Texas.”

  “But not to the United States,” Mary-Lee reminded.

  As the parade came to a clos
e, she found herself thinking about Piper’s words. Was that the essence of Texas, a new story whose ending was, as yet, unwritten? Would it be written by the men who upheld the law, like the ordinary townspeople who had once fought for their nation, or the men who broke the law like the Townsends, or the men like Benjamin, Jack, and Carson, and her father, who enforced it? She had never thought of the law as the dividing line among men, but she realized that this was what her father had meant that rainy night when he brought her the deeds to the gold mines. My duty is to be a Texas Ranger. Your duty is to hide those papers.

  For whatever reason, she too was part of this bold experiment called Texas. Benjamin had made it clear that the gold mines belonged to her, not to him, and for that reason, he would defend her right to them. She was part of the story, and she wanted to know how it turned out. But the Townsends were also part of the story that was Texas, and she feared that, if it turned out their way, then Texas would be lost to the threat of lawlessness that her husband, and Piper’s husband, were doing their utmost to quell. These men, veterans who had fought to protect the nation against the British, the Mexicans, and the native tribes, had fought for the law. Men like the Townsends had fought for themselves.

  Chapter 12

  July 5, 1852, Knox Mills, Texas

  “Where are you going?” Mary-Lee asked in alarm the next morning. She had made breakfast, as she always did, but Benjamin had eaten little. After he was finished, he took both rifles down from their place above the fireplace.

  “Carson spied a camp along the river,” he explained as he put on his hat. “We’re planning on paying them a visit. They’re probably the men who came here to shoot up our home, and they were probably active yesterday plying the townsmen with drinks to buy their votes come November. But likely as not, they did their share of imbibing—and it’s a good time for us to see what gives.”