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

by Natalie Dean

  “I helped you take those men!”

  “Is that how it was?” Jack said with a little smile. “It seemed to me that you were surrounded by them.”

  “And then I kicked the leader’s horse and he fell off.”

  “Seems like he was back on his feet when we got there,” Jack reminded her.

  “Back on his feet doesn’t mean I couldn’t knock him down on my own,” she said.

  “Mrs. Graves,” Carson said admiringly, “you can argue like no one I’ve ever heard before. Abe, you’d best be glad that we men have been too smart to give women the vote, because I don’t know any fellow who could hold his own against this little lady in a debate.”

  The men chuckled at the thought of women voting. All except Aurelius Jameson, who surveyed his daughter with noticeable pride.

  Chapter 17

  Early morning, July 6, 1852, Knox Mills, Texas, the Graves’ home

  Mary-Lee rose early the next morning. Lighting the oil lamp in the kitchen, she began preparing breakfast while the darkness outside the windows confirmed that dawn was still several hours away. Not all husbands would have acceded to her insistence that she would accompany a posse of deputies to apprehend Lance Townsend and his men, but Benjamin, perhaps because he had already engaged in the argument before and had lost it, had not posed objections. Breakfast was the reward she would give him for his tolerance.

  The morning was dark and cool, freed from the encasing heat of the July sun. She took the eggs from the hens and brought them back into the house. This was her home, she thought again, with a fierce sense of ownership. Benjamin was her husband. Her father was here. How dare Lance Townsend or Uncle Augustus have the audacity to think that they could wrest her from what she had, through her own spirit, acquired? If she were to find peace in Knox Mills, Lance Townsend had to be gone. She understood that in a very clear manner that owed nothing to the philosophical foundation of the law or the beliefs that her father and her husband had discussed late last night after Carson, Abe, and Jack had left.

  This was her home. No one had a right to take it from her or to cause her to be fearful on her own land. It was very simple and straightforward. As long as this was her home and she was the wife of Benjamin Graves, she would love him and honor him; she would cook his meals and mend his clothes. When he was ill, she would nurse him, and when he was in danger, she would protect him. She would honor her part of the bargain. She would love him, even though she was not at all certain what that meant because love was not easy to define. It was more than a warm meal or a soft bed. It was a covenant, she knew. The Bible made that clear. She had been blessed beyond her expectation or deserving with her husband. The wedding ring on her finger would remind her, every day, that marriage had brought her what she wanted. Her father was returned to her. Now, Lance Townsend must leave.

  Benjamin awoke to the aroma of breakfast sidling into the bedroom, tempting him like a siren with the scent of biscuits and bacon, scrambled eggs, and fresh coffee. He smiled and rubbed his face over his jaw. If Mary-Lee could get up early enough to cook breakfast for him, then he could certainly shave for her.

  Love, he realized as he surveyed his face, now free of the overnight growth of whiskers, was a peculiar thing. Here he was, preparing to ride off with a posse to apprehend a gang of dangerous men, and he was going to allow his wife to go with him. That wasn’t something he’d ever expected to do. No one had warned him that marriage was an uncharted journey. It didn’t matter how many other people had made the journey; it wasn’t to be the same for everyone. You set off, a woman at your side, and somewhere along the way, you fell in love with her, even if you couldn’t rightly have expressed just what it was that love entailed. But here you were, very early on a morning in July, shaving yourself because you loved your wife.

  “Morning,” he said, as he entered the kitchen.

  “Morning. Sit down and eat, I’ve made—“

  “I’ll sit down to eat if you sit down with me.”

  “I have to . . . I’m not dressed yet,” she said, suddenly shy. “Not properly.”

  Benjamin’s brilliant green eyes burned. “Sit down with me, please” he asked softly.

  Weakly, she sank into a chair as if she could not stand. Benjamin rose, took a plate from the shelf, and began to fill it with food.

  “We eat together,” he said when he placed the plate before her. “If we can ride on a posse together, there’s no reason why we can’t sit down at the table together. Got that?”

  She nodded. Her hair was pulled back behind her head, not yet braided, and tendrils that escaped were crowding around her face and forehead like golden flower stalks. He could sense, beneath her façade of tough assurance, hesitation or uncertainty. He wasn’t sure which, and he knew better than to ask her if she was afraid. She would deny it, in any case, and be annoyed with him for knowing.

  “Doesn’t seem right, does it, us eating fine here and your father in the barn with nothing?”

  “When I went to collect the eggs, I brought biscuits and a piece of pie from last night. He doesn’t seem to mind doing without. He’s going to stay.”

  “That’s good. It might take him awhile to lose those running-away habits, but once he does, I reckon he’ll find Knox Mills to his liking. How about you?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you like it here?”

  She nodded. Strange how she wasn’t hungry, but instead felt as if she’d already eaten her fill.

  “Good. I don’t want to have to chase you if you get homesick for Abilene,” he joked, knowing that Abilene held no fond memories for her.

  When she spoke, the words rushed from her throat so swiftly that she might not even have known what she was saying. “I’ll go to Abilene if you’re there,” she said. “I’ll go where you go.”

  “And I’ll stay where you stay,” he whispered, putting his hand over hers.

  When Benjamin and Mary-Lee emerged from their home, they saw that Aurelius Jameson was already waiting. Their horses were saddled and ready. Dawn had not yet broken, and the early morning was still swathed in soft, silken gray shadows. The men were dressed in sober, dark clothes; Mary-Lee wore a pale gray dress. And her hat. She no longer intended to surrender the deeds; that would have dishonored the sacrifices that her father had made over the years so that she could have them. Planning could take place later.

  The numbers grew as the members of the posse arrived. Jack Walker outlined the plan.

  “First, we find Jameson and Townsend,” he said. “We tell them that they have to turn over the ones who shot up my property.”

  “You expect them to do that?” one of the men asked skeptically.

  “Nope. But we’ll have the measure in hand.” Jack’s hand rested briefly on the butt end of his revolver. “I’m sure that we’ll be able to persuade them.”

  “You expect shooting?” Elmer Raice asked. He didn’t look afraid, Mary-Lee observed; he just wanted to know what was coming.

  Carson grinned. “Marshal Walker always expects shooting,” he told them. “It goes with the star.”

  “What about Mrs. Graves?” another man asked hesitantly. “What if trouble starts?”

  Mary-Lee lifted her rifle. “I’ll end it,” she said plainly.

  The man nodded. “I reckon so,” he said. “All the same, ma’am, I’m not sure I could be married to a woman who takes on a man’s role. Nothing meant by it, ma’am.”

  “When a woman is the daughter of a Texas Ranger,” Aurelius said, “and the wife of a U.S. deputy marshal, she tends to see things a little differently from most women.”

  “Let’s get riding before morning takes over,” Jack said. The riders mounted and set off, Mary-Lee not hiding in the rear this time, but at Benjamin’s side. Jack’s plan was bolder than the circumspect scouting of the day before. The horses of the men in the camp were to be taken into the forest by the river. He had instructed his posse to hold back from entering the camp until he and Benjamin had located Lan
ce Townsend and Augustus Jameson. Then the posse was to ride forward and encircle the encamped men, trapping them in a human noose.

  Carson, who was in charge of secreting the horses away, rode off on his own to take care of his charge before they arrived. The rest of the posse advanced, riding at a steady pace that would not attract attention, although, as Jack had confided to Benjamin, he wouldn’t be surprised if the camp was still filled with men battling a hangover from a repeat of the Independence Day drinking.

  It was not yet daylight when they neared the camp. Jack and Benjamin dismounted; Aurelius took the reins of Jack’s horse, Mary-Lee took Sal’s reins from Benjamin.

  “I want to go with you,” she whispered to Benjamin before he left.

  Benjamin frowned. “You’ll be plenty busy here with the others,” he said. Then he smiled. “Keep that rifle handy, hon. No telling when you’ll need it.”

  She watched, as her husband and Piper’s husband stealthily walked around the circumference of the camp, shielding themselves by the high grass that the outlaws counted on to protect them, looking for Augustus Jameson and Lance Townsend. Her father was watching closely and suddenly he made a movement, raising his hand to signal the riders to move closer.

  Mary-Lee’s heart began to pound. Benjamin and Jack had spotted Townsend and Uncle Augustus. “Papa, Sal and Bette will stay close to you,” she whispered urgently. “I have to go with my husband.”

  Before he could remonstrate with his daughter, she had slid down from Bette’s broad back and was striding through the grass, rifle in hand, toward the two men. Quickly, Aurelius likewise dismounted. “She’s my daughter,” he explained to Mayor Winslow, whose eyes had widened at the sight of the deputy’s wife heading into the camp. “I have to go with her.”

  His long legs soon caught up to Mary-Lee. She turned her head in surprise. “What are you doing?”

  “Whatever it takes, pet,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”

  Jack and Benjamin had found their quarry. “You and your hired ruffians will be clearing out of town,” Jack informed Lance Townsend.

  Townsend was not yet fully awake, but that didn’t impede him from sneering. “Do you think so? There’s no law that prevents men from camping by the river. And if there is, then when I’m mayor, I’ll see that it’s struck down.”

  “You’re not mayor yet,” Jack replied.

  “We’re the law in Knox Mills, and we’re ordering you men to clear out before we arrest all of you,” Benjamin announced. “For now, you can go anywhere you want except to Knox Mills. Since you’ll be going by foot, you might be interested to know that the next town is Felix Junction. That’s for all except for the ones who trespassed on my property and entered my home, destroyed my household goods and fired on my house. They’re charged with trespassing—"

  Lance laughed, a high-pitched mocking laugh that clearly revealed what he thought of the law that Benjamin was invoking.

  “Who are you charging, Deputy Marshal?” he jeered. “Do you recognize any of these men?”

  By now, the rest of the men were waking up, their slumber disturbed by the argument taking place.

  Wary, Aurelius tapped his daughter on the shoulder and jerked his head sideways, indicating that they needed to move. She followed him until they were hidden by growth behind Jack and Benjamin, out of sight of everyone in the camp.

  The men, amused at the sight of two men giving orders to their leaders, who were surrounded by more men ready and willing to shoot for the sport of it, laughed loudly. Their laughter was foolhardy, because it provided Mary-Lee and her father with cover noise as they moved forward once again, Mary-Lee close enough to touch Lance Townsend.

  “How come I didn’t hear the joke?” Aurelius Jameson emerged from his cover, his gun pointed at his brother’s head.

  Everyone present could see the startled look on Augustus Jameson’s face as he caught sight of his brother. “Aurelius!” he said in a choked voice. “I thought you were dead.”

  “You tried hard enough to make it so,” Aurelius said, his gun not moving. “But here I am.”

  “You can’t come here like this,” Lance Townsend snarled. “You have no right. When I’m mayor, I’ll make damn sure that you both are jailed for insubordination. I’ll see you before a firing squad.”

  “Like this?”

  Mary-Lee’s rifle poked into Lance Townsend’s back. He jerked around, saw her, and didn’t disguise his shock. “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Helping to put you in jail,” she replied pleasantly, the rifle grip firm in her hands.

  “I’ll never go to jail, but your husband will, and then you see if I don’t come looking for what belongs to me! You belong to me, and as soon as I get rid of this deputy, you’ll find out who your husband is supposed to be, you little tart—" he lunged at Mary-Lee, reaching for the gun, but Benjamin, galvanized by the insult to his wife, was already in motion. Swinging his arm, he brought his fist to Lance Townsend’s face and sent the man to the ground.

  Chapter 18

  July 7, Knox Mills, Texas, the jail

  “I cannot believe that a U.S. marshal, charged with upholding the law would be so derelict in his duty that he would arrest men merely on the suspicion that they were the same ones who wandered onto his property and raised a bit of a ruckus, as young men are wont to do. And I cannot believe that this same marshal would countenance a posse of vigilantes to order honest men out of town and take their horses, forcing them to depend upon their own limbs when they had perfectly good horses to ride.” Abel Townsend shook his head. “Clearly, we have a brewing problem in Knox Mills.”

  “We have a number of problems in Knox Mills, Abel,” Jack said. “They go by the name of Townsend. Now, Judge Drury is on his way to hear the cases against these men. You can bring up your accusations against the law to him when he arrives tomorrow.”

  “I shall certainly do that,” Abel Townsend said, his genial masquerade gone as he gave Jack Walker a steely look. “It is quite clear that there are those who believe that being a U.S. marshal is a license to tyrannize innocent citizens.”

  “Save it for Judge Drury, Abel,” Jack said. “You might want to see about getting these men some supper though.”

  Abel bristled. “You are denying food to the prisoners?”

  “No, they’re denying to eat it. Supper was brought in and passed through the bars. They threw it back out; said they wanted plates to eat on. Being as how we’d have to open the cell doors to bring in plates of food, we dispensed with the niceties and handed them bread and meat and a cup of water through the bars. They don’t seem to like the service we provide. If you’re here on their behalf, you can feed them. Through the bars. We’ll keep an eye on you, just to keep you safe. We don’t want any of these innocent citizens to mistakenly heave a hunk of meat at you.”

  “You are making a serious mistake, Marshal,” Abel Townsend warned. “Arresting my nephew was a very serious mistake indeed. You are perhaps unaware that Congressman Eldridge Townsend is my cousin, or that my son Kendrick is a member of the legislature in Austin—"

  “I am well aware of both of these things. You have graciously reminded me of these facts on more than one occasion. But Lance Townsend will not be joining the political dynasty; the citizens of Knox Mills are unlikely to vote for a criminal to serve as mayor, no matter how many shots of whiskey they down at your expense.” Jack sat up straight in his chair. “And now, if you have no further business to discuss, I need to prepare the paperwork to commit these cases to trial.”

  “I have plenty of business, Marshal, but it is a waste of my time to conduct it with you. An agent of the law who chooses to arrest young men for nothing more than foolish peccadilloes is unfit to hold the office. I shall tell the judge as much when I see him, and I shall certainly inform Representative Townsend in Austin of what has transpired. U.S. marshals are federal appointees, you recall; I believe that Congressman Kendrick Townsend will be very interested to learn tha
t the marshals who have been appointed to us are superseding their authority. Texans will not stand for this gross abuse of justice!”

  The portly man stormed out, slamming the door to the sheriff’s office behind him as he left.

  There was a protest from the cell as the men behind bars realized that Abel Townsend was not going to force the marshal to free them.

  “Cheer up, boys,” Jack advised. “Maybe he’s gone over to the hotel to bring you some food. I reckon that steaks could pass through the bars with no trouble. You must be getting hungry.”

  “You’ve got no right,” Lance Townsend, who had spent the first hours of his incarceration uttering a litany of woe for the wrong that was being done to him, picked up his lament. “You have no right to keep me here. I have done nothing against you.”

  “You were resisting arrest,” Benjamin said. “You threatened and insulted my wife. By law, you can’t do the former, and by me, you can’t do the latter.”

  “She should be my wife.”

  “She didn’t think so.”

  “You stole her from me!” Lance raged, standing in front of the bars, gripping them with his hands.

  “She ran away from you.”

  The door opened, and Mayor Winslow came in, accompanied by two other men who had served on the posse. “We figured that you might need a break,” the mayor said, “so we came to relieve you.

  A break sounded good. Making sure that the three men were armed and willing to shoot if there was any trouble, instructions which Jack repeated in a loud voice to ensure that no one was unaware of the intentions, Jack and Benjamin left the office and made their way to the hotel for a meal.

  “I wish we could have nailed Augustus Jameson,” Jack said with regret after the waiter brought their steaks. “But we didn’t have anything proven. We had to let him go. Even Aurelius admitted as much.”