Once Upon a Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  The lights from his hotel beckoned at the far end of the street. He tugged his worn Stetson lower over his brow, pushed away from the gaslight, and strolled toward his bed. Tomorrow, he’d start for home.

  The thumbnail moon didn’t hold back the darkness, the night offering more than a dozen places to hide. This wasn’t the safest part of town, and he regretted taking the shortcut. As usual, when away from the protection of the outlaw town of Hope’s Crossing, a heightened sense of awareness tingled beneath his skin. Blame that on the price on his head and too many narrow escapes.

  Two figures drew his attention, moving erratically about twenty yards ahead. At first, he thought they were drunks holding each other up. But upon taking a harder look, he noticed one was a man, dragging a woman by one arm toward a dark alley.

  Before he could wrestle her into the space, the woman managed to get to her feet. She walloped the man about the head and shoulders with a shoe until he turned her loose. The varmint tried to reach for her again only to have her sidestep his grasp. She lunged, grabbing his shirt, then before he could blink, slapped him across the face with the shoe. The sharp sound ricocheted up and down the row of dark buildings.

  “You little slut!” the man shouted, backhanding her. “I oughta kill you!”

  Without a word, the petite woman kept hitting him. Her hefty companion, or accoster, whichever he might turn out to be, cowered on the ground. Ridge chuckled. She had more grit, more fight in her than ten women.

  But when she faltered, the man leaped up and grabbed her again. “I’ll show you what happens to someone with your temper, you bitch.” He put a hand around her throat and lifted her high in the air, her feet dangling above the ground.

  Ridge pulled one of his twin Colts and rushed forward. He jammed the barrel of the gun to the back of the man’s head and snarled, “Turn her loose and let her down easy.”

  The man’s shoulders tensed. The piece of horse dung released her and slowly turned. “This ain’t none of your affair.”

  “I’m making it mine.” Ridge held the pistol on the man and made a half turn. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  Anger filled the scrappy woman’s eyes. She nodded and jerked her shoe from the ground, holding on to the side of the building for balance while sliding her foot into it. Though her bottom lip trembled, she didn’t cry. She didn’t appear to be a working girl, her clothes far too simple and plain for someone who sold her body. She looked young, and too soft to have been part of that life. Although he couldn’t tell what color her eyes were, he was struck by the shape and size and the fringe of black lashes framing them like expensive Spanish lace.

  Some women were only pretty in the dark, and he’d seen plenty of those, but he got the feeling she’d also be pretty in daylight.

  He softened his voice. “Are you lost, ma’am?”

  Another pert nod. He got the impression that if she’d had something more than a shoe to fight with, she might not have needed his help at all.

  “Keep going west on this street, and you’ll get out of this neighborhood. Or tell me where you’re headed, and I’ll take you myself.”

  “I saw her first!” the man yelled. “Me an’ her was gonna get acquainted.”

  “There isn’t a ‘you and her,’ you imbecile. Got that?” Ridge twisted the man’s arm behind his back and returned his Colt to the holster. “Bother her, or any other woman, again, and there won’t even be a ‘you’ anymore.” He shoved the man against the side of the building and was rewarded with a loud grunt.

  The poor excuse of humanity shook his head to clear it of drunken cobwebs then stumbled off, cursing the woman, Ridge, and himself. But by the time Ridge swung around, the lady with gumption had disappeared. After looking up and down the street for her, he had little choice but to pray she reached her destination without further incident.

  The hotel beckoned again and he set off, his thoughts remaining on the silent angel who’d lost her way.

  Two

  Two Weeks Later

  The Good Book touted that the truth would set a man free.

  Ridge Steele snorted. Not when lies served people better. Most believed whatever they wanted. The truth hadn’t aided him any when he’d desperately needed a good helping.

  The swift fall from preacher to outlaw had rocked him to his core and turned his life into one he didn’t recognize. He winced at the memories of the unjust accusation, the crime that had driven him from his faith. He couldn’t bring himself even to say the ugly words.

  Memories swarmed like a hive of bees inside his head. The dead man lying with his head on a rock. The mob’s angry yells, the girl’s ripped dress, the rope whirring out of the darkness, the tree. No questions asked. No thought to his innocence.

  No ears to hear the truth.

  The late August sun beat down, but the sweat wasn’t entirely the summer’s blame. He raised a trembling hand and shook away the images. It did no good to dig up old bones. His bride would arrive at some point today, and he had too much to do that didn’t include combating old nerves. New nerves took priority. He knew even less about how to be a husband than he now knew about giving sermons.

  What kind of woman was Adeline Jancy? Would she, too, be quick to judge, quick to anger, quick to believe the worst? Her letters seemed sweet and caring, but he hadn’t spoken of his past and didn’t intend to ever talk about it. He’d only told her he was an outlaw, a wanted man. Maybe she was hiding things as well. What did he know about her? Only that she’d been released from prison two weeks ago and that Luke Legend, the bride procurer, had picked her up and would bring her to Hope’s Crossing.

  What crime had she committed? He couldn’t imagine anything that would have been bad enough to land her behind bars for three years, but she’d only said they’d talk about it when she arrived.

  Ridge batted a pesky fly away from his face and stared toward the town’s entrance between the high cliffs.

  “She’ll be here.” The quiet statement came from Clay Colby, his best friend and the founder of Hope’s Crossing. Clay’s dream had brought an outlaw hideout up from ashes to a thriving community, complete with a telegraph office, hotel, and stage line service—among most anything else you could want.

  “I suppose. Just nervous, I guess.” He pounded a nail into a board on the new bank they were building.

  “Ridge, unless you want to tell her, she doesn’t need to know. I certainly won’t breathe a word, and no one else is aware of what happened five years ago.”

  “You know, I still dream about that night and wake up in a cold sweat.” Ridge glanced at his friend. “If you hadn’t come along when you did and freed me of that lynch mob, I wouldn’t be here. I can’t remember if I ever thanked you.”

  Clay grinned. “Sure you did—many times over. I couldn’t have built this town without you. We’ve fought bad-to-the-bone seeds and trouble together for a long time.”

  “Yep, we have.” Ridge squinted at the town’s opening again beneath his dusty Stetson. “What did you and Tally talk about in the early days of your marriage?” Tally Shannon had also been a mail-order bride, and he remembered how rocky those first months had been. Clay had moved out for a while to give her time to adjust.

  Somehow, he’d make this work with Adeline. He only hoped it wouldn’t require moving out of his own house.

  “Who said we talked?” Clay grinned then grew serious. “Just relax and don’t bark at her. Be gentle and listen to what she says—and what she doesn’t. You’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.” Ridge pounded the board extra hard. “I haven’t been with too many women, none that I didn’t have to pay. They scare me. I’m afraid I’ll accidentally say something wrong and she’ll run off in tears.”

  Clay chuckled. “They’re not as delicate as you think. In fact, women are pretty damn tough.”

  “I can’t help but wonder what h
er crime was.”

  “Her situation might be similar to yours.”

  “Maybe.” True, she could’ve been accused of something she hadn’t done. It seemed to happen often enough.

  A wagon came through the entrance into town, drawing Ridge’s attention. For a moment, his heart thudded hard against his ribs and his mouth turned to cotton. But it was only Sid and Martha Truman. If he made it through this day, it would be a miracle.

  But then he’d have the night to sweat over. What did a man say to a stranger who expected conversation—and certain other things? How did a man sleep beside someone he’d never laid eyes on before today? He groaned. Why in the hell had he ever let Luke Legend talk him into this?

  Or rather, Luke’s pretty wife. Lord, Josie could wear down an iron steam engine.

  Ridge let out a worried breath and picked up another board. One answer that he couldn’t argue with was the deep loneliness that gnawed at him until he felt like screaming. There came a day in most men’s lives, he supposed, when a fellow got tired of listening to his own heartbeat in the dead of night and longed for companionship. A gentle touch.

  And a chance to keep his name alive, to pass it down.

  That was him. Two months ago, he’d looked around at all his friends, married with a passel of kids between them and happier than he’d ever seen. He’d envied that.

  “Tally was held in an asylum for a while—I recall she had a lot of damage from that. Do you think prison would be part and parcel about the same?”

  Clay kept his attention on the tobacco he tapped in a line on the thin paper. “I suppose the two places would bear similarity. No doubt Miss Jancy will need a lot of patience and care.”

  “Yeah.”

  Tait Trinity rode by on his blue roan and waved. He was another man who’d listened to Luke. He’d taken a mail-order bride last fall while he still had a five-thousand-dollar bounty on his head, and from all appearances, he and Melanie Dunbar had made it work. But then, he’d later gotten a pardon from the governor. Ridge had no hope for that unless the girl who’d lied, a woman now, came forward and told the truth.

  Besides, since then, he had killed others in self-defense. He had to answer for those, one way or another.

  Ridge picked up another board. “Tell me again why we’re building this bank and don’t yet have a banker.”

  “One’s coming next month.” Clay held a nail to a plank and slammed it into place with one powerful strike of the hammer. “My understanding is it’s a father and daughter, and they’re traveling by stage from San Francisco.”

  “A bank is a sure sign of progress. I wouldn’t have given you two cents for our chances when you first got the idea to build a town here. Now look at it. We’ve expanded homes outside of the canyon and have almost every kind of business imaginable.” Ridge pushed back his hat. “Tell me—are you satisfied now, or do you yearn for more?”

  Clay licked the edge of his cigarette paper to seal it and patted his pocket for a match. “There are a few things I wish we had. A library would be nice, and an opera house, but I’m satisfied.” A match found, he lit the cigarette. “Still, fire terrifies me. This could all turn to ash in a matter of hours.”

  Just like Ridge’s life. One minute, a man could have everything he needed, and the next, it could be stripped away in a flash like it was never there.

  “Are you happy being mayor?” Smoke curled around Clay’s head.

  “No. I wish we’d elect a new one. It’s time to give up the job.” Ridge lifted another board and placed it against the frame.

  “And do what? Go back to the ministry?”

  Ridge sucked a sharp breath between his teeth. “I’ll never preach again. God doesn’t listen to a man like me. Besides, the church already has Brother Paul.”

  From the corner of his eye, he noticed a slow-moving wagon coming into town. A second quick look told him that a man and two women occupied it, and they were heading directly for him. The spit dried in Ridge’s mouth. His hand trembled around the hammer he gripped.

  He stared as it kept coming, unable to look away. Damn. This was it.

  “Nice day, amigos.” Luke Legend set the brake and jumped down from the wagon. “What are you building?”

  Ridge glanced at the woman sitting next to Josie. A black lace scarf covered her head and obscured most of her face. She seemed to huddle deeper into the folds, as though wishing to escape his notice.

  “It’ll be a bank,” Ridge muttered, and reached to shake Luke’s hand. “Good to see you. Miss Josie, how’s life treating you?”

  Josie gave a shake of her blond hair and replied with an infectious smile. “Real good except for being homesick. We left little Elena Rose at the ranch with Stoker this time, so I’m missing her something fierce.”

  Ridge started around the wagon to help his bride down and introduce himself when Luke steered him away from the others.

  Luke kept his voice low. “There’s something you need to know before you meet Adeline.”

  His chest tightened. Was she disfigured? Was that the reason for the veil? “What’s that?”

  “She can’t speak.”

  Three

  Shock jolted Ridge. “What do you mean she can’t talk? Can’t for a medical reason? Did someone cut out her tongue?”

  He’d heard how bad prison was and had once met a convict who shook and jerked all the time. Someone had used him as a test subject for a new device, rigged up with paper soaked in salt water and something to do with zinc and copper.

  Ridge searched his memory to recall if Adeline had said anything in the few letters they’d exchanged. But no, there’d been no mention of this.

  “Nothing like that,” Luke assured him. “It’s more like she won’t try. The doctor at the prison said they kept her in isolation for the whole three years as part of her punishment. With no one to talk to, she seems to have forgotten how. Anyway, she’s going to require a lot of understanding.” Luke shifted, and the silver conchas running up the sides of his black pant legs flashed in the sunlight. “There’s more.”

  Good Lord, what else? What did that prison do to her?

  “Someone’s hunting her.”

  A wave of fury crashed over Ridge. His voice held a sharp edge. “Who? Why?”

  “Don’t know, but Adeline does. I was waiting for her at the prison and overheard two men talking about her. One said the best time to grab her was when she came out and that the money for the job would keep them well off.” Luke grinned. “I took her out the back way.”

  “Dammit!” Ridge studied the faint bruises on his friend’s jaw that said he’d had to fight to keep Adeline safe. Anger rose. Ridge clenched his fist. Whoever wanted to harm her would now have to deal with him.

  “When they realized what we’d done, they chased us. I was barely able to get her onto a train to Fort Worth.” Luke paused. “Wish I knew more.”

  “Makes two of us.”

  “The question is…do you still want to marry a hunted woman? One who might never talk to you?”

  Here was an excuse if he wanted to take it. It was unlikely that anyone would fault him for it. Only one thing wrong with that—he wasn’t happy the way he was. He needed more from life than merely existing from one day to the next. And what about Adeline? His rejection might finish the process of destroying her. Plus, she needed protection—and that was something he at least knew how to give.

  “Yes, I’ll marry her—if she’ll have me.”

  Luke slapped his back. “Then I’ll introduce you, and we’ll plan a wedding.”

  Ridge took some nervous breaths and matched Luke’s stride as they moved toward the wagon. Josie reached for Adeline’s hand and squeezed, then Luke helped her down. She didn’t lift her head. Ridge, well over six feet, towered above the slim, petite woman.

  Adeline wore a simple dress of blue calico tha
t hugged in all the right places. Ridge grew warm thinking about running his hands over those curves. The strands of blond hair poking from the heavy black scarf were golden in color, deeper and richer than Josie’s lighter shade.

  Luke put an arm around her. “Miss Jancy, meet your bridegroom, Ridge Steele. I personally vouch for his character. I’ve fought by his side and know he’s a good man to have around. He’ll fight for you until you’re strong enough to do it yourself.”

  She stood rooted in silence. Ridge wished he could see her face.

  “That’s a promise, Miss Adeline.” Ridge cursed his suddenly raspy voice. She struck him as a wounded, exhausted, little wren, battered by heavy storms. “Thank you for coming. I’m only an outlaw, a wanted man with little to my name. But everything I have is yours—if you want it.”

  She lifted her head and removed the black scarf. Kissed by the sunshine, her hair curled around her shoulders and flowed down her back. Emerald eyes stared up at him, framed by thick, dark lashes, and a jolt raced through him.

  The brave, determined woman he’d seen under a Fort Worth night.

  Ridge sucked in a breath. He’d been right in thinking she’d be pretty in the daylight. By God, she was beautiful. Although Luke, Clay, and Josie stood right there, they’d somehow melted away. Adeline was the only person he could see. Shoulders squared, her determined gaze bored into him, and her chin raised a notch. Despite everything, she had fight left in her. He’d probably find out how much if he didn’t watch it.

  Did she recognize him as well? Her expression didn’t indicate if she did. But then it’d been dark that night, and his Stetson had shielded most of his face.

  He brought her hand to his lips and cleared his throat. “Miss Adeline, I’d be honored if you’d be my wife. Will you accept my proposal?”

  One jerk of her head confirmed her answer.

  “Is tomorrow too soon? Or would you rather wait a few days?”