The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  “I like that. We are a team in this marriage.” Clay grinned. “Equals.”

  Through half-lowered lids, Tally admired his backside as he went to meet his friends. He sure could fill out those trousers, and his stride was loose jointed and easy, like a wild, beautiful mustang.

  What would he become after darkness fell?

  Nervous jitters rattled her. She stood, inhaling the fresh air until she’d calmed, reminding herself that she was no longer imprisoned in Creedmore. Clay appeared to be patient and kind. A man with such a gentle touch wouldn’t hurt her.

  And if she was wrong about Clay and he ever did hurt her…she’d shoot him without blinking an eye. From now on, no one would ever touch her without permission. She’d rather make herself a widow.

  Six

  Due to the heat, they ate outdoors that evening at the tables and chairs Harvey Drake brought out from the saloon. Afterward, Clay took Tally’s hand. “I want to show you something. I’ve asked Jack to stay with Violet until we get back. This won’t take long.”

  Violet glanced up in panic. “Don’t leave me. Where are you?” In her haste, she stumbled over a chair and sprawled.

  Clay picked her up but felt her stiffen and handed her to Tally.

  “It’s all right, honey,” Tally soothed. “You can come.” She threw a shawl around her shoulders. “We’re all yours, Clay.”

  That they were, and Clay counted himself a very lucky man. He put Violet between them, each taking a hand. Maybe this would help his relationship with the child. “It’s only a short distance. We’ll be back long before dark.”

  “Do we ride?”

  “Nope, we walk.”

  They passed the burned buildings that had begun to look better. Even though Tally had worked like a little soldier, cleaning up the rubble, a lot more remained to be done. He liked how she’d taken the men in the camp in hand and organized their efforts. Her philosophy seemed to be that if you lived here, you shared the work. It meshed with his own beliefs.

  Bullet trotted from the shadow of some mesquites, his tongue lolling out, eyes lighting up to see his new friend. He came right to the girl and nudged her hand. Of course, that prompted a stop before continuing on.

  Clay glanced at Tally’s profile. She smelled of some kind of flowery soap. After she’d stopped work for the day, he’d taken her to an outdoor bathing room he’d rigged. He was proud of it, a small eight-foot-high wooden enclosure with five buckets of water perched on a shelf up top. Small ropes were attached to each bucket for the bather to pull when time to rinse. She’d lost no time in trying it out with Violet.

  When they got back from this trip, he’d take his turn. He wouldn’t crawl into bed with Tally without washing.

  Thoughts of sleeping beside his new wife brought jittery nerves. What if he grunted or talked in his sleep? Worse yet, what if he didn’t remember she was there and rolled on top of her or kicked her? He doubted he’d make a very good bedfellow. He’d probably scare her half to death.

  He pushed aside some brush and let her through to the ground he’d cleared. The layout of their future house was pegged into the ground with string. “This will be our home.”

  Tally’s eyes glistened. “I love it, Clay. Show me the rooms.”

  He pretended to open the nonexistent front door and bowed. “Your Majesties.” Then he led her and Violet into the pretend parlor, the kitchen, and the bedroom, stepping over the thin, white twine. “I’ll just need to make a slight adjustment for Violet. She’ll need her own bedroom. But that won’t be a problem.”

  Nothing was too difficult when it came to his two ladies.

  “For me?” Violet asked.

  “Yes, baby girl.” Clay knelt and took her hand. “Do you know that I’d do anything for you? If it’s fine with your mama, I’d like to spend some time with you tomorrow. We can get to know each other. Would that be all right?”

  “I don’t know. Will Mama be there?”

  “We’ll have to see about that.” Clay stood and gave Tally a questioning glance. But all he got was a shrug.

  Clearly, they had some work ahead in figuring out things.

  Tally smoothed the top of Violet’s hair. “Honey, why don’t you sit here in the beautiful sunset with Bullet while we finish?”

  The girl jerked in panic and grabbed Tally’s skirt. “You won’t leave me?”

  “No, honey.” Tally moved to stand where one wall would go. “Clay, the rooms are quite spacious, and the view here where the canyon opens up into a valley is breathtaking. We can watch the sky in the evenings.”

  Clay scowled. That had never occurred to him. “I completely overlooked that. I’ll add a wide window here for the winter months. And I’ll build a porch for the summer, so we can sit out here.”

  Only, would she be there for the summer? His stomach twisted. Although he didn’t know how he’d find strength if she wanted to leave, he wouldn’t stop her.

  “That would be lovely.” Tally turned and the fading sunlight tangled in her copper-colored hair, shooting golden fire through the long strands.

  The sight of her was heart-stopping. His mouth dried and he reached for her. Something akin to fear instantly filled her eyes.

  “I only want to hold you, Tally. A harmless kiss.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Nothing at all to be sorry for. I never want to force you to do anything you don’t want.” He gently tugged her against him and placed tentative lips on hers. He gave her a moment to relax, then settled his mouth firmly on hers. The kiss was raw and jarred Clay to the bottom of his boots. An overwhelming tenderness rose for this woman who’d taken a chance on him.

  Their breath mingled as passion deepened. It didn’t surprise him that she tasted of the sweet peaches they’d had with supper. But Clay also tasted something else. Yearning?

  Deepening the kiss, he explored the soft lines of her back, her waist, and the gentle flare of her hips. Tally leaned into him, clutching his vest, returning all that he gave.

  Ripples of wonder went through him. He was surprised at the depth of her passion. Of his too.

  For a moment, time stood still and he savored this new life. Some women were like diamonds, with many facets that revealed different colors and depths depending how you turned it. While he couldn’t yet know for sure, Tally seemed to have that inner fire. Already she’d amazed him at the ease in which she’d taken charge of the men, both at the burn site and in rearranging the dugout for the new bed he’d built for them and moving their old one into a cubicle for Violet. Each man seemed enamored of her.

  He just prayed he wouldn’t mess this up, and he vowed to show her the man he could be.

  Tally pushed away from him, her breath ragged. “I should get back.”

  Clay captured her palm. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. It was just the beauty of this place, the fresh air, the waning sunlight…”

  “I wasn’t offended, but don’t expect too much of me.”

  “If I’m moving too fast, just tell me. We’re not running any race.” He raised her chin to study her blue eyes. “You must be worried about sleeping with me. I vow to you right here, right now, that I’ll not do anything you don’t want. I’ll never force myself on you. I never have—on any woman.”

  Tally lightly touched the scar on his cheek. “If I thought you would, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But we both have things in our past to overcome. I still have nightmares about being at Creedmore, so don’t be alarmed if I sit up in the dead of night, struggling to breathe.”

  So that was why she’d come running outside. Whatever she’d experienced there, it must’ve been horrific.

  “Does it happen regularly?”

  “They’re becoming less frequent, but when those memories do take hold, I’m helpless under their power.”

  Clay tucked a wayward curl behind h
er ear and kissed her cheek. “If I could take every bad memory from you, I would in a heartbeat. I can’t imagine what you’ve endured. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here. Otherwise, I won’t ask you for details.”

  Tally stepped away from him. “Talking serves no purpose. It changes nothing.”

  Her hard tone told him more than her words ever would. The monsters at Creedmore must’ve tried to break her. Only it sure looked like they hadn’t succeeded, and that was a testament to her immense strength.

  “We’d better get back. Are you ready?” At her nod, they went to Violet, curled up sound asleep, using Bullet for a pillow. Clay forced a chuckle. “I think she’s tired.”

  Tally’s gaze held love for the child. “Can you carry her?”

  He nodded and lifted the girl in his arms. On the way back, he and Tally discussed how best to handle the child’s fear of Clay. “I want to spend some time with her tomorrow. I’ll show her the goats and how to navigate around a little, and things to avoid.”

  “That’s a good idea if she’ll let you.” Tally let out a sigh. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “Tell me a little about her background.”

  “I only know her family was mean and ugly to her because she was different and required more care.” Tally glanced up at him with her winter-blue gaze. “I don’t think she’s ever had a speck of love or even kindness.”

  Emotion filled Clay’s voice. He hated the gruffness. “Well, she’ll get plenty here. We’re her family now.” You didn’t have to be born to someone to be family. The one you chose was often much better. Clay had lost his at a tender age and had never found a replacement.

  Until now.

  * * *

  Violet woke up the minute they stepped into the dugout, freezing in Clay’s arms. “Mama Tally?”

  A flash of pain crossed his eyes, and he quickly put her down. “You’re all right.” Tally quickly soothed the girl and got her in a soft nightgown. “Are you happy, sweet girl?”

  “As long as you’re here too. I like Bullet. You’ll never go away and leave me, will you?”

  “No, definitely not. Please try not to be afraid. These men aren’t like the others.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I promise. Mr. Colby and his friends will never hurt you.” Tally kissed Violet’s cheek and wrapped her in a hug. Her heart broke for the child. She, too, had seen the darkness in men’s hearts. But Violet was only a child and unable to use logic. To her, all men posed danger.

  “Mama Tally, what does Mr. Clay look like?”

  What an odd question. But Violet had to be curious. “Well, let’s see. He has very kind brown eyes and his dark hair curls around his collar. His smile makes me feel warm and cared for. Someone hurt him bad though.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He wears a scar on his face.”

  “Did it make him cry?”

  “I don’t know, honey.” Somehow, she couldn’t see Clay crying, no matter how wounded.

  “But he’s not mean?”

  He could turn out to be, but no matter how wary life had taught her to be, something inside of her doubted Clay could ever be mean. “No, honey. I don’t think so. Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”

  “Yes. The one about the three piggies.”

  They settled on the bed and Tally spun the yarn that never was the same way twice. The child loved variation. When she finished, Tally asked, “Do you want to say your prayers?”

  Violet knelt beside her small bed with her hands clasped together. “Thank you, God, for watching over us. And tie all the mean men up so they can’t hurt us. Amen.”

  Tally tucked her in, kissed her forehead, and stepped around the blanket that separated Violet’s little cubbyhole from the rest of the dugout. She went to sit with Clay at the table. “I suppose you heard that?”

  He took her hand, drawing little circles in her palm before meeting her eyes. Her stomach flipped upside down, as it had earlier when they’d kissed. She stroked the fine hair on his arm.

  He cleared his voice. “She’s terrified of not only me, but of losing you. I see why you had to bring her.”

  “I hope she gets better and doesn’t cling as much. But I make no promises.”

  “Not asking you to.” Clay leaned and kissed her behind the ear, the day’s stubble brushing her skin. “You smell very nice. Humor me—what kind of soap do you use?”

  “It’s lavender. Josie gave me three bars for a wedding present. Until now, I’ve always used just plain soap, whatever I could make from lye. Why?”

  “I want to make sure you never run out.” He stood and pulled her up against him. “Dance with me.”

  She sent a startled glance around the small room. “Where?”

  “Right here. It’s small, but we might manage.” His hold was light, his arm trembling. “This brings back memories of my mother and father. They were so much in love, and as a boy, I watched them dance in the yard in the moonlight, always imagining that’s what married life should be like. I want our marriage to be spontaneous and fun, Tally. To whip off your apron and twirl you around the yard.”

  His admission jolted her and his voice dripped with longing.

  “It’s been so long I probably don’t remember how.” She let herself relax and began to softly hum a waltz. Their first steps were hesitant, but soon they fell in step with each other perfectly as they moved around the plank floor. Unable to avoid the cookstove and table and chairs, they bumped into them and tried again. They finally ended up standing still and swaying in the center of the room. That was fine with Tally’s aching feet.

  “Who taught you to dance, Clay?”

  “A lady in a saloon in Cimarron, New Mexico Territory. Lord, could she dance. She moved like rippling water. Dancing is one of my favorite things to do, only the number of lady partners around here has been a mite slim.” He flashed a smile and her heart fluttered. “You’re very good at this.”

  “My father taught me. And my brother, Brady.”

  “Your brother?” Clay stopped, surprise on his face. “You didn’t mention him in any of your letters.”

  “I thought some things best to wait until I was here. Brady died in an accident only a week after my father passed.” Tally recalled the horrible nightmare, made so much worse by not knowing the exact cause and fearing Lucinda’s wrathful nature. She struggled with tightness in her throat, the words barely squeezing out. “Brady was working alone in one of our pastures, rounding up some strays. We found him bleeding, his spine broken.”

  Clay drew her close and she welcomed the comfort. “That must’ve devastated you.”

  “Best we could figure, his horse had trampled him.” Tally wrapped her arms around Clay’s waist and rested her head on his chest. “After the lengths that Lucinda went to in getting rid of me, I can’t help but wonder if she had a hand in Brady’s death too. She was determined to get her hands on everything, and his accident was far too convenient.”

  “Do you think she might’ve killed your father?”

  “I have no proof, but yes, I do think she did.” She stepped back and winced at the sudden movement that sent a wave of pain through her foot.

  Lesson learned. Clay’s eyes darkened. She would never be able to hide anything from him. He seemed to notice every detail, but then, maybe that’s what had kept him alive.

  “Tally, I’ve seen how you walk. Are your feet hurting you?”

  She stilled, her voice low when she spoke. “You promised not to ask details of my time in Creedmore. I should get ready for bed.”

  “Sit.” Clay held out a chair. When she dropped onto the seat, he removed her shoes and pulled her stockings off. A gasp left him that he tried to cover with a too-bright smile. He lifted each red and painfully swollen foot and gently massaged the twisted toes and misshapen bones. He turned his
head and coughed, trying to hide the glisten of tears.

  “Please, don’t.” But he wouldn’t let her pull her feet back.

  “Don’t deny me this pleasure. Picture your favorite place and let me take you there.”

  Tally closed her eyes and let his tender touch carry her to the place where she’d grown up and a time when she’d known no pain. She ran laughing through lush fields of hay and across the wide meadow, into welcoming arms, and had never felt so cared for.

  When he finished, Clay kissed each foot and stood. “I’ll make myself scarce while you get ready for bed. Need to check on the goats anyway.” He started toward the door and paused, his back to her. “Tally, I can’t do any asking around myself, me being wanted, but the Legends have considerable influence. We’ll try to find out about your brother and father.”

  “Thank you, Clay.”

  The door shut, leaving Tally alone with her jitters. Although Clay had promised not to do anything that she didn’t want, she was nervous about sleeping next to him. She went to the new bed.

  There on her pillow lay a pretty purple wildflower.

  Clay amazed her. The notorious outlaw danced up a storm and he had the soul of a romantic. She picked up the bloom and sniffed the sweet fragrance. Clay surprised her at every turn. He’d learned a lot about how to please a woman. Dancing, rubbing her feet, and now this.

  No doubt the handsome man had seen no shortage of willing teachers.

  The thought soured her stomach. She didn’t want to think about anyone he’d been with before her. Still, she did owe those women a debt of gratitude. The way he moved suggested that he’d probably be a very accomplished lover. Her stomach clenched as dark memories swarmed, choking her.

  Would he be disappointed in her? She knew nothing of gentleness.

  She pulled her nightgown from a small trunk and shook out the wrinkles. In short order, she exchanged it with her dress, then brushed out her hair and braided it. She’d just crawled beneath the light covers and tucked her pistol under her pillow when Clay entered with wet hair, bringing the fresh night air and scent of soap with him.