The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  Jack rode out with Alice immediately after breakfast and Clay went to work on the new house, getting everything ready for the lumber when it did arrive. After making love to Tally, he felt reenergized. Hope surged in his heart.

  A short time after he started readjusting the pegs and enlarging the house to include a room for Violet, Rebel appeared.

  At first, he didn’t mind, but when she seemed to have settled at his side for the day, he’d had enough. “Rebel, I’m sure there are other jobs you need to be doing—clothes to wash, garden to tend, any number of things. I suggest you go see to them.”

  Rebel pouted. “You don’t want my company?”

  “Not at the moment. I think you’re just doing this to get under Tally’s skin.”

  “So what if I am? She doesn’t know what she’s got.”

  “That’s not your place to decide. We’re making headway.”

  “And that’s why you’re sleeping here and she’s in the dugout.”

  Clay laid down the stake and ball of string. “That is our business. Now go.”

  She pouted and huffed but left him to work.

  A few hours later, he went for water and stopped dead in his tracks. Rebel had hung a sign in front of her tent that said Doctor. Men were lined up, waiting. Bullet began to whine and limp like he was about to lose a leg and slowly made his way to the end of the line.

  Aw hell! Clay called to Tally nearby working in the garden.

  “What is it?” She crowded beside him.

  “That.” He pointed to the tent. “Looks like Rebel’s opened a medical practice.”

  Tally let out a gasp of surprise. “Well, she needs attention and I guess this will get it. Those men don’t have one thing wrong with them, but they’ll make up anything to have soft hands touching them.” She leaned forward, squinting. “Is that Bullet?”

  “Yep. The crazy dog’s holding up his leg like it’s about to fall right off.”

  “Don’t begrudge him, Clay. Even dogs need attention too.”

  As they watched, two more outlaws stumbled to the line and got into place behind Bullet. “It’s a good thing we don’t have any lumber yet or we’d get no work done.”

  “Then she’s not hurting anything.” Tally’s voice was soft as she tucked her hand around Clay’s elbow. “I can afford to be understanding.”

  Clay met her gaze, drowning in the depths of her blue eyes. “Where did the real Tally Shannon Colby go?”

  She slapped his arm. “That’s not nice. I can be understanding.”

  Yeah, but not with Rebel.

  Belle January emerged from her soggy tent and waved as Clay tried to avoid the biggest of the mud puddles left by the storm. The place was a mess, and the ground would take days to dry out. He strode in the direction of a patch of flowers. Or maybe they were weeds. He didn’t know the difference, but they were pretty and his lady loved yellow.

  Halfway there, he turned and looked back. The sunlight sparkled in Tally’s auburn hair, stealing his breath. Plain his hind leg! Nothing was further from the truth. He pursed his lips and whistled a jaunty tune. From where she played nearby, Violet tried her best to mimic him. Each day, he saw her sweetness more.

  He had a family.

  The memory of last night filled his head, and he wanted to shout to the world that Tally was his woman. So much happiness spread through his heart it threatened to spill over the sides.

  Clay gazed at the muddy, fledgling town. The need to start rebuilding rose up stronger than ever. He had some mighty big dreams, and time was wasting.

  * * *

  The stifling afternoon heat was bearing down on the town when two gunshots rang out. Clay threw down his awl and leatherwork, leaving them in the shade of the windmill, and ran in the direction of the sound. He yanked out his Remington, trying to figure out where the gunman was.

  Tally gave a cry of alarm and ran to meet him. “Violet’s gone!”

  “When did you miss her?”

  She grabbed his arm, fear frozen in her eyes. “I just went inside to stir the beans and add some salt pork. I wasn’t gone more than fifteen minutes at the most.”

  “I’ll find her, you can bet on that.”

  “Violet was having a good time exploring her new independence with her walking stick and Bullet, and I let her leave my sight. What have I done, Clay?”

  “You haven’t done anything. I’ll be back.” Clay gave her a quick kiss and joined Ridge, Dallas Hawk, and several others who’d heard the gunshots.

  “Best I could tell, the shots came from outside the compound.” Ridge swung around, scanning the rocks in all directions.

  “Violet’s missing.” Clay took a ragged breath. “We’ve got to spread out and find her. I hope she’s not with the shooter. Whoever it is better not have hurt that child.”

  Ridge Steele flipped open the cylinder of his gun to make sure it was fully loaded. “If he has, I wouldn’t give you a plug nickel for his chances of living.”

  “Amen to that,” came a mumbled agreement from the men.

  They ran down the muddy path through town that separated the burned buildings from the living quarters. The charred odor of the rain-soaked ashes invaded his mouth and nose. Clay sprinted past the tent saloon, now collapsed on one end from the storm. He was aware of others behind, but he didn’t turn to check that they were following. He raced past Skeet Malloy’s blacksmith shop and skirted the corral. The horses were skittish, their eyes wild.

  The man keeping watch hollered down from his post atop the bluff. “The shots came from near that old tree just outside. Didn’t see anyone though.”

  “Thanks. You saved us some time.” Clay hurried through the opening and cautiously made his way forward, scouring the brush and rocks.

  He raised a hand to signal for quiet and heard a loud sniffle. Violet? Sounded like her. Then a dog barked, and he knew he must’ve found the girl. He rushed forward, scanning the tangle of brush. “Violet!”

  “Hurry,” Violet sniffled.

  “Be careful, Clay,” Jack warned. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’m coming.” Gripping his gun tightly, Clay waded into a stand of mesquite, thorns poking through his clothes. He pushed aside the branches, hoping a bullet didn’t find him in his hurry.

  Fear gripped his heart and climbed up his spine, his breath uneven and catching in his chest until his lungs hurt. She was out there alone and unable to see. He was afraid to move, to breathe, to consider how this was going to turn out. He couldn’t take Violet’s lifeless body back to Tally. He couldn’t.

  The brush rustled and Bullet bounded out. Clay knelt to check for any wounds but found none, not even the pretend limp the dog had developed that morning. Bullet whined and bit down on Clay’s pant leg, trying to pull him forward. Violet was close, he could feel it.

  Bullet let go of his trousers and barked before turning into the brush. Clay followed, thousands of little warnings inching up the short hairs on the back of his neck. He pushed aside one more mesquite branch. He saw the girl and froze.

  Violet was muddy from the knees down and Montana Black had his arm around her.

  Clay lunged, sticking his long-barreled Remington to the man’s head. “Blink and I’ll kill you. Just give me one good reason not to blow you into hell.”

  Montana’s eyes widened and his mouth hung slack. “I didn’t harm the kid. I saved her.” Breathing hard, Montana held up a deadly rattlesnake that must’ve measured eight feet long. Longer at one point, since the head was gone. “Missed my first shot. Damn, my blurry vision.” His knees appeared to buckle, and he suddenly collapsed to the ground.

  Violet sat down beside him, laying her head on Montana’s chest. “My friend’s hurt. Can you fix him?”

  “I don’t know, baby girl.” Clay knelt over Montana and p
ushed away his shirt to expose the festering bullet wound in his shoulder. The smell of decaying flesh swam up Clay’s nose. The outlaw was in a bad way—not only his shoulder but his leg wound also. He’d tied a bandana around the hole in his thigh and everything was stiff with blood and leaking pus.

  Montana grimaced. “I hurt like pure hell. Why weren’t you a better shot, Colby? I wish I was dead.”

  Clay yanked Montana’s gun from his hand and stuck it in his waistband. “Yeah? Well, that makes two of us.”

  Just then, Hawk and Ridge crashed through the brush. “Thank God he didn’t hurt Violet,” Ridge said.

  “He’s my friend.” Violet hugged Montana. “He killed the snake and saved us.”

  Ridge snarled, “It’s the first time he’s ever done a lick of good in his sorry life.”

  “Says you.” Montana glared. “I’m not all bad. I could tell right off that this sweet little girl couldn’t see. She was walking with that long stick over there and that old snake came slithering out of the tall grass. It was within striking distance when I fired the first shot.”

  “Make him well,” Violet begged. “Please.”

  “We’ll do our best, honey.” Dallas picked her up. “Clay, I’ll carry her back to her mama while you tote Montana.”

  “Don’t forget my stick, Mr. Hawk.”

  “Right.” Hawk took it from Ridge, and they moved out of view.

  Clay glanced at Ridge. “Which end do you want to carry?”

  Ridge shook his head. “I don’t know which smells worse, so guess it don’t matter.”

  “Hey, I’m not dead. I can hear you,” Montana protested weakly.

  “Good.” Clay bent over him and clutched his shirt. “Listen to me and listen good. Give me one good reason why we should take you back to Devil’s Crossing and patch you up. And, understand this, even if you can come up with one, there’s got to be some changes.”

  Montana stared silently up at them.

  Clay let go of his shirt and nudged his bad leg with his boot. “Well?”

  “You’re a bastard, you know that?” Montana spat sourly.

  “Ridge, I reckon he wants to die right here. We might as well oblige him.” Clay took several steps.

  “Wait just a goddamn minute!” Montana called.

  Clay turned. “What? I don’t have all day to waste.”

  “I have some information in return for fixing me up.” Montana lay back, gasping.

  Clay and Ridge exchanged glances. Was this just another ploy to get what he wanted?

  “Talk,” Clay snapped.

  “Make a deal first.” Montana reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded poster. “This proves what I’m about to say.”

  Clay spread it out and pain shot through his chest as he stared at Tally’s face. It offered five hundred dollars for her capture. A fortune. “Where did you get this?”

  “Before I say a word, promise that you’ll fix me up.” Montana wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Ridge knelt beside him. “We’ll do our best to save your miserable hide. What do you know?”

  “After you shot me, I could barely cling to the reins. My horse eventually wandered to the water hole. I met up with some bounty hunters who were looking for Tally Shannon.”

  Clay frowned, trying to piece the timeline together. Did this happen before or after Tarver and his boys had come to town? “Montana, did you send them to Devil’s Crossing? You knew I was marrying Tally.”

  “They already knew it.” Montana’s voice was getting weaker. “They talked about the things they were going to do to her, horrible things no one—man or woman—should endure. Like skinning. You’re a bunch of tough hombres here, but Tarver and those other two are twenty times worse than you.”

  The pieces were beginning to fit. Montana had met up with Tarver and company before they arrived in Devil’s Crossing.

  “How did you get here and where is your horse?” Clay scanned the area but didn’t see the animal.

  “Once I got away from them, I found a place to hole up, but then I started getting worse. I knew the only help was here, so I started back. I fell off and my damn horse galloped off.” Montana licked his lips. “I could sure use a drink of water.”

  “Even your horse left you to die.” Clay squatted on his heels. “You haven’t told us anything we don’t already know. Tarver and his followers came, and I got rid of them. They weren’t so tough after all. Were you thinking to turn Tally in for the reward?”

  “No. I need the money bad, but I wouldn’t do that to a woman.”

  It seemed there was a first time for everything.

  “I got skills you can use. I can help get this town going.” Montana clutched at Clay’s shirtsleeve. “Just give me a chance.”

  Ridge snorted. “What can you possibly know how to do other than fight, cuss, and kill?”

  “I used to be a freighter. I can haul things and you won’t have to see me often.” Montana fell back and let out a loud moan. The man peeked at them from one half-closed eye, checking to see if they were softening. “I promise not to burn down anything again. All right?” Montana’s dirty hand clutched at Clay’s trousers. “That pretty little girl liked me.”

  “She’s blind.” Ridge got to his feet. “If Violet could see how ugly and mean you are, she’d have nightmares for sure.”

  The old outlaw was going to die unless they did something. But Clay had to press for more while they had him over a barrel. “Promise also not to tear the town down by any other means.”

  Ridge grinned. “I think we might ought to get it in writing too.”

  “Damn, I didn’t bring any paper.” Clay grinned back. “I wonder how close Montana is to passing out. He’s lost a lot of blood. He could die before we get back with paper and pencil. But then again, that would save patching him up.”

  “I’ll sign whatever you want in my own damn blood!” Montana yelled.

  “As rank as he smells, I’m surprised he hasn’t attracted the coyotes.” Ridge wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Tonight for sure. Here come a string of ants. They’ll eat him alive. It sure looks like he could use that drink of water.”

  “I didn’t bring nary a drop.” Clay shrugged. “Well, it’s not really our problem. Let’s go.”

  “All right, dammit.” Montana tried to pull himself up but was too weak. “You win. I won’t do anything to mess up your prissy little town.”

  Clay slapped Ridge’s shoulder. “Hell, I didn’t know Devil’s Crossing prissed.”

  “The things we learn.” Ridge picked up Montana’s legs and Clay got the man’s shoulders. “Clay, I know the real reason his horse ran off.”

  “Yeah. Couldn’t stomach the smell.” It appeared Rebel was going to get her first real patient. Clay grinned. It didn’t pay to ask for things or you’d get them in spades.

  * * *

  “Well…I… You can’t put him in here,” Rebel sputtered. “He’s far too sick for me. And stinky.” The lady in red held her nose. “Besides, he owes me money for”—she paused with downcast eyes—“services rendered…last time he came through Cimarron.”

  Clay bit back a grin before pointing to her sign. “That there says that you’re the town’s doctor. You can’t turn Montana away. You’re all we have. His wounds are infected and he’ll die without treatment.”

  “I’ll help.” Tally’s voice rang out from the dugout doorway. She strode toward them. “I’ll help you bathe him, and together, we’ll pull him through. Unless you don’t want my help, that is.”

  Rebel stared for a long heartbeat before finally taking her hands from her hips. She turned to the line outside her tent opening. “Sorry, boys, you’ll have to be patient until I can get to you.”

  Clay and the preacher outlaw carried Montana inside the doctor’s office. Tom Smith, the guard from
the previous night, sat on the only cot with his shoe off and pant leg rolled up.

  “Tom, honey, you’ll have to get up,” Rebel said sweetly. “I’ll trim your toenails after I make Montana comfortable. Don’t you worry none though. You’re next on my list.”

  “Just don’t forget. I got real pain here.” Tom reached for his boot and limped out.

  Clay laid Montana on the cot. His feet hung off the end a good foot. He met Tally’s glance and smiled. It appeared their explosive lovemaking of the previous night had dramatically altered her feelings toward Rebel. Strange how a rivalry could end once a threat was laid to rest. He watched Tally’s quiet and capable movements as she calmly assessed the man’s injuries. He helped her strip Montana down and drew a sheet over the man’s hips.

  Memories of last night swirled in his head. Tally and that storm combined were almost more than he could handle. She’d given as much love as she was capable of, and the taste of her still lingered on his tongue. He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers, wishing they had nothing more pressing to do than climbing the bluff again.

  Rebel returned with a pail of water and some cloths. “It’s cold, but I don’t think we can wait for water to heat. Good Lord, I don’t think he’s taken a bath in six months! It’ll serve him right to get one with cold water.”

  Tally turned to Clay. “Can you keep an eye on Violet until I finish here? That girl has taken to her newfound independence like a bird that’s learned to fly.”

  “Sure, darlin’. I’ll try to keep her out of trouble, but I may have to clip baby girl’s wings a tad.” He grinned, pushing back Tally’s hair. He cupped her cheek and captured her enticing mouth with a kiss that stole every thought from his head.

  Behind them, Rebel was throwing things. He ended the kiss and turned to find her staring a hole in him, clearly fuming about the change of events. Good. Maybe she’d gotten the message.

  “Tally, holler if you need me. I won’t go far.” Clay gave Rebel a smile. “Don’t kill Montana. He’s made promises.”

  Before Rebel could reply, Clay held the tent flap for Belle, on her way in.

  For a moment, Clay watched Violet explore. Her excitement in discovering the smallest things about her dark world was something to see. She picked up a rock, examined it, and smiled. He’d give anything to know what she was seeing with her fingers.