The Outlaw's Mail Order Bride

by Linda Broday

  She twisted like a bucking bronc, her raspy breathing loud on the slight breeze. Clawing his back, she tried to pull him on top of her. “Now, Clay. Now.”

  He raised and covered her body, sliding into her moist heat. Her muscles contracted, gripping him tight. Relaxing. Tightening. Squeezing around him. She wrung every emotion from him.

  Clay settled into a rhythm that Tally joined. He was on fire and Tally had the means to douse his flames before he burned up completely and turned to ash.

  She begged him to go faster and harder, which relieved his worry that he was hurting her. With each stroke, the waves built higher until they towered. It would be a hell of a ride when he slammed back down to reality.

  The heat in his belly grew, the flames spreading, licking higher and higher. As intense pleasure washed over him, he stared into Tally’s face. Light from a nearby candle flickered in her winter-blue gaze, and the fire reflected there was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. She was the sun when he rose each morning. The moon when he slept at night.

  As he shuddered and tumbled through time and space, he could feel her soul connecting with his, and they were joined so completely it brought tears to his eyes. This was the purest form of love he’d ever known.

  His limbs shaking and quivering, his breath ragged, Clay collapsed beside her and pulled her close, resting a hand on the curve of her hip.

  Tally pushed hair from her eyes. “What happened, Clay? Did you feel that?”

  “I did.” He stared at the stars dotting the dark expanse above. “I love you, Tally. I really, deep down love you. This is nothing like when I told you I was going to choose to love you. This is different and it makes me…” He paused and faced her. “A minute ago, I felt like I was dissolving into you. I became you and you, me. We were truly one person, one heart. Does that make sense?”

  “I felt it too.” Tally tenderly cupped his jaw. “I think I first came to realize that I loved you when Josie almost died. But now, I have to tell you and not leave anything important unsaid, just in case…”

  “Nothing is going to happen. Get that thought out of your head.” Clay regretted his rough voice, but it hurt too much to even consider the possibility of life without her.

  “But it might. You know Slade will come back with more men sooner or later. That’s just a given. When he does, I won’t have left anything unsaid. My love is solid and I’ll never feel this way about another as long as I live.”

  Her vow created a tranquil glow around him. He finally had what he’d searched his whole life for. He blinked away the sudden mist in his eyes.

  “Get some sleep.” He tucked her head onto his shoulder, her heart beating in rhythm with his.

  Hours before dawn came, Clay woke to find her gone. The candles around the bed had gone out. He sat up quickly, a knot forming in his stomach. Jerking to his feet, his gaze swept the half-finished house. “Tally, where are you?”

  Movement in the shadows revealed her location and concern replaced his worry.

  Naked, Clay moved closer and saw her sitting behind a beam, her knees drawn up to her chest. Naked also, she was staring into the blackness. He dropped down beside her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Sorry to bother you.”

  “I didn’t know where you went and it scared me a little.” Well, a lot to be honest. “Why can’t you sleep?”

  Tally swung to face him, her eyes like pieces of glass. “A secret that I was going to take to my grave.”

  Everything inside him stilled. If it caused this much distress, it wasn’t anything light. He yearned to put his arm around her but she didn’t appear to welcome his touch. She seemed far from reach.

  “Would you like to talk about it? I don’t judge.”

  “You deserve to know this. I don’t want secrets between us.”

  “Some need burying. Better that way.” He laid his hand on her knee and felt the quivering inside her. He had his own secrets, and shame, he’d never speak of to anyone—not even Tally. “Come back and lie down.”

  “No. I need to get this over with. It’ll affect your decision about our marriage.”

  “There is no deciding. I don’t care what it is. You’re mine and nothing will change it.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” She stared off into the inky night. “You’ve pretty well guessed from what you’ve heard about my life inside the walls of Creedmore. Horrible things were done to me, things you can’t imagine. When dear Lucinda dropped me off, she told them to make me suffer unbearable pain. In fact, she gave her blessing to anything that made my life a living hell.” She took a shuddering breath. “They tattooed my cheek.” Her lip quivered but she held strong. “They tried daily to break me, never stopping. Beat my feet, took everything I had until I escaped.”

  Clay could only guess what that entailed. He reached for her. “You survived. There’s no need to say more.”

  She pulled away and rubbed her hands on her knees as though they were stained. “I did survive, but I may have lasting effects. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I lost two…babies.”

  Good Lord! Clay clenched his fist. He leaped to his feet and stalked to the edge of the boundary of the house. He’d never wanted to hit anything so bad. Slade Tarver and whoever else would see justice—either at the end of a rope or by a bullet. Didn’t make any difference to him, but he would see them dead just as soon as he could leave.

  Behind him came a sniffle, reminding him that Tally needed gentle understanding, not anger. He’d deal with his own feelings later. He retraced his steps and sat back down, pulling her against him. “That was then. This is now. You’re safe and they can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “Stop.” She took his face between her hands. “Listen to me. Slade gave me a horrible concoction—pennyroyal, blue cohosh, and Lord knows what else. But I drank it. Willingly.” She put her knuckles in her mouth in an effort to stop the keening sound. Her hand shook. “I killed my babies. Me. Because I wanted nothing of those men inside me.”

  The horror of what had happened sank in. Clay buried his face in her hair, clutching her tightly. “It’s all right. You had good reason.”

  Tally sobbed, her tears wetting his skin. “I killed them. What kind of person am I?”

  “You’re a woman who wanted to spare her children the torture you were in. If you’d somehow managed to hide your condition and given birth, they’d likely have killed the babies the second they were born. Or used them, made them suffer in order to keep you in line. What you did was merciful and showed the depth of your love.”

  “That’s not all.”

  Dear God! What else could there possibly be?

  Tally pulled back. “Those herbs were very powerful and there’s a chance I may have damaged my body. I might even be unable to have children now. Clay, if I can’t give you a child, I’ll give you a divorce.”

  The words slammed into him with the force of a cannonball and sent him reeling.

  “No. You promised to give me until spring.” Panic and fear made it hard to get the words past his lips. He’d take her however damaged she was. “Talk to Dr. Mary. But the outcome doesn’t matter. None of this changes who we are and the love we have for each other. Lady, I vowed to cherish and protect you until death do us part, and someone will have to put a damn bullet in me to stop me from doing that.”

  He smoothed back her hair. “Think about this. Children come in other ways—our daughter did.”

  Hoping she took heart, he gently pressed his lips to hers and rubbed her spine of steel, letting the silence of the night heal their spirits.

  Tally had rescued him, and maybe he’d done the same for her if she could just let herself see it. He prayed for a chance to love her as she deserved. To dance in the rain. To make her life better with each sunrise. To erase all the bad from her memory.


  Twenty-four

  Midmorning of the following sunshiny day, Dr. Mary caught Tally. “Now that Josie is on the road to recovery, would you like to start taking back ownership of yourself?”

  The possibility made Tally’s heart leap. “As soon as possible. But I thought you had to send for some things you needed.”

  “I asked Ridge Steele to make an extra stop for it when he rode over to Tascosa and he’s already back.”

  The fragrance of newly cut lumber scented the air as Tally scanned the fast-rising town, finally spotting Ridge talking to Jack and Clay. The former preacher stood out as always, with his dark trousers and frock coat hugging his tall frame. He was never without that coat, even in the August heat. Or his guns—one on each hip. Clay had told her how quick he was to draw and let bullets fly, never missing his chosen targets. He’d be good to have near in a fight.

  She dragged her attention back to Dr. Mary. “Then I think we should get started.”

  “Good. While Montana’s sitting outside with Violet, let’s go to my tent.”

  Moments later, they stepped inside. A brown bottle, a pan of water, and what appeared to be a tubular aloe vera stem sat on a small table. She inhaled a deep breath, calming her nerves. She’d faced much worse pain than whatever this could be. But she couldn’t help but long for Clay’s strong hand around hers.

  Dr. Mary walked to the table. “As I told you before, this will hurt. The way this works is that I first make a solution of tannic acid and water and insert that under the first layer of skin the same way they made the tattoo the first time. After that, I’ll wash with cold water, then apply juice from the aloe vera. This is the most painful part.”

  Tally pointed to a stick of silver nitrate. “What about that?”

  “After we let the aloe vera penetrate, I’ll rub the silver nitrate over the tattoo and cover it with a bandage. It’ll take around two weeks, during which the skin on the site will turn black and hard, and that section will fall off, taking the tattoo with it.” Dr. Mary laid a hand on Tally’s shoulder. “I won’t lie. This is very agonizing, and you might be left with a scar. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  Only the pounding of hammers outside broke the silence in the tent as Tally considered everything. Finally, she raised her chin. “I’m positive.” While she didn’t welcome misery, she’d do anything to rid herself of the tattoo—and hopefully all the mark reminded her of.

  Though she doubted that. The memories were embedded too deep.

  “Then we’ll get started. I think it would be best for you to lie down.”

  Tally made herself comfortable, praying that she would be able to take the searing pain. Using a needle, Dr. Mary began the task of puncturing her cheek and inserting the tannic acid solution underneath. The agony almost made Tally cry out. She tried to focus on happy things—like lovemaking with her husband. She still carried the taste of Clay’s kisses on her lips from the previous night. It had thrilled her heart to hear him voice real love for her.

  This man, who’d lived such a violent past, loved her. Their talk afterward had been necessary, and she was glad to have the burden of her confession off her shoulders. He knew all her secrets now.

  “There.” Dr. Mary laid down the needle. “I’ll let you rest before I do more.”

  “No, I can handle this.” Tally just wanted to get it over with.

  “All in good time. My hand needs to rest. It’s getting shaky and that will worsen the pain.” Dr. Mary helped her to a sitting position. “I’ve known few people with your strength, Tally. But you have a will of iron. You fascinate me. Can I ask how you came to be here in Devil’s Crossing?”

  Tally found herself telling Dr. Mary, spilling her story, right from the day Lucinda had poisoned her. The doctor was easy to talk to, and Tally found herself confiding the details of how she’d arrived at Creedmore and some of her ordeal while there.

  “Those places do little more than allow crime to flourish!” Dr. Mary spewed. “It’s a sin and a disgrace how easy it is for people—whether back East or here—to hide someone away to die. I’m sure you suffered terribly. How long before you escaped?”

  “I tried several times unsuccessfully but I didn’t make good on it until I’d been there about a year.”

  Dr. Mary patted Tally’s leg. “Like I said, you astound me. How did you meet Clay?”

  “Through Luke and his underground mail order bride service. I took a chance and agreed to marry Clay sight unseen.” Tally let a smile form. “It’s the best decision I ever could’ve made. But…about Creedmore again. I have some more things to discuss with you, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll give you my expert opinion.”

  “I conceived twice while there. The men gave me a strong tea to drink.” Tally’s voice quivered and she had to take a deep breath before going on. “I…I killed…” A sob burst from her mouth. “I killed my babies.”

  Tears welled in Dr. Mary’s eyes. She put her arms around Tally and held her tightly for several minutes, rubbing her back. “You did what you had to. I admire your enormous will to live.”

  Tally wiped her eyes. “I worry about what that concoction of pennyroyal and blue cohosh did. Sometimes now I have chest pain, at times an irregular heartbeat that scares me, and I have swelling in my feet and ankles. I wonder if I’ll be able to bear Clay’s child.”

  The kindly doctor asked for more details on the concoctions—the frequency, how many cups each time, and for how many days in a row she was given the mixture. Tally answered all her questions, holding back nothing.

  “Would you be willing to lie back down for a moment and let me check some things?” the doctor asked.

  “Sure.” Tally did as she requested.

  Dr. Mary listened to her heart, checked her feet and ankles, and held the lamp close while she pulled down Tally’s lower eyelids, staring into them. Then she performed an internal examination.

  “You can sit up now.”

  “What do you think, Doc?”

  “You have some jaundice but I detect no heart damage from the blue cohosh. I’ll make a milk thistle decoction for you to take three times a day and give you herbs for a nice tea. I think you’ll be just fine. As far as internally, I see no problem. I suspect you suffer from anxiety attacks. Those can mimic heart pain and palpations.”

  No heart damage? “But I have trouble breathing and it hurts so much.”

  “I’ve run across people who have shooting pain whenever they’re afraid or unsettled. After all you’ve been through, panic attacks make perfect sense, and the tea will help you relax.”

  Happiness hummed inside Tally. “Clay and I can have a child?”

  “Only the good Lord knows about these things, Tally. Try not to worry too much.”

  They resumed with the tattoo removal, and a little while later, Tally emerged bandaged from the doctor’s tent. She went straight to Clay, pulled him aside, and explained the tattoo removal and Mary’s comments about the chance to have a child. But she left out the part about her anxiety attacks. No use adding more worry to his load. A few days of following the regimen and she’d be perfectly fine.

  “I’m glad you asked her.” Clay tugged her close and kissed her temple. “Does your cheek hurt?”

  “A little. I’ll be good as new soon. I hope you don’t mind a scar.” Tally slid her arms around his waist, counting herself fortunate.

  “No scar will ruin the kind of beauty you have.”

  Life was full of ups and downs, and this wasn’t the worst that they would face.

  She’d heard the men talk about a bounty hunter Ridge had seen in Tascosa and the reward poster the man had been showing around.

  Foreboding told her the worst still lay in front of them.

  * * *

  A surly visitor rode in the next afternoon, asking to water his horse, a pitiful-looking piebald. Th
e minute the man dismounted, Clay knew he was trouble. Over the years, he’d seen hundreds like him, men eaten up with hate and looking for revenge. The hard face and long, angry scar running down his neck would give any seasoned outlaw pause. But it was the cold sneer and shifty, deep-set eyes that spoke of a killer.

  “Name’s Thompson.” The man slapped his leg with his hat and dirt flew. “This used to be an outlaw hideout where a man could lay low for a while.”

  “Not anymore. We’re building a respectable town here. If you’re looking for something else, you’d best move on.” Clay’s gut told him to remove the thin leather strip holding his Remington secure in the holster.

  Jack, Ridge, and Luke followed suit from their vantage points in the shadows. Montana rose from a seat in the sunshine he was soaking up.

  “And if I’m not of a mind to?” Thompson growled.

  “I think we can handle you. There’s plenty of water at the windmill tank. Your piebald is about done in. You’ve been riding him awful hard.”

  “My business.” Thompson yanked on the reins and led the horse toward the water tank.

  “So it is.” Clay had only taken two steps after the surly man when Belle January screamed, and Clay took off running.

  Tobias had fallen from a ladder and lay on the ground, his face ghost white, gasping for air. Clay was the first to arrive. “Don’t try to get up. Just lie there a minute and wait for the doctor.”

  “I’m here.” Dr. Mary knelt down beside the old man. “Take it easy. You’ve had the wind knocked out of you, Tobias.” She felt his legs and arms. “I don’t feel anything broken.”

  “Praise be. I was so afraid.” Belle twisted her gnarled hands.

  Tobias finally got his lungs filled and quit gasping. “I’m just addled. Don’t need no fuss.” A few moments later, Clay and Jack helped him stand.

  “How do you feel?” Clay asked.

  Before Tobias could answer, Violet let out a bloodcurdling scream and a gunshot rang out. Clay whirled to see Thompson’s blood soaking in the dirt, Montana standing over him, smoke curling from his gun.