Outlaw's Bride (15 page)

The wagon clattered along uneven ground, bouncing them like nuggets in a sluice pan. Their teeth rattled, and Ragan held on to his arm with a deathlike grip.

“How far?”

“Not far!”

It seemed a hundred miles before she pointed ahead and shouted, “There!” The opening was nearly obscured by undergrowth. He would have whipped past it if she hadn’t pointed it out.

The entrance looked small—too small for the wagon to clear. Glancing over his shoulder, he estimated how long it would take for the men to round up their horses and come after them. Five, ten minutes?

The shaft opening was coming up. “Is it large enough to clear the wagon?”

“I’m pretty sure it is!”

Large enough or not, they were going through. Ragan screamed and covered her eyes as the horse galloped headlong toward the cavern. Thick vegetation grew along the sides of the overgrown mining road, obscuring the shaft.

“Come on, girl,” Johnny urged. He prayed the mare wouldn’t refuse to go in.

Johnny shut his eyes as the wagon sheared the undergrowth and burst through the opening. The scream of metal meeting the stone walls was deafening as the wagon slowly ground to a halt.

Johnny turned to stare at the wheels. Were they ruined?

They both sat in silence for a few moments, breathing hard. Dampness encompassed them, and they could hear water dripping from somewhere inside the shaft.

“Are you hurt?”

“I need to use the necessary,” Ragan whispered, pale as a ghost.

Climbing over the seat, Johnny inched his way to the rear of the wagon. The bed was just inside the shaft, and the wheels were sheared to the spokes.

Hoof beats pounded down the road, and Johnny quickly climbed back to shove Ragan to the floor of the seat and crouch over her.

The riders galloped by, and then the vibrations of their horses’ hooves receded into the distance.

Ragan’s voice was muffled beneath him. “Are they gone?”

“Yes.” Helping her onto the seat, he leaned back, taking a deep breath. “If this isn’t a mess.”

She threw her arms around him. Her mouth consumed his, pressing him back in the seat with such force he struggled to breathe. When she lifted her head a few moments later, he murmured, “You pick the oddest times to turn woman on me.”

She grinned, leaning her forehead against his. “I’m just so very grateful to you.”

“Grateful?” He hadn’t expected her gratitude. He thought she’d fly into him like a banshee. “For what?”

Looping her arms around his neck, she met his eyes. “For protecting me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sitting up, she drew a shaky breath and then she hauled off and smacked him in the middle of his chest.

“What was that for?”

“How
dare
you give those vile men permission to take me!” She whacked him again.

Pinning her hands in front of her, he struggled to control her. “It was a bluff—one that saved your life, lady!”

She stared defiantly back at him. “What would you have done if they had accepted your offer?”

He released her hands. “They didn’t.” He didn’t want to consider the prospect.

Rubbing her wrists, she refused to look at him, so he turned in the seat to take further stock of the damage. The wagon was sitting on the frame, the back wheels wedged securely in the opening.

He climbed over the front of the buckboard and released the harness. No sooner had the last tether loosened than the mare bolted, the reins slipping out of Johnny’s hands before he could react.

“Now the horse is gone.” He turned to look at Ragan.

“This shaft opens up just around the corner. Not much gold was ever found in this area, and the mine shafts are all very shallow.” She climbed over the front of the wagon, and they walked out the back of the shaft.

“Do you see the horse out here?” she asked.

“No. I’m sure she’s headed for her stall in town. We’re going to have to get back on our own.”

Darkness was closing in, and they had a good hour’s walk ahead of them. If they didn’t show up soon, the judge would have a posse out after them.

“I thought you said the opening was wide enough.”

“I said I was
pretty
sure it was.” She primly straightened her collar.

“Well.” He assessed her inappropriate hour-walk-to-town footwear. “I’m
pretty
sure you’re going to have a blister the size of a washbowl, Miss Ramsey. We have a long walk ahead of us.”

She seemed unaffected. “You’ll have blisters just as big as I, Mr. McAllister.”

She speeded up to walk ahead of him, turning to call over her shoulder, “And don’t come whining to me for relief!”

“Miss Ramsey?”

She refused to turn around. “What?” Her skirt tail flounced in the dust.

“Those ‘vile men’ are still out there.”

Her footsteps slowed and then stopped. Without turning around she said tightly, “Hurry up. Procky will be worried sick about us.”

Lifting his hat, he brushed his hand through his hair. The judge could send someone back for the wagon. He fell into step with her, and they walked on.

“For what it’s worth, I take responsibility for what just happened. I shouldn’t have brought you without a gun.”

He was surprised when she said, “It’s not your fault. It’s nothing short of a miracle that the horse and wagon cleared that opening.” She paused, and he slowed to face her. “I’m also sorry I lost my temper. I know you saved me from certain…shame.”

“What do you take me for? I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.” He didn’t know how he would have stopped it, but they would have had to kill him first to get to her.

Her face softened. “Really?”

“I’ll protect you the best any man can without a gun.”

She took a step toward him, her eyes softening. “I wasn’t certain.”

“Look, Ragan.” He put his hands on her arms, holding her politely. “You’re a good-looking woman and I’m a red-blooded man. I’m not immune to you, and I would not stand by and see you compromised.”

“Thank you for informing me. I will remember that the next time you offer me to a gang of thugs.”

He gave her a pained look. He couldn’t get involved with her, tempting as the idea might be, but she didn’t make it easy. With every passing hour it was harder to ignore her.

“Can’t we just be friends?”

His tone gentled. If things were different— “I’m not in any position to be a friend or anything else to you. I’m a prisoner, Ragan. I’m here to serve a sentence.”

“Fine. You have my permission to kiss me.”

“Kiss you!” She could come up with the nuttiest notions at the nuttiest times.

He groaned when she lifted her mouth to his. “This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he murmured. “We cannot be friends or personally involved.”

“I didn’t ask for lifetime commitment. I asked for a gentleman’s kiss.”

“I am not a gentleman.”

“Stop talking and kiss me.”

He took her mouth passionately and surrendered to the certainty that she was different, and he didn’t know what he was going to do about it.

But at the moment, he plain didn’t care.

R
agan jumped as Judge McMann slammed his fist on the desk, rattling Maddy’s china cup and saucer. In all the years she’d known the judge, she’d never seen him this upset. “I’ll not have it! I’ll
not
have it! Whatever it takes, we’re getting rid of these gangs. You and Johnny could have been killed!”

It was late by the time Ragan had calmed the judge enough to insist that he go to bed. He had assembled a posse and Alvin Lutz was fit to be tied. They had had to roust him out of bed. Procky had thought the worst when she and Johnny hadn’t shown up when expected. They hadn’t returned until well after dark.

After helping Ragan assure the judge they were both unharmed, Johnny saw Ragan safely home before lying down in his own bed and trying to put the incident behind him. He thought about the good night kiss she had given him instead.

Early the next morning a knock sounded at the door, and Ragan hurried to answer it. When word had spread that a gang had attacked Ragan and Johnny, the whole town went into an uproar.

“Oh, good morning, Everett.”

“Morning, Ragan.” The telegraph clerk tipped his hat, his face lined with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, thank you, Everett. It was nothing, really.”

“Nothing! You could have been killed.” He handed her a wire. “Mayor Rayles said to see that you got this quick as possible. It’s from the Hostetler boys over in Brown Branch.”

The judge rolled to the doorway. “And not a minute too soon.”

Ragan took the wire, scanning the message. “Isn’t there some kind of law that keeps you from reading other people’s wires, Everett?”

Everett colored. “How can I not read it? I have to write it down as it comes in. Job hazard, you know.”

“What’s it say?” the judge prodded. “Can they come right away?”

“Mmm,” she mused. “Yes, they can come, but you may change your mind when you read this.”

“Never you mind. Minnie’s already called a town meeting for this afternoon. We’ll pay those Hostetlers whatever they ask.”

“Well, Mercer was cheap. The Hostetler boys want a
hundred
dollars to do the job.”

The judge blanched. “A hundred dollars! The Roman army would be cheaper!”

Everett nodded. “That’s what I say.”

“Must think mighty highly of their services.” The clerk trailed Ragan and the judge into the kitchen.

“Land sakes! Do they think we’re made of money?” Judge McMann fumed. “They might as well use a mask and gun.”

Sighing, Ragan put the telegram down. “Should we give in to this kind of blackmail? These ideas seem silly and juvenile. The Bible says ‘thou shalt not kill,’ but the Old Testament is filled with retribution. We can’t let gangs destroy what we’ve worked for all our lives. Perhaps it’s time for violent measures.”

“I know it’s pure foolishness to ask someone like those dumb Hostetler boys to do anything, but we’re desperate, and the town doesn’t want killings unless it’s absolutely necessary. We’ll have to pay those boys what they want and pray they can rid the town of trouble.”

“I hear those boys aren’t known for their brains,” Johnny mused.

“No.” Ragan pursed her lips. “They’re not. Actually, it’s rumored
they haven’t got the sense God gave a goose, but they do keep their town free of gangs.”

“Minnie says not to be late for the meeting this afternoon.” Everett swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Five o’clock. Everyone’s required to be there.”

“Required?” the judge blustered. “Who made Minnie queen?”

“She says we have to do this democratically. After the Mercer thing, folks are pretty antsy. The town has to vote on calling the Brown Branch boys and then figure out how we’re gonna come up with the money to pay them.”

“Dadburn it. Supper’ll be late again.”

“Judge,” Johnny said, “let your nays be nays and your yeas be yeas.”

The judge nailed a fly with a swatter. “Everett, you tell Minnie to make it brief. Why even vote? What choice do we have? Gangs riding around, attacking young couples. It’s a disgrace.” Still grumbling, he rolled out of the room.

T
he thermometer hanging on the Oasis porch registered one hundred and one at five o’clock that afternoon. Anyone with a lick of sense knew you didn’t call a meeting at this hour of the day, and more than one person informed Minnie of the fact. Townsfolk wiped sweat, and ordered lemonades from Mildred Crocker, who was as cross as a bear for having to work late.

“Everyone sit down and hush up!” The stout-framed woman stood in the middle of the room, hands on hips, hair hanging in her flushed face. “I’m serving up drinks as fast as a body can. I didn’t invent this heat.”

“I don’t know what’s worse, Millie, your sour attitude or your sour lemonade. Is there a sugar shortage?”

“No, there’s a brain shortage, Jesse. I thought you of all folks would know that.”

Ragan pushed Judge McMann’s chair through the crowd. Johnny was already seated toward the front with her family. Jo had planted herself next to McAllister. What was she going to do with that girl?

She caught Johnny’s eye and frowned her disapproval. A moment later he got up and moved to the back of the room. Jo turned in her seat and shot Ragan a glare.

The room was abuzz with today’s topic. Roberta Seeden’s highpitched voice carried above the noise. “Well, yes, I am concerned when I think that the rest of my life is going to be spent crouching under a
table or hiding in a closet. That’s not easy for some of us, you know. A hundred dollars is highway robbery, but I’m willing to pay just about anything at this point.”

“Maybe you are, Roberta, but there’s others in the room who can’t pay it. You and Tim got a little money put back, but what about the rest of us? We ain’t got that kind of cash.”

“It’s all I can do to keep the wolf off my doorstep,” one man complained.

“You ain’t gonna
have
a doorstep if the raids keep up,” a woman reminded him.

Calling for order, Judge McMann whacked his cane on the bar. Millie flinched and dropped a full tray of lemonade on the floor.

“Effie, help Millie clean that up. Everyone else, sit down and let’s get this meeting underway. It’s twenty minutes past my suppertime as it is.”

The din quieted with the exception of Effie Willoughby, who crawled on her bony hands and knees, picking up broken shards of glass.

“Get on with it, Judge,” a farmer yelled. “You ain’t the only one hungry, and besides that, I got cows waitin’ to be milked.”

Judge McMann gave him a repressive look. “All right, now. As you all know, Everett sent the wire over to Brown Branch inviting the Hostetler brothers and the Jurley boy to come in and do something about the raids.” His eyes moved to Minnie. “They’re available, for a price.”

“We know the price, Judge.” Carl Rayles’s mouth was set, and a deep flush rose from his collar. “Might as well stick a gun to our heads, but they got us over a barrel. We’ll have to come up with the money somehow. It’s a sad day when we can’t even visit loved ones’ graves without being harassed.”

Clifford Kincaid got to his feet. The small-statured man adjusted the red cap on his head. “I say we offer ’em ten dollars apiece. That’s a fair price for anyone.”

“That’s more than fair, Cap,” the judge said, “but they want a hundred dollars.”

The room hummed with indignation.

“A hundred dollars? How many are there?” a woman asked.

“Four in all. Three Hostetlers, and the Jurley boy.”

“A hundred dollars is outrageous. Can’t we offer them twenty-five?”

“We can, but they won’t accept it.” Florence Banks stood up from where she was helping Effie wipe up the sticky floor. “I’ve heard about these boys. They’re not real bright, but they’re stubborn as mules when it comes to money.”

“If they’re not real bright, why would we hire them?” asked a woman sitting near the back, fanning herself with a piece of paper.

“Bright or not, we’ll have to pay whatever they ask,” Minnie declared. “We can’t go on like this.”

“I agree with Minnie! A hundred dollars ain’t much when you consider it’s our lives you’re talkin’ about.”

“Let’s get on with it!”

Clifford used his cap as a fan. “Do something, even if it’s wrong. Won’t be the first time.”

A hat was started around. Amid complaints and disgusted grunts, folks dug in their pockets. When it reached the back of the room, a man carried it to the front and counted the donations. “Three dollars and eighty-seven cents.”

An uneasy silence gripped the room.

Austin Plummer said, “I put in a dollar! That means the rest of you yokels only contributed two dollars and eighty-seven cents!”

Eyes lowered. Feet shuffled in the back of the room, some in the crowd looking contrite.

“Okay,” Judge McMann said. “We’re going to have to assess each family a flat fee.”

When a few protested, the judge rapped on the bar with his cane. “People! Do we want help or not?”

Holly stood, clearing her throat. “Judge, I understand your need to assess a fee, but Tom and I need every cent we have.” She blushed, glancing at her fiancé. “We hoped to marry late fall or early next winter, and we’re both saving every bit we can get our hands on.”

Other protests echoed her words. The judge’s cane rapped again for silence.

A lone voice spoke up. “What’s wrong with doing the job yourselves?”

Heads swiveled to locate the speaker.

Johnny McAllister met a sea of curious eyes. “Why not do the job yourselves?” he repeated.

Ragan felt a stab of relief. She held her breath, praying he would suggest a viable way for the citizens to defend the town.

“I say we assess a dollar a household,” Minnie butted in. “McAllister is a… an outsider. He should not have a say in our business.”

Ragan shot her a glare. Why couldn’t Minnie keep her opinions to herself just once?

“That’s only sixty-seven dollars,” someone offered.

“What if there’re two families in one household? Would that be one dollar or two dollars?”

“Two dollars! That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Paying one price for a family isn’t right, either. There’re only two people in our house, but others in this room have six or seven. They should have to pay more than a dollar!”

“Are you out of your mind? More than a dollar?” Jim Allen turned red-faced. “Why, Polly Ann and I can barely keep food on the table for the eight of us. Where are we going to get that much money to give to the dumb Hostetler boys?”

“What’s wrong with doing the job yourselves?”

Heads switched back to Johnny.

“Stay out of this, McAllister,” a man called.

“Shopkeepers should put in two dollars each,” another man suggested. “They ought to pick up the slack for those of us who can’t afford to chip in.”

“Now, see here!” Frankie Southern objected. “Kensil and I can’t afford two dollars just because we own the mercantile!”

A timid hand raised in the back row. “How about fifty cents an adult and twenty-five cents a child?”

“What are you calling an adult? I’m not paying fifty cents for my fifteen-year-old.”

“Friends! Please!” Judge McMann rapped for order again. “You want the help, but you’re not willing to pay for it. I’m putting five dollars on the table, and then I’m going home. I suggest you do the same and think about this. I’m not sold on the Hostetlers, but since I can’t come up with a better idea, I’m willing to give it a shot.” He slapped down the bills and then motioned to Ragan and Johnny. “It’s past our suppertime.”

The Brown Branch boys were hired for the job. Within the week they rode into town, looking like the cavalry to the beleaguered citizens of Barren Flats. The oldest boy, Billy, was a big, tall blond whose hair stood straight up at the crown. He was almost scary looking, but the town couldn’t be picky.

The second brother, Buck, bore a striking resemblance to Billy. He was dirty, hadn’t been near a razor in months, and a tad shorter and rounder around the middle than his older brother, but a Hostetler, no doubt.

A missing front tooth in no way hindered his friendly smile.

Cisco, the third Hostetler, didn’t resemble either a choirboy or his brothers. Ragan studied his swarthy looks and decided the town had another chicken killer on their hands. And a high-priced one, at that. He wore his raven black hair slicked back and tied with a leather thong. His dark, brooding eyes constantly searched the crowd that had turned out to watch the boys’ arrival.

Rantz Jurley, a strange character with Spanish heritage, hung back and waved at everyone as the crew rode in.

“Maizie Jurley’s boy,” Minnie Rayles whispered. “Dropped on his head at birth. Pure old mean. Maizie’s moved him from one town to another to keep him out of trouble. He’s lived with every cousin and relative she could convince to take him for a spell. No one’s been able to straighten him out.”

“Do you know any of these men?” Ragan whispered to Johnny.

“Sure. They’re all close friends.”

She gave him a prickly look.

When the judge saw the motley group, Ragan heard him mutter under his breath before he turned and rolled his chair back into the mercantile.