The Outlaw Takes a Bride (37 page)

“Oh, Mrs. Paynter. I was afraid you’d gone and we’d have to send a rider out after all.”

“No, I stopped at a friend’s house. Is there a reply, then?”

“Here you go.” She placed an envelope in Sally’s hand.

“Thank you.” Sally hurried outside and set Lady into a brisk trot toward the ranch. Once she was away from the bustle of town, she tore open the envelope.

C
OMING
F
RIDAY ON TRAIN
.

The sender was her father. She clutched the paper to her heart. She hadn’t asked it of them, but they were coming sooner than planned. At least Pa was. No, he wouldn’t come alone. Ma would be with him. Sally’s plans for their visit occupied her mind for the next forty minutes.

The sun was low when she got home, and shadows shrouded the barn. Sally carried the rifle with her when she went in to hang up the harness. She checked all the crannies before she went to do the milking. As she approached the house with a pail of milk in one hand and the heavy rifle in the other, she wished fervently that she had left town sooner. When Johnny got home, it wouldn’t be to a dark house. She would be waiting for him with a pot of hot coffee and warm lamplight.

She supposed it was silly, but she checked every place in the cabin big enough to conceal a person. With that done, she barred the door and then realized she needed water and fuel for her cook fire. Her hand shook as she lit the lantern. Where was the strength everyone thought she possessed?

After three more trips outside, she was satisfied with her supplies for the night. At last she set aside the Sharps, leaning it against the door frame. In two days, her parents would be here. She smiled.

That night she slept better than she had since Johnny left. At dawn, she rose and put on a housedress and apron. She had one full day to get everything ready. At least she had cleaned thoroughly the day before. Now she could concentrate on baking, and she supposed she should do up her meager laundry so she wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while. She might even have enough cream to make butter.

She took extra caution when she lit the fire outside. Liz had advised her to shorten one of her skirts for just such tasks, and Sally had taken her advice. She ought to have remembered how Ma hiked her skirts up when she worked around an open fire. During her years in St. Louis, Sally hadn’t needed to deal with that situation, and she had forgotten some of the frontier ways.

Once a wagon passed by on the road, but the driver didn’t stop. In the early afternoon, two men from one of the outlying ranches jogged past, their horses headed for town. Other than that, Sally saw no one all day. But she didn’t mind. She did her washing, baking, and churning, and then settled down to start on the first dressmaking project for Anne Drury.

On Friday, she could hardly wait until time to leave. She made herself work carefully at her morning chores and fixed the bedroom up as nice as she could, with a bouquet of wildflowers on the stand and clean bedding. When she went out to get the cow, she noted how low the water in the creek was, despite the shower they’d had a couple of nights ago. They needed a good soaking rain. She had to haul water to the corral for Lady, as she didn’t want to put the horse out in the large pasture.

At noon, Sally ate up most of her leftovers so that she wouldn’t be hungry in town. Finally she harnessed Lady and set out. The dust from the road had her coughing in short order, and she tied a handkerchief over her face to help keep it out of her nose and mouth. Maybe that windmill wouldn’t be such an extravagance. She and Johnny would have to talk about it in detail once the outlaws were captured and he was safe at home.

The thought that he might not come home safe niggled at her, but she shoved it aside. Nothing could check her buoyancy today.

The train came in right on time, and she stood on the platform, scanning the open-air car and the windows of the enclosed passenger car.

She spotted her father first. His tall, lanky form, topped by a shapeless gray felt hat, was unmistakable. He descended the steps and reached back to help her mother. Ma’s faded blond hair showed beneath a becoming veiled blue hat that nearly matched her traveling dress. Sally ran toward them.

“Ma! Pa!” She embraced her mother first then let her father pull her into one of his enormous hugs.

“Sally, Sally, look at you,” her father said, shaking his head.

“What?” She shoved back a lock of hair. “Do I look spindly?”

“You look fine,” her mother said. “All grown up, but then we knew you would be.”

“Ma, I was three and twenty the last time you saw me.”

“Oh, I know. But I still think of you as my girl.”

Sally shook her head and plucked at her father’s sleeve. “Do you have a trunk? How long are you staying?”

“No trunk, but two suitcases, and we thought maybe a week.”

“Is that all?” Sally wanted to pout, but then her mother would be justified in thinking her childish.

“We’ll see how it goes,” her father said. “What’s the word on the posse?”

“Nothing yet.” She came to earth with a thud. They were here because her husband was in danger. When David died, they couldn’t come to her, and she had faced the horrors of sudden widowhood alone. They wouldn’t let that happen this time. Her throat tightened. “Let’s get your bags. I have the wagon right over there.”

“I see it,” her father replied, “and I’ll get the luggage. You and your ma go ahead over.”

Sally took her mother’s hand and drew her across the platform. “I can’t wait to show Pa the ranch. Maybe he can help Johnny decide whether or not we need a windmill.” She took her mother to the wagon and gave her a hand up.

“That’s a nice-looking mare you have,” Ma said, eyeing Lady’s hindquarters.

“Thank you. She’s steady, which is what I need. I don’t want to have to worry about a skittish horse when Johnny’s off on an expedition.”

Her mother grasped her hands. “Sally, dear, tell me plainly. Is everything all right? It was so strange, what happened with the two brothers.”

“Yes, it was, but we’re square now. Johnny has told me everything, and he’s promised not to lie to me ever again.”

“And you believe him implicitly?”

Sally gazed into her eyes, hating that her mother had to ask, but that was what mothers did. “Absolutely. Ma, he’s a good man. You’ll like him.”

“I’m sure I will. It just seemed so far-fetched. Your father and I talked about it for hours after your first letter came telling us that Mark was dead. My dear…”

“Yes?”

Ma let out a big sigh. “We’re happy for you, of course, but we can’t help wondering if all is as it should be, even now.”

“Of course it’s not the way I’d have liked to begin a new marriage, but I do trust Johnny. He had a moment of weakness when his friend told him he could be accused of murdering his brother, but that’s past now.”

“Hmm. Seemed like more than a moment.”

“Well, the marriage is legal. Pastor Lewis said so. I’m not backing out of it.”

Her mother nodded. “What about that other business, up in Colorado?”

“He’s cleared of that, make no mistake. If he hadn’t been, I doubt I’d have stayed here. But I believe he’s being honest with me, Ma. And he’s too gentle to kill a man.”

“Any man can turn to violence if he’s backed into a corner.”

Her father came with the bags, and Sally let him take the reins, directing him out of town and along the road that led to the ranch. Sally answered several direct questions from her father, revealing the details she hadn’t written of what had happened between her, Johnny, and Cam. When she had told them everything, she smiled at her mother.

“Let’s talk about something else. How’s Tommy doing?”

As they made their way homeward, she prompted them with questions, so that she could catch up on life at home and the doings of her brothers and sisters. She pointed out other ranches and urged her father to take special note of the Caxtons’ windmill.

“If we really are in for a severe drought, this would be a good year to have a windmill,” she said.

“It may be too late.” Her father looked over the neighbor’s apparatus. “From here, that looks like a good setup. But it would take time to get the parts and then put it together. I doubt you and John could have one operating in less than a month, even if you acted right away. And if the demand for the machinery is higher than normal this year, it might take even longer. You might have to get in line with your order.”

“I didn’t think of that. Is it dry up where you live?”

“Terrible,” her father said. “Ranchers are trying to sell off their stock, but prices are too low. I’m afraid a lot of cattle will die if we don’t get the rain we need.”

The roof of the barn came in sight.

“That’s our place up ahead.”

They rolled into the barnyard, and Sally looked around. Everything seemed the same as it was when she left earlier in the day.

“Come on in,” she said. “I’ll show you where you’ll sleep, and then I’ll come out and put Lady away.”

Her parents followed her inside.

“It’s small,” Sally said, “but Johnny has plans to add on later. I wrote to you about when he and Cam built this room.” She threw open the door to the new bedroom.

Her mother walked inside and looked around. “This is nice, Sally.”

“Thanks. I want you and Pa in here.”

“We don’t want to put you out of your room,” Ma said.

Sally shrugged. “It’s the only decent bedstead we have. I’ll sleep out in the other room, like we did when I first got here.”

“On the floor?” Ma frowned at her.

“It’s not a problem. And when Johnny gets home, we’ll move out to the hired man’s room in the barn.”

“You could stay in here with your mother,” Pa suggested.

“No, you two will be in here.” Even Sally could hear the stubborn edge her voice took on.

Pa smiled. “All right. I’ll go get the bags, and don’t you worry about the horse. I’ll take care of her.”

“Thanks, Pa. Just turn her out in the small corral. The harness hangs up inside the barn. There’s a little harness room—where the bunk is.”

“I’ll find it.” Her father went out.

“Do you want to freshen up?” Sally asked her mother. “There’s water in the pitcher. And the necessary is out back.”

A few minutes later, Ma joined her in the kitchen. “Mm, that smells good. What are you fixing for supper?”

“Chicken and dumplings,” Sally said. “It’s the meal I had at the hotel in town, the day I married Johnny, so I’m partial to it.”

“We like it, too. Let me help you. Oh, and I brought you some pecans.”

“Great.” Sally looked up as her father brought in the suitcases.

“I put your mare in the corral,” he said, carrying the suitcases toward the bedroom. “Is it possible Johnny and the posse would come here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Several horses are coming along the road—not from town. The other direction.”

Sally wiped her hands on a linen towel and hurried to the door. She could hear it now, the drumming of hoofbeats. Her heart raced. Was it Johnny, with the sheriff and the posse, as her father had suggested? She couldn’t imagine them galloping in here.

A cloud of dust hid the group of riders from her for a few seconds, but the leaders burst through and pulled up in the dooryard. At the sight of a distinctive pinto gelding, Sally caught her breath. She shut the door and threw the bar across it then grabbed her rifle.

“Pa! Have you got a gun?”

J
ohnny, Fred Jackson, and the other men of the posse sat on their horses, gazing down at the clear tracks coming up out of a creek bed.

“You were right,” Fred said. “They’re heading back toward Beaumont. Just took a roundabout way, and they stopped to water here.”

“We’d best do the same,” Johnny said.

The men and horses were tired, their throats parched from the dust they stirred up.

Fred turned and looked at the others. “All right, men, water your horses and fill your canteens upstream of them.”

Johnny frowned as he eyed the outlaws’ trail.

“What’s bothering you?” Eph Caxton asked. “We’re heading home.”

“Yeah, and those killers are heading toward our families. Again.”

“Whyn’t they just leave us alone?” Bill Hood Sr. said. “Beaumont ain’t such a rich town.”

“It’s home for them, too,” the sheriff guessed. “At least they seem to like the area. We haven’t been able to drive ’em out.”

“And they haven’t got the money from our bank yet,” Eph said.

Fred nodded. “My guess is, they’ll keep on coming back here until we take ’em down.”

Johnny dismounted and let Reckless wade into the shallow stream. The water was only three or four inches deep.

“This thing oughta be twice this deep,” Bill Junior said as he let his buckskin sink its nose in the water.

While Reckless drank, Johnny walked a few yards upstream to where some of the others were replenishing their water supply. When his canteen was full, he mounted the bank and walked to where the outlaws’ tracks left the streambed. Their trail was plain.

Fred came to stand beside him.

“How come they’ve quit trying to hide their tracks?” Johnny asked.