Carol Arens - Wed To The Texas Outlaw

“Please, Boone,” Melinda said from somewhere behind him. “This is bigger than us. What’s a temporary marriage when lives are at stake? I’ll never sleep another wink knowing I could have helped and I didn’t.”

He ought to slap himself in irons since no one else seemed to want to, but what Mathers had just revealed pierced him through the heart. He understood more than most the damage that a criminal could do to a green boy.

He’d been those boys, going to town and having their lives ruined. Maybe Melinda was right about this being bigger than they were. What was a temporary marriage—or his freedom to choose his destiny for that matter—in relation to the lives of the people in that town?

Mathers might believe that the champion he was sending to battle was the killer who could round up an outlaw gang as easily as a cowboy herded cattle, but that was not the case.

He was no more than a dime-a-dozen criminal.

But he reckoned he could at least have the courage of Miss Melinda Winston.

And if he did get the pair of them out of this still breathing, he’d be a free man. Maybe he’d go to Montana and meet his baby niece.

“I’m uneasy about this, but I’ll take the job.” Even while he was speaking, he prayed that he was not making a mountain of a mistake.

Mathers clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s get the pair of you hitched, then.”

Melinda rose from the bench at the back of the room. She strode toward him without hesitation. The confident smile on her face made him wonder if, in spite of the fact that she looked like a rose petal, she had a backbone of iron.

His own gut was doing backflips. He reckoned he couldn’t force a smile if his future depended upon it—well, hang it, now that he thought about it, it did.

Mathers nodded at the guard who unlocked the handcuffs and took them off.

The ceremony was finished three minutes after Melinda took her place at his side.

Chances were this was not the romantic wedding that a woman like her would have dreamed of, but if he kept her safely through this, she could have that next time, when she married for real.

When the judge said he could kiss his bride, Smythe stepped between them with an exaggerated shake of his head.

Melinda extended her hand and he shook it. The deal was sealed.

“You’re free to go, Walker.”

Go where, was what he wanted to know. He hadn’t a dollar to his name. Only the folks in this room knew him to be a free man.

It was an odd, nearly uneasy feeling to know that he could simply walk out the courthouse door and not be stopped by the deputy.

“Keep low for a day or two. Folks will wonder. We’ll meet at the livery, day after next, 4:00 a.m. on the dot.”

“Since we are married, it would be appropriate for you to stay with me,” the blue-eyed innocent declared.

“Not as I live and breathe.” Smythe snatched Melinda by the elbow. “I’ll escort you to your room, miss.”

Stopping at the door, Smythe turned back to shoot him a glare. “I don’t approve of this, not by a mile. Still, things are what they are. You will lodge with me. Miss Winston will emerge from this ordeal unharmed and a maiden still.”

He answered Smythe with a nod.

Keeping his cousin, or rather his wife, safe, would be his first obligation. Capturing outlaws and protecting a town? He’d do that but only as long as it did not endanger Melinda.

If he failed to return her safely to the family, his freedom meant nothing.

As far as the maiden business went, he’d never bedded a maiden and he could only admit that the idea intimidated the hell out of him. A man had a responsibility to a virgin. Bedding the innocent meant pledges, vows of undying love. Not false vows, either, but sincere and from a committed heart.

That was one thing he could set Smythe’s mind at rest about.

* * *

At four in the morning, the moon sat fat and full on the western horizon. Boone watched its slow decent as he walked from the hotel to the livery.

Buffalo Bend slumbered peacefully. This far into October, even the crickets had gone silent. The heels of his boots clacking against the wooden boardwalk sounded like shots in the night. In a moment folks would be peering out their windows.

He reckoned he didn’t need to fear that any longer. Still, old habits died hard. He leaped off the boardwalk and walked down the middle of the road where the dirt muffled his steps.

Sometime during the night Smythe had packed up his belongings and gone without even a farewell. It only made sense that with this job finished, he was on to the next case that might make him a name.

It was just a shame that Boone had never had the chance to thank him for all that he had done.

From half a block away, he spotted a light shining from under the livery door. He hoped there was a fire in the stove, as well. Nights had turned cold enough that a man could see his breath.

He went inside without knocking, figuring he would be expected.

A man shoving a log into the stove, turned. He nodded.

“Boone Walker?” the fellow asked.

Boone nodded back.

“Frank Spears. Owner of this livery.” Spears slapped his hands on his pants, dusting off the splinters. “They say you’re a killer.”

“Folks like to talk.”

“Don’t mean any offense by it.” Spears crossed the livery and extended his hand. “You’ll need all the meanness you got to get rid of those vipers in Jasper Springs.”

Boone let the heat seep into him, gathering it for the time he’d be on the trail again. Maybe someday he’d have a hearth of his own, four solid walls.

A new life was opening up to him; one never knew how it would end up. A roof over his head and a fire seemed—

“Got a brother in Jasper Springs. A niece, too. I only hope you can help them.”

“Sounds like Mathers has told you everything.”

“He hired me to get the wagon loaded. Things were all set for the married couple, but it looks like a bit of good luck for you that they quit.”

“Time will tell, but I reckon this beats a life term.”

“There’s the wagon over in the corner, loaded with most of what you’ll need to set up housekeeping. I’m sending my best team to go with it.”

“I’ll do my best to return them to you.”

Spears nodded, quiet for a moment. “You sure you’re a killer? I don’t see it in your eyes.”

“That I am...but only the one time and both of us were drunk.”

“It’ll sound strange, but I’m disappointed to hear it.”

“I’ve been a thief since I was in long pants, if that eases your mind.”

“Some, I reckon. Say, I don’t hold a man’s past against him. I needed a fresh start myself, once. And don’t worry about the return of the wagon and horses. They’re yours—just—if you’ll keep my kin safe.”

Generosity on the part of strangers was not something he was used to. While he stumbled around in his mind thinking of a proper way to thank him, the door creaked open.

Mathers and Miss Winston—Mrs. Walker, rather—stepped inside.

His wife’s cheeks were blushed pink from the cold. It hit him all of a sudden how glad he was that his bride was not that Cherry woman.

“I’ve written up a few things,” the judge said, bypassing any sort of cordial greeting. “There’s a map to Jasper Springs, a bit about the outlaws, the parts you and your wife will play. Oh, and you’ll need cash.” He handed him a roll of money wrapped in a rubber band. Hard to tell how much, but it seemed to be a good sum.

“Good morning, Boone.” Melinda’s smile might as well have been sunrise, it was that bright and cheerful. “I hope you slept well.”

“Best I’ve slept in some time.” He hadn’t expected to, but he must have since he hadn’t even noticed Smythe take his leave. “You look refreshed.”