Laurie Kingery - The Outlaw's Lady

Tess took a step forward, thrusting her chin out. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for your desire to curry favor with that unprincipled killer!” She was too angry to care they were alone and she was very much at his mercy.

Sandoval’s head snapped back as if she had slapped him, and he paled. For several endless moments they stared at one another. “You’re right, you wouldn’t. You have every right to think the worst of me. The best thing you can do is trust me.”

“But why, Sandoval? What do you hope to gain?” she demanded, self-control slipping, tears of outrage and fear suddenly threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“I can’t tell you that, Tess,” he said. “You may not believe this, but I’m not a bad man.”

Something about the softness of his tone and the kindness in his eyes was her undoing, and Tess gave way to her tears. Then suddenly he was holding her….

makes her home in central Ohio where she is a “Texan-in-exile.” Formerly writing as Laurie Grant for Harlequin Historicals and other publishers, she is the author of sixteen previous books. She was the winner of the 1994 Readers’ Choice Award in the short historical category, and was nominated for Best First Medieval and Career Achievement in Western Historical Romance by Romantic Times BOOKreviews. When not writing her historicals, she loves to travel, read, read her e-mails and write her blog on www.lauriekingery.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Elaine English, my agent, with grateful thanks

for helping me to keep on believing in my writing,

and to Tom, as always

The town of Chapin, in Hidalgo County, Texas, mentioned in this book is the present-day Edinburg. The name was changed in 1911.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Epilogue

Questions for Discussion

Rio Grande Valley, Texas, 1880

Tess Hennessy stared down through the darkness at the image taking shape before her in the chemical bath. The photograph she had taken of the Spanish mission-style home in which she lived was to be a present for her parents on their anniversary tomorrow. She had captured it at a moment when the lighting was perfect, with the noon sun directly overhead so that the palm trees didn’t cast their shadows over the house. She smiled, pleased at her work. They would love it, especially after she mounted it in the elegant oak frame Francisco, her helper, had prepared. She’d have to sneak out here to her developing shed after they returned from the party tonight, no matter how late it was, so that the picture would be ready for gifting tomorrow.

If only it were as easy to see her future develop before her as it was to develop a photograph. Her mother, she knew, expected her to marry. But what man would want to marry a girl who had an unladylike pastime that involved messy, finger-staining chemicals and long sessions in a darkroom?

Was there such a man? If only she could submerge one of her collodion plates into the chemical bath in the basin before her, and see his image take shape…

“Tess! Tess! Where are you? Now, where can that girl have gone, Patrick? I specifically told her we were leaving for the barbecue at one o’clock….”

Oh dear, she’d lost track of time again. It was so easy to do when she was immersed in photography, her passion. “Mama, I’m in the darkroom, developing a picture. Don’t come in, please—”

But it was too late. Sunlight suddenly flooded the little shed by the barn as Amelia Hennessy burst in.

Tess groaned. Her mother’s untimely arrival had just ruined the photograph.

“Tess! What are you doing in here?” her mother cried. “We have to leave for the barbecue, and you’re not even dressed. Look at you!” Her mother spoke as if she expected Tess to look down and be surprised that she was wearing her serviceable navy skirt and waist.

Behind her mother she could see her father, looking sympathetic and uncomfortable, his eyes appealing with Tess to comply so peace could be restored.

She would have to give her parents an IOU for their anniversary present and take the photograph again. Her father would understand and apologize privately to Tess for not stopping his wife before she’d burst into her darkroom.

Amelia Hennessy tapped her foot, her face tight with impatience.

“I am ready to go,” Tess replied in a level voice, wishing she could avoid the inevitable confrontation.

“Surely you weren’t thinking of wearing that at the Taylors’ barbecue?” An imperious finger indicated Tess’s utilitarian clothes, in contrast to her own elaborately lace-trimmed dress with a fancy, bow-topped bustle.

Tess took a deep breath, praying for calm. She did want to obey the commandment that instructed her to honor her parents, and with her father that was easy. No matter how often she explained to her mother what was important to her, however, Amelia Hennessy seemed incapable of understanding. Tess shot a look at her father, but though his eyes were full of sympathy, he said nothing.

“Mama, I’m not going as a party guest, but to work. I told you the Taylors hired me to take the photographs of them and their guests. The developing chemicals can be messy, and with all the bending and stooping while posing the subjects, what I wear is apt to get dusty and stained, so it’s hardly practical of me to wear a light-colored, frilly dress.”

Her mother sighed and put her slender fingers up to her head as if she felt a migraine coming on. “Tess, I do not understand you!” she said for surely the thousandth time. “You’re a beautiful girl—or you would be, if you’d take some trouble to put yourself together. You could make a brilliant marriage, but you’ll never do it if you insist on spending so much time on this little hobby of yours. You’re always at your little shop in town. I don’t know why your father ever let you take it over when James passed away. And when you’re not photographing, you’re drawing. Patrick, say something to your daughter to make her see sense!”

Patrick Hennessy put one hand on his wife’s shoulder, the other on his daughter’s, and smiled the charming smile that usually mellowed his wife’s anxious reaction to his daughter’s individuality.

“Yes, she is a beautiful girl. Thanks be to God, our last chick in the nest got your looks, Amelia—especially your blue eyes, and only my red hair,” he said, with a quirk of amusement that lifted the corners of his mouth and eyes. “When—and if—” he added, with a hint of steel “—she’s ready, our youngest has only to crook her finger to have any man she wants. But she’s not a brainless belle with no thought but how many beaux she can collect. If she wants to be a photographer and carry on for James, I don’t see the harm.”