Bushedwhacked Bride (10 page)
A beaming middle-aged man in gartered shirt, apron,
and dark pants stepped toward them. “Why, good morn
ing, Widow Lively. How are you today?”
‘I’m right fine, Mr. Granger,” Eula answered cautiously.
The man’s gaze settled on Jessica. “And who is this
lovely young lady you have with you? Might she be the
new schoolteacher, the one we’ve been expecting from
Denver
?”
Taken aback, Jessica struggled to hide her agitation,
while Ma threw her a warning look. “Why, are you ex
pecting a schoolteacher?’’ she asked the merchant.
“Well, as I understand it, our mayor, Mr. Polk, has a
friend at the teacher’s college, and he promised to send us
out a graduate this summer—only so far, no one has
shown up. That’s why I’m wondering if it might be you.”
Even as Jessica was about to reply, Ma shot back, “Nossir, it ain’t her. This here lady is—er—she’s kin of
my dear departed husband, and she’s visiting from back
East.”
“Ah, how nice.” Mr. Granger smiled at Jessica. “And
what might your name be?”
“Jessica Garrett,” she answered, offering her hand.
Shaking her hand, Granger replied, “What a lovely
name. Too bad you’re not the new teacher, though. The
young ‘uns in this town could sure use one.” He paused,
scratching his jaw. “You know, the missus and me heard
tell they’re supposed to be startin’ up a new stage line
out of Colorado City, and we been hoping the teacher might come out on the stage. But so far, the stage ain’t
showed up, neither.”
Taken aback by the merchant’s statement, Jessica
glanced tensely at Ma, only to receive another cautioning
glance.
“Anyhow, miss, we welcome you to Mariposa. You re
ally should join us at the community church. I’m one of the elders, you see.”
“Why, I’d be delighted to attend.”
But even as Jessica was flashing the merchant her most winsome smile, Ma snorted in disdain and gave Jessica a
look hostile enough to curdle milk.
“The lady here won’t be attending,” Ma rudely in
formed Granger. “We ain’t church-going folk. And now, sir, are you gonna stand there all day and palaver? Or are
you ready to make some good money offen our trade?”
At Ma’s diatribe, the merchant wilted. Jessica flashed
him an apologetic look, and he nodded soberly to Ma.
“Of course, Widow Lively. I’m always eager to serve
you.”
“Good. ‘Cause my—er—my niece here is needing a
whole new wardrobe—everything from shoes to hats,
and a’course I’ll be needin’ to make her a heap of new
dresses.”
He lit up at this prospect. “You just tell me what you
need. As a matter of fact, we’ve some spanking new
Singer dress patterns in.”
Jessica watched in amazement as Eula, with Granger’s help, picked out several patterns for long-sleeved, floor-
length frocks with bustles and lace trimmings. The gar
ments all looked like some of the sketches Jessica had
seen in old editions of
Godey’s Lady’s Book.
Afterward,
Eula allowed Jessica to help her choose lengths of calico,
gingham, linen, and muslin. Mr. Granger helped the ladies
round up threads, laces, and ribbons. Then Eula and Jes
sica finished off the purchases by selecting an assortment
of quaint hats, shoes, undergarments, and nightgowns.
The merchant totaled up the goods at the antique cash
register. “Ma’am, that’ll be fifteen dollars and thirty-five
cents,” he informed Eula.
.”My land!” declared Eula, pressing a hand to her
ample bosom. “I can’t believe how dear everything has gotten. Why, it’s highway robbery, I’m telling you.”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry.”
Watching Eula grudgingly pull out her reticule and
count out the money, Jessica could only shake her head.
She couldn’t believe Eula was actually complaining about
her bill. As far as Jessica was concerned, to pay fifteen dollars for such a huge stack of clothing was ludicrous.
Then Jessica tensed as she spotted a ratty copy of
The
Denver Post
on the countertop nearby. She eagerly
snatched it up, only to read the date: “June 12, 1888.”
In amazement, she glanced at Granger. “Sir, is this date
correct?”
He glanced at the newspaper and chuckled. “Of course
not.”
Jessica sighed in relief. “You mean the year isn’t
1888?”
He laughed again. “Certainly, the year is 1888, miss.
But you must know how long it takes to get any newspa
pers out here. I wouldn’t have this one, except a traveling
salesman left it.”
Jessica was growing exasperated. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying it is the year 1888, but it’s August now, not
June.”
“Oh,” said Jessica dully, flashing him a frozen smile.
She barely heard Ma asking Mr. Granger to load up
their supplies in the buckboard while she and “Miss
Jessie” finished their shopping next door at the general
store. In a daze, she let Ma grab her by the arm and lead
her toward the next shop. It was all she could do to walk
on her weak knees.
So she really was living in the year 1888. There was no further denying it. She was over a hundred years removed
from the life she had known before, the people she had
loved . . .
They entered the general store to another clanging bell.
Ma left Jessica inside the doorway and proceeded to the
counter to speak with the merchant. Gradually Jessica be
come aware of a potpourri of scents—pickles, tobacco,
beef jerky, and spices. Coming out of her daze, she
glanced about the old-fashioned store with its high ceilings and glass display cases.
She strolled the sawdust-covered floor, amazed by the antique pickle barrels, the “store-bought” clothing hang
ing from racks, the decorative tins and apothecary jars
that held foods and medicines, the barrels and bags of staples stacked everywhere—coffee, flour, beans, hardtack.
At a table laden with various giftware, Jessica mar
veled at a cobalt blue china tea set, a ceramic shoe, a
fluted glass candy basket, a miniature hurricane lamp
painted with flowers. She was particularly intrigued by a
lovely, slim, leather-bound writing journal, and was examining it when she felt a tug on her skirts. She looked
down to see a little blond girl with a cherubic face gaz
ing up at her expectantly. Why, it was the same child
she’d spotted outside. Wearing a lace-trimmed blue linen
frock and matching bonnet, she appeared to be no more
than six.
The child grinned shyly, revealing a charming gap in
her front teeth. “Hello, ma’am. I see you got a book there.
Would you be the new schoolteacher we been a’waitin’ for? My brother Ben and me was hoping it was you.”
Jessica glanced off to see the girl’s brother lounging
against a syrup barrel, watching them. Catching Jessica’s
perusal, he blushed and stared self-consciously at his
shoes.
Jessica smiled at the girl. “You know, honey, I’d love to be your schoolteacher, but—”
“She ain’t one,” Ma cut in.
Jessica glanced up to see that Eula, wearing a massive
scowl, had joined them. Now she made a shooing motion
at the child. “Now run along, young ‘un, before your ma
takes to frettin’.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Curtsying, the child rushed off.
Crestfallen, Jessica regarded Ma. “Did you have to be
so harsh with her?”
“Harsh?” Ma laughed. “Shooing away a young ‘un, that
ain’t harsh a’tall. Giving one a switchin’, that’s harsh.”
Jessica gazed at the children, who stood with their
mother at a clothing rack. “You know, I wish I could be
their teacher.”
“Well, you can’t, so don’t you go getting no highfa
lutin’ ideas,” Ma replied gruffly. She gestured at the book
Jessica held. “What’s that you got?”
“A writing journal.”
“You favor it?”
“Well, I—”
Ma snatched the journal out of Jessica’s hands. “We’ll take it, and get you some pencils, too. Keep your fingers
busy and your mind off palavering. Well, missy, you’d
best step lively now. Mr. Allgood is ready to total us up—
and see you stow the wabash this time.”
Frowning, Jessica followed Ma to the counter.
***
As soon as they pulled out of town, Ma began scolding Jes
sica. “Missy, you’d best rein in that sociable mouth of
yours next time we’re in town. You acted much too
friendly today.”
Jessica frowned. “But what did I do wrong? I didn’t
give away anything.”
“Hah!” mocked Ma. “Cozying up to Granger, getting
ready to sign us all up for church, even offer yourself to teach. That all sounds pretty darn neighborly to me.”
Jessica fought to retain her patience. “Wait a minute. You’re going about this all wrong.”
“What ya mean?”
“How can you hope to reform your sons when the only
influence they have is sinful
Colorado
City
?”
“They have you.”
Jessica rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Reklaw, I hardly pack
your punch with a broom, nor can I marry all of your
boys. If you really hope to rehabilitate them, they need
the example of a respectable community, a church to at
tend, decent young women to court.”
“But if they go into town, they’ll be caught.”
“Why? Didn’t you tell me the town’s so new that no
one knows they’re actually the Reklaw Gang? And didn’t
you say the town doesn’t even have a sheriff? Who’s
going to catch them?”
Ma scowled. “It’s taking a risk.”
“Is it? You go into town undetected. Do the townsfolk
know you have children?”
Ma worked the reins. “I tell them as little about me as
possible.”
Jessica jerked a thumb toward the wagon bed. “With
all those supplies you bought, they must know you have
others living with you at the ranch.”
Ma shrugged. “They likely think the grub is for my
hired help.”
“But what if the boys got all cleaned up and came into
town with us?” Jessica went on. “Who would suspect
that five handsome, strapping young farmers are really
outlaws?”
Ma was still scowling. “Well, I’ll give it some thought.”
“If you want to reform your sons, you’d better,” Jessica replied adamantly.
Chapter Nine
As the buckboard drew closer to the farm, Jessica found her mind was churning with all that had happened to her
today, all she had learned. She considered her bizarre
situation. She was now clearly living in the year 1888,
and might never find her way back to the present, and to
the family, friends, and colleagues she’d abandoned
there. What was worse, she didn’t even have a way to
get a message back through, and surely her loved ones
were very worried over her strange disappearance.
Thank heaven she hadn’t left behind a husband or chil
dren, but her elderly parents and older brother must be
frantic.
On the other hand, if she truly was stranded in another
time, then perhaps she was here for a purpose. She might
as well try to make the best of things. And she’d begin by
trying to reform the five outlaw brothers. Already she
liked them all, even the exasperating Cole, and she could
n’t bear the thought of any of them swinging at the end of
a hangman’s rope.
Jessica also realized she’d been granted a wonderful
opportunity to experience firsthand life in the Old West. In just one day, she’d learned much that wasn’t in the his
tory books—seeing how people really lived, learning of the hardships they endured. She resolved to make good use of the journal Ma had bought her by keeping a detailed account of all her experiences. Perhaps her diary
could somehow be preserved for posterity. Moreover, if
she ever did make her way back to the twentieth cen
tury—something she was beginning to doubt—her jour
nal could prove a priceless resource.
But how could she reform the Reklaw boys? If they
were to turn away from a life of crime, she must offer
them something better in exchange. Of course, Mariposa
was the perfect answer. There the brothers could find a
sense of community, a church to attend, perhaps even re
spectable young women to court.
And although Ma had resisted this idea, Jessica felt confident that in time she could wear Eula down. If she could get Ma on her side, and also convince the boys to
clean up their language and appearance, if she could
teach the unruly outlaws to act and talk more like gentlemen, then surely no one would guess that the “Lively”
brothers were actually the hardened Reklaw Gang. After
all, families with half a dozen sons were not uncommon in these times.
Jessica was still immersed in thought as the buckboard
crested a rise and rattled down the hillside toward the
farm house. Jessica frowned as she spotted the five
brothers in front of the barn saddling their horses. All of
them waved at the approaching buckboard, then began
striding toward the house. Jessica noted all five wore
hats, chaps, and gun belts.
Not
a good sign!
Jessica turned to Ma. “What are they up to?”
Ma pulled the buckboard to a halt before the house. “Off to more of the devil’s doin’s, no doubt.”
Bi
lly arrived first at the conveyance, tipping his hat to
Jessica. “Howdy, Miss Jessie. How was your outing?”
“Fine, thank you. And it appears you’re about to embark on one of your own.”
Before Billy could respond, Luke ambled up, offering
Jessica a hand. “May I help you down, ma’am? Golly,
that’s a purdy book you got there.”
“Thanks.” Accepting his assistance down, Jessica
added, “Your mother very kindly bought it for me in town.”
Gabe joined them, gallantly offering Jessica his arm. “May I escort you into the house?”
Ma snorted loudly from the buckboard. “Which one of
you sidewinders is gonna help
me
down, and bring in the
supplies?”
“Ma, we’re all headin’ out,” protested Wesley.
“Headin’ out where?” asked Ma.
“Here, Ma, let me help you,” offered Cole.
He stepped forward and assisted his mother out of the
buckboard. Then his dark gaze settled on Jessica. She
fought a shiver, feeling intensely conscious of his strong,
virile presence, especially as she remembered him kissing her so audaciously beside the barn last night. She
couldn’t help noticing how his shirt hugged the muscular
contours of his arms and shoulders, how his chaps
molded to his powerful thighs. Not to mention how deep-set
and sexy his eyes were, how sensual his mouth, how stub
born the set of his handsome jaw.
His gaze still lingering on her, Cole remarked to Eula,
“We just got word of a gold shipment leaving the Aspen Gulch Mines. Reckon we’ll go relieve them of a bit of the heavy stuff.”
“Another robbery?” Ma shrieked. “Ain’t you boys got
in enough trouble?”
“Yes, you men should be ashamed of yourselves,” sec
onded Jessica.
“But, ladies, there weren’t no strong box yesterday, so we gotta make up for lost time,” whined Billy.
“Yeah,” seconded Gabe.
“You boys already got enough gold stashed away to pave a road halfways to hell,” groused Ma.
Cole lifted an eyebrow at Jessica. “And we’ll need everything we’ve got if we’re ever found out, if we have
to pull up stakes and move on. Now if you ladies will ex
cuse us—”
“But I don’t excuse you,” Jessica retorted crisply. As
Cole swung about, glowering at her, inspiration dawned.
“In fact, I’m going to come along and take notes.”
Jessica’s bravado had the desired effect. All five of the
men appeared stunned. Billy stood with his mouth gaping
open. Luke and Wesley exchanged horrified glances.
Gabe stared bug-eyed at Jessica. Cole glared.
At last Billy sputtered, “Y-you’s gonna turn us in,
ma’am?”
Before Jessica could answer, Luke spun angrily on
Cole. “I just knew it. This Jezebel’s gonna give us over to
the law!”
Cole stared hard at Jessica. “That true?”
“No! I haven’t done anything to betray you, nor do I in
tend to. Just ask your mother how I behaved in town.”
As five sets of suspicious male eyes turned to Ma, she
nodded. “Miss Jessie did right well, other than being a
mite too friendly gossiping with Mr. Granger about
church and such.”
Wesley stalked forward and stabbed at Jessica’s journal with a forefinger. “Then how come you want to put own
what we’re doin’ in that there book?”
She drew herself up with dignity. “I—I shall record
your exploits for posterity.”
Those words drew outraged mutterings from the men,
and brought Billy surging forward. “You’d better watch
your mouth, sister. I’ve shot men for lesser insults.”
Jessica giggled, which did not at all improve the men’s
dispositions. “No, you misunderstand. I want to write
down what you’re doing for history.”
Billy’s face lit up. “You mean like in dime novels?”
“Yeah, like Billy the Kid, and them Clanton boys?” Gabe inquired excitedly. “Cole reads to us about ‘em..”
“Well, something like that,” Jessica conceded, struggling not to feel charmed at the mention of Cole reading to his younger brothers.
Billy stuck his thumbs in his trouser pockets and
preened like a peacock. “How ‘bout that, boys? We’s
gonna be famous.”
Billy’s brothers also laughed and bragged to each
other, with the exception of Cole, who was still scowling.
“You boys considered that there just might be some draw
backs to our being—er—infamous?”
Jessica turned to him with cool defiance. “If you’re
worried about my turning over my journal to the law,
don’t be. I’m doing this strictly for the sake of pos—of
future generations. You’ll be dead by the time any of it is
published, assuming it ever is.”
Cole smiled nastily. “You planning to be around after
we’re dead, sugar? Oh maybe you’re the one aimin’ to do
us in.”
“You know what I mean,” she shot back.
“Frankly, I don’t.”
“Aw, come on, Cole, let the lady come along,” sug
gested Gabe. “I see no harm in it.”
“I can see a
lot
of harm in taking along our own witness
for the prosecution. It’s the most haywire notion I’ve ever
heard.”
“Then we’ll make her marry up with one of us,” de
clared Billy. “Ain’t there a law that a wife can’t testify
against her husband?”
“It’s a thought,” agreed Cole, scratching his jaw and
eyeing Jessica in a lewd manner that made her heart
lurch.
Meanwhile Ma waved a hand in frustration. “Aw, boys,
quit your palavering and let the woman go along. You’re
fussin’ worse than old biddies at a rummage sale. You
may as well make up your minds—either you’re gonna
trust her or ya ain’t.”
Cole stared hard at Jessica. “Yeah, Ma, you’re right.
The lady can come with us. It’s just as well we keep an eye on her. Besides, if I didn’t trust her, she’d be dead by now.”
Just the way he said it made Jessica shudder as she
watched him swing about and stride over to his horse.
***
While the men unloaded the buckboard, Jessica rushed
off with Ma to change. Digging through a trunk, Ma man
aged to find Jessica an old pair of overalls, a red checked
shirt, a pair of boots, and a straw hat, all of which had be
longed to Billy when he was a boy and were small
enough to fit her. She changed into the getup, and was
pleased to find that her journal and a pencil fit nicely in
one of the huge front pockets of the overalls. Donning the
hat, she giggled at her image in the mirror. With the brim
pulled low and her hair pinned up, she looked like a
farmer. All she needed was a stalk of hay to chew on.
By the time she went rushing back into the yard, Cole had saddled her a palomino and stood waiting with the reins in hand. He regarded her attire in amusement. The
other men, sitting on their own mounts, snickered to one
another.
Observing Cole with the horse, Jessica felt her cheeks
heating as she remembered his saying last night, “I’d like to see you astride a palomino, riding into the wind.” She
glanced at his expressive face and wondered if he, too, was
remembering his provocative comment. Not that she’d make a very dramatic sight right now, since she’d never
been on a horse in her life!
Cole broke the silence with a chuckle. “Well, don’t you
look fetching, Miss Jessie. Come on. Mount up.”
Rolling her eyes at him, Jessica stared skeptically at the
horse. The palomino was huge, its shoulders massive, its back level with her own forehead, its large white tail bat
ting at flies. Although the animal was beautiful with its
gold coat, flowing white mane, and white blaze, its eyes
appeared dark and wary. No doubt the animal sensed that
she had no experience on horseback—although she wasn’t
about to admit this to Cole. Still, even the thought of
mounting the beast was daunting.
“Something wrong, sugar?” Cole pressed.
“No. Just help me mount.”
“You need help?” he mocked.
She balled her hands on her hips. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a very large horse, and I’m not six feet tall like you are.”
Cole grinned lazily. “Oh, honey, I’ve noticed.”
“Stow the charm and give me a hand.”
“Yes, ma’am. Just put your foot in the stirrup and I’ll
give you a lift.”
Tossing him a resentful glance, Jessica turned back to
the horse. The animal snorted and eyed her balefully,
hardly putting her at ease. Trying to remember what she
could about equestrienne procedures from old western movies she’d watched, Jessica stuck her left foot in the stirrup and grabbed the saddle horn with her right hand.
Then she was horrified to feel Cole’s hand positioned
intimately on her bottom as he gave her a massive push.
She landed in the saddle with face flaming. The horse
gave a neigh, and she glowered down at Cole. “You crude
jerk.”