One Texas Night (23 page)

The rattling above came again. Cozette refused to turn around, thinking the rat in the church must be huge . . . almost big enough to be an uncle. Her father loved the ranch, but Uncle Raymond saw only a fast way to make money. Her beloved San Louise would be sliced up and cannibalized within months, because with no groom, her uncle could chop it into small farms. One of the oldest Mexican land-grant ranches in Texas would vanish.

Shouting came from beyond the chapel walls. Cozette pressed her cheek to the window. She could die in a few minutes when all was quiet, she decided. She saw shadows of men run from one building to another, but she couldn’t tell what was happening. Shouts echoed through the foggy night air and she thought she heard gunfire near the barn.

As she pushed away from the window, she became aware of someone behind her. Before she could turn, the barrel of a gun pushed sharply against her back.

“Turn around, pretty lady, and you’re dead,” came a voice low and rich.

“Who are you?” she demanded, thinking of the old stories she’d heard of outlaws raiding the ranch years ago.

The laughter only inches behind her chilled her blood.

“I’m a bandit come to relieve you of the burden of your wealth. I’ll start with that necklace.”

She tugged off the heavy gold necklace and handed it to him. “Take it and be gone.”

“And the ring.” He was so close to her she could feel his warm breath on her bare shoulders.

She jerked off the gold band she’d bought for herself before she left Austin.

“A willing victim?” the robber said. “A change from what I expected.” His voice was more educated than she thought a bandit’s might be, but the steel of his weapon seemed no less deadly.

“Is that all you want?” she asked as she stared out into the night wishing the gun in his hand would go off and end her misery.

“Oh, we’re taking plenty. I checked out the chapel, and my band is loading all your wedding gifts in a wagon.”

“Good,” she said.

“You don’t seem upset that we’re taking everything of value.”

“I could care less,” she answered.

“Don’t play games with me, miss. I may not kill you, but my gang wouldn’t hesitate.”

Cozette placed her hands on the windowsill, fighting to see beyond the thick glass. “Your gang? They wouldn’t be three short fat men dressed in black.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They’re being led away by several of the ranch hands. I don’t know how mean they are but one looks like he might be sobbing.”

The outlaw pushed her against the window as he looked out. His strong fingers rested on the back of her neck, holding her, but not hurting her. His touch was as warm as the glass was cold.

“That’s them.” He mumbled an oath. “Great, I leave them for five minutes and look what happens.”

“My men will come after you next.” She tried to wiggle away. “They’re probably already checking every building on the ranch.”

For one second his hand slipped against her hair and she twisted to face him. She drew in a quick breath to scream, but his stormy eyes stopped her. He was tall, and darkened by the sun, but his eyes were unlike any she’d ever seen. He was young, maybe only a year or two older than she, yet the sadness in his stare held a hundred years of sorrow.

“Great!” He pulled her from the window. “You’ve seen my face. Now I have to kill you.”

“Good!” she shouted back. “Shoot me!” Heaven had answered her prayer.

She straightened against the wall, bracing herself for the blow. “Shoot me right in the heart.” Cozette closed her eyes and waited.

After holding her breath for as long as she could, she let out the air and glared at him. The outlaw was just standing there staring at her.

“What’s wrong? All you have to do is pull the trigger.”

“I can’t just shoot you in cold blood. Not with you ordering me to. In that dress you look like a doll on top of a wedding cake.”

“Well, I’m not taking it off, so shoot me.”

She took another breath, closed her eyes, and waited. No blow came.

This time when she opened her eyes, he’d lowered his gun to his side. “What’s wrong now?”

“I can’t, lady. I know it’s the outlaw code to shoot anyone who can identify you, but I can’t.”

All the tension of the day exploded inside Cozette and he was the only one around to take her bottled-up rage. “You are absolutely the worst outlaw I’ve ever seen. You must have the dumbest gang in creation if they follow you. All you have to do is aim at my heart and shoot me. Then I won’t be around to testify and you can go bungle some other job.”

“Look, lady, if you want to die so badly, why don’t you just take my gun and kill yourself.”

“Suicide is a mortal sin. I was schooled by nuns in Austin until a month ago. I know the rules and I always follow them,” she corrected him with a bold lie, but then lying seemed to be her main profession of late. “I don’t expect a low-down, worthless outlaw to know anything about right or wrong. I’m surprised you aren’t lying out somewhere, your dead body feeding the buzzards, or swinging from a tree by rope.” She pointed her finger at him. “Now stop wasting time and shoot me!”

He shoved his gun in the holster and stared into her face. “No. Maybe I should tie you up and gag you. I’d enjoy the silence and that should give me time to go spring my three uncles and get out of this place by dawn. I knew this was a bad idea from the start.”

“Just shoot me, please.” She couldn’t believe the answer to her prayers was standing right in front of her refusing to cooperate.

“I can’t. Someone will hear the shot.” He tried to reason with her.

“Then choke me.” She pulled the collar of her gown open, popping several buttons.

He closed the fingers on one hand around her slender neck, but he didn’t tighten his grip.

He was so close to her she could feel his heart pounding. “Please, do it,” she whispered. “If you don’t I’ll be forced to watch my father die knowing his only child lied to him. I’ll be disgraced and kicked off the ranch by an uncle who hates me.”

He studied her with those fascinating, stormy blue eyes that seemed to see all the way to her soul. “Why don’t you just tell your father the truth?”

“If I’m not married by the time he wakes up tomorrow, I’ll break his heart. He never had much to do with me, thought my mother was a fool for listening to my stories. As soon as she died, he sent me to the nuns and, as far as I know, he’s never even read the letters I wrote. He’s giving his brother the ranch rather than let me have it unless I marry.” Cozette knew she was babbling, but she didn’t care. She needed to confess, and an outlaw wasn’t likely to judge her.

“Don’t you have friends, relatives, the law who will help you?” To her surprise the outlaw actually sounded concerned.

“No one who would stand against my uncle once my father is gone. I’m sure the will is legal.” She paused, then tried another angle. “My uncle will kill your gang. He’s done it to others who tried to steal from the ranch. They say he beat a cook almost to death for stealing three chickens. My father’s a hard man, but his brother twisted one more step into cruelty.”

The bandit let go of her neck and backed away. “You’ve got a mountainload of problems, lady.” He handed her back the ring and necklace. “I wish I could help you, but right now I’ve got my own worries. Those three fat little outlaws in black are all the family I’ve got, and I’ll do anything it takes to save them. I thought if I came along with them tonight, I’d keep them out of trouble, but that plan obviously didn’t work.”

Cozette stared at the jewelry in her hand. She cared nothing about it or all the wedding gifts. All she wanted was her land, someplace to live, somewhere to raise the child she carried. “Are you sure you won’t kill me?”

He smiled, a sad smile as if he was sorry he’d disappointed her. “I can’t, lady.”

“Then marry me.” Cozette covered her mouth, not believing what she’d said, but the logic of it slammed against her. “The priest won’t help me. I’ve lied to him as I did to everyone else. They all believe my husband is coming tonight. But, if I told him you were that man, he’d marry us and my uncle would have to watch the land pass to my husband.”

“But I’m not your husband. How’s he going to feel when he shows up and finds his wife married to me?”

“He won’t show up. I made him up and the land won’t really be yours—you’ll just hold on to it for a while, then pass it back to me.”

The stranger looked confused. “Why?” he asked as if he really didn’t want to know the answer.

She glared at him. “Because I may be pregnant.” It was the first honest thing she’d said in so long, and it felt good.

“How did that happen? Imaginary men don’t get women pregnant.” He met her stare, and she swore she saw a bit of a blush flash across the outlaw’s face in the candlelight. “Never mind,” he corrected. “I don’t want to know.”

She rushed on, not wanting to remember, much less explain. “I have to marry or lose everything. If you won’t kill me, marry me.”

“Great plan. What would keep your uncle from just shooting me a minute after the ceremony?”

“The minute we’re married, as my husband, you own the land. If you die, it’s mine. The ranch hands will stand with whoever is the rightful owner. Some of them don’t agree with the way my uncle has been taking over since my father’s been sick, but they’re afraid to cross him, knowing he could be their boss soon. If they know the ranch will pass to you, they’d stand with you.”

A grin lifted one side of his mouth and she thought he looked almost handsome. “What’s to keep you from killing me?”

“I’ll make you a deal. Marry me and stay with me until my uncle goes back to his place at that gambling hole he calls his town, and then I’ll let you take that wagonload of wedding loot out of here.” She hesitated, then added, “But if you don’t leave when I tell you to, I
will
shoot you, myself.”

“How long do I have to stay?”

“Not long. A few days. A week at the most. Just until the guests leave,” she lied. “My uncle will suspect a trick. I’ll need time to make sure I’m protected. But, while you are here, acting like my husband, you’ll have to play the role.”

“What about my uncles?”

“If I save them from the rope, will you consider my proposal?”

“Why trust me, lady?”

“You’re a thief, I’m a liar. Seems a good match.” She thought she saw a bit of hurt flash in his eyes as if she’d insulted him.

When he looked back at her, his blue eyes had turned hard as gray, cold steel. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said as if she’d just chosen an impossible task. “Get my uncles freed and I’ll play your game. I’ll marry you and stay here until the ranch passes to me, and then I’ll leave it to you.”

“Stay here,” she whispered as if afraid to hope. “I’ll be right back.”

Before he could say a word, she rushed to the tiny side door of the chapel with her wedding dress flowing like a huge white cloud behind her. She tapped twice and a priest opened the door. Then she vanished.

Chapter 2

Michael Hughes walked to the window and stared out into the chilly winter night. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and the craziest. The woman made snakes look predictable. He had no hope of her managing to free his three dumb uncles. After all, she was a prisoner herself from all he could tell.

If he had any sense, he’d run. Michael laughed. If he’d had any sense he never would have come back to the Big Ben country. He’d been twelve when his uncles talked him into playing lookout for one of their schemes. They’d failed at robbing a bank and he’d been the only one who got caught. Without parents, Michael had had no one to stand with him before the judge. He’d been sentenced to six years of hard labor.

The first few months had been hell. Then the warden’s wife, Mrs. Peters, noticed him and demanded he be assigned to help her. She was six feet tall and as hard as nails, but she was a Quaker on a mission. She ran a school that forced education on every child she managed to catch and draw into her one-room school.

Michael cleaned the schoolroom, built the fires, and stayed with her all day doing whatever chore she yelled for him to do. At night he helped the cook wash up after supper before a guard came to put his chains back on and take him to the huge bay where prisoners slept. When it got warm enough that first spring, he took off his ragged coat to chop wood. Mrs. Peters noticed bruises on his arms and knew he’d been mistreated at night in the cell block. She demanded he be allowed to sleep in the school, and she wasn’t a woman even the warden would cross.

With regular meals and a place where he could sleep without fear, Michael began to grow. The animal he’d almost become calmed. In three years he’d read all the books she had and practiced math until he was faster than her with figures. Mrs. Peters never told him so, but he guessed she was proud of what she’d done. Every month she managed to find more books for him to read and she always insisted on calling him Michael, never Mickey or Mike, like his uncles had.

When he was released at eighteen, she gave him the only clothes he’d ever had that weren’t hand-me-downs and said she saw great things in his future.

Mrs. Peters told him many times that he was a child never to be loved, but he could manage to be useful if he worked hard. Only, in the two years since he’d seen her, he hadn’t managed to be that to anyone. If this crazy bride needed him, he’d do what he could, if for no other reason than to prove Mrs. Peters right.