Outlaw's Bride (24 page)

T
he rain slacked off shortly before noon. The sun popped out, and the air grew steamy. Ragan mopped her forehead with her sleeve, but she smiled when she saw the rainbow over the shed. Johnny was inside, working on window frames for Widow Keeling’s house. The widow had caught him on his way back to the dynamite shack. The man had more work than he had time.

In addition to the dynamite shack, new church pews were in progress. A special Transformation Fund had purchased the lumber, and the church members donated the other supplies.

Town projects were mounting up too. Minnie had put in her bid for a speaker’s platform in the open space east of the churchyard. After donating a nice sum, she challenged others to do the same to build back the town. Contributed materials were accumulating at an amazing rate. Barren Flats had enough work to keep Johnny busy for years. Gangs were inevitable, but the town would repair and keep rebuilding. They would make Barren Flats a decent place to live, regardless.

“Johnny! Ragan! Judge McMann! Johnny! Ragan! Judge McMann!”

Ragan’s heart lurched to her throat, and she reached the front door just as Everett burst through the gate.

“Johnny! Ra—”

“Everett, what’s wrong?”

Johnny rounded the corner of the porch, hammer in hand.

The judge’s cane pounded the oak floor. “What in the world? What’s happened?”

Kitty darted out the door in front of him and disappeared under the rail.

Everett stood at the foot of the porch steps, his sides heaving, gasping for breath. He waved a paper in his outstretched hand. “Just came in…for…the judge.”

Johnny took the paper out of his hand and handed it to Judge McMann.

“It’s a telegram,” Everett managed between gasps.

“We can see that, son. Who died?”

“No one died. They found the money.”

“The money? What money? Just take a minute to get your breath.” Judge McMann scanned the wire and then reread it.

“Well, well, well.” He turned to Johnny, his weathered face breaking into a smile. “It’s from Robert. They’ve found the bank money pouch. Located it in a pile of brush two miles out of town.”

“That’s…that’s what I was trying…to tell…you.” Everett pressed his side, nodding vigorously. “Word just came in.”

Julia Curbow came through the gate like a shot, then Millie Crocker, followed by Maggie Anglo. Shorty Lynch and Hubie Banks followed Roberta Seeden.

“Is it true?”

“What does it mean?”

“Did they find the money?” Shorty demanded. “Is Johnny cleared of the charges?”

“Whoa, now.” Judge McMann raised his voice and rattled the paper for attention. “Let me read this again so there’ll be no mistakes.” He bent over the paper and took his time reading the message for the third time.

“Says right here the money’s been found and it’ll be returned to the rightful owners, the patrons of the First Territorial Bank of California in Canyon City.” He looked up. “Sadly, that doesn’t mean John’s sentence will be excused.”

A chorus of disappointed murmurs rippled through the audience.

“Seems to me that if they found the money, that’d be good enough,” Julia said.

Hubie turned to look at Johnny. “Guess that proves you’ve been telling the truth all along.”

Johnny took off his hat. “I had nothing to do with the bank robbery or the money. But like the judge says, finding the money doesn’t prove that.”

Disappointment colored Everett’s features. “I was hoping Judge Leonard would at least reduce your sentence.”

“I’ve been praying so hard.” Ragan came down the steps to join Johnny. They locked hands, and Ragan didn’t care that Roberta’s brows lifted.

“Well, the boy’s a fine carpenter, and I believe he’s innocent of the charges.” With that declaration, Hubie turned and headed out the gate. Shorty followed.

“A hard worker,” Roberta added as she turned to leave.

“Deserves a break.”

“Got a bad deal.”

“Building a shed fit for a king.”

Julia waved her fingers at Johnny as she left. “Keep your chin up, Jonathan. You’re a good boy.”

“Thank you, Julia.”

Ragan squeezed Johnny’s hand, and he squeezed hers back.

“Plain ain’t fair,” Everett mumbled.

B
y mid-October the new dynamite shack was finished and pronounced far sturdier than its predecessor. Gangs still rode through, shooting up the place, but the dynamite shack sat impenetrable. It would take an act of God to destroy it. Barren Flats declared Johnny, in Mayor Rayles’ words, “The finest carpenter this side of the Mississippi River.”

As far as Ragan was concerned Johnny was the finest everything, and she didn’t let a day go by without reminding him of it. Each week drew them closer, and she dreaded the day he’d ride away. She had failed to convince him that Bledso had already stolen sixteen years of his life; he shouldn’t allow him to have more. Johnny still searched the faces of every gang that rode through, convinced that one day Bledso would show up.

He caught her in the shed late one rainy afternoon in a playful mood.

“Johnny—”

Drawing her away from the open door, he kissed her soundly.

“I am going to miss you so much when you leave,” she whispered when they came up for breath.
Please, God, let him realize that what we have together is more important than seeking retribution.

“I’m not going anywhere for a while.”

But in her heart Ragan knew it was only a matter of time before Johnny would be tested, perhaps far beyond his newfound strengths.

“In conclusion, I feel the program, while experiencing occasional setbacks, has proven effective. In the future, I recommend that the penal system offer rehabilitation to those first-time adult violators exhibiting the willingness and common sense to change.”

Judge McMann closed the folder, and sighed. Outside a humid wind whipped against the kitchen windowpanes. “And that’s that.”

Ragan drew a stitch through the pillowcase she was embroidering. “Feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Indeed, it is gratifying to know the book is completed. And while the program wasn’t as successful as I had hoped, it wasn’t a total failure.”

Ragan glanced at Johnny, who was stacking wood next to the cookstove. “So what do you think?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you, sir. Did we leave out anything?”

“Nothing except you don’t know the outcome of my case.”

Ragan glanced at the judge. “We feel certain we do.”

“This project,” the judge declared, lifting the manuscript to study it, “is the most important thing I’ve accomplished for society, with the exception of marriage and fatherhood, in my lifetime. I wish Maddy were here to share this.”

Ragan smiled, taking another stitch. “She doesn’t have to be here. She knows, Procky.”

Proctor’s gaze moved to Johnny, even though he still addressed her. “Don’t ever forget what’s important in life. Love, family, loyal friends. It’s easy to lose sight of the things that matter.”

Ragan bit off a thread and tied it. “Couldn’t agree more.”

“Well.” The judge yawned. “It’s past my bedtime. I assume you’ll be mailing the manuscript first thing in the morning?”

“First thing in the morning. Then I have an errand afterward. Did you know that Mary Linder is getting married next week?”

“Yes, her mother cornered me after church. I hadn’t realized Mary was old enough to get married.”

“She’s seventeen, Procky.”

“Couldn’t be. She was born just a few weeks ago.”

Ragan grinned. “Mary’s not feeling well, and in order for Estelle to have her gown finished on time, she’s asked me to stand in for Mary’s final fitting tomorrow. I’ll mail the book and then stop by the seamstress’s on the way home.”

“Take your time; no hurry.” The wheels on the chair squeaked as the judge rolled out of the kitchen calling for Kitty. “Come on, old girl. It’s bedtime.”

Early the following morning, Ragan watched Everett unlock the telegraph office.

“You’re sure up and around early this morning.”

“I want to get this mailed right away.”

“Stage won’t be here until late afternoon.”

“I know, but once I mail it, I’ll relax.”

“Proud of it, huh?”

Ragan grinned. “Very proud.”

Writing this book meant more than she’d ever imagined. The hours of research, then putting words to paper, were all most gratifying.

She hovered over Everett’s shoulder while he weighed the heavy manuscript and figured proper postage. With a dramatic swoop, he held it over the mailbag. Then, in a loud, authoritative voice, he announced, “I declare this project officially completed.”

By now a group had assembled to watch the historic moment. When the parcel hit the bottom of the mailbag, they broke into a round of applause.

Ragan took a mock bow. “I hereby faithfully promise to remain humble, although I’m sure the book is destined to elevate Judge McMann and me to the ranks of the famous.” She bowed again to another round of applause.

Still laughing and accepting congratulations, she left the post office. Bumping into Jo, who was on her way to the mercantile, Ragan said, “Hi, there. What brings you to town so early?”

“Papa wants an apple pie and we’re out of cinnamon,” the young girl explained as Ragan fell into step with her.

“Then by all means, we are off to buy cinnamon.” The two sisters locked arms and giggled as they playfully skipped down the center of Main Street.

Ragan was on top of the world today, carefree. The money had been found, and Judge Leonard was bound to reduce Johnny’s sentence if Johnny kept up his present cooperation.

“What are
you
doing in town so early?” Jo asked.

“Oh, I mailed the book this morning.”

“Really!” Jo stopped to hug her. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you!”

They fell back in step, and Jo glanced at her, grinning. “Have you seen Johnny today?”

“I see him every day, nosy.”

The sound of hammers and saws coming from the church attested to his whereabouts. Johnny had mentioned over breakfast that the new pews would be done in time for the next Sunday’s services. Lately, he hadn’t missed a Sunday preaching.

Jo sighed. “He’s sure good, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he’s an excellent carpenter. And a good listener, and a wonderful friend.” Ragan’s cheeks flamed.
The man I adore.

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not. It’s just warm this morning.”

“Huh-uh. You’re beet red. All I said was that he’s good. That made you blush?”

“No, Jo. Drop it.”

“You don’t think I’m old enough to understand, do you? Well, I am. I love Benny Dewayne, and I know what love is.”

Benny Dewayne! Ragan resisted the urge to tell her sister this was puppy love, not the love of a woman for a man. That would come
someday, and Jo would realize the difference. The way she’d discovered the difference when Johnny came into her life.

“It’s true. Benny Dewayne is my absolute one true love. There’s never been a truer love, except for maybe Holly and Tom, or you and Johnny. But Benny Dewayne and I—”

“Are much much too young to be talking such nonsense,” Ragan said, walking ahead and leaving Jo to try to catch up.

“I wish you’d talk to me about you and Johnny. I am old enough.”

“Jo, there’s nothing to tell. I admit, I care about Johnny—”

Way too much.

“And sometimes I think he cares for me—”

Not nearly as much as I’d like.

“But there are many reasons we can’t be together at this time.”

None strong enough that with God’s help we couldn’t overcome.

“I know he loves you,” Jo stated.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I feel it in my bones, Ragan.”

Ragan sighed. Arguing with Jo was never productive. “Feel it in your bones—you sound like Grandma Ramsey. I have to stop by Estelle’s. Mary Linder is ill, so I’m going to do her final gown fitting. Want to come?”

“I guess so. I hear the gown is lovely.”

“It is if Estelle’s making it.” The two sisters climbed the outer stairs to the seamstress’s two-room apartment over the title office and knocked on the door.

“You’d think Mary would want to come for the final fitting, ill or not.”

“You know Mary. If she can get someone else to do it for her, she will.”

A short while later, Ragan stood in front of the mirror, staring at her image. Mary’s bridal gown was exquisite. Yards of tulle and lace, puffed sleeves, and a delicately embellished neckline. Estelle was simply gifted with a needle and thread. Ragan turned, studying the way the dress lay in perfect symmetrical folds.
If God makes it possible for me to marry Johnny…

Her thoughts wavered. God wasn’t standing in the way. Johnny refused to release his anger.

When I marry Johnny,
she amended,
I want a gown exactly like this
one.

“It’s beautiful,” Jo murmured, fingering the delicate Queen Anne lace. “Estelle, you’re marvelous.”

“Speaking of wedding lace,” the seamstress murmured, eyeing Ragan, “when are you going to tie the knot, young lady?”

“Someday.”

“Well, it had better be soon or I’ll be too old to make the dress.” She swatted Ragan’s backside affectionately. “Turn. Step back.” She bent, adjusting the hem.

“Is Mary feeling better?” Ragan asked.

“I believe so. She wants me to thank you for the favor. I think she just has wedding jitters, but you know she’s a little spoiled. Too pampered, I say. Good thing you gals have the same size waist. Don’t know of anyone else who could oblige her.”

A sudden ruckus outside drew their attention.

Ragan caught Estelle’s eye in the mirror and frowned. “A raid?”

Estelle shrugged and knelt, slipping a pin into the hem. “I hope not. Don’t have time to put up with one today.”

Jo opened the door and peered down the stairway.

“What’s going on?” Ragan preened in front of the mirror, admiring the gown.

“Nothing that I can see.”

The seamstress and Ragan joined Jo on the porch, and then they cautiously descended the stairs.

Jo peered around the corner. “I still don’t see a thing.”

Estelle shrugged again. “Must have been a false alarm. Be careful with that hem coming back up. Mary will have a fit if it gets soiled.”

Ragan lifted the skirt and turned to follow. “Jo, could you help with the train back there, please?” As Jo gathered the trailing hem, the sound of thundering hooves approached and the women turned in alarm. Four riders were coming in hard, their dusty coats whipping in the wind.