Wed To The Texas Outlaw. Carol Arens
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spread that the pair of them were partners. After that, fear and a natural love of gossip attached many sinister stories to him. Some of them actually happened, just not by his hand. Others were born of ripe and idle imaginations.
Reaching into his shirt pocket, he withdrew the bent badge Mathers had given him and rubbed his thumb over the tarnished metal.
Holding this symbol of law and order in his hand, knowing that he would one day pin it on his vest, made him feel like an imposter. This business of upholding law and order was the last thing he’d ever imagined he would be doing.
Never expected he’d be anything other than a two-bit criminal.
He’d been a novice at crime, though, compared to the outlaws he would be facing.
The sun sat low and bright over the horizon. It was only an hour before sundown. They’d reach Jasper Springs by noon tomorrow.
That didn’t give him long to figure out a way to round up six bloodstained souls. He’d have a better shot at it if he had the meanness in him that his reputation said he did.
All he was, was a survivor. He reckoned that would have to do.
A rustle of petticoats approached from behind. Melinda sat beside him, a blanket drawn across her shoulders. Funny how it smelled as if she’d brought a handful of sweet-smelling flowers along with her.
“I’d like to read those.” She pointed to the papers he held.
He shook his head. “It’s not fit reading for a lady’s eyes.”
Eyes that had been as agreeable as sugar suddenly narrowed at him. “If that lady’s life depends upon knowing what she is up against, it is fit reading.”
She wouldn’t find it pleasant, but he handed them over.
A gust of cool wind rustled the pages in her hand. She pressed them to her bosom. He tried his best not to notice.
For a long time she was silent. A delicate line creased her forehead while she read.
Was she seeing his face when she read about the outlaws? That alone would be enough to make him feel guilty about his past, even though it was not as black as she must think. Funny how a man wanted his wife’s respect. It didn’t matter that he barely knew her or that she wouldn’t be his wife for long.
“Six King brothers in all,” she sighed. The blamed wind tugged at the paper. She pressed it to her chest again. The way the pages flapped against her bosom made it impossible not to think about—hell’s curses—unsuitable things. “What will we do?”
“‘We’ will not do anything.” He shot her a severe frown but she did not react to it. “This is all on me. The one and only reason you are here is for show.”
With a delicate arch of her brow, she questioned him.
“Let’s see...” She tapped her finger on the paper on her breast. He turned his gaze to the water rolling by, staring at each ripple with dedicated concentration. “There’s Efrin King, the oldest, known as King Cobra. It says here that he’s a greedy soul, in love with money and power. Then we have Buck King—King Diamond Back. He’s second by birth and they say that he is jealous of Efrin. And what about Lump King? King Horny Toad is simpleminded, quite evil nevertheless. I’ve got to say, that one worries me, Boone. You can’t think to take on this whole family alone?”
“Look, I know you want to help. Seems to be in your nature to. But this is dangerous business. The only way of coming out of it whole is if you do what I tell you to without question.”
“I reckon you can handle Olfin—King Hornet.” Blamed, if the woman hadn’t just ignored him. “It’s says here he’s not as bad as the others, just sort of goes along.”
He should have refused to involve Melinda in this, at least more forcefully than he had. Here she was, as determined as a bee collecting pollen, to put her nose where it didn’t belong.
“I welcome your ideas and that’s as far as it goes.” He shot her the frown again. “Anything besides that, you’ll only be in my way.”
“If it weren’t for King Copperhead, Leland, I’d take to my bed and cover my head with a dozen quilts. But what do you intend to do with someone who, it says right here, is charming and at the same time the most deadly of them all? Of all the brothers he takes the most pleasure in violence. Did you see this, Boone?” She shoved the paper in front of his eyes. “He delights in it!”
He was silent because he didn’t rightly know what he was going to do. Not with Leland or any of them.
According to the plan, they, as homesteaders, were supposed to look weak, victim-like. To his mind that was no plan at all.
Smythe, who had been collecting firewood, dumped his load beside the circle of stones Boone had set out for the night’s campfire.
With his strides crisp and his back straight, the lawyer crossed the clearing then wriggled down between him and Melinda. The dog-wolf followed but turned aside to snuffle through the brush, his tail wagging and resembling bristles on a worn broom.
Mathers had seemed to feel the beast would be helpful. But so far his disposition seemed mild; they hadn’t heard so much as a growl out of him.
“You are my charge,” Smythe said to Melinda. “I won’t have you putting yourself at risk.”
“As your husband, I say the same.”
Melinda gave them both a sincere smile, a lovely one, in fact. “I would never dream of being a burden to you, Stanley. Or, Husband, of putting you at unnecessary risk.”
Odd that her apparent compliance didn’t ease his concern a whit.
“Still, I can’t help but wonder, Boone, what you will do about the youngest, Bird King, who calls himself King Vulture? It says right here that he is unpredictable.” She jabbed her slender finger at the words on the page. “Apparently charming one moment but the next nearly as wicked as Leland.”
“Sounds like they consider themselves royalty,” Stanley said.
“According to Mathers, they rule the town, even make other folks call them by their last name first. ‘King’ So-and-so.” He took the papers from Melinda and handed them to Smythe. “The only law that’s observed in Jasper Springs is at the whim of the Kings. Says here they hanged a boy barely out of the schoolroom for trying to defend his sister from Horny Toad. Doesn’t say what happened to her.”
Silence stretched for a time, broken only by the chirrup of crickets, the croak of frogs.
Suddenly there was a tussle in the shrubbery. Branches cracked and leaves scattered.
Billbro trotted out with a limp rabbit in his jaws. He set it before them.
“Good. One of us is a hunter,” Stanley observed. “We won’t starve.”
* * *
Riding down the main street of Jasper Springs, the wagon wheels laboring over the rutted road, Melinda thought the town must have been well cared for at one time.
Flowerpots decorated the raised boardwalk. A banner advertising a long-gone Fourth of July celebration was strung from one side of the street to the other. Looking past the banner, toward the end of Main Street, she saw a fountain gurgling in the town square.
Sadly, Jasper Springs now resembled a ghost town more than anything else. Those pretty flowerpots were cracked, growing weeds, the banner faded and tattered. The spring-fed fountain sounded lovely but no one was around to enjoy it. It would be easy to imagine that no one lived here any longer.
At least there were trees to soften the dreariness of the place. Dozens of them grew around town, their fall colors bright and beautiful. What a satisfaction to know that the outlaws did not control everything.
Melinda adjusted her drab bonnet and tried to fluff her brown dress. Sadly, no amount of encouraging could