Until the moment Cal Bronson proposed, the correspondence to become a mail-order bride hadn’t seemed real; it was kind of a lark. Lindy O’Hara thought of it as just sticking her toe in the water. Once he took that rash step, she had a monumental decision to make. Her first inclination was to give in to the panic and decline him outright. How could he possibly think he knew her well enough to propose after one letter? Her second impulse was to put him off for several months. If he didn’t know her, she certainly didn’t know him.
Does any mail-order bride know her intended, though?
And how many marriages were miserable when the couple had courted in the traditional fashion? She had witnessed several, including her Uncle Ephraim and Aunt Portia Armstrong’s union. Sophie’s guardians barely spoke to each other, although they always had been united in their contempt of Sophie. Then something Per had said came to mind. You cannot gain anything if you don’t take a risk. Her cousin also had mentioned something about never getting new results if you continue the same behavior. If she didn’t do something soon, she would end up on this farm forever. As much as she loved the farm and her family, she wanted a home and a life of her own. It wasn’t farming she wanted to escape; it was the feeling she was living her parents’ lives. She wanted to live her own life. It was the natural way of things.
Could she do it? Could she travel all the way to Texas alone to marry a lawman she had never met? At that point she noticed a lump in the envelope and discovered her fiancé—she was just trying the label on to see how it fit—had sent a train ticket and $100 for meals and “any other expenses” along the way. He also had told her in the letter, which she finally picked up and reread, that she would need to pay the stagecoach fare from Dallas to San Angelo, which should be no more than $10. The train ticket was for the following Monday. That gave her five days to make a life-altering decision. Realistically, though, she would have to make up her mind in time to make any necessary clothing alterations, pack and tell her folks, so maybe three or four days. Yes, she was cautious. Yes, she was borderline terrified. Yet Sophie had done it and was very happy, despite some initial problems. Per sounded so confident before she left that Lindy had no doubt her marriage would work out, or if it didn’t, she still would be fine.
Lindy walked over to the mirror above her bureau and looked at herself, really looked. She wasn’t beautiful but had been told many times she was pretty. Her green eyes were probably her best feature. She went back and forth on whether or not she liked the freckles sprinkled across her nose. She did like her auburn hair, which was wavy but not too curly. Her nose didn’t seem to be too big or too small. It didn’t have a hook or any bumps. She always had dressed simply; she was a simple person. She sighed. It wasn’t her appearance she doubted. Cal Bronson would like it or he wouldn’t. Perhaps it was her strength she felt wary about. No, not her strength per se. Her strength of will? She had faced enough adversity in her life to know she could withstand much before breaking down. She certainly was capable of performing household and farming/ranching duties. And raising children. She had cared for her younger siblings for years and had done much of the cooking in the last two years since her mother’s hands became arthritic. Her sister Bridget would be able to take over that duty, and Anya would help.
And then she realized where her weakness lay. It was in her belief, or lack thereof, in her ability to secure a lasting, loving relationship. Her one experience at love had been disastrous and left her gun shy, perhaps permanently. When she was 16, Cory Anderssen, a handsome, blonde, blue-eyed school sports hero, had toyed with her and absolutely gutted her. He made her believe he loved her and she gave her whole heart to him as only a 16-year-old hopeless romantic could. Then she’d overheard him ridiculing her behind her back, saying it was only a matter of time before he bedded her as his friends laughed and congratulated him. The next time the boy came to call on her, she met him with a cocked pistol. She had to repeatedly assure her parents her former boyfriend had not violated her, and everyone eventually forgot about it, everyone but her. The whole experience shattered her confidence in affairs of the heart, as well as her belief in her ability to judge a man’s character, and she had never quite gotten them back. Well, Cal Bronson didn’t say anything about love, did he?
She impressed herself by making her decision in two days, not the three or four she had allotted. Before she could change her mind, Lindy O’Hara, the Irish farmer’s daughter, rode to Elizabethtown and sent a telegram to Cal Bronson in San Angelo confirming her acceptance of his proposal. She half expected she’d try to call the telegram back after it was sent, yet she found herself surprisingly calm. And she remained that way until it was time to face her parents with the news. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.
Lindy was not a secretive person by nature, and she had shared with her folks her cousins’ turns as mail-order brides, even Sophie’s near disastrous experience that found her married to a different man than she had written to. Her parents were not fans of Sophie’s guardians, so when they stormed the farm trying to find out where their charge had gone, the O’Haras were unable (as in unwilling) to help them. Lindy spoke of Per’s adventure only in general terms to protect her folks. The wealthy, snooty and always forceful Candida Reeves Vanderhaven had tried to bully Lindy into telling her where her daughter had gone, but she feigned ignorance. Her parents actually were ignorant in that regard so couldn’t help her either. As for Lindy, it was not her information to share, and she would never betray her cousins.
The O’Haras had just finished a fine supper of potato pancakes and corned beef. Lindy and her parents, still seated, were enjoying cups of coffee. It was Bridget’s turn to wash the dishes, and the twins went off to feed the horses. The three younger children were outside playing with Clancy, the family’s collie. It was now or never.
“I’ve made a decision,” Lindy announced, brushing some imaginary lint off her yellow day dress. Her heart was pounding.
Her parents looked at her expectantly but calmly, almost as if they knew what she was about to say. They were so dear to her, her hardworking da with his sturdy build, ruddy complexion and blue eyes that fairly sparkled. Her mam’s figure was rounded now after birthing so many children, but she was still lovely, her auburn hair, in its usual braided bun, streaked with gray in a way that only enhanced her beauty.
“Would this have anything to do with those letters you’ve been receiving, lass?”
It wasn’t an accusation. Her father was smiling.
Lindy took a sip of her coffee, then carefully set the cup in the saucer. They were part of a tea set her grandmother had brought from Ireland and so cherished. Her voice didn’t even sound like her own when she said, “I’ve decided to become a mail-order bride.”
Following a long moment of silence, her father sighed. “’Tis not surprising, lass, since your cousins left to do the same.”
“The thing is, Da, I…I’ve accepted a proposal.”
Her mother looked shocked for a moment before setting her cup down and taking Lindy’s hand in her hands with the swollen knuckles. “I know it’s been hard for you being the oldest, Melinda. You have had a great deal of responsibility from a young age. But don’t be too hasty.”
Lindy felt tears pricking her eyes. “It’s time. I need to go.”
“Tell us about the man.”
Her parents had married when her da was 19 and her mam 18, so they couldn’t very well argue she was too young at 21. Her father had that look. He could be fierce when he wanted to be. She couldn’t quite maintain his gaze.
“He’s a Texas lawman.”
“Saints preserve us,” her mother gasped.
In a lengthy conversation that featured a few tears, a laugh or two and much love, Lindy managed to paint her intended as a man who would keep her safe, not as one who would be gone for days or weeks at a time and always in danger. She told them about his ranch and made it sound as if she had gotten to know him well. There was no way she could tell them they had only exchanged one brief letter each. Then her parents would know what she had already figured out: She was out of her mind.
* * *
Cal Bronson was not an impetuous man. He thought things through, weighed his options and chose his actions accordingly. Oh, there were times when he had to make split-second decisions, typically in life or death matters, but this was not one of them. So why was he leaning on a post outside the stage depot, awaiting his soon-to-be bride? Although he did want a wife, a companion, a helpmeet, a lover, he figured it would take six months to a year to secure one through the mail. That would give him time to get his mind around it and wrap up this thing he was embroiled in.
So why in hell had he proposed to Lindy O’Hara after receiving one letter from her? He had gone over and over it in his mind, and the only thing he could come up with was that something in that first letter had touched him, and he was afraid if he drew out their correspondence over months, she could be writing to others and might choose someone else. Why that had filled him with panic, he had no idea. In fact, he thought it was ludicrous. Yet, here he was, all 6 foot 3 of him, awaiting the stage that was supposed to hold Miss O’Hara. Maybe she’d changed her mind. He had mixed feelings about that. He wouldn’t for the life of him put her in danger, yet wasn’t that what he was doing? He should have sent a telegram back to her postponing the wedding. Why hadn’t he? He wasn’t sure he believed in fate, yet he felt it pulling him in the direction he had gone.
He heard a yell then, and the stagecoach came careening around the corner. That old coot Hiram Jensen always drove too fast. The driver rarely brought the stage in late, though; he’d have to give him that. Cal straightened up, removing his black hat and running his fingers through his dark blonde hair. He had gotten a haircut this morning and it felt too short. He put the hat back on and took a step closer to the stage. Maybe she wouldn’t get off. Maybe she had never gotten on.
The conveyance had barely stopped before Jensen pulled the brake, jumped down, dust flying, and opened the door. He was a wiry little fellow but deceptively strong and capable. A businessman in a tailored black suit, who looked to Cal like a banker, or maybe a lawyer, started to exit the vehicle when the driver put a hand on his chest and shoved him back inside.
“Ladies first, ya jasper. Ain’t ya got no manners?” That was a nice, gentlemanly thing to do. Who knew Hiram Jensen had a civil bone in his body? Then the driver turned and spit a wad of tobacco in the street.
Cal held back a laugh. The first one out of the stagecoach was a matronly woman in a drab gray dress who was greeted by a man and a woman who could have been her twin and probably was. The man, who wore spectacles, looked like an accountant. Cal Bronson was always observant; it had saved his life more than once. Next came a bright-eyed young nun, and for a second he had the bizarre thought that this was his bride. Of course, that made no sense, especially when the driver helped the next person disembark. She was very pretty, her green eyes and auburn hair, which was kind of askew, perfectly complementing each other. She had a smattering of freckles across her pert nose that somehow gave her a friendly, approachable look. Her green dress had seen better times; it was dusty and wrinkled. She wasn’t one of those little wispy women, yet not husky either. She looked the height she had claimed, 5 foot 5, and he felt relief that she did look fit. Ranching was a hard life, and a woman without stamina wouldn’t survive.
He stepped up to her as she thanked the driver. She turned to him.
“Cal?”
She smiled and went from pretty to stunning.
He took off his hat. “Yes, ma’am.”
He fought the urge to bow. This was San Angelo, not London. Instead, he took one of her not dainty but working hands, which pleased him, into one of his big paws. “Welcome to San Angelo, Lindy. Would you like to go get something to eat? We can talk about our options there.”
Options? What kind of options? “That would be lovely. I have a trunk and a small carpet bag. Could we bring the bag with us? I’d like to clean up.”
Fortuitously, the driver tossed down her carpet bag just then. It landed at Lindy’s feet with a thud, and she laughed. It wasn’t one of those tittering little debutante laughs but a deep, infectious, real laugh. “Ask and ye shall receive,” she chortled.
Cal suddenly felt much better about his impulsive decision. It was just a laugh, but it eased his mind considerably. He arranged to leave her trunk at the depot, picked up her bag and escorted her to Maude’s Place, a café/boarding house a little ways up the street. The open room held about a dozen tables with light muslin tablecloths, an unlit candle centered atop each. Off to the right, a stairway led to the rooms to let. Lindy excused herself to follow the sign to the retiring room and returned 10 minutes later looking refreshed. She had tamed her hair, clumps of which had come loose from its braided knot—he guessed that must have been a bun—in the back. He stood as she approached the table and held her chair for her. She thanked him. The whole scenario was not as awkward as it could have been.
Lindy hadn’t exactly had a picture of Cal Bronson in her head, just some vague sheriffy-looking portrait. If she had, though, he would have exceeded her vision by leaps and bounds. The man was tall, well over 6 feet, and muscular, exuding male strength and virility. That wasn’t a maidenly thought, was it? His thick, sandy blonde hair was cut short, exposing his strong jaw and making his blue-gray eyes stand out. His nose looked like it might have been broken once or twice, although it didn’t detract from his appearance. In fact, it rather enhanced it, giving him a look of intrigue or danger. He appeared freshly shaven, and she was pleased he didn’t wear a mustache or beard. She detected a faint odor of a woodsy cologne about him. Or was that just his own essence? He wore black trousers, a white shirt and a black leather vest. She didn’t see the badge she had expected.
They both ordered the roast turkey and cornbread, even though it was still morning, as well as coffee and chatted amiably while they awaited their meals. He wasn’t as gruff in person as he seemed in his letter, and particularly the advertisement. She might not have been confident in love, but growing up in a large family, Lindy O’Hara could carry on a conversation with the best of them. She shared some anecdotes of her train and stage rides as he questioned her. Every time she tried to shift the conversation to talk about him, he very skillfully turned it right back on her.
“Oh, before I forget.” She reached for her soft, dark green, leather reticule and dug into it, pulling out a wad of bills and some coins. She pushed it over to him. “Your change.”
He appeared confused.
“From the traveling money you sent. $51.27.” She smiled.
“I…” Cal was at a loss for words. “You didn’t have to…”
She looked affronted, and he stopped.
“I couldn’t keep your money.”
She spoke it as if it were a given and he would be crazy to doubt her. He didn’t think there was another woman on the planet who would have spent so little of the money on a lengthy trip or returned the change. It was more than apparent that she would not keep the money, so he didn’t bother trying to change her mind. He knew how to pick his battles.
“Thank you.” He swept the change into his hand, picked up the bills and put them both in a pants pocket.
The food arrived a couple moments later and was delicious, the best Lindy had tasted since leaving Elizabethtown almost two weeks earlier. She was pleased that Cal allowed her to enjoy the meal before explaining her “options.” She had a feeling she might not like them.
Finally, the dishes had been removed except for the coffee cups, which the waitress refilled. They both declined dessert. Lindy didn’t miss the way the girl, who couldn’t have been older than 16 or 17, looked at Cal, as if she wanted to jump into his lap and kiss him silly. He could not have been as oblivious as he seemed, especially if he was a lawman, and Lindy appreciated the way he kept his focus on her. After the waitress finally withdrew, she could see in his eyes that it was time and felt her heart speed up. He took a drink of coffee and set the cup in the saucer. For some reason, she was fascinated by his hand. It was big and tanned and veiny and somehow simply beautiful. She lifted her eyes before he caught her ogling his hand.
“What are my options?” she said, recognizing that this adventure had already made her bolder. She had traveled, alone, all the way to Texas and was about to make some kind of arrangement with a man she barely knew. It should have scared her to death but didn’t. In fact, she felt somehow invigorated. This must have been how Per felt when she headed off to Oregon.
Cal sighed. Resting his elbow on the table, he held his chin as if he were going over the options in his mind. Then he sat up and made direct eye contact. “You could board here while we get to know each other better.”
That sounded good until he went on.
“The town is not as wild as it used to be, but it’s still not safe for you to go anywhere without a male escort. Fort Concho on the Concho River was built about eight years ago to provide security for the area, but some of the non-coms can be rough when they come in to town to blow off steam. And there’s always transients passing through, some unsavory characters.”
That doesn’t sound very appealing.
He continued. “I’m working on a case and may be called away on short notice. I don’t know how often I could get to town. So if you stay here, you’ll most likely literally be staying here, meaning not leaving this building.”
“The next option?” She didn’t like that one at all if she was going to be confined to the boarding house. Except for the restaurant. The food was quite tasty.
He swiped one of his attractive hands across his mouth and then sighed. “The ranch is about nine miles west of here. There are no women there. I have eight ranch hands, all of whom I trust. They’re good men. You would be safe there, but your reputation might not be, if you care about that. We could get to know each other better there than here.”
She rattled that one around in her brain. Did she care about her reputation? Yes and no, which might horrify her parents. If she stayed with him without benefit of marriage, she supposed people in the town might talk. If she then married him, would that absolve her of sin in their eyes or would she forever be “that woman?” But what if she went out there for a couple of weeks or a month and then he decided he didn’t want her? Or that he wanted her but didn’t want to marry her? That wouldn’t do much for her reputation, although she wouldn’t have to stay in San Angelo. Where would she go, though? She was not going back to Elizabethtown, especially in abject failure.
Although, when she was packing the carpet bag she had traded Per for, since Per wanted a more humble bag, she found $60 tucked into a side pocket and a cryptic note that said: Just in case. Knowing her cousin as she did, she believed she had put a lot of thought into that; Per had left the money for her so she would have options. Sixty dollars wouldn’t get her far, but it would get her away and, combined with the meager funds of her own she had brought, it could buy her at least a month if she needed that. She looked up then and realized Cal was gazing at her, as if he were trying to figure out what was going through her mind. Thank goodness he couldn’t know.
“Any more choices?”
His mouth quirked up as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t quite make himself. He picked up his cup and took a long swallow this time before setting it down again. “We could get up from this table, walk down the street to the preacher’s house and get married before heading to the ranch.”
He didn’t know what expression he expected when he foisted that one on her. Shock? Anxiety? Surprise? Fear? Amusement? Her countenance betrayed none of those. She appeared thoughtful, as though she were calmly pondering the options, as if her choices were whether to try the oyster pie or the fried chicken. It was somewhat disturbing, yet he had to admire her composure. He waited, but she didn’t say anything. So he waited longer, and still she didn’t speak. Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Do you have any questions?”
She considered that. “Where’s your badge?”
Of all the questions she could have asked, that one never would have occurred to him. He looked around, then reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out a silver badge, holding it out in his palm. She took it from him and studied it.
“Hold it down,” he said quietly. “No one in this town knows I’m a ranger, and I want to keep it that way.”
She lowered it in one hand, blocking anyone’s view with her other hand. The badge was heavier than she would have thought and round, with a cut-out star in the middle and Texas Rangers printed on the top and bottom of the circle.
She examined it again. Well, I’ll be. He really is a Texas Ranger. “It’s simple yet striking.”
“A jeweler in Austin made it.”
She looked at it for a long moment and then said something that absolutely stunned him, and he may have been surprised to know it rather shocked her, too. “I would be proud to marry you today.”
She handed him the badge, picked up her reticule from the edge of the table and rose. He shoved the badge in his inner pocket and jumped up. Pulling out some bills from his trouser pocket, he set them on the table and offered her his arm. He somehow felt like he was in a trance, or like this was happening to someone else. He never behaved hastily, yet he felt nearly overwhelmed by a need to protect this young woman and secure her as his wife. In a few minutes they would be married, a consequence that gave him equal amounts of joy and terror. And then a thought occurred to him. How much, if anything, should he tell her about his involvement with the gang? Would she be in more danger knowing or not knowing?
* * *
The ceremony was over almost before Lindy realized she was actually getting married. The minister was all business and rather pompous. His prim wife and gangly teenage daughter acted as witnesses. Cal didn’t mention he was a ranger, of course, and it seemed the minister looked down on him as a lowly cowpoke. She had to fight the urge to set him straight. As they walked back to the stage depot to retrieve her trunk and his wagon, she turned to him.
“I wish we could have told him you were a Texas Ranger. He would have been more respectful and it would have wiped that smug look off his face.”
He smiled. “I do a great deal of undercover work, hence the anonymity. The fewer people who know I’m a ranger, the better.”
“Oh. Well, thank you for trusting me.”
“You are my wife.”
“Yes. I am, aren’t I?”
She surprised him by taking his hand. He was a little uncomfortable walking down the street holding hands like a besotted fool but did not think it was right to disappoint his wife on her wedding day. He just needed to get into undercover mode, this time playing the enamored groom.
On the lengthy drive to the ranch, Lindy admired the landscape. It wasn’t as green as eastern Pennsylvania, more greenish brown, with low hills and valleys with pine trees and oaks and others she didn’t recognize, as well as various grasses and shrubs. She would describe it as somehow dramatic. They traveled miles without seeing a building or person, although she did see two snakes, several white-tail deer and a wild turkey that Lindy talked her husband out of shooting. The landscape looked like it could go on forever.
As she gazed around, she chattered on about her family. She was so colorful in her descriptions, Cal could picture her gawky teenage twin brothers and her industrious but loving parents. Bridget sounded dramatic, with one foot in childhood and one foot in adulthood. Lindy also had a younger sister who loved all animals, particularly horses, and one who was a budding artist. Her eight-year-old brother Cody enjoyed teasing his sisters and playing jokes on everyone.
Cal’s wife could not help but notice every time she asked him about his family, he gave one-word answers. She was nothing if not direct, so finally she turned to him. The buckboard had just hit a rut, and he’d reached out and grabbed her arm to steady her.
“Thank you. Why won’t you tell me about your family?”
He didn’t say anything for a long while. Already she was thinking it was harder to be married than she thought. Then, without looking at her, he spoke.
“I grew up on a cattle ranch in Colorado. My father died when I was 14. He was caught in a flash flood. My mother passed two years later. She was never the same after he went and just kind of faded away.”
“I’m sorry. Did you have any brothers or sisters?”
She noticed his jaw harden.
“I had a brother, Jace. He was two years younger than me, 14 when our ma died. We stuck it out in Colorado for three years, then sold the property. We started the ranch here in Texas together.”
“Had a brother?”
“He was murdered.”
She gasped, and then it dawned on her. “That’s why you became a lawman.”
He shook his head. “That’s why I became a bounty hunter. I tracked Rance Keeper down. Took me three years.”
“Did you kill him?” She could barely breathe waiting for his answer. Would it change her opinion of him if he did? She wasn’t sure.
“I wanted to. I had planned to. If anyone deserved it, it was Keeper. He had killed seven people after Jace. Seven that I knew of. It was probably more.”
“What happened?”
“I caught up with him in New Mexico, heading for the border. I turned him over to a U.S. Marshal. And before I knew it, I was a deputy. Two years after that I became a ranger.”
She looked at this stalwart man, her husband, so alone. Until now. “I’m so proud of you,” she said.
Those simple words filled him somehow. It had been so long since anyone other than his employees cared, truly cared about him. Was it possible this woman would change him, make him a better man? Perhaps so, if he could keep her out of danger.