HisBootsUnderHerBed (20 page)

Garth snorted. “If I recall, Brother Clay, you asked yourself that same question—but with a lot less awe at the time.”

“Yeah, I was damn pissed then.” Clay chuckled. “But thank God He did pick that feisty Yankee for me.”

“That’s how I feel about Cassie,” Colt said. “Fate put us together on that stagecoach the day it was being robbed. I jumped in front of her and took the bullet that would have hit her. Not that it would have killed her, any more than it did me. But
what
set up that whole chain of events, which caused me to stay in Arena Roja rather than go on to Santa Fe? And you don’t have to tell me about feisty Yankees, Brother Clay. I’m married to one.”

“And she’s much too good for you,” Clay quickly interjected.

Colt nodded in agreement. “I won’t give you an argument on that point.”

Listening to them had eased Rory into a blissful peace. Surrounded by her four knights in armor, she felt safe and secure.

Garth and his brothers were wonderful men, decent men, and not embarrassed to admit to one another how much they adored their wives. Thank God there were such men in the world.

“Speaking of the subject of wives, what about you, Garth?” Clay asked. “You said you intended to marry Rory.”

“If she’ll have me.”

“You mean you haven’t asked her yet?” Colt said.

“No. But I know she loves me, and I love her.”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Rory sucked in a breath at the challenge in the question.

“What the hell are you getting at, Colt?”

“Well, you always said that about
any
girl you were with.”

“I did love all of them, but I never wanted to marry any of them. Rory is the only woman I ever thought about marrying.”

She exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

“Well then, Brother Garth, I suggest you ask her before you start making wedding plans.”

Rory thought her heart would burst with joy.

“Was Rory born in Ireland, too?” Clay asked. “I didn’t notice any brogue.”

“No, she was born in California, around Sacramento.”

“Gentlemen,” Colt said, “I see a definite pattern here. We’ve all chosen Yankees for wives.”

“California didn’t enter the war,” Clay said.

“They didn’t join the Confederacy either, so as far as I’m concerned, they’re Yankees,” Colt said.

“It is a coincidence, though,” Garth agreed. “What do you suppose is the reason?”

“I think the Yankees are still fighting, only this time they’re using women instead of men. They hornswoggle us by letting us win the skirmishes, but
they
win the war,” Colt said.

Garth said, “But if we’re the losers and they’re the winners, how come we end up getting the better end of it when they marry us?”

“Elementary, Brother Garth. Isn’t the claim, ‘To the victor falls the spoils’?”

“That’s what I’m getting at,” Garth said.

“Since they’re the victors, the spoils fall to them. They’re stuck with us,” Colt said. He poked Garth in the arm, and they all broke into laughter.

Rory closed her eyes. It was going to be so easy to love Garth’s family.

As the night deepened, one by one the men moved to their blankets until only Garth remained, with Saddle beside him.

“If you could only talk, Saddle,” Garth murmured softly as he stroked the head of the big, shaggy mutt. “I bet you have a story to tell as good as any of us.

“When I was handing out thanks tonight, I forgot to thank you. She told me what you did, Saddle. Don’t matter to you whether it’s a bear or a man with a machete. I owe you the biggest thanks for saving her, boy. If you hadn’t, none of the rest would matter to me.

“I wish I could have met the man who trained you so well. I bet that you miss him, pal,” he said as he hugged the dog at his side. “And if he’s alive somewhere, I know that he misses you.”

Garth banked the fire for the night, then moved his blanket beside Rory’s. He lay down and gently gathered her into his arms, careful not to wake her. She cuddled against him in her sleep, and he held her tighter as he thought of how close he had come to losing her.

He’d always depended on his own strengths to get him out of difficult situations, but today, in what he believed to be their final moments, he had prayed desperately for God to spare Rory.

With a sheepish smile Garth glanced heavenward. “Thank you, Lord. I guess you’re another one I neglected to thank today.”

Then, holding the woman he loved close to his heart, he closed his eyes and fell asleep instantly.

Garth awoke to sunlight teasing his eyes and the aroma of coffee. He sat up and looked around. Everyone else was up and busy breaking camp. The mules were packed, and the only thing that remained was the coffeepot on the fire, and his cup.

“It’s about time,” Colt said when he saw him. “The rest of us have been up for an hour.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Garth pulled on his boots and scrambled to his feet.

“Because Miz Rory threatened to shoot anyone who went near you,” Clay groused, joining them. “She said that you needed your sleep.”

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, when Rory came over and handed him a cup of coffee. He slipped his arm around her and kissed her.

“Can you two delay the smooching for a few more hours?” Clay said. “You’ve got a lifetime ahead for that, and we’ve got a half day’s ride ahead of us with almost nothing in our stomachs!”

“Yes, but soon we can eat my madre’s enchiladas. No one can make them like her,” Rico boasted. “I can taste them now—the corncake stuffed with chicken and cheese, dripping with hot chili. And if we’re lucky, she’ll have made us a special treat.”

“What’s that?” Colt asked, begining to salivate.

“A cherry pie.”

“That’s it, I’ve heard enough. Gag him or shoot him,” Colt declared.

Clay mounted his horse. “Yeah, let’s get the hell off this mountain. If I’m going to commune with Nature, I prefer it to be the Shenandoah Valley with the river flowing through it.”

Garth mounted Boots, hugged Rory against his chest in the circle of his arms, and nuzzled her cheek as they moved down the trail.

Rico followed, leading the pack animals. He grinned. “Sí, muy enamorado.”

P
addy had been pacing the mission’s patio for hours. He felt helpless and frustrated, not knowing if his beloved daughter was dead or alive.

Elena Chavez came out of the rectory and walked over to the man. “Would you like a glass of lemonade, Señor O’Grady?”

He looked at her, appalled. “No thank you, Miss Chavez. The drink’s not to me liking.”

“I’m sorry I have nothing else to offer, except water.”

“That’s not to my liking, either. Now, if you were to be having a wee nip of whiskey—”

“Oh, Father Chavez does not permit alcohol here. We only have wine—used mainly for Holy Communion.”

“A glass of that would do,” he said. “Rory’s me only child, and me nerves are unsteady with the worrying of her.”

“I understand, Mr. O’Grady. I understand better than you might think.”

Now what did the woman mean by that? Paddy pondered. Friendly enough, she was, but she was not saying what she was thinking. And this was no time for him to be without whiskey. Perhaps if he went down to the cantina and had just one drink, it would help.

He thought of the last argument he’d had with Rory over whiskey. And he might never have the opportunity to ever quarrel again if those murderous heathens had discovered her.

“Oh, darlin’,” he began to sob, “why did you go back? What will I do without your sweet smile and loving ways?”

Suddenly several people began yelling at the gate. Elena came rushing out of the kitchen door, and Father Chavez hurried over to him.

“They’ve been sighted, Señor O’Grady,” he exclaimed.

“How many made it back?”

“I don’t know. They should reach us—”

“I can see them!” Elena cried out.

“How many?” Paddy asked again.

Elena put a hand to her eyes to block out the sun. “I make it out to be four horses and a couple mules, and…Rico! Father Chavez, I see Rico,” she cried out joyously. “He’s leading the mules.”

“What about Rory? Is Rory with them?” Paddy asked anxiously.

“The first two riders are men,” Elena said. “Oh, there she is! Now I see her. She’s riding double with somebody.”

“Saints preserve us!” Paddy exclaimed. “That must be Garth Fraser. They all made it.”

Ten minutes later, the weary group rode through the gates of the mission.

Paddy watched tearfully when Garth lowered Rory from his horse, and she raced to him with open arms. He held her for a long moment and then stepped back and looked into her face, streaked with tears like his own.

“’Twas a fright you gave me, darlin’,” he said, trying to sound stern.

“I’m sorry, Pop.”

“Well, you’re alive, and that’s all that matters. But me heart is still aching from the worry of it.”

Having shaken the hand of Father Chavez, Garth walked over and joined Rory and Paddy. He slipped an arm casually around her shoulders.

“I knew you were trouble when I first lay me eyes on you, Garth Fraser. I’m beholden to you for saving me daughter’s life, but if it weren’t for you, she’d never have gone back to that mine. Now I’m caught with the problem of whether to be shooting you or kissing you.”

“Shall we just settle for a handshake, sir?”

Paddy clasped his hand and shook it. “And I’m beholden to you for saving me gold.”

Colt, who was standing aside with Clay watching the tearful reunion, put a hand to his mouth and whispered aside to him, “Does he mean the dust or his daughter?”

“I was wondering the same thing. And look at that other reunion.” He nodded to where Elena was crying and hugging Rico. “Did Rico ever tell you his last name?”

“No. Never thought to ask,” Colt said.

“But Father Chavez introduced his sister as Miss Chavez, didn’t he?”

“Thought so. Maybe he said ‘Mrs.’ ”

“Hmm, interesting, isn’t it?”

“Clay, I know what you’re getting at, but it’s none of our business. Let’s go and check out those enchiladas that Rico claimed are so good.”

“Unfortunately, the cook looks occupied at the moment.”

“I think you’re right. So let’s take care of the horses, then head for that cantina. I don’t know about you, Brother Clay, but I could use a drink.”

While Rory was enjoying her first hot bath in two months, Garth went searching for his brothers and found them at the cantina.

“You plan on marrying her?” Clay asked when the subject got around to Rory.

“Yes.”

Colt shoved his hat to the back of his head. “But you actually haven’t asked her yet. What’s the problem? If she loved you enough to go back to die with you, I can’t believe she wouldn’t marry you.” He slammed down his glass. “God, this tastes like swill! How do you say sheep’s piss in Spanish?”

“
Whisky
,” Clay said drolly, trying not to laugh. “They merely drop the
e
.”

“I don’t trust your Spanish. I wish Rico had come with us. Hey, abuelo,” he called, and motioned for another round of drinks. “Whiskey this time, abuelo. Okay?”

“Colt, abuelo means grandfather; it’s not the old man’s name,” Clay said.

Colt got up and went over to the bar to demonstrate what he wanted.

“Garth, are you really sure you’re in love this time?” Clay asked, resuming their conversation.

“Lord, yes,” Garth said. “I love that woman beyond words. I think my world would collapse if I lost her now, after all we’ve been through. I was down to my last bullet and was on the verge of shooting her when you showed up.”

“Would you have done it?”

“I don’t know. I can’t get past that moment.”

Colt came back and put a bottle down in front of them. “Okay, this should be it. I read every damn label on those bottles,” he said. He refilled their shot glasses, and then picked his up, gulped it down, then shoved the bottle aside. “Sheep’s piss,” he murmured in dejection.

Benito Morales kept his head down on the table and continued to pretend he was asleep as he listened to the gringos’ conversation. He recognized them at once as the ones
from the battle at the mine. His eyes burned from the force of his hatred. They had killed his father, his brother, and the rest of his friends. He was the only one who got away, and now it was up to him to avenge their deaths.

He snarled in frustration. He had lost his rifle when he escaped, and had only a knife as a weapon. The gringos were all wearing gun belts, and even if he killed the gringo Garth, who was their leader, the others would kill him before he could get away. He had to get him alone, but how? They were always together.

Benito’s heartbeat quickened when he thought of another idea. What if he killed the gringo’s woman? That would be the sweetest revenge of all. To kill the woman the gringo loved more than anyone else. He must think of a way to do it.

He waited until the gringos left. Then he got up and followed.

Later that evening, after their stomachs were filled, Garth led Rory outside. He set her down on a bench, sat beside her, and drew her into his arms.

“We still have some unfinished business to attend to,” he murmured in her ear.

She sighed and closed her eyes as his mouth toyed with her ear. “My love, I’d say we’ve
resolved
that unfinished business time and time again.”

“That’s not the business I’m referring to. Will you marry me, Rorleen Catherine O’Grady?”

Rory looked at him, perplexed. “I thought that’s what we were going to do. At least, that’s what you said yesterday.”

“I said I intended to marry you. I never asked if
you
wanted to marry me.”

“You’re crazy, Garth Fraser. Of course I do.”

“Hallelujah! Then let’s go visit Father Chavez.”

Hand in hand, Garth and Rory tapped on the door of the priest’s office.

“Father, if you’re free, Rory and I would like to speak to you for a few minutes.”

“Of course, my children, come in. What is it?”

“Rory and I wish to marry.”

The old priest broke into a smile. “That does not come as a surprise to me. What I find more astonishing is that when you left here, Garth, I feared you might injure this woman.”

“Father Chavez, I would never injure
any
woman.”

“That is true, Father Chavez,” Rory interjected as some of her earlier nervousness began to ease. “Garth claims he has never met a woman he didn’t love.”

The priest raised an eyebrow and turned to Garth.

“She’s taken that out of context, sir. What I meant by it was that I hold all women in high esteem, and admire and respect them for how they turn a wilderness into a civilization.”

At the twinkle of amusement in the priest’s eyes, Garth quickly added, “Or some sour berries on a shrub into a delicious pie.”

Father Chavez reflected for a moment, then nodded. “I must agree, Señor Garth. So what is your problem? You are in love with her, but the young lady does not hold the same affection for you?”

“No, I love him desperately, Father,” Rory said.

“As you know, I’m not a Catholic,” Garth said, “and Rory wants to get married in the church.”

“You can convert to Catholicism, as your uncle did.”

“I’m not prepared to do that at this time, Father Chavez. Besides, we want to get married tonight. We’re intending to leave here in the morning.”

“Tonight! That is impossible. Even if you were Catholic, there are banns to be posted, instructions to be given, papers to sign.”

“Banns? Good grief, Father, Garth and I are both strangers here. Who among your congregation could possibly care about two strangers getting married?”

“Rory, my dear, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to join you two lovely people in the bonds of matrimony. But you know as well as I that the church has definite rules on the issue of marriage.”

“Father Chavez, I intend to marry Garth with or without the church’s consent. And Garth and I have become very fond of you, and hoped you would be the one to read our vows.”

“I see. And what of the children who will follow after this union?”

“I swear to you, Father Chavez, our children will be raised in whatever religion their mother wishes them to be,” Garth said. “Rory and I may not pray in the same pews, Father Chavez, but we both pray to the same God.”

“In the past there have been exceptions to the rules, but…” Father Chavez clasped his hands together and bowed his head deep in thought.

Garth met Rory’s worried glance. He could tell how important it was to her to get married in the church. He reached over and squeezed her hand.

After a long moment, the priest raised his head. “There are times when one must look beyond one’s church’s canons. I believe the Lord has spared your lives for a Divine purpose and would want me to bless this union. Therefore, I will administer your oaths.”

“Thank you! Then we can marry tonight?”

“Not tonight, my son. I will administer your oaths tomorrow after the morning Mass. Let us say ten o’clock.”

Garth jumped to his feet. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh, thank you, Father,” Rory cried. Tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.

“And, Señorita O’Grady,” the priest said, shaking a finger at her, “I want to hear your confession before ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, Father.” Rory threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. “No time like the present.”

While Rory remained at the church, Garth told his brothers of his wedding plans for the next day. When Rory joined them, they were unmerciful in their teasing and advised her that she could make a better choice for a husband.

Even Paddy joined in the razzing, taking the news in good humor.

Rory and Garth bore their teasing, and when she decided to go to bed in order to be rested for the big day to follow, her future brothers-in-law hugged and kissed her and whispered in her ear that she was marrying a great guy.

“I like your brothers, Garth,” Rory said, as they strolled hand in hand across the darkened patio to the quarters she and Elena were sharing.

“And I can tell they like you.”

“You, my beloved, are the only woman I have ever wanted to marry, the way Emmaline is the only woman Will ever loved, and I’m sure Cassie is the only woman Colt ever thought of marrying.

“Have to say I can’t say the same about Clay. He fancied he was in love with this girl back home. We all told him time and time again it would be a disaster to marry her. Then the war broke out, and they decided to get married when the war ended. Clay even bought her a ring and carried it all through the war.”

“So he listened to all of you, and didn’t marry her?”

“No. Two months before the war ended, Ellie up and married Elias Buford, a no-good Yankee sympathizer who had inherited a lot of money from a Yankee aunt who lived in Vermont. He and Ellie moved up there.”

“Sounds like that should have made all of you happy except Clay.”

“It did.”

“Then hold up a minute, Garth. I don’t quite understand this. You seem to have accepted your sister’s husband—who actually served in the Union army—but you haven’t a good word to say about this Elias Buford, who’s responsible for preventing this so-called disastrous marriage Clay might have made.”

“You would, too, if you were a Virginian. The cowardly bastard pretended he was too ill to join the army. Didn’t raise a hand to defend Virginia throughout the whole war.”

“So poor Clay had a broken heart when the two of you left for California.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, for about two weeks. Then he met Becky.”

“I’m eager to meet your brothers’ wives. Do you think they’ll like me, Garth?” she asked worriedly.

“Of course they will.” He grinned mischievously. “They’re all Yankees, the same as you are. Besides, you’re easy to love, sweetheart.” He pulled her into the deeper shadows and kissed her.

“I want to make love to you so badly, I ache,” he whispered, sliding his hand to her breast. He kissed her again.

The fervor of his kiss aroused her passion, but she pushed his hand away. “It would be sinful, Garth,” she whispered breathlessly. “This is a holy place, and we are guests here. We must honor that.”

“What’s sinful about two people in love, making love? Especially when we’ll be man and wife in twelve hours.”