The Outlaw's Bride (11 page)

“Isobel, get inside the house!” he shouted.

“I’ll bring the rifle!” But she halted as Billy the Kid’s horse thundered up the bank, followed by those of Dick Brewer and a slew of other McSween men.

“Hey, Buchanan!” Billy reined in his horse and swung down. “Looks like you and the
señorita
are gettin’ mighty homey round here!”

He let out a hoot as the rest of the men joined him on the porch. Noah had holstered his gun, but Isobel felt a sense of growing dread. She should fetch the rifle by the door.

“Last I heard, you were in lockup, Kid,” Noah said.

“Aw, they didn’t have nothin’ to hold me on. Got out the day after Tunstall’s funeral.”

“Things are bad, Noah,” Dick spoke up. “McSween wrote his will and made Chisum executor without bond.”

At this, Isobel realized that, even though Noah’s boss was still in jail, McSween’s action deeply involved him. No doubt whose side Chisum and Noah would take.

“McSween went into hiding on Tuesday,” Dick continued. “We thought he might hunker down at Chisum’s, but we went by this morning, and he’s not there. Mrs. McSween left for Kansas.”

“What about Dolan?”

“No one has arrested any of Tunstall’s murderers. Snake Jackson and some other fellows are at Dolan’s cow camp down the Pecos. We aim to round ’em up and see they get what’s coming to ’em.”

“You’ve formed a gang, Dick?”

“That’s right. I’m the leader of the Regulators. Each man took an oath to stick together no matter what. We’ll make arrests but we won’t shoot on sight. Once we take Snake, Evans and the others into custody, they’ll be tried when court sits in April.”

“Squire Wilson made Dick a constable and the rest of us deputies!” Billy hooted.

“We want you to join us, Noah,” Dick said. “We need you on our side.”

Isobel’s dreams—lace-curtained windows, a packet of pages bound for New York, a spring garden—began to fade. Noah kicked a heel against the edge of the step.

“I made Isobel a promise, Dick,” he said finally. “I’ve got to stay here and protect her like I swore I would. If Snake gets his hands on her—”

“We’ll both go with them, Noah,” Isobel cut in, slinging his rifle over one shoulder.

“Isobel, what in thunder do you think you’re doing?”

“Five years ago, Snake Jackson rode with the Horrell Gang,” she told the men. “Five years ago, he killed my father and stole my land-grant titles. My desire to bring him to justice is as great as yours. I shall ride with you.”

“Hold on now, Isobel,” Noah began.

“We can’t have a woman in the Regulators,” Billy protested.

Isobel stepped to the edge of the porch. Inside her heart, she battled the urge to run to Noah’s arms and release the past that haunted her. But she smothered the impulse. The last few days had been only a wonderful holiday from reality. With the arrival of the Regulators she understood at last that she would never be free…not until she freed herself.

Shouldering the rifle, she took aim at a bottle drying on a fence post. It exploded in a spray of glass.

She held out her hand. There was only a moment’s hesitation before Billy the Kid set his own six-shooter in her palm.

“One, two, three,” she counted as she calmly blasted more bottles.

No one moved. A faint breeze lifted white smoke from the end of the revolver. Billy let out a low whistle. “The
señorita
can ride at my side any day,” he said.

Noah was glaring at her. “Why?” he asked. “Why, Isobel?”

“How can I have a future when my past haunts me? I must go with them, Noah. I have no choice.”

He shook his head and settled his hat lower on his
brow. “Looks like you’ve got yourselves a couple more Regulators,” he said, his voice resigned. “Now, Dick, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I reckon I’d better go take the cornbread out of the oven.”

T
he Lincoln County Regulators—eleven men and one woman strong—set out from Noah Buchanan’s house on Monday, the fourth day of March, 1878. Each horse packed a heavy supply of arms and ammunition. Food was plentiful along the Pecos River, and spring was creeping across the New Mexico Territory. The Regulators planned to make camp each night in the hills, where they would be well hidden.

Two days passed without incident. That night, they camped a few miles up from the Rio Peñasco crossing.

“Noah,” Isobel whispered from the folds of her blanket.

He lifted his head. “What is it? You hear something?”

“No.” She touched his arm. “Noah, I’m…I’m thinking of dying.”

“Dying?” He frowned. “What in thunder are you thinking about that for?”

“If I’m killed, and if my lands are ever recovered from Snake Jackson, I want you to have them.”

“Great ghosts, Isobel, you’re not going to die. I promise you that.”

Ignoring his avowal, she propped herself on one elbow and gazed into the intense blue eyes. He looked haggard, his hair mussed from the day under a hat and lines deeply etched in his face.

“Noah,” she whispered again. “You are a good man.”

He reached out and stroked her hair with the tips of his fingers. “It’ll be all right, Isobel. Go to sleep. I’m watching over you.”

The next morning’s travel was uneventful. But at mid-afternoon, the Regulators had just crossed the Peñasco when they rounded a hill and came upon five of Dolan’s men.

“It’s them!” Billy the Kid shouted.

Hearing the familiar voice, the Dolan five wheeled their horses, broke into two groups and took off overland at a gallop.

“After ’em, men!” Dick hollered. “They’re Tunstall’s killers.”

Weapons drawn, the Regulators gave chase. Isobel caught no sign of Snake in the group, so she spurred her horse after the others. Noah’s horse matched hers neck and neck. They rode over a ridge, skirted a patch of yuccas and thundered toward the river. Mud flying from their hooves, the horses pounded along the soft bank.

They’d ridden about five miles when one of the Dolan group’s horses stumbled and fell in a tangle of thrashing legs. The rider cried out for help, but his two companions rode on.

“Leave him!” Dick shouted. “He wasn’t in the posse that shot Tunstall. Stick with the others, men!”

Oddly pleased at being referred to as one of the men, Isobel lowered her head and guided her horse in a leap over the prone figure who had fallen. Grinning, she turned to Noah.

“Yeah, just watch where you’re going, hothead!” he called, giving her a wink.

Soon their horses, too, began to flag from the long chase. As they ascended the brow of a low hill, they realized the other men were no longer in view.

“They’ve given out!” the Kid crowed. “I bet they’re hiding in that patch of tule. Who’s going in with me?”

Dick’s riders followed Billy down a gully toward a large clump of thick-stemmed grass. As the Regulators closed in, an arm waving a dirty white handkerchief rose out of the tule.

“Hold your fire, men!” Dick shouted.

“Brewer, we give up! Don’t shoot!”

“Come on out. We won’t shoot. You’re going back to Lincoln to stand trial.”

As the pale faces of the three men appeared, Billy released the safety on his rifle. In the gully, the click sounded as loud as a gunshot.

“Put it down, Kid!” Noah grabbed the barrel.

“C’mon, fellers, we’ve got three of Tunstall’s murderers,” Billy argued. “Let’s plug ’em and be done with ’em.”

Dick assessed the skinny, bucktoothed boy. “To tell the truth, I’m sorry they gave up, too. If we’d shot it out, we could have finished ’em. But we took an oath, Kid. I promised to transport any prisoners I captured to Lincoln. Alive.”

Billy spat. “I say shoot ’em between the eyes and save the court’s time.”

“No, Kid. I’m not gonna let you do it.” Dick nodded to Noah and the others. “Take their weapons, men. Let’s ride for Lincoln.”

The party spent the night at Chisum’s cow camp near the Pecos River. It bothered Noah that they had failed to capture two of the men. The Regulators’ position was tenuous. A word from any of those two, and Dolan’s men would ride after them.

As he watched Isobel sleeping, Noah wondered how he had made such a big mistake. If Dolan’s bunch came to rescue their men, he honestly didn’t know how he would fare at protecting his own hide, let alone Isobel’s. She was good with a gun, but being hunted by heartless desperados was a lot different from shooting glass bottle targets.

The only thing he could think to do was pray. At Mrs. Allison’s feet, Noah had formed a deep faith in God. He was far from perfect, but he tried to follow the Bible’s principles. Isobel had no such regard for her Creator. In her quest to avenge her father’s death, she was oblivious to the scripture Mrs. Allison had made him memorize: “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.” Maybe Isobel had never heard it.

Was she a Christian? He studied the beautiful woman who had stolen his heart. The idea that a Dolan man might kill her sent a chill through Noah. Losing her would be torment. But then a lifetime wondering if her faith had been enough to see her into heaven? That would drive him loco.

He was still awake when the sun slid over the Pecos
and roused the others. With their prisoners riding near the front of the line, the Regulators wound their way back up the Pecos toward South Spring River Ranch. At Chisum’s place they learned that Dolan had organized a band of twenty men—and the posse’s sole aim was to hunt down the Regulators.

“You think Dolan’s posse might be planning to ambush us and rescue their men?” Dick asked as they rode toward Lincoln the following day.

“If we take the main road into Lincoln,” Noah said, “we’ll play right into their hands. I say we follow the trail through Blackwater Canyon.”

“Good idea.” After clapping his friend on the shoulder, Dick rode ahead to inform the others.

As the riders left the road, Isobel sensed a strange certainty that she had come home. The New Mexico Territory was not her beloved Catalonia, but here the sky was large and blue, the trees grew tall, rivers rushed through gorges, deer and jackrabbits nibbled grass damp with morning dew. Here rattlesnakes sunned on gray limestone slabs, and coyotes cried out to the moon.

Oh, she enjoyed her fine furnishings and silk gowns, but they could hardly compare to a land as raw and untamed as the spirit that flamed in her heart. With her hair braided and tucked under one of Noah’s black Stetsons, her riding boots hooked in the stirrups and Noah’s leather belt and holster at her waist, she felt she had found herself.

“I never got to thank you for typing my story,” Noah said, leaning toward her. “I put it in my saddlebag so I can mail it when we reach Lincoln.”

Isobel gazed into his warm blue eyes. “I enjoyed the typing. I liked your home very much, Noah.”

He smiled. “We had a good time there.”

As he reached to take her hand, gunshots rang through the canyon. Noah whipped his six-shooter from its holster. His left hand reached to shelter Isobel as he spurred his horse ahead of hers.

“Kid!” Dick shouted toward the front line. “Who fired?”

Noah and Isobel rounded a bend in the trail moments after Dick. On the ground lay three men spattered with blood.

“Who did this?” Dick barked. “Billy, you responsible here?”

The Kid shrugged and glanced at the other men riding with him in the front flanks.

“Speak up, Billy,” Dick demanded. “We promised to bring back prisoners—and now we got three dead bodies.”

Isobel slid from her horse. Once again, death. Barely breathing, she walked among the horses toward the corpses. As she took off her hat, her golden braid tumbled down her back.

“Isobel…” Noah took her arm, but she pulled free and knelt beside the latest victims of Lincoln County’s violence.

“Here’s what happened,” Billy was explaining. “I reckon they was arguin’. One of ’em shot this feller, and then him and the other one took off. That’s what happened, ain’t it, boys?”

“Yeah,” the others mumbled in assent.

Isobel stood and rubbed her bloodstained fingers together. “This man was shot in the back nine times.”

“Like I said,” Billy went on, “he was tryin’ to git away. ’Course we shot him in the back.”

No one spoke as they stared at the three dead men. Isobel felt sick inside. At least two of them had helped kill John Tunstall, but she didn’t feel the expected sense of triumph at seeing his murderers slain.

“Fine way to regulate the law in Lincoln County,” Noah spoke up, his voice tight. “Makes a fellow proud to be called a Regulator.”

“What’s the matter, Buchanan? You been lookin’ at the world through lace curtains too long?” Billy jeered.

Noah stared at him a moment before turning away. “C’mon, boys, let’s get these men buried.”

The three Dolan men had been shot in Blackwater Canyon. Dick Brewer paid a group of Mexicans at a nearby cow camp to bury the bodies. His mood dark, the Regulators’ leader said nothing as his posse traversed the canyon trail.

As night fell, Billy Bonney announced that he and the other men responsible for the three deaths would ride to San Patricio and hide in the hills until Dick had conferred with the law in Lincoln. When all was clear, the Regulators could regroup and make new plans.

Noah and Isobel elected to remain with the original party. He had no intention of leaving Dick to face a possible Dolan ambush. The winding canyon trail took another full day to navigate. As the three tied their horses to a post outside Alexander McSween’s house, Isobel mentioned that exactly one week had passed since the Sunday Noah had read his Bible at the pine table in his home.

“So much has happened since that peaceful morning,”
she murmured. With a sigh, she stepped onto McSween’s porch.

“Isobel!” Susan Gates flew through the door and embraced her friend. “Is it really you? Why, I took you for a man in that getup. Oh, Isobel, I thought I’d never see you again! And what has become of…of…” She scanned the faces. “Oh, Mr. Brewer… How nice to see you.”

Susan clearly struggled to contain her joy at finding Dick alive and well. The handsome cattleman made no such pretense. He took two strides toward the woman, took her in his arms and kissed her full on the lips.

“Miss Gates, I’m back,” he announced. “I’m here to say in front of all this company that I love you, and if you’ll have me, I aim to marry you.”

“Mercy!” Susan’s eyes lit up as she clasped her hands at her breast. “Why, yes, Mr. Brewer. I’ll have you. Indeed, I will.”

“Thank you kindly, ma’am. And if you’ll excuse me, I need to talk to a good lawyer.”

“Reckon I’ll do?” A tall man stepped from the shadows of the doorway.

“McSween?” Noah queried. “I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Figured no one would shoot me in the back with Governor Axtell in town. Come on inside, Dick.” He set a hand on the young man’s shoulder and led him into the house.

“Felicitaciones,”
Isobel said to her friend.

“You couldn’t have a finer husband, Miss Gates,” Noah added as he brushed past her to follow the other men.

“My stars, what a shock!” Susan giggled as she
gestured toward two wicker chairs on the porch. “Come sit down, Isobel, and tell me what brought that on. I’ve never seen Dick so bold.”

“Dick Brewer is a brave man, Susan.” Isobel settled on a weathered cushion. She summarized the events of the past days as Susan listened, the smile on her face fading as Isobel recounted what had befallen the Regulators.

“So what did happen to the three Dolan men out there in Blackwater Canyon?” Susan asked at the end of the tale. “Were they really trying to escape? Or did Billy just up and shoot them?”

“I don’t know,” Isobel acknowledged. “I think we may never have the full truth.”

“You need to know what’s happened here in Lincoln while you’ve been away,” Susan said softly. “Governor Axtell came down from Santa Fe to investigate the troubles. He’s Jimmie Dolan’s good friend, so you can imagine how it all came out. Axtell refused to interview anybody on our side. Mr. McSween even risked his life to come back to town, but the governor wouldn’t see him.”

“Has Axtell done anything about the situation?”

“I’m afraid so. He voided Squire Wilson’s appointment as justice of the peace.”

Isobel reflected on the man whose careful record-keeping had helped her trace the events of her father’s murder. “That’s a great loss to the town,” she said.

“The governor also declared that no one can enforce any legal process except Sheriff Brady and his deputies.”

Isobel stood as Noah stepped onto the porch. Leaning one muscled shoulder against the doorjamb, he spoke. “Governor Axtell has outlawed the Regulators.”

She gasped. “Then Dick had no authority to round up those men?”

“Not as of March eighth, the day they were shot in Blackwater Canyon. We’re outlaws,” he said. “Every last one of us.”

“Oh, Isobel!” Susan cried out.

Noah took a step closer. “Isobel, you need to decide what you want to do. You can ride for Santa Fe tonight, or you can stay here under Alexander McSween’s protection.”

“And you?”

“Dick and I are heading for his farm on the Ruidoso River. We’ll stay until court convenes April eighth.”

“But that’s three weeks away. I’ll go with you.”

“No, you won’t, Isobel.” His words left no room to protest. “I can’t protect you there. Stay here or ride to Santa Fe. Your choice.”

Isobel gazed into his blue eyes and knew she was not ready to leave them. Not yet.

“I’ll stay in Lincoln,” she told him. “I’ll wait for you.”

Isobel settled at Alexander McSween’s house along with the Ealy family and Susan Gates. They had been her companions on the trail to Lincoln, and she was glad to rejoin them. But she knew the arrangement set them all squarely in the Tunstall-McSween camp.

Susan and Dick had spent not five minutes alone together before he and Noah set off. But that was enough to convince Susan that he wanted her for his wife—and the sooner the better.

Isobel tried to be interested in planning her friend’s wedding. The two women studied the array of fabrics
inside the closed Tunstall store. “The green, do you think?” Susan would ask. “Or would pink make a better wedding gown?”