His Substitute Mail-Order Bride. Sherri Shackelford

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СКАЧАТЬ He’d changed in the five years since she’d last seen him in Philadelphia. His face had been rounder and his shoulders narrower. The man seated on the horse before her had none of the softness of youth.

      Russ was formidable, exuding an aura of raw power, both mental and physical. He wore his dark brown hair cropped off his collar, and a neatly trimmed goatee highlighted the sharp planes of his strong chin. Despite his careful grooming, there was something uncivilized about him. His features were too rugged for traditional labels. He wasn’t handsome so much as compelling.

      Confusion flickered in his hazel eyes. “Anna?”

      The outlaw gave her a shake. “You know this fellow?”

      “She knows me,” Russ said, his voice as rough as gravel. “Let her go. I don’t want any trouble.”

      The man in the blue bandanna sauntered around the wagon, his gun drawn.

      The lead outlaw cackled. “There’s two of us, and one of you. I like my odds.”

      “Suit yourself.”

      Her captor grunted. “On your feet, boy, or I shoot the girl.”

      Russ swung his leg over the side of the horse and casually leaped to the ground.

      The lead outlaw kept his gun trained on Russ, while the second man hopped onto the wagon bed. He tossed crates aside, shattering eggs and spilling hay, then ripped open her carpetbag and dumped the contents over the side. Dozens of small burlap sacks tumbled loose. Several broke open, scattering seeds over the dirt.

      The chaotic sight unleashed a sudden rage unlike anything she’d ever felt—not even during the miserable years of her marriage.

      “Ain’t you got no jewelry or nothing?” The outlaw demanded.

      “No.” Anna shook her head. “Nothing.”

      “Maybe you’re hiding something.”

      Her chest seized, and she wrestled back a tide of guilt. The outlaw was searching for valuables. He didn’t know about the scandal. She was free. She was innocent. She was haunted by a crime she hadn’t committed.

      Glancing away, she said, “I’m not hiding anything.”

      Russ caught her eye and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. “Relax, Anna, everything is under control.”

      “Shut up!” the outlaw ordered.

      Anna hung her head. Nothing would ever be fine again. She’d lost everything: her family, her home, her reputation. These men were taking the only thing she had left.

      The lead outlaw hopped from the wagon bed and shoved her. “What’s all this, anyway?”

      “Seeds.” Two years of pent-up frustration pulsated through her veins. “Nothing but seeds.”

      “You’re lying. You got jewelry hidden in one of them bags. I heard you talking to the porter in Morgan’s Creek. You said your bag was filled with precious cargo and that’s why you wasn’t letting it out of your sight. Precious cargo, ya said. I heard ya.”

      “I’m telling the truth.” She scooped up the pods and extended her cupped hands. “Look.”

      “Bucky,” the outlaw shouted. “Cut them open. Every one.”

      “No!” Anna called, throwing her body before the bulk of her hard-earned collection. “These have been carefully collected and cataloged. They’re extremely valuable, just not in the way you think.”

      “Cataloged!” The outlaw chortled. “Well, ain’t you something.”

      The man in the blue bandanna reached for a burlap sack and sliced open the side. Seedpods spilled onto the ground, and something snapped inside her. She was done being a victim.

      When the outlaw reached for another bag, she lunged at him. Caught off guard, he flailed in startled surprise. The blade tore through her sleeve, piercing the skin of her forearm. She winced and stumbled backward. The outlaw followed her retreat and caught her around the upper arm.

      “That was real stupid, lady.”

      Russ charged. “Let her go.”

      The lead outlaw lurched between them, his gun extended. “Hold still or I’ll shoot you both!”

      The man in the blue bandanna gave her a shake, and his sour breath puffed against her cheek. “What’s so valuable that you’re willing to throw yourself in front of a knife?”

      “You wouldn’t understand.”

      Russ spread his hands in a placating gesture. “Everyone calm down.”

      “Calm down?” The lead outlaw spat into the dust. “You must be the dumbest feller in the state walking into a holdup all by your lonesome.”

      “It might look that way,” Russ declared, an ominous flicker in his exotic hazel eyes. “But I’m actually the decoy. While you’ve been flapping your lips, my men have been surrounding you. If you make one threatening move toward the lady, they’ll shoot, and they don’t miss.”

      “You’re bluffing.”

      The second outlaw struck Russ in the head with the butt of his gun.

      Anna cried out as Russ crumpled to the dirt.

      The leader clutched her arm and spun her around. “Leave him be.”

      She craned her neck, searching for any sign of life. Russ lay sprawled in the middle of the road, his arms akimbo, his black hat crushed beneath his shoulder. Vivid red blood flowed from his forehead.

      “Let me tend his wound,” she pleaded. “He’s bleeding.”

      “Later.”

      The outlaw shoved her away from the prone man. “If you don’t have anything of value, maybe we can ransom you.”

      A gunshot echoed through the canyon, and the outlaw’s hat flew off. Shocked by the unexpected violence, Anna and the man stumbled apart.

      Her captor yanked his blue bandana off his chin and spun around. “What the—”

      “That feller wasn’t bluffing, Bucky!” his partner shouted. “They’re hiding in the creek bed.”

      “Don’t shoot.” Bucky dropped the knife and reached for his gun. “Or I’ll kill her!”

      Another shot sounded, and Bucky jerked. The gun dropped from his slack grip. His knees twitched, but he stayed on his feet. Tearing open his duster coat, he revealed a red stain blooming over his chambray shirt.

      The wounded man gaped at something behind her. “I’ve been hit.”

      Anna followed the outlaw’s gaze, and her jaw dropped. Russ stalked toward them, a smoking pistol dangling from his fingertips. Blood obscured half his face, and a growing scarlet stain darkened his shirt collar.

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