Benjamin's Bride (Hero Hearts; Lawmen's Brides Book 2) Read online

  “Huh?”

  “Forget your Sunday school teachings? After Cain kills his brother, God banishes him to Nod, east of Eden. But Cain says he’ll be killed because people will know what he did. So God, to protect him, puts a mark on him. I suspect there are a lot of people in Texas with a mark of Cain. They’ve killed and done bad, but that doesn’t mean God has forsaken them.”

  Carson still looked confused. “You sound like a preacher,” he said.

  “Grandpap did a bit of preaching now and then, back in the auld sod,” Benjamin conceded. “Did a lot of other things, too.” Like making money, hand over fist, so that his family would be able to stand proud with any of the Anglo-Irish aristocracy. But Benjamin hadn’t been willing to settle for what Ireland could offer him, a poor country devastated by the famine that had sent so many of its sons to cross the Atlantic for something better in America.

  Benjamin had left Ireland with his share of the Graves fortune and a trace of a brogue that his Trinity College education had not managed to wipe out. He’d invested the money in California gold mines and made himself a wealthy man on his own merit. But even that wasn’t enough.

  Enlisting in the Mexican War in 1846 had given him a sense of belonging to this new country, and it was then that he’d decided to become a lawman. At just twenty-four, he caught the attention of “Black Hands” Jack Walker, who’d been handpicked by the governor of Texas to be a Texas Ranger.

  When Jack was offered the position of U.S. Marshal, he chose Benjamin Graves as his deputy. Their work was demanding and dangerous and covered a wide swath of untamed territory. Based in Knox Mills, Jack and Benjamin—and now Carson—had a lot of territory to cover if they were going to have any hope of bringing Texas into harness as a law-abiding state.

  The door to the office opened. “Black Hands” Jack Walker strode in, his trademark black gloves identifying him to anyone who had heard of him.

  “Hey!” Benjamin exclaimed. “What are you doing in town? I thought you were staying close to home, waiting for the stork to drop that baby on by.”

  Jack grinned sheepishly, proud of his impending fatherhood and embarrassed by the attention at the same time. “She told me to get out from underfoot; she’s got too much to do, she says, to be tripping over me.”

  “Ain’t that happy news,” drawled a voice from the jail. “Hey, proud papa, just so’s you know, my papa ain’t gonna be very happy to find that I’m locked up in this miserable jail.”

  “One of the Townsends,” Carson said quietly.

  “Do tell. Well, Townsend, I’ll tell you this; I wouldn’t be happy either if a son of mine spent the night in jail. But until your papa comes down and gives me a reason to let you out, I reckon you’ll be enjoying the hospitality of the Knox Mills jail for a mite bit longer.”

  “You’ll regret it,” warned Townsend as he stood up, his hands clasping the bars.

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” Jack Walker smiled. “Carson, you get on home, you’ve done good work. Benjamin, I’ll take care of our tea party back there. You go ahead and stroll around the town.”

  Chapter 2

  April 1852, Abilene, Kansas

  Mary-Lee Jameson was riding so fast that her long, blonde braid, instead of resting decorously upon her back, was whipping in the air as she urged Nimrod to go even faster. Her students would have been astounded to see their patient, nurturing teacher as she rode, her slender features set in a grim expression that did not bode well for her destination.

  She would never trust her Uncle Gus and the article she had just read in the Abilene Gazette proved, once again, that he was a varmint, pure and simple. In some ways, even though she had reached the age of twenty, there was a part of her that remained a frightened twelve-year old girl, abruptly awakened from her sleep by her father, who had explained that he had to go away for a long time. Her uncle would take her in, Father said, but she was not to let him have the papers that he was giving her. They were to remain in her possession at all times. She had not understood his urgency, but when a man arrived at the Jameson home calling himself her Uncle Gus, she had feigned ignorance at his queries about papers from her father.

  He had taken her back with him to Abilene, Kansas, where the Jamesons originally came from. She hadn’t wanted to go, and she’d tried to run away more than once, but where was a young girl to go? Finally, stubborn though she was, she had realized that by going away to school, she would be free of his house and his presence, and she would also acquire the learning that she needed to be a schoolteacher. Mary-Lee Jameson intended to be independent so that she could make her own way in the world without needing to rely upon her uncle. However, the article in the newspaper alerted her to the fact that, just because she was twenty years old and a schoolteacher boarding with a local family, she was not free of her uncle’s broad reach.

  She wasn’t a child any longer. Uncle Gus would learn that he was no longer dealing with a tearful, frightened child, but with a full-grown woman, who not only had her own mind, but would be making her own choices about the man she would marry.

  She was already halfway out of the saddle when she pulled Nimrod to a halt in front of the big house where Uncle Gus lived. Lonny, a slave, immediately came forward to take the reins.

  “Miss Mary-Lee, what’s the hurry?” he asked.

  “It would appear, Lonny, that I am to be married!” she said, her voice tight with fury as she brandished the newspaper in her hand.

  “Married? Why, I never heard nothin’ about that. Congratulations, ma’am, and who’s you marrying?”

  Mary-Lee was an abolitionist, not only because she was personally opposed to slavery, but also because her Uncle Gus was one of the voices in Kansas arguing that slavery ought to remain legal in the territory. Uncle Gus had a wily hand in Kansas politics and was known to be generous with his bribes, another reason for his niece’s disdain.

  “According to the newspaper, I am to marry Mr. Lance Townsend.”

  Lonny’s face showed concern. It was not up to him to criticize the habits of the white slaveowners, but he, like the other slaves owned by Augustus Jameson, had their own ways of expressing their views. “Ain’t he the son of him that used to be mayor?”

  “He is. He is also a varmint, just like my uncle.”

  Lonny chuckled. “Miss Mary-Lee, those are strong words. You’d best be careful what you say. I hear that Mist’ Townsend, he gonna be the next mayor of Abilene.”

  “I don’t care if he is going to be the incarnation of the Angel Gabriel, which he assuredly is not, I am not going to marry him.”

  “I’ll take your horse, ma’am, and when you’re ready to leave, I’ll fetch him for you. Mind what you say, Miss Mary-Lee,” he added, as he led Nimrod to the stable.

  But Mary-Lee Jameson was not a woman who minded what she said when she had so many words ready to rush forward. She strode up the steps to the house and opened the door, slamming it closed as she entered.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded, as she walked into the parlor and saw Lance Townsend sitting there with her uncle.

  “Why, Mary-Lee, is that any kind of greeting for your betrothed?” he asked, his grin spreading to reveal the missing tooth in front.

  “It’s the only kind of greeting you’ll ever get from me, you poxy polecat,” she replied.

  “I’d have thought that fine school you went to would have taught you some manners, Mary-Lee. I don’t know as I like the thought of a woman with a tongue like that teaching our young children,” Lance said. “When I become mayor, I may have a thing or two to say about it.”

  “When you become mayor,” Uncle Gus interrupted, “you’ll be married to Mary-Lee and she won’t be the schoolteacher any longer.”

  “Why, that’s right. Married women can’t be schoolteachers. They’re too busy tending to their homes and their husbands and their own children,” Lance said, his blue gaze sweeping over her trim form as if he already had laid claim to her body.

  “I’m
not going to marry you, you scoundrel,” she seethed. “I don’t care what kind of threats you make, you or Uncle Gus, the only way you’ll get me to the altar is kicking and screaming for the law.”

  “When I’m mayor, Mary-Lee, I own the law,” he reminded her, calmly rocking back and forth in the chair as if they were discussing nothing more important than the weather.

  “Mary-Lee, I’m ashamed at your manners. A lady doesn’t speak that way to her intended. In fact, a lady doesn’t speak that way at all,” Uncle Gus chided her. Over the years, he had more or less abandoned the charade that he had originally adopted as a way of pretending avuncular affection for her. Her fiery temper had forced him to realize that she wasn’t fooled by his words. “That school ought to have taught you that.”

  “Sometimes schooling just ain’t right,” Lance Townsend said. “It can addle a person’s brain, particularly a woman’s brain. Woman is made to obey her husband.”

  “You aren’t my husband, and I won’t obey you, so you will dispense yourself of that fool notion immediately!”

  Townsend rubbed his chin. “I’m looking forward to taming you, Mary-Lee. I’ve always favored a woman with some spunk to her.” His eyes went cold. “But not too much spunk, mind you. She’d best know who’s boss in the house.”

  “I’m thinking of a late summer wedding,” Uncle Gus said. “Close enough to the election but far enough away for us to plan. This is going to be the biggest wedding Abilene has ever seen.”

  “Just ordering enough liquor might take months,” Townsend guffawed. “You don’t want to come off as cheap before election day.”

  “You listen to me, Lance Townsend, you vile, low-bellied rattler, you don’t make any plans for me, you don’t tell me what to do, and you sure as shooting don’t tell me that I’m going to marry you when I’ve just told you I won’t!” She turned on her heels and walked out of the house.

  The men watched her go. After the front door slammed behind her, Gus spoke.

  “She’ll be a handful.”

  “See this?” Townsend held up his right hand. “If a woman gives me lip, I strike right where she speaks. She won’t do it twice. You might see your niece with a fat lip and a bruise or two, but mark my words, she’ll come to heel before our first child is born.”

  “Remember our deal,” Gus said. “Them papers.”

  Townsend exhaled in irritation. “You keep jawing about them papers, but you ain’t seen hide nor hair of them since that missing brother of yours lit out. What if she doesn’t have them? I’m expecting a rich wife on your promise.”

  “They’re somewhere. My brother was a Texas Ranger, and he did a lot of traveling. He had deeds to mines, I know he did, and that means gold. He hasn’t been back, so that means he’s dead, because he’d never leave Mary-Lee to fend for herself or with me. And that means that once we get hold of those papers, we’re the two richest men in Kansas.”

  The two men laughed at the prospect. All that stood in their way was a five-foot-nothing little blonde spitfire, who seemed to have the foolish idea that she would be able to make her own decisions about marriage.

  Mary-Lee, riding back into the city where she boarded, forced the feelings of rising panic away. She had already made her own plans regarding marriage, plans that her uncle knew nothing about. Months ago, she had begun sending letters to newspapers in frontier towns, indicating her intention to be a mail-order bride. Once she was free of her uncle’s clutches and a married woman, she’d have someone on her side, someone who would help her to protect what was her property and defend her against Augustus Jameson’s treachery. She hadn’t gotten any responses yet that satisfied her requirements. She wouldn’t marry a fool, and she wouldn’t marry a tyrant. She was her own woman, not chattel, and she would not be ruled.

  Perhaps her letters had seemed too strident, she thought later that night when she was in her room. The usual custom for schoolteachers was to board one month at a time with one of the local families, but the Kelceys had plenty of room, and they had welcomed Mary-Lee as if she were a member of the family. School was out of session now that planting season was underway, but the Kelceys assured Mary-Lee that she was welcome to stay with them. Mrs. Kelcey appreciated the extra help that Mary-Lee provided with the cooking and the children, and Mary-Lee was grateful to have a home where she was made to feel as if she belonged, something she had never felt in her uncle’s big house.

  When she came home, irate and flushed from her contentious meeting, Mrs. Kelcey, who had read the announcement in the Abilene Gazette and guessed at its derivation, had heated up a supper plate for Mary-Lee. She’d brought her a tall glass of lemonade to go with it and reminded her, without referring to the article, to say her prayers. That was Mrs. Kelcey’s code way of expressing her empathy. Mary-Lee appreciated the kindness of the Kelceys; it would be hard to leave them. Hard to leave the school, too; she loved teaching the children. However, if she had any hopes of escaping from her uncle or his malevolent plan to marry her off to Lance Townsend, she could not stay in Abilene.

  After she had eaten and brought her dish back to the kitchen and washed it, she returned to her room. There was still light enough from the window for her to see by. She took out her fountain pen, attached the nib, filled the ink reservoir, and settled down at her desk to compose a new advertisement, one which might be more inviting to a man; perhaps she had scared off suitors with her first advertisement.

  I am an educated woman of twenty years, seeking a responsible, educated, man of virtue for a husband. I currently am employed as a schoolteacher in Kansas but am seeking a new life on the frontier. I have been trained in the housewifely arts. I am a faithful congregant of the Methodist Church. I have been told that I am fair to look at, but, of course, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

  No, she decided; that last line would not do, or the prospective husband might think she was making excuses for having some unseemly flaw like a twitch or thick ankles. But would someone think her vain for saying that she was fair to look at?

  It was a dilemma. How honest could a mail-order bride be? She selected a new sheet of paper and started again, copying the lines she had originally written until she came to her description. Finally, she decided to state the facts as they were.

  The Lord has not given me much in the matter of inches; I am but five feet tall and so almost any man will be taller than I am. I have blonde hair and blue eyes. I sing alto in the women’s choir at church. I enjoy reading poetry, doing embroidery, attending musical performances and uplifting lectures by speakers of distinction. I hope to find a husband who shares these interests.

  Very truly yours,

  Mary Jameson

  Chapter 3

  April 1852, Knox Mills, Texas

  Benjamin began his stroll through Knox Mills as Jack had directed. The town was growing faster than the space could provide for it: the streets were muddy from the rains; the businesses were sprouting up so fast that it was doubtful whether they were constructed sturdily enough to fend off the winds that would come in due season. There was no order to either the architecture or the business of the enterprises, as a lady’s dress shop, with a fanciful gingerbread-work front was right next door to a sprawling general store. It seemed as though Knox Mills did not lack for enterprising entrepreneurs, and just as Carson had said, the new saloon was taking form rapidly.

  There was probably no emporium more popular than a saloon in a town where the number of men vastly outnumbered the women. Cowboys, farm hands, bachelors, and even married men seemed to find a refuge in the saloon, where the drinks flowed and the ladies were accommodating. Any lawman, however, would confirm that saloons were a midwife to trouble, whether it came in the form of drunken revelry or brawling, or card cheats that led to a gunfight, or even just a fracas that got underway because two men were in a dispute over which revolver was better.

  He smiled slightly as he recalled Jack’s comment about Piper telling him to get to work because she didn’t need hi
m in her way. Piper was just the wife for Jack, that was for certain. They had gotten off to a rocky start, but there was nothing, it seemed, like danger to reveal true colors, and Piper had discovered that her reserved, laconic marshal husband was far superior to the false charms of Charles DeWitt, who had turned out to be a con man and a thief. All had ended well, however, and Jack and his redheaded bride were now settled into their own house on the outskirts of town. Jack, like Benjamin, came from money, and he aimed to spend it the right way. A house for his wife and family was as right as anything.

  What was it like, Benjamin wondered, to have a wife to go home to? He was twenty-four years old, and he’d known his share of women, but none that he’d given thought to marrying. There weren’t enough women in Knox Mills for the men who wanted wives. If he wanted a wife, he’d have to advertise for one. Mail-order brides were quite the thing in the West, he knew. Women back East who wanted a husband and hadn’t found one to their liking at home were eager to travel out West to marry.

  As he passed the schoolhouse, he waved at old Mrs. Greenwell, the widow who was the teacher. There wasn’t a trained schoolteacher in town, so Mrs. Greenwell, who despite the disadvantage of age, had the advantage of having attended the San Antonio Girls’ Academy in her youth and had come to Knox Mills as a young bride and stayed after her husband died. She had responded to the pleading of the town leaders to serve as schoolteacher, but it was clear, as she rounded up the children to send them back into the schoolhouse, that she wasn’t limber enough to ride herd on active children.

  The children were slow to respond to her instructions to return to class, but Benjamin couldn’t blame them. The schoolhouse was a ramshackle building that had been converted from an old cabin. The roof leaked; the walls had been hastily put up with the result that in the cold weather, there were drafts, sometimes enough to blow out the fire in the fireplace. There was only one window, and it was cracked and nearly opaque with film that had built up over the years.