The Outlaw Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides) (5 page)

He stepped inside and shut the door. “What’s wrong?”

Beth glanced up at him, then took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I ... I can’t get my—pantaloons down with just my left hand. I’ve tried and tried, but I’m not strong enough.”

She watched his face for any sign he was amused or even uncomfortable, for she knew she certainly felt shy at asking a stranger to help her with this intimate task. His face was expressionless, and his eyes refused to meet hers.

“Let me help.” He slipped his hand underneath the covers and found her skirt. Pulling it out of the way, he lifted the material just enough to find her drawers. Letting the blanket fall around his hand to shield her modesty, he found the waistband of her pantaloons and tugged on them gently.

Beth felt flames of embarrassment light up her face as she helped him tug down her drawers. As his fingers brushed against her naked flesh, tingles of awareness went through her lower body. She almost jumped at the contact of his rough hands against her thighs. Yet his touch was gentle, almost a caress.

She glanced up at him to see if he, too, had felt the ripple that had almost caused her to jump. But his face remained the same.

“Is that going to be all right?” he asked, his eyes still not meeting hers.

“I think so.”

“Do I need to stay, or can you manage?” he asked gently.

“No. I think I’ll be okay, now.”

He had started for the door when Beth remembered.

“Uh, Mr. Tanner.”

“Yes.”

“Could you pick up that metal bowl and bring it to me?” she asked, feeling like a fool.

He walked back into the room, glancing around until he located the missing bowl. With a smile, he handed it back to her.

Now he found it amusing, though he didn’t say a word.

“Thank you,” she said, unable to meet his gaze before he left.

Beth awoke with a start. She glanced around the room and realized she was alone. Gingerly, she moved to a sitting position on the bed, her back needing relief from the pressure of the bed’s ticking. Even that little bit of exertion sent her shoulder to throbbing and left her breathless from the pain and effort. Though the wound still pained her, she no longer felt that she was running a fever.

The windows were open, and the curtains billowed from the warm summer breeze. The sound of horses and buggies moving down the street drifted up through the window. Men called to one another, and occasionally she could hear snatches of conversation. She felt isolated cut off from the rest of the world, by her injuries.

If only she could dress and find her way to the telegraph office to send her intended a telegram. Just a brief message to let him know she’d had a slight delay but would be there soon. He’d wait, surely he’d wait, wouldn’t he?

But the telegram was impossible. Whatever money she’d possessed at the beginning of the trip was now in the hands of a man who wore a mask and waved a gun. No matter how badly she needed that cash, she felt grateful just to be alive. But now she was destitute and had no way to reach Fort Worth, no way to contact the man she was to marry.

Beth leaned back against the pillows, amazed at the turn her life had once again taken. Since the war, her life had never been as she’d foreseen it when she was younger. Everything had changed and now, on her way to Fort Worth to a fresh start, she’d taken a bullet and worried that her husband-to-be would think she had jilted him.

After all, they’d never met, only corresponded. How would he know she hadn’t changed her mind, gotten cold feet, or decided against becoming a mail-order bride?

And maybe his fears were well grounded. After all, marrying someone she’d never met wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind when she considered taking a husband. But the war had left her little choice.

There was nothing to return to in Georgia. Everyone she loved was buried in the family cemetery. And the boll weevils had finished off what she’d managed to hold on to through the war. Now the tax collector held the keys to Pinewood, the family plantation.

The belle of the ball was no longer accepted by society. All she had left were poignant and bittersweet memories of the way life once had been.

She shook her head. Surely she had the worst luck imaginable. Her chance for a new beginning, a new start in life, had taken a shot in the shoulder and had suffered a serious setback.

Somehow she had to get to Fort Worth.

Though she didn’t love her new husband-to-be or know much about him, his letters were nice. He promised to take care of her, and he wanted children. Everything she wanted in a mate, she hoped, or at least a provider.

Beth didn’t need a lot in life. She’d seen enough death and destruction to realize what was really important. She didn’t even need a big, fancy house anymore or riches to make her happy All she wanted was a man who could accept her and her past, wouldn’t let her go hungry, and was willing to have children.

Her dreams weren’t big, had never been extravagant, but the war had robbed her of everything she’d held near and dear. Everything had disappeared or altered forever, changing her in the process.

Now she had to get well, find a way to continue on to Fort Worth, and catch up with her mail-order husband. For if she didn’t marry, what would become of her? She had nothing left to return to, and somehow she knew her future was in Fort Worth. And this time her life was never going to be uncertain again. This time she would have more control.

***

“Carter,” Tanner screamed into the roaring cannons. “Watch your back!”

Carter, a tall, lanky Texas boy, spun around and fired his Enfield rifle at point-blank range. The Yankee soldier crumpled at his feet.

“Thanks," he called, putting the rifle to his shoulder and taking aim once again.

The Yankees overran the first rifle pits, the blue-and- gray soldiers fighting hand to hand, but the steep terrain of the Kennesaw Mountain stalled the federal soldiers ’ forward progression. And Samuel French’s Confederate division cut the soldiers down savagely until the blue uniforms ceased to run up the hill.

A loud cheer arose from the tired Confederate soldiers as they watched the federal militia retreat. The grassy meadow below was covered in a blanket of blue-and-gray bodies, their blood mingled on the field. Soldiers from both sides lay bleeding, mortally wounded or dead, a result of the trenches and cannons carved into the wooded slopes of the Kennesaw Mountain.

It was barely noon, and the battle was over. Atlanta, the heart of the Confederacy, lay safely thirty miles away. Once again they had managed to hold off the Yankee bastards.

Tanner glanced over at Carter, grateful they were still alive, knowing the dead from this battle must be in the thousands. Feeling odd about being grateful to be alive, Tanner raised his hands in the air with the rest of the troops whooping and hollering, celebrating the joy of life.

A hand violently shook him, jarring him awake. He opened his eyes, grabbing the hand, ready to come up swinging. He was caught between the dream world and the real world, and his eyes were not focused. A soldier’s face swam before him before it disappeared and the darkened room, lit only by moonlight, came into focus.

He glanced into Beth’s frightened face, inches from his own.

“I’m sorry, but you were thrashing and moaning in your sleep,” she whispered in the darkness. “I was afraid for you.”

Releasing her soft hand, she gently lay back against the pillows that supported her. Tanner sat up and wiped his damp face with his palm. Her voice had been soothing, her touch demanding, and he was grateful she’d awakened him before he’d said too much.

It was early, just before dawn, he surmised, as he leaned forward and propped his head on his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He’d slept in a chair pulled up next to the bed where Beth lay. She’d grabbed him with her good left arm, and he’d almost hit her in his sleep. Would these cursed dreams ever leave him in peace?

“Why are you awake so early?” he questioned. “Are you in pain?”

“Not terribly, just a dull throb right now. I think I’ve had too much sleep the last few days, and I’m starting to get tired of just lying in this bed,” she said brushing a lock of her auburn hair with her good hand.

He nodded. It had been three days, and so far he’d been unable to find anyone to take care of Beth. He’d searched the newspapers, asked around town, but no one had seemed acceptable to take in the young woman.

“I’m also tired of sleeping in my clothes, and I need a bath,” she said.

Tanner swallowed. The thought of trying to give Miss Anderson a bath was just a little more personal than he cared to get. Having to help her with the bedpan had been embarrassing enough for both of them. And the thought of her ivory skin, naked and wet, was more than he dared think about. She’d been safe to think of while delirious, but now she was recovering, and suddenly he was the one in danger of her tempting lips and seductive curves.

He was trying so hard not to notice that she was a beautiful young woman, that her skin was soft and supple, her lips full and tempting. But sleeping in the chair beside her bed for the last three nights had given his active imagination more than enough to envisage.

She seemed so vulnerable and in need of protecting; she brought out feelings he’d long since buried.

“I’ll ask one of the hotel maids to help you this morning,” he replied the image of her warm and wet causing him to shift in the chair uncomfortably.

“That would be lovely.” She sighed and moved in the bed. “So what were you dreaming of?”

Tanner glanced at her suspiciously. “Why?”

“I just wondered. You seemed anxious. Almost like you were frightened,” she said, her hazel eyes gazing at him cautiously.

How could she know that?

With a sigh, he stood and walked to the window. “I don’t remember what I was dreaming. I seldom do,” he lied, unable to share with her the terror of his dreams.

He turned from the window in the predawn light and noticed she was staring at him. Her eyes suddenly appeared soft and luminous, and the urge to crawl into her bed and touch her almost overcame him. He didn’t know why, but the sanctuary of her arms seemed inviting. The longing to seek comfort the only way he knew how was tempting, but he resisted.

Tension seemed to envelop the room as they stared at one another. It was that time of morning, just before the sun began its ascent into the early-morning sky, when night makes one last valiant stand against the dawn. A time when everything seems fresh and new and even lost souls have a chance once again.

Tanner wondered suddenly if the beautiful Miss Anderson would have given him a chance if he didn’t have a past that shrouded him in guilt.

“I guess I’m keeping you from your job,” she said awkwardly. “Will they mind that you’ve not reached your destination?”

“No.”

“What do you do for the bank?” she questioned.

Tanner frowned. She was asking way too many questions that he was not willing to answer, so he lied. “I’m an auditor.”

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to stretch into forever. Finally, Beth cleared her throat.

“How much is the hotel costing us a night?” she asked.

He stared at her in the darkened shadow.

“Don’t worry about it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If I hadn’t pushed the barrel of that gun, you wouldn’t have been shot. It was my fault.”

“It was an accident. You should blame it on the bandit who held up the stage.” She waited a minute, tilted her head, and asked, “Why did you prevent that bandit from getting shot?”

Tanner stared out the window. How could he tell her the truth, that he needed Sam Bass alive? That he’d saved Sam’s life and hurt her in the process? He sighed. Would the number of people he’d managed to hurt in his lifetime ever grow smaller in number instead of larger?

“I thought there had been enough bloodshed,” he acknowledged. “If we’d shot Sam, they wouldn’t have hesitated in killing us all.”

She reflected on his comments a moment and then said, “You’re probably right. I guess we should be grateful that any of us came out alive.”

“The Bass gang is a dangerous gang of robbers,” Tanner said, inwardly cringing. They were renowned, and he was one of them.

The sun was beginning to peek over the eastern horizon, streaking the sky with orange and blue. The dawn was breaking, and he suddenly felt like a caged animal, restless and edgy. He had to get out of this hotel room, if only for a little while. He needed some distance from the beautiful Miss Anderson before he gazed at her luscious, full lips one time too many and decided to find out for himself if they were as succulent as they appeared.

“I’m going to go downstairs and get us some grub. Then I need to run some errands. I’ll send the maid up with your breakfast and ask her to arrange a bath for you.”