The Outlaw Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides) (6 page)

“Thank you.” She gazed at him, her hazel eyes bright in the early-morning light.

He seized his gun belt, strapped it on, grabbed his hat, and was halfway out the door when he stopped and looked back. He couldn’t rush out without saying what really was bothering him.

“Look, I’m sorry you got robbed on that stage. Don’t worry about anything except getting well. I’ll take care of you.”

And he would help her, he had to, even though he could possibly lose his life in the process. He was in no hurry to catch up with the Bass gang. Besides, he had no choice. Although the tattered remains of his honor wouldn’t let him leave her, he knew he could be sacrificing his freedom at the least, his life at the most. But then again, his life had been a hellhole for over ten years. Why would it matter if it ended now?

She looked up at him from the bed, her eyes wide and filled with concern. “Don’t feel responsible for my getting shot. It was an accident.”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to argue with you. I just want you to get well.”

Tanner shut the door behind him. How would she feel if she knew it was the gang he’d recently joined that had robbed her?

***

Beth awoke at the sound of a noise she recognized and feared. Her eyes opened to the sound of a revolver spinning, the hammer being pulled back. She watched as Tanner held his Navy Colt revolver in his hands, a small can of oil on the table beside him, a rag in his hand. He held the gun intimately, stroking the barrel like a man well acquainted with the revolver. His hands moved swiftly over the open chamber, polishing and cleaning.

She watched as he tipped the can of oil against the cloth and then twisted the edge of it into the holes of the gun, swabbing it with the rag. His face was intent with a purpose, though he looked as if his thoughts were elsewhere, his mind miles away.

He was a man who had done this enough times, for it was clearly repetitious work, and he did it automatically. How many bankers knew how to clean a gun?

Bankers were smooth and polished, with no rough edges, Beth knew, because she’d dealt with more of them in the last few years than she wanted to think about.

Tanner didn’t fit the mold of a banker.

He carried himself as though aware of his surroundings at all times. He was watchful and seemed more like a man who stood on the fringes and observed. The bankers she’d known had always been powerful men who wanted everyone to be aware of their status and to know they held the keys to their future. Bankers were ostentatious people who didn’t blend well. Tanner didn’t appear greedy, and blending was a word that somehow didn’t fit him.

Since the accident, she hadn’t seen his black tailored suit; instead, he wore a white shirt, black vest, and black pants with well-worn boots. The hat that she had thought looked ridiculous on him in the coach had disappeared, and in its place was a shabby black Stetson that had a tall crown and wide brim for shading the sun from his deeply tanned skin. He looked more like a hired gun than a banker.

And it was odd, but she felt comfortable in his presence.

Watching his powerful hands hold the gun as he stroked the chamber, she remembered the feel of his hands as he helped her. They were not smooth hands that handled cash; but rather, rough and work-hardened. They were textured, like those of a man who used his hands to earn a living.

Beth watched as he spun the cylinder on the gun, the clicking noise chilling in the silence. Who was this man, really? Was he who he claimed to be, a banker on his way to a business meeting? Or what exactly was his occupation?

A knock sounded at the door, and he glanced up, sliding several bullets into the chamber of the gun faster than she could think. He sprang to his feet, alert, then glanced at her and noticed she was awake. He frowned.

“Who is it?” he called.

“Dr. Benson,” the voice replied. “I came by to check on my patient.”

A sigh escaped him, and his rigid posture visibly relaxed.

“Just a minute, Doctor.” Tanner rapidly put away his cleaning supplies and made sure his gun was in good working order. He slid both pistols back into the holsters, which lay against his hips. He looked up, his ice-blue eyes meeting and holding Beth’s.

Why all the precaution for a visit from the doctor?

She’d never met a banker so completely at ease with his gun and yet as nervous as a rabbit in a hound hunt. He was a contradiction both frightening and intriguing.

Tanner walked to the door and pulled it open cautiously.

The gray-haired man Beth recognized as the doctor stepped inside the small room, and Tanner shut the door behind him.

“I would have been by sooner, but I had another patient come down with cholera.” He shook his head. “Such a terrible disease. Kills so quickly and spreads so rapidly.”

He glanced at Beth. “Well, you certainly appear to have a little more color in your cheeks since the last time I saw you. How are you feeling?”

“Better. But not great,” she acknowledged.

The doctor stepped over to the chair beside the bed. “Well, let’s have a look at that wound and see how it’s coming along.”

He reached inside his bag and pulled out a pair of scissors. He pulled the coverlet down past her shoulder and pushed the sleeve of the clean nightgown she’d donned after her bath out of his way. Very carefully he began to cut away the gauze covering the wound.

Beth had yet to see her shoulder since the accident, and she looked curiously, anxious to see the damage to her flesh. When the doctor cut away the last of the gauze, she was amazed at how small the wound actually was, though her flesh was bruised around the stitched area.

“I see no complications. You’re healing quite nicely.”

“When can I travel again?” she asked, anxious to know when she could leave.

The doctor frowned. “Not right away, but maybe in two weeks, definitely in three. Actually, I’d prefer that you waited the full three weeks. That will give you time to recuperate from this.”

“Three weeks!” she exclaimed.

“You lost a lot of blood, my dear.”

“But I have to be in Fort Worth,” she exclaimed, feeling tears of exasperation fill her eyes.

“Traveling will only break open the stitches. I’d rather you waited.” The doctor began to wrap new gauze around the wound.

“It won’t be long, Beth,” Tanner said.

“I’m going to change this bandage. After this one, I think we’ll be able to leave it off completely.” He quickly wrapped the material around her shoulder and tied it in a knot, leaving her arm in a sling. “You’ll be well and ready to travel in no time, Mrs. Tanner.”

For a moment, Beth was stunned. Had he just called her Mrs. Tanner? She glanced up at him quizzically.

“What did you say?”

The doctor began returning his equipment and supplies into his doctor’s bag. “Don’t worry. Your wound is healing very well, and I don’t see any complications. The stitches will have to be removed in about four days, and after that you’ll just have some tenderness and soreness left.”

The man stood ready to walk out the door.

“No, what did you call me?” she asked.

Tanner came up behind her and leaned over, his gaze sending a clear warning. Then he kissed her on the cheek, his lips warm and supple. “It’s all right, sweetheart. You’re going to be just fine. We’ll get you to Fort Worth, you’ll see.”

“But—”

Tanner stepped away and opened the door. “Thanks for coming by, Doctor. We’ll see you in a couple of days.”

The old doctor frowned. “Good-bye, then. Send for me if you need me.”

The doctor stepped out of the room, and Tanner firmly shut the door behind him. Beth gazed at Tanner quizzically.

“Did he just call me Mrs. Tanner?” she questioned. She stared at the worried expression on Tanner’s face. “Why?”

“Because the good doctor and everyone in the hotel thinks we’re married.”

Eugenia sat nervously in the buckboard, glancing up and down the street. The stage was several hours late, and Eugenia feared what the delay meant.

What if the young woman didn’t show? What if she’d changed her mind and decided to stay in Georgia?

Her imagination ran wild as she twisted her hands nervously around the umbrella handle, twirling it fretfully. The umbrella provided little shade from the hot Texas sun, but it occupied her hands and kept her from fidgeting quite so much.

“Eugenia, come inside out of this blistering heat. We’ll have plenty of time to greet Miss Anderson once the stage arrives,” Rose, her daughter-in-law, admonished.

“I promised her that I’d be waiting. That I would be the first person she saw when she arrived.”

Rose glanced up at her, clearly annoyed. “Eugenia, did you promise her that you would be the first person or that Tucker would be the first person she saw?”

Sometimes the girl was way too smart. Yet she had fallen in love with Travis, and Lord knows, Eugenia had been ready to give up on that boy finding any woman to love him.

“Well ... it was me, of course, but I signed Tucker’s name.”

“That’s what I thought. So let’s wait inside,” Rose reproved.

Eugenia started to climb down from the wagon, and Rose held out her hand to help her disembark. “Thank you, dear. You’re right, it would be cooler inside, in the shade.”

“Much,” Rose agreed.

“So where did my sons take off to?” Eugenia questioned.

“They’re sitting inside sipping lemonade.”

Eugenia looked at her in surprise. “Lemonade?” Rose laughed. “I told them I would start reading tea leaves for everyone who entered the cafe if they even considered ordering whiskey or beer.” She smiled. “Travis knew I would, too, so he told Tucker they’d get something stronger later.”

Eugenia patted Rose on the arm and chuckled. “A woman who knows how to handle my son—I love it.” She sighed. “Now if everything will work out for Tucker the way it has for Travis, I’ll be so happy.”

They stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk, underneath an awning, out of the sun. “Eugenia, why are you pushing your sons into marriage? Why can’t you just leave Tucker alone and let him find a woman when he’s ready?”

“Someday you’ll understand, dear, when you’ve waited for years and none of your children seem interested in settling down. You lose a son, and a small part of you dies, and then your husband passes on and leaves you alone. These things make you realize time is running out. And you want more. More time to spend with your grandchildren and family. So you rush your children, and finally you do things you never thought you’d do just to see them settled and happy, with a family of their own.”

Rose glanced at her. “But you can’t keep interfering, Eugenia. You’re going to hurt someone in the process.”

“I sincerely hope not. I’m trying to be careful, but I love my children. I want to see their children.” She sighed. “I’m just thankful Tucker came today.”

The rattling of a coach as it turned the comer interrupted their conversation, and they both tensed.

“Oh, my God, here she comes,” Eugenia exclaimed. Rose turned to the men in the cafe and waved excitedly. The moment was upon them; the newest member of the clan was about to arrive. Travis hurried out the cafe door, urging his younger brother not to tarry. But Tucker hung back, trepidation on his usually smiling face.

Eugenia hurried over to him. “Come on, dear. All you have to do is meet her. That’s all. If you don’t like her, I would never expect you to marry her.”

“Mother, I’m not going to marry her.”

“We’ll see, dear.”

Rose took her husband’s arm, and together the four of them walked toward the stage that had just pulled to a stop, in front of the El Paso Hotel.

The door swung open, and Eugenia held her breath as a woman older than herself stepped out.

“I knew it,” Tucker said. “She’s old.”

She poked her son in the ribs. “That can’t be her.”

“Whew,” Tucker said, winking at Eugenia. “I was frightened for a moment.”

The grandmother glanced around the small crowd of people expectantly and then boldly asked, “Anyone here to meet Miss Elizabeth Anderson?”

Eugenia stepped forward. “We are. My sons and daughter and I.” She glanced into the stagecoach and realized it was empty. “Where is she?”

The older woman’s face became sympathetic. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but we were robbed. Elizabeth was shot in the holdup.”

“Oh, my God, is she all right?” Eugenia asked.

“A nice young banker feller who was riding with us took her back to San Antonio on his horse and promised to get her to a doctor. They have a marvelous doctor in San Antonio.”

“Was she hurt badly?” Eugenia asked.

“Beth had a pretty nasty shoulder wound. But from what I could tell, I don’t think it was life-threatening.” Suddenly, the older woman waved to a waiting family. “There’s my daughter. I must go, but I think Miss Beth will be just fine.”

“I’d better go to Elizabeth. I’ll take the next stage to San Antonio and find her,” Eugenia said, wringing her hands.