Bride Gone Bad Read online

  “Please remove yourself from my vicinity.”

  Chancy Clancy hitched up his gun-belt, as if readying for battle. Mrs. Bartholomew raised her chin and pushed past him with her two companions following in her wake. She stopped at the bar and glanced back. “Tempest, please join us.”

  “Oh, no.” Tempest grasped Lucky’s arm. “Let’s get out of here. Mercy, come on.”

  “She’s not going to—” Mercy said.

  “You don’t want to see it.” She tugged him to the tent entry flaps, and then glanced back.

  “Now!” Mrs. Bartholomew cried out as she raised her hatchet.

  As the three struck the bar with their hatchets, Tempest heard hatchets hit each corner of the tent, cutting through the ropes that bound the tent to its posts. Lucky grabbed her hand and ducked out of the saloon, followed by Mercy.

  Tempest ran with the men to the horses, where they stopped and looked back. The tent creaked, groaned, and billowed as it collapsed in a big heap on top of the patrons. Cursing blue streaks, outlaws pushed and shoved their way out from under the tent. Red Dog and Slim held up the canvas for several others to get free. Mrs. Bartholomew and her companions were helped out by the four TSPT members who had chopped down the tent.

  “Looks like they’re all okay,” Tempest said in amazement.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here.” Lucky grabbed the horses’ reins. “Mercy, you coming with us?”

  “Might as well.” He walked over, swung into the saddle of his horse, and rode over to them.

  Tempest mounted Anna at the same time as Lucky threw a leg over his bay. She noticed folks were still milling about in confusion, with the outlaws cussing and blaming conniving women. Soon the TSPT members gathered in a group and headed for their wagon.

  “I can’t imagine what got into the TSPT,” she said. “They deplore violence.”

  “Maybe Mrs. Bartholomew wanted to be famous, too.” Lucky clicked to his horse and set off down the road.

  Tempest glanced over at Mercy. “You okay?”

  He chuckled. “Sure. I wouldn’t have missed that party for the world. Folks’ll be telling the tale for a long time to come.”

  She set heels to Anna to catch up with Lucky. Mercy kept right up with her, so maybe he was in better shape than she’d thought.

  Soon she heard a loud whoosh behind her. She glanced back. “Oh, no! Burnt Boggy is on fire.”

  “Really?” Mercy’s head whipped around as he turned to look back. “Guess those ladies didn’t think to put out the lanterns. Tent must have knocked them over and spilled oil over the bar.”

  “Good thing Red Dog and Slim didn’t have much to lose this time.” Lucky pulled up his horse.

  “Do you think they need help?” Tempest asked.

  “No,” Mercy said. “They’ve got plenty of folks to control the fire. If I go back, I may not get out again.”

  “He’s right. Let’s pick up the pace,” Lucky said. “Once they figure out we’re gone, they may come after us.”

  Tempest turned away. “And Mrs. Bartholomew might even try to force me to rejoin the TSPT.”

  “We won’t let her get you.” Lucky chuckled. “Think Red Dog and Slim will rename their place the Chopped Boggy Saloon?”

  “I doubt they can get anybody to ever go there again,” she said. “It keeps burning down. That’s dangerous.”

  “You mean,” Mercy said, “women keep burning down their saloon.”

  “Right,” Lucky agreed. “But nothing could be better for trade. When word gets out that a group of soiled doves descended on Burnt Boggy and everybody became so excited that the place got chopped up and burned down, they won’t be able to drive men away with a stick.”

  “Maybe they’ll rename it the Chicken Boggy Saloon,” Mercy said.

  When the men threw back their heads and laughed, Tempest gave them each a hard stare, but they didn’t notice.

  “I think you’re both mistaken because that’s not what happened,” Tempest said. “The TSPT shut down that saloon.”

  “There’s not a man back there who’ll ever admit it,” Mercy said.

  Lucky nodded. “I bet we never hear the end of that wagonload of the most beautiful, buxom, boisterous easy women who ever graced Earth.”

  “But it’s not true,” she protested, wanting the TSPT to get credit for closing down a saloon that sold illegal whiskey.

  Both men laughed even harder.

  Tempest shook her head in defeat. She appreciated the TSPT’s goals and the loyalty of its members. They deserved respect, but they wouldn’t always get it, especially when they inconvenienced men.

  She sighed, wondering how Mrs. Bartholomew was going to like her new reputation as a soiled dove.

  Chapter 29

  By the time they reached the main road, Lucky’s thoughts had turned to their own concerns. They’d found Haig. Now they had the artist. They were making good progress. Yet he felt that time was fast running out to protect Tempest and find the Soleil Wheel. They needed to make important decisions. He drew Miko to a stop near a clump of bushes so they couldn’t be seen. Tempest and Mercy rode in close beside him.

  “Mercy, are you going back to the Bend?” Lucky wished he knew more about the artist so he could judge the man better. Yet he could tell that something, or more likely someone, had hooks planted deep in him. He was being bled dry.

  “Are you two going there?” Mercy asked.

  “No. We’ve got business up near Fort Smith and it can’t wait,” Lucky said.

  “But we’ll be going to the Bend later,” Tempest added.

  “I don’t like to go back where I’ve been,” Mercy said. “I plan to keep moving onward till I drop.”

  “Delaware Bend needs you,” Tempest said. “A lot of good people there are counting on you.”

  “Why? Nobody even knows me.”

  Lucky shook his head. “You’re famous. At least, that bar you carved in the Red River Saloon is famous. Men ride in from miles around to drink there and admire your work.”

  “Do you really expect me to believe that?” Mercy asked.

  “No,” Tempest said. “We’d like you to go back and see for yourself.”

  “Why would I ride all that way to fix a little cut in a piece of wood?”

  “It’s Lulu,” Tempest said. “Big Jim’s favorite.”

  “Who?” Mercy glanced from one to the other.

  “Lulu.” Lucky chuckled. “You really ought to go back and see what’s come of your artwork. All those lovely ladies you carved have been given names. Most men who drink there have chosen a favorite.”

  “You’re kidding me.” Mercy started to laugh, and then laughed harder until he was gasping for breath. “That’s crazy! I just carved that bar because I was down on my luck and couldn’t pay for my whiskey.”

  “It’s a lot more than that now,” Lucky said.

  “Everybody’s really upset about Lulu,” Tempest explained. “She’s hurt and needs to be healed.”

  “I’m not sure I can fix a chop in wood.”

  “Surely you could do something,” Tempest said.

  “One thing for sure,” Mercy said. “I’ve laughed more tonight than I have in years. It’s got to be worth something.”

  “Is it worth going back to the Bend?” Tempest asked. “I bet you’d get a kick out of seeing the homage paid to your bar.”

  “That’d be something to see.”

  “There’s another thing,” Tempest said. “The town collected money for you to create an oil painting on a large canvas to hang over your bar.”

  Mercy shook his head. “I haven’t painted in years. I doubt I have the skills anymore.”

  “They’ve got some gold eagles waiting for you,” Lucky added. “If that’s not enough, they want the painting to be of Temperance Tempest.”

  Mercy laughed again. “They want a portrait of the woman who chopped the bar to hang over it?”

  “That’s right,” Lucky agreed.

  “Yo
u know, that town’s becoming nigh on irresistible. I might even die laughing. That’d be a good way to go.”

  “Don’t even think it,” Tempest said. “You can get help.”

  “I told you I’m cursed,” Mercy said, his voice taking on an edge. “I don’t want anybody else to get tangled up in it. That’s why I’m out here alone.”

  Lucky took off his hat, ran fingers through his hair, and then put his hat back in place. “Look, we can jaw about this all night, but it’s not getting us anywhere. Mercy, here’s the deal. Tempest agreed to find you, present you with the Bend’s offer, and try to get you to agree.”

  “But we can see that you need more than money or a feather bed,” Tempest added. “You need that curse lifted or dismantled or sent back. Something.”

  “You believe me? I mean, about the curse?” Mercy asked in a voice filled with astonishment.

  “Yes,” Lucky and Tempest said in unison.

  “Thanks. You almost give me a glimmer of hope.”

  “Is it a deal?” Lucky asked.

  Mercy nodded. “All of a sudden, I feel greedy. I want the money, the feather bed, and the hope.” He held up his hands. “But I’m not sure how much I can do.”

  “If you’ll just go there and try, that’s enough,” Tempest said. “I’ll be back soon to pose for you. They’re getting a new red gown ready for me to wear for the painting.”

  “You don’t need to pose for me. I’ll never forget your face and form for as long as I live.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s my blessing . . . and my curse.”

  “I always wanted to ask,” Lucky said. “Are those images you carved into the bar based on real women?”

  Mercy grinned. “A man never kisses and tells.”

  “Then you’re going back?” Tempest asked.

  “You talked me into it.”

  “Good,” Lucky said. “When you get there, leave your horse at Manny’s Stable and go to Mama Lou’s Café. There’s a young lady there named Diana. Tell her what you told us and she may be able to help.”

  “Diana?” Tempest asked. “Is she one of—”

  “She reads palms,” Lucky interrupted.

  Mercy chuckled again. “Now I know for sure I’m going to laugh myself right up to Boot Hill. You’re sending me to a fortune-teller.”

  “She might surprise you,” Lucky said.

  “Delaware Bend is turning out to be one big joke.” Mercy turned his horse west, and then glanced back. “I just hope it’s not on me.”

  “Good luck!” Tempest called as he rode away.

  “He’ll need it,” Lucky said.

  “I wish we could do more for him at this moment.”

  “He’ll get some protection in the Bend. Right now, we’ve got to take care of our own business.”

  She sighed, glancing at him. “You’re right.”

  “Haig is out there and coming closer all the time. We need to get to Fort Coffee before it’s too late.”

  He looked at her in the moonlight. She was his Moon, his ladylove, and he felt renewed responsibility for her. And those feelings didn’t begin to address the arousal that was flooding his body. He needed to get her someplace where they could be safe and alone. And then, there’d be no turning back.

  Chapter 30

  “Can you believe the nerve of Mrs. Bartholomew?” Now that Tempest had a chance to think about it, she was getting up a good head of steam. “She left me high and dry in Delaware Bend, and then had the nerve to waltz into Burnt Boggy Saloon and act like we were best friends.”

  “Maybe she was inspired by your actions,” Lucky said.

  “Even worse, she pretended like what she did in the Bend was all for show when I know very well that she meant it.”

  “Maybe she knew something you didn’t.”

  “I only made one little chop. She burned down an entire saloon!”

  “It was just a tent. And nobody was hurt.”

  She reached over and pinched his arm. “Whose side are you on anyway?”

  Lucky raised his hands, as if in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just saying I think she told the truth, at least from her viewpoint. When she heard about Temperance Tempest, she realized that a few chops with a hatchet could garner a lot more attention than a few songs.”

  “But she left me in the Bend.”

  “People have a way of twisting history to suit their aims. I imagine she believes her own story now.”

  “But it’s not true.”

  “Truth is in the eyes of the beholder.”

  “Oh, be quiet!” She was so irritated she wanted to strike out at something because she’d never be able to get justice with Mrs. Bartholomew.

  “I’d take her actions as a compliment. She just as well as admitted that you were right and she was wrong.”

  “You think so?”

  “It appears that way to me.”

  “You may be right.” She felt a little mollified. She supposed she’d have to let her grudge go, although she’d been planning to nurse it for some time.

  “I know you want to wait for Haig to get here, but I’d like to head out for Fort Coffee. It’ll take us days to get there as it is.”

  “But he’s got Grandma’s money.”

  “He’s spent it several times over by now.”

  “I don’t mean her exact money, but he ought to have enough to pay me back.”

  “Tell me how much and I’ll pay for him.”

  “Thank you. But that’s not the same. There’s a principle involved here.”

  “We don’t have time for principles.”

  “Maybe we should take time.”

  “I’m serious. We found the artist. We can find Haig on our way back.”

  She sighed, knowing he made sense but not wanting to lose the opportunity to catch Haig. Elmira and Lamira had a gold eagle and payment for a gown, so they wouldn’t go hungry. Lucky had supported her thus far without complaint. Oddly enough, she was picking up his urgency. Haig’s trade was in Indian Territory, so he wouldn’t just disappear.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  “Okay. You helped me. I’ll help you next. But I hate to lose Haig when he’s so close.”

  Lucky reached over and squeezed her hand. “We’ll get him. And it’ll be for more than money. We can get him thrown in jail.”

  “That’s exactly what I want. Justice.”

  “It’s one thing to sell whiskey to American outlaws who are hiding out here. It’s another to sell to Indians. That’s something Deputy U.S. Marshals will definitely want to know about.”

  “How do we find a deputy?”

  “If nothing else, we go to the courthouse in Fort Smith.”

  “Thanks.” She felt gratitude and warmth toward Lucky. She wished again that they hadn’t been interrupted when she was just learning the pleasures of being a man’s ladylove.

  “Shhhh.” He held up his hand. “Do you hear that?”

  She stopped and listened. She heard a rumbling in the west. “Is that a wagon coming our way?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why is everybody driving around in the dead of night out here?” She felt irritated for some reason. Maybe it was because she couldn’t seem to get a moment alone with Lucky, even when they were in the middle of nowhere.

  “Stay still. They won’t see us here.”

  “You don’t suppose . . . it couldn’t be Haig, could it?”

  “Not unless they’ve been driving those mules into the ground.”

  She felt a tingling in the Soleil Wheel over her heart. “I have a strange feeling it’s them.”

  “If it is, we’ve got the drop on them.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Draw your revolver.”

  As she eased her .32 out of its holster, she heard him slide his Winchester out of its saddle holster.

  “If that wagon is going to Burnt Boggy, it’ll have to slow almost to a stop to make the turn off the main road
. That’s when I’ll get a bead on the driver.”

  “And you want me to throw down on Haig?”

  “Just point your .32 in their direction. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “My hands are shaking so much I’m not sure if I can hold my gun steady.”

  “Brace your hands on your saddle horn. And stay quiet.”

  She clamped her teeth together, feeling shaky with chills. She wasn’t sure if she was scared or excited, but she knew she was exhilarated. She took deep breaths as she heard the wagon come closer. She was determined to be as cool and calm as Lucky. Maybe experience made all the difference.

  As moonlight washed over the wagon, she saw only one person sitting on the seat. He wore a cowboy hat and held the reins. She felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. If Haig wasn’t the driver, where was he? She wanted to point out the problem and ask Lucky, but she remained quiet. Then again, maybe Haig had gotten rid of the driver and taken over the reins.

  She realized she was holding her breath as the wagon slowed for the turn onto the Boggy River road. She quietly took a deep breath and prepared for action.

  The driver completed the turn and drew the mules to a stop. He picked up a canteen and took a drink.

  Lucky cocked his rifle and the sound was loud in the night. “I’d set that down real easy.”

  The driver dropped the canteen and threw up his hands. “Mister, you can have whatever I’ve got. Just let me live.”

  When Lucky glanced at Tempest, she shook her head to indicate that the man wasn’t Haig. He sounded like the driver they’d heard back at the creek.

  “What happened to your partner?” Lucky asked.

  “No partner of mine!” The man hawked and spit over the side of the wagon. “Damn fool about killed these mules in a race to get to Burnt Boggy.”

  “And?” Lucky prodded.

  “A few miles back he took a notion to forget the whole thing. He got down, got on the horse he had tied to the back of the wagon, and took off like greased lightnin’.”

  “What’s your name?” Lucky asked.

  “Rusty.” He gestured with his head toward the back of the wagon. “You can have this whole kit and caboodle. I don’t know your name and I can’t see your face. I’d be much obliged if you’d let me get down and walk back to Texas.”