His Rip-Roarin' Bride by Martha Hix

Author:Martha Hix [Hix, Martha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hewlett-Packard
Published: 2017-03-28T18:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4

Escorting Lisa-Ann Wilkins on their approach to the jailhouse, Wes Alington searched his head and heart for the best way to deal with the moment. Their relationship had taken such a turn, with his feelings for her completely changed. He’d started this Saturday wanting to assist a woman in need. An intriguing woman, of course, and one he desired in the most carnal of ways, but he hadn’t been convinced of her honesty. That crap about a Hessian count for a father? Ludicrous. Or so it had seemed. Before the pistol box.

He now had a penniless but proud woman on his hands.

“What’s next for you, Lisa-Ann? What would you like for your ‘next’ to be?”

“Obviously I didn’t take that into consideration when I entered Scarlet Garter Jenny’s Saloon.”

“Obviously.”

The very moment he led Lisa-Ann into his section of the jail, he peppered Deputy Dub with orders. “Go to the café. Get us some food that will make us happy. Blackberry cobbler, if they have any left. Buttermilk pie, if they don’t. And coffee, lots of coffee. Not that stuff we make here. Get it fresh, with all the trimmings. Take your time.” He reached into his desk drawer to extract a cache of greenbacks. “Before you do, take this money by Jenny Benoit. Get her to sign a receipt. Then do what you can to catch Fleming Hanson before he leaves town. He’ll probably be taking his usual after-court nap in his chambers.”

“Don’t you want me to wait until A.J. gets back?”

“No.”

“Okay, ’bye. See y’all when I get back from the Jerry & Larry.”

Once it was just the two of them in the jail, Wes asked Lisa-Ann, “Why the glum face? Aren’t you happy at winning your case?”

“What do I have to do to get my coat back? And Pepaw’s rifle, and my six-guns?”

“Those guns are worthless.”

“I had to trade four goats for those six-shooters and ammunition.”

Wes opened his mouth to say something, but quickly reconsidered pointing out her lack as a trader.

“What about my coat?” she asked.

“Forget the coat. I told Dub to take that thing to the livery stable. John Vinson has a couple of milk cows. There’s a herd of barn cats hanging around, hoping for spilled milk. They do seem to enjoy snuggling into that coat of yours.”

“Pepaw had that coat when he hunted buffalo in New Mexico Territory!”

“Your grandfather definitely got a lot of use out of it.” He paused. “Don’t you like the mouton coat Jewel Bellingham found for you?” It had not come cheap. In fact, Wes had sent to New York for it, as a present for his sister, but it hadn’t arrived in time for Christmas.

“I don’t like taking charity.” Lisa-Ann appeared on the verge of tears. “I’m hundreds of miles from the only home I’ve ever known. A home that now stands empty, the livestock sold off, and all my people are either dead or locked away forever.”

“Locked away forever?”

“I can’t talk about that. Not now. It’s too much, much too much.

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