Rescuing the Kidnapped Bride (Preview)

Chapter One

“Oh!”

The stagecoach crashed violently over a rock in the road, and Marian Hamilton was catapulted into the arms of the sandy-haired, fresh-faced young cowboy sitting opposite her in the coach. She landed on his chest in an embarrassing confusion of velvet and lace, her face hot with chagrin. But the fellow helped her back into her own seat with a tip of his hat and a courteous apology.

“I’m sorry, miss,” he told her softly. “I didn’t mean to bump into you. The roads up here leave a lot to be desired.”

Marian shot him a grateful glance. The young man’s eyes looked a bit mischievous, but his charming courtesy put her entirely at ease.

She righted her hat, which was askew over one eye. “They do indeed,” she replied wryly, curling her gloved fingers around a leather strap hanging from the ceiling. The stagecoach crashed over another rock and everyone inside bounced off the ceiling, then fell abruptly into their seats.

The graybeard driver leaned down to yell, “Whee! Hang on, everybody!”

Marian shot an exasperated glance at the Rocky Mountains, visible just outside the stage window. That beautiful, snow-capped range was making the trip to their next stagecoach stop, the aptly named town of Bumpy Buggy, a sharp test of patience.

But in her case, that test was almost over. Bumpy Buggy was only one stop away from her destination: the remote mountain town of Skyline, Colorado. She’d never been there before, and from all she could tell it was unremarkable except for its proximity to a few remote mines and good bear hunting.

The only thing that recommended it to her was that her new husband lived there.

The coach bounced again, this time sending the toe of her boot smartly into the cowboy’s shins. She made a face. “I’m so sorry, Mister…”

The man rubbed his leg, then touched his hat. “Folks call me Jack. Jack Fletcher.”

She extended her hand, and the young man shook it. “I’m Marian Hamilton.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am. Where you from, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Marian suffered a flicker of homesickness but replied with as serene a smile as she could. “I’m from New Orleans, Mr. Fletcher. My late husband and I lived there until a year ago.”

The man’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that he passed.”

Marian acknowledged the condolences with a nod. “We had a good life together.” She sighed and glanced out the window. “We enjoyed each other’s company and we had a wonderful time.”

The young man nodded kindly. “That’s more than a lot of folks can say.” He tilted his head and added politely: “You got any people out here in Colorado, Miz Hamilton?”

Marian gave him an amused glance. “Relatives? Oh, no. Or at least, not yet. I’m coming out to meet my fiancé.”

The young man’s lower lip fell slightly and he raised his brows. “Oh…congratulations.”

Marian nodded primly, and she conjured her fiancé up in her mind. The daguerreotype he’d mailed her had shown him to be square-jawed, broad-shouldered, and stubborn-looking, but quite handsome. He had a thick shock of curling black hair, straight dark brows, and bright eyes that bored directly into the camera, as if he was challenging the photographer.

“My intended is Mr. Cash Connor of the town of Skyline. He’s a handsome fellow, even if he is a little woolly-looking. Too much mustache,” she confided with a laugh. “I’ll have to work on him about that.”

The young man’s jaw dropped in surprise. “Cash… Connor?” he stammered.

Marian smiled at him. “Yes. Do you know him?”

The man pulled a hand across his jaw and shot her a respectful look. “Not personally, ma’am. But… Cash is pretty well known by reputation. In… certain circles.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice. I look forward to meeting his friends.”

The young man glanced at her but said nothing more, and the swaying coach fell as silent as was possible over that rocky road.

Marian pressed her migrating hat to her head and stared out the bouncing window. “It looks like we’re picking up more passengers,” she remarked, and the cowboy sat bolt upright and leaned out the window. 

There were six men on horseback waiting at the crest of the high, rocky road ahead.

The man scrabbled in his jacket and yelled, “Road agents!” But he barely had a chance to pull his gun before there was a volley of shots outside, followed by the sound of horses screaming, and the whole coach was suddenly overthrown and flipped onto its side with a shattering bang and crash.

Marian was hurled against her neighbors. She flew into the portly man beside her and jolted his hat off his head. The man’s elbow smashed across her temples, and she saw a vivid constellation of stars, and then nothing.

* * * * *

She wakened to the sound of groans, a throbbing pain in her head, and the sight of one coach wheel spinning uselessly in the air above her. She slowly realized she was entangled with her neighbors: the portly man’s arm was thrown over her head, the cowboy’s long leg was lying across her waist, and her own boot was sticking up into the air as if she was trying to show it off.

A sudden, vivid pop of gunfire outside alarmed her enough to struggle up to a sitting position. She pushed the cowboy’s leg away, and he groaned from somewhere in that tangle of bodies as she climbed up to the window.

Marian curled her fingers over the rim and peered out. The stagecoach was lying on its side, dangerously close to the lip of a cliff. Both of the horses had been shot dead and were lying on the stony road, and a gang of masked men were in the process of tying up the elderly driver.

A rough voice barked, “Get the strongbox!”

A couple of the men hurried to fetch it. One nodded toward the coach and asked, “What about them?”

“Leave ‘em. Let’s go!”

“What about her?”

Marian gasped and realized, too late, that they’d seen her. She dove back down into the coach, but a moment later the door was thrown open and rough hands grabbed her by the arms and dragged her out.

She was flung rudely onto the ground, and the bandits laughed to see her brush her hair out of her face. The apparent leader looked at her and drawled, “Well, what have we got here? That’s a fancy-dressed woman for these parts.”

One of the others turned to him. “Hey, why don’t we take her with us? Might get some ransom money for her, if she’s got a husband. If she ain’t, we could sell her to the miners up in Sawtooth Gap.”

Marian’s mouth fell open in horror as the leader gave her an appraising glance. “She is good-looking,” he mused, then nodded. “All right, throw her up behind me and let’s go. We’re wasting time.”

One of the men walked over, jerked her to her feet, and marched her over to the man’s horse before throwing her roughly into the saddle. The bandit leader kicked his mount in the ribs and it took off with a jolt. She had to grab his jacket to keep from being thrown over the back of the horse.

But she looked back at the smashed coach as she was carried off, and the cowboy’s blonde head was rising over the rim of the open window. He watched them go with a thunderous frown, and Marian held his eye in silent appeal until the curve of the road hid him from sight.

Chapter Two

Cash Connor raised a dark eyebrow and watched in mild amazement as his boys wolfed down the last of their dinner. It was lucky for him that he had teenage boys with bottomless stomachs. He was no cook, but they’d pretty much eat anything.

Well, hopefully things would change for all of them soon. He’d talked to the boys about it. He’d told them that they’d soon have… well, not a new mother, but hopefully a new friend. His mail-order bride from the East—a beautiful young widow from New Orleans.

It had been three years since his wife had died, and he’d lingered with Sarah’s memory as long as he’d needed to. He’d finally been able to say goodbye. It had been a rough few years, but it was time to come back to the living. And to his relief, his sons seemed to be all right with that.

Luke glanced up at him through his hair. “Got any more beans?”

Cash rose to go into the kitchen. He lifted the pot of beans off the stove and carried it back to the dinner table in the front room of their cabin. He poured the rest of the beans onto Luke’s plate, and his oldest tucked in with renewed gusto. Cash glanced over at Dylan.

“What about you?”

Dylan pushed back from the table and rubbed his stomach. “I’m good.” He stretched big and yawned. “I’m turning in.”

“Not yet,” Cash corrected, with a nod toward the kitchen. “I cook, you boys wash. It’s your turn tonight.”

Luke turned to his brother with a grin. “Nice try.” He chuckled and Dylan hit him on the arm before standing up and shuffling off reluctantly.

Cash reached for the dinner dishes and was just about to carry them into the kitchen when the sound of boots on the porch made him drop the plates with a clatter and grab for the shotgun over the fireplace. They almost never got visitors, and with his past, that was the way he liked it.

Whoever was outside pounded on their door. Cash racked the shotgun and pointed it at the unseen stranger on the other side.

“Who is it?”

There was no answer, and Cash frowned and waited. There was a second knock, then a sliding sound and a thump.

Luke walked toward the door, and Cash barked, “Get back!” He held the shotgun out in front of him, walked slowly to the door, and unbolted it. 

A stranger was lying face down on their front porch with one hand still reaching out for the door. Cash swept the porch and the yard with his eyes. It was a moonlit night, almost bright as day out, and their yard was empty.

He propped the shotgun against the wall and grunted, “Help me get him in, Luke. Grab his legs.”

Luke helped him hoist the stranger up and carry him into the cabin. They laid him down on the floor and Cash returned to the doorway, scanned the night outside, and locked the door behind him.

Luke was kneeling down beside the stranger and lifted frowning eyes. “Look, Pa,” he said and opened the cowboy’s coat. The whole front of the man’s shirt was spattered with blood, and his hands and knuckles were scraped raw. “He’s pretty busted up. Do you know him?”

Cash frowned at the man’s unconscious face. “No. He’s a stranger to me.”

“Reckon he was out hunting and got clawed by a bear?”

Cash bent down and flicked the man’s coat open. “A bear would’ve killed him.” His glance moved down to the man’s feet. “He’s walked a long way. His boots are all torn up.”

“Must’ve got lost in the mountains,” Luke thought aloud, and Dylan appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“What’s going on?”

“Get the whiskey from the medicine cabinet,” Cash told him. “And a wet rag.”

Dylan leaned over the table to peer at the stranger. “Who’s that?”

“Do what I say, now. Hurry!”

Cash knelt down beside the man and opened his collar. Dylan returned with the soaked rag and Cash swiped it over the scrapes on the man’s neck and chest. The cold water seemed to rouse the stranger, and his eyes fluttered open. He looked up with a dazed expression.

Cash frowned at him. “Who are you, and why’d you come here?”

The light of reason slowly returned to the young man’s eyes. He coughed and struggled to sit up, but Cash pressed him down.

“Lie still. Who are you?”

The cowboy clenched his fists. “They told me this was… where you lived,” he whispered. “You’re Cash Connor, ain’t you?”

Cash’s mood darkened. “That’s right. What do you want with me?”

The man gasped, “You… expecting a woman up here? A lady named… Marian?”

Cash frowned at him. “Why, has something happened? Is she all right?”

The cowboy shook his head. “No, she ain’t all right. That’s… why I came.”

“What happened? Where is she?”

Dylan returned with the whiskey, and Cash pressed the opened bottle to the man’s lips. He took a swallow and closed his eyes.

“What happened to you?”

The man whispered, “We were coming up to Skyline on the stagecoach. Had almost got here, was going over the shoulder of Bald Mountain when… a gang of road agents robbed the stage.”

Fear slapped Cash like a hand across his jaw. “Is Marian alive?”

The man shook his head. “She was when I last saw her, but… that was two days ago. They shot the horses and left us to get back the best way we could. Least, they left the men in the coach.” 

The cowboy opened his eyes and raised them to his.

“They took her with ‘em.”

Cash felt the blood draining from his face, and his two sons turned to look at him in stricken silence. He set his jaw and pushed down all the things that were surging up in him, clawing to come out. Fear for Marian. Anger. Pity for that sweet-faced young woman who’d come so far to start a new life with him. Anger again, the urge to…

“It’s too dark to go after ‘em tonight,” he muttered. “I’ll set out at dawn.”

The young man gripped his arm. “I’ll come with you. I just need to rest. I’ve been walking these mountains for two days!”

Cash nodded to humor the fellow. He was willing to put the stranger on a horse and lead him down the mountain, into town where there was a doctor. After that, he was going on alone.

“Sure,” he answered in a soothing tone. “Let’s get you a place to sleep. Luke, we’ll take him into your room. You can bunk up with your brother tonight.” He turned back to the man. “Can you stand?”

The fellow roused up a bit. “I think so, if you help me.”

Cash pressed his shoulder under the man’s arm and helped him to stand. Luke took the stranger’s other arm and they walked him slowly to the back of the cabin. Luke’s bedroom was the first door in the hall.

They sat him down on the narrow bed and helped him back onto the pillow. The fellow rolled his eyes up as he relaxed. “I’ve been dreaming of this for days,” he sighed.

Cash turned to Luke and nodded toward the door. “I’ll take it from here. You and Dylan go on to bed.”

Luke rubbed the back of his neck and made a face, but obeyed. And as soon as the door closed behind him, Cash narrowed his eyes and started to grill his strange guest.

“Tell me everything you remember about those bandits. How many of them were there?”

The young man raised an eyebrow. “I saw about six or seven. The crash knocked out my lights, and by the time I came around, they were already leaving. They took the strongbox and shot the horses to keep us from coming after ‘em, but they left everybody alive.”

“What did they look like?”

“White men. About my age, or a little older. Nobody over forty, I’d say, but they’d all tied rags over their faces.”

“Anything that stuck out? Clothes, horses, guns?”

“I only got a glimpse, but they were dressed like cowboys, like anybody else around here. They were carrying rifles and sawed-offs, pretty good hardware. Looked new. The horses were nothing special, but they looked fresh. They took off pretty fast, anyway.”

Cash fell silent, but finally asked, “Did they say anything?”

“Not much that I heard. One of ‘em seemed to be the leader, he had a big voice. That’s why I heard him from the coach, but all he said was, ‘We’re wasting time.’” He paused and glanced up at him. “Your fiancée was on the horse behind him.”

Cash bit his lip into an angry line. “Was she hurt?”

“Not that I saw,” his guest replied. “We were all busted up in the crash, but she must’ve been able to climb up onto a horse, at least. She didn’t look like she had any broken bones or cuts, but I only saw her before they rode off.”

Cash stared down at the man and demanded, “What’s your name?”

The young man closed his eyes. “Jack Fletcher.”

Cash crossed his arms. That wasn’t good news. “I’ve heard of you,” he grunted. “What are you doing way up here in the mountains? The good money’s in the boomtowns. Denver. Leadville.”

The ghost of a smile dawned over the young man’s face. “Most times,” he agreed. “But somebody don’t like your sheriff.”

Cash raised an eyebrow. “Most people don’t like our sheriff,” he retorted. “But if you’re here for him, you’re in for lively times, boy. He’s hired a few guns of his own.”

“I’m not worried about that.” He shrugged, then rubbed one shoulder with a rueful expression.

“If you’re on a job, why did you go to all this trouble to help us?” Cash pressed with a frown. “I’m glad you did, but what does a man like you care about a pair of strangers?”

The look in the man’s eye hardened. “Maybe I don’t like having my stagecoach knocked halfway off a mountain. Maybe I don’t like getting busted up. Maybe I don’t think a nice lady deserves to be dragged off like a—” He broke off and looked away.

Cash frowned and nodded. “You get a good night’s sleep, Jack. I’ll wake you tomorrow morning and we’ll leave bright and early.”

“Suits me.”

Cash walked out into the hall and down to his own bedroom. He closed the door behind him with a troubled mind.

Jack Fletcher was a gun for hire out of Dallas. He’d made a name for himself for his lightning-fast draw and for walking on the razor’s edge of the law. He’d killed five outlaws between Texas and Colorado—that were known—and had set up his showdowns to look like self-defense. He hadn’t seen a jail cell so far, and that was impressive, but Jack was a bit of a cowboy, too. Some of the papers called him “Gentleman Jack” because of his fondness for the occasional extravagant gesture.

Not that Cash was complaining. He’d just been handed a big one. Or at least, that was what he was going to assume until he found out different.

And it was entirely possible that he would.

Cash lighted the bedside lamp and sank down onto the mattress. There was a small daguerreotype propped against the lamp, a picture of a beautiful young woman with an oval face, delicate features, and jet-black hair. There was a sheaf of letters beside it on the table, and he unfolded one and re-read its strong, graceful handwriting with a frown.

It won’t be the same for either of us as our first marriages, of course. There’s a time for falling stars and crazy dreams and being head over heels in love. But there’s a time for quietness and companionship, too. My husband always called me a sensible woman, Cash, and I think you’ll find that I am.

I think we’ll be more friends than wild lovers. I naturally wouldn’t object to being wrong.

Cash felt the corner of his mouth curling up, then frowned and threw the letter aside. He rubbed the throbbing spot between his eyes and tried to block his imagination from showing him all the things he didn’t want to see.

He didn’t know if he’d be able to rescue Marian, but if there was anything that could yank him out of retirement, this was it. He’d once been called the best bounty hunter in the West, and even if it had been a couple of years since he’d strapped on a gun, one thing he knew for sure.

He was going to find Marian, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go. And the men who’d taken her might not know it yet, but they were all dead men.