The Blacksmith's Mail Order Bride (Wild West Frontier Brides Book 5) Read online

  Joseph plopped into his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. For the next hour, Jasmine tittered and regaled him with unwelcome information about her life in the most horrid, screechy voice he’d ever heard. If this was any indication of how things were going to go, he would have been much better off with the stale bread and water for supper—and wished he had chosen just that.

  Chapter 3

  Olivia wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her worn, calico dress, swiping at the salty beads that streamed down her face. It was so dusty here she never seemed to have a clean face, or clean hands. But it was the ranch she’d been born on and she had no intention of leaving, not even now.

  The cold, hard steel of the gun in her hand was comforting. In the hands of most people, it wouldn’t seem like much against the three riders she’d seen before she grabbed for it, making sure it was loaded as she crouched beneath the kitchen window. But she’d learned from the best, and knew she could hold her own better than most.

  She threw a handful of extra shells in the pocket of her dingy, gray apron and waited. The dirt floor shook with the thud of hooves as the trio of riders approached. She squeezed her eyes shut once more, wishing her pa were here to help her—at least take another shotgun and another vantage point. Then they might have a chance, and they’d done it plenty of times before. When her pa was alive, riders like this had steered clear of the Double Barrel ranch, hearing tell of the fate their compadres had met when they’d tried messing with the Blanchards. She only hoped that this time would be fast, and they’d either be on their way or not able to be. She was fine with either ending.

  She stood slowly, avoiding the window, and headed to the front door.

  “Olivia? Please don’t make trouble. Just give them what they want.” The older man dropped the curtain and stepped back from the window and shoved a lock of gray hair from his wrinkled face.

  “Shush, Percy. I know what I’m doing,” she said as she peeked out the window one last time and the horses galloped through the gates of the ranch. They’d soon reach the house, and she knew she needed to be ready.

  Cradling the shotgun in the crook of her arm, she took one last peek at Percy and glared at him.

  The riders didn’t slow their horses until the last minute She stifled a cough at the cloud of dust and tried to stand as stock still as she could. “Hold your own, Liv,” her pa had told her hundreds of times. “And you do that with more than just a gun. Your face, your shoulders, your voice. But you gotta do it if you’re gonna live out here.”

  She squinted up at the man in front as the three glared down at her, handkerchiefs covering the bottom of their faces. She sighed as she recognized the worn leather saddle of Jimmy Joe Walker, and again, if the situation hadn’t been so dicey she’d have laughed. What good does it to do wear a handkerchief over your face to try to be incognito yet ride for some dirty deed with your saddle branded with your initials, JJW? Not that it mattered. Everybody in these parts knew Jimmy Joe Walker for the coward he was.

  “Hate to ride up on you like this, Miss Blanchard, but we hear you have something we want, and we plan to take it.”

  “Is that right, Mr. Walker?” Olivia asked as she hitched the gun up further on her hip and his eyes grew bigger over the blue handkerchief that was tied to cover his nose and mouth.

  He slapped his thigh and pulled the handkerchief from his mouth as the other men did the same.

  “Dadgummit, Olivia, how’d you know it was me?” he said as he leaned forward on the horn of the saddle—just above his initials branded into the leather.

  Percy stepped closer behind her, his own shotgun resting loose in his hand. Olivia didn’t mind now that she knew who the men were—in fact, Percy and her father had played poker sometimes with Walker, so maybe Percy could talk some sense into him.

  “It wasn’t difficult,” she said as she thrust her chin toward his saddle. He sat up quickly and let out a sigh as he spied his own initials.

  “Oh, right. That,” he said as he wiped his forehead with handkerchief. “Next time I’ll borrow a saddle from somebody else.”

  “Next time?” she said as she gripped the shotgun more tightly. “What do you want, anyway? You’re not getting Pa’s inventory. I’ve told you that before. It’s promised to the mercantile in Tombstone.”

  “Now, now, Olivia, I believe I can offer you a sight more than Suzanne and James. Don’t you want to make as much money as you can?”

  Olivia looked past Walker’s straggly brown hair and dirt streaked face to the two mounds marked with crosses on the far side of the smokehouse. Olivia and her father had negotiated a price with the mercantile before he’d passed last spring, and it was a fair one. They’d been selling their smoked ham and bacon there for years, and as this was the last batch she and her pa had set up together, she had every intention of honoring his wishes.

  She reached in her pocket and felt for the note that her father had left her that said just that and she turned back to Jimmy Joe Walker.

  “Pa was very clear about what he wanted me to do, Mr. Walker, and I’m going to do it.”

  Walker scowled at her as he tugged his hat and slapped it on his thigh. He let out a sigh and picked up the reins he’d wrapped around the horn of his saddle as his horse shuffled in the dirt.

  “Percy, can’t you talk some sense into this woman?” he said as he studied the dirt under his fingernails.

  Olivia’s eyebrows rose as she turned to Percy. He shrugged at her and turned his wide eyes to Walker.

  “I don’t see how I could, Jimmy. Mr. Blanchard was pretty clear.”

  Walker rubbed the back of his neck and looked over at the smokehouse. “That inventory would be worth a whole lot more in Tucson. You two know that. And I’d be happy to be the middle man.”

  Olivia let out a sigh. She’d told him no at least three times, and it didn’t seem he was ever going to understand. She lifted the shotgun up higher and aimed it in his direction.

  “I’m going to say this one more time. No.”

  He sat up tall in the saddle, his palms held out toward her. “All right, all right. I see you don’t want to discuss it any further today. We’ll let you get back to your day, ma’am,” he said as he tipped his hat in her direction, his gold front tooth shining with his attempt at a smile.

  He nodded his head toward his men and turned his horse back toward the gate. “Let me know when you change your mind,” he said over his shoulder as he spurred the horse down the canyon that led to the ranch.

  Chapter 4

  Olivia reached for her gloves and shoved them into her pocket. She’d been dreading this trip for days—for the most part. She didn’t like to go into town much at all, but was glad that she at least would get to see her friends, Sadie and Suzanne, as it was time to discuss the meat that would be ready soon.

  The thought crossed her mind that maybe she should take Percy with her—hadn’t he mentioned he’d seen Indians a while back on his last trip to town? Yes, she thought he had. But instead of inviting Percy to come with her, she reached for the double-barreled shotgun instead. She’d be just fine, and Percy needed to stay and watch over things at the ranch. With all that meat in the smokehouse—worth a pretty penny, at that—she couldn’t afford to leave the ranch unattended.

  The ride into town took a fair while, and she took care to leave as soon as the sun came up so she’d be able to make it home the same day. Sometimes, she spent the night at a hotel but today, she hadn’t wanted to take the time—or spend the money. She jingled the meager coins in her reticule—not many to spare this time of year.

  The crystal blue sky held for her entire trip and she hoped that today wouldn’t be a heavy monsoon day, even though she’d chosen to bring the covered buggy just in case. She’d actually enjoyed the trip, traveling down from the mountains into the valley, crossing the San Pedro River and ascending the small hills that surrounded Tombstone.

  By the time she arrived at the mercantile, she was quite hungry. A
nd even though she was counting her pennies for a few more weeks, the alluring aroma wafting from the Occidental convinced her she’d at least need a meat pie for her trip back, Sadie’s specialty.

  A plume of dust crept up her nose as the horses shook off the wear of the ride. Olivia sneezed and pulled her handkerchief from the long sleeve of her dress. Wiping the dust from her face, she squared her shoulders, warding off the shiver that washed over her as she remembered the visit from that ridiculous Mr. Walker. Just a few more days, she reminded herself, and it would all be over. For this year, at least. If she could make arrangements with Sadie and Suzanne and Percy could hold down the fort, she’d have some breathing room for the rest of the year and the ranch would be safe.

  The white handkerchief was covered in dust by the time she’d poured some water into it and wiped her face as clean as she could. Maybe a bit of rain would have been helpful, although then she’d be sopping wet. It was always one or the other, it seemed, living on the ranch. Covered in dust or soaking wet.

  She gathered her reticule and the list of available inventory she’d carefully written out by candlelight the night before and prepared herself for her negotiations with Suzanne. It really wasn’t much of a negotiation, really, since her father had built the business and it was more of an annual ritual. But she wanted to be ready as this was the first year she’d done it on her own. She’d accompanied her father and knew what to ask about, but this was her first time meeting with the owners of the mercantile alone. Yes, they were friends, but business was business.

  She looked up and down the street, wondering about leaving her shotgun in the back of the buggy while she stepped inside. Her stomach grumbled again as she caught a whiff of Sadie’s meat pies wafting from the door of the Occidental restaurant next door. As she shuffled the papers and her bag in her arms and turned to head on inside, she hung her head at the familiar voice from the man standing on the boardwalk.

  “Well, pretty lady. Guess you’re here to talk about the inventory at Double Barrel Ranch,” Jimmy Joe Walker said as he hooked his thumbs in his worn, leather belt. “I’m open for any discussion you might wish to have. About anything.”

  Her stomach turned as he winked at her, his greasy hair falling over his eyes. Olivia slowly untied her bonnet and removed it carefully, setting it on the seat of the buggy. She flipped her braids over her shoulder—she hadn’t bothered to pin her hair up today—and was glad she hadn’t. She’d learned long ago that the wide brim didn’t help much with visibility, and from the sound of the man’s voice, she’d need to see what was coming at her. She never expected this kind of thing when she was in town, and her stomach clenched as she reached over into the back of the buggy and rested her hand on her shotgun.

  Her fingers played over the cool steel as she looked up into the eyes of the man who’d addressed her and smiled.

  “Good day, Mr. Walker. How unusual to see you here in town rather than at the ranch for a change.”

  Walker took a step back and squinted at Olivia. She quickly looked up and down the boardwalk, and realized that he’d likely not been expecting her as his ruffians weren’t with him.

  “Why, Olivia, I just came out to have a friendly conversation. Your father and I were friends, after all. And of course, Percy and I go way back.”

  She stifled a laugh and took another glance down the boardwalk. He couldn’t possibly be so stupid that he didn’t realize her father would never befriend the likes of him. He was horrid from head to toe, including the belly that drooped down over his belt buckle with his initials on it.

  “Don’t believe you’ve been invited since Pa died, and I’d thank you to remember that before you come out again. You’re not welcome. Not to talk about the inventory or anything else.” She gripped the barrel of the shotgun and wiggled the fingers of her free hand, hoping he wouldn’t force the issue here. Right in the middle of Allen Street, the busiest one in Tombstone.

  He took a step forward as he glared down at her from the boardwalk, his black eyes flashing. “Now you see here, missy. Your father promised me that...”

  Olivia knew full well her father had promised no such thing, even though Percy had suggested they might try to strike a deal with Walker, one that might be better than what she could get from Suzanne. But she knew it wasn’t true—she had the last letter her father had written to prove it, although she’d not shown it to anyone. She reached into her sleeve and felt the comforting crinkle of paper, just to make sure she’d brought it with her.

  “Is there a problem here?”

  Olivia looked up quickly to see who’d spoken, and her eyes widened at the sight of the two brothers who owned the blacksmith shop. She’d stopped in a few times, but neither one of them had spoken much. She’d heard that Will, the younger brother, had recently married a girl in a chair with wheels but she hadn’t been into town for a long time. Percy’d told her after he’d returned several weeks ago.

  Next to him stood his brother—what was his name? Joe? She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t need either one of them interfering in her business.

  “Thank you, no. Mr. Walker will be moving along now.” Olivia lifted the shotgun out of the buggy as she sighed. It seemed no matter what she tried, there had been trouble since her father passed. He’d hoped Percy could help her, but he’d turned out to be as lazy as the other hands they’d hired. Seemed she just needed to do things on her own.

  “I beg to differ, Miss Blanchard. We do, indeed, have business to discuss,” Walker said as he turned to glare at the blacksmiths.

  She hitched the shotgun on her hip, pointing it at the ground for now, but prepared to do whatever she needed to do to get this man out of her way. She’d come to meet with Suzanne and conclude her business, and she wouldn’t let anyone—especially a scoundrel like this—stand in her way.

  Walker took a step forward and leaned in. “Don’t think just because we’re in town I can’t make my wishes known, young lady.”

  “Hold on there, Mr. Walker,” the younger blacksmith said as he walked forward, his palms outward.

  “Take a step back,” his brother said as he followed behind. He glanced at Olivia as he cocked his head and pushed his hat up on his forehead.

  Walker blinked a couple of times as he stared at Olivia, and then he looked up at the two brothers. He broke into a smile and Olivia thought maybe it was the most insincere one she’d ever seen as he held his hands out toward the men, palms out.

  “Nothing going on here, gentlemen. Just having a little friendly conversation with the lady. I’ll be on my way.” He nodded at Olivia as he turned away from the mercantile. “We can continue our conversation at a later date, Miss Blanchard.”

  Olivia thrust out her chin and squared her shoulders. “Nothing to talk about. Don’t bother,” she said as he headed down Allen Street, frowning as he glanced at the blacksmiths over his shoulder.

  “You all right, ma’am?” the younger brother asked as he strode down the wooden stairs of the boardwalk, his boots raising another plume of dust.

  Olivia nodded and smiled up at him. “Yes, thank you. I’d have been fine, but it seems that he scooted along faster since you arrived.”

  “I imagine the shotgun didn’t hurt,” the other brother—Joe—said. Both he and his brother hadn’t taken their eyes off her gun and she frowned down at it.

  “I suppose it didn’t hurt, no.” She looked up at Joe and cocked her head. His soft, brown eyes shifted from the shotgun to hers. Why would they be so interested in her shotgun? They were blacksmiths—surely they saw and worked on guns all the time?

  Either way, she supposed it had been helpful to have them help hustle Walker on his way. Her father had warned her about him, and until the inventory was safely at the mercantile, she preferred not to see him—at all.

  Chapter 5

  Joe Stanton followed his brother into the Occidental restaurant but couldn’t help but take one last look at the young woman in the street as she placed her shotgun bac
k in the buggy and covered it with a blanket. She was vaguely familiar to him but he wasn’t quite sure where he’d met her before. It was likely in the blacksmith shop, and as he thought of it, he did remember that he’d been struck several times by her deep, green eyes and confident manner. Now, once again as she stared down Jimmy Joe Walker.

  He tore his attention away from her with some difficulty, wondering what her altercation with that no-good Walker had been about. He was well known for shady dealings and high-handed tactics, and had been on the wrong side of the law more than once. But he’d never been run out of town as his mother and aunt had often wished for—sometimes quite adamantly at town hall meetings, he remembered. With what he knew about the man, he was pretty sure that he was up to no good with the young lady, and wished he could have helped a little more.

  He would have if needed, but every time he thought to step into something that seemed like it was going south, his mother’s voice rang in his ears. “Your father was always helping people, and look where it got him. Just leave well enough alone, Joe. It never turns out right.”

  He took off his hat and pushed the thought from his mind. He smiled at Sadie and inhaled deeply, his stomach grumbling. Will and Carol had been in Chicago for several weeks as Will trained in silversmithing, and he’d been working long, hard hours alone at the shop. When Will came in and offered an opportunity to hear about the trip and a lunch at the Occidental, he’d jumped at the chance.

  “It’s great to see you, Sadie,” Will said as he nodded in Sadie’s direction, his eyebrows rose as he looked everywhere but her swelling belly.

  “Nice to see you, too, Will. Haven’t seen you since the wedding. How’s Carol, and how was your time in Chicago?”