Hope, page 1
part #3 of Brides of the Rio Grande Series
Hope
BRIDES OF THE Rio Grande
Peggy McKenzie
Copyright 2019 by Peggy McKenzie
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means , including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design-Dar Dixon @ Wicked Smart Designs
Editor-Julia Tague
About this book
BOOK THREE
BRIDES OF THE RIO GRANDE SERIES
Hope Anderson has been in love with Creede’s bad boy since the first moment she laid eyes on him. And now, he’s given her every indication he’s going to propose. So what’s the problem? He confessed in front of the whole town that he cheated with his best friend’s wife and that he’s the reason she and her newborn son are dead. Hope loves Billy in spite of his obvious flaws, but can she ever trust him to be her devoted husband or forgive him for betraying his friend?
Billy Buchanan knows what most people think about him. He can see it in their faces. And yet, he would do everything all over again if he could keep his best friend from knowing the ugly truth about what really happened that day. But now the only other person who knows the truth is back in town and itching to cause trouble. Can Billy win Hope’s love and keep his secret, or will he have to choose between his best friend’s happiness and his own?
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
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About the Author
Charity-Brides of the Rio Grande - Book 4
The End
1
Creede, Colorado
December, 1885
“Give me the gun, it’s my turn to plug him full of holes.” Hope Anderson stood beside her adopted sister, Charity Montgomery, and held her palm open to accept the gun. Chilly and clear, the December mountain air, mixed with the acrid smell of gunpowder, filled Hope’s nostrils.
Her red-headed sister reluctantly handed over the still smoking Colt Peacemaker with a bit of advice.
“Okay. But remember, you don’t jerk the trigger. You squeeze it, slow and steady. Just—"
“I know. Just squeeeeeeze.” Hope strung out the word and smiled at her sister’s dogged determination to teach her how to shoot.
Charity grinned back. “That’s right. Now, put a bullet right between that sidewinder’s eyes.” Charity stood beside Hope and stuck her fingers in her ears.
“A little blood thirsty, aren’t you?” Hope turned to look at her sister but kept the pistol pointing at the man on the barn.
“Maybe just a little bit, but I like to see a man put in his place when he’s been bad.”
Hope knew her sister well enough to know she didn’t want to hear the story behind that statement. So instead of further conversation, she turned toward the target and wrapped her right hand around the butt of the heavy gun and then her left hand.
Her outstretched arms quivered a bit before she steadied them enough to look down the sights of the long-barreled pistol. Could she do it? Could she really put a bullet in the space between the man’s eyes? Her finger on the trigger, Hope focused on the man’s face drawn on the side of the old abandoned barn just outside of Creede. She squeezed pressure against the trigger bit by bit and braced for the moment when the bullet left the gun. Just one more tiny little squeeze and—
“What’s all the shootin’ about? Someone in trouble?” The sound of the unexpected deep baritone voice startled Hope. Her finger squeezed the trigger and the pistol exploded, sending a bullet—well, she wasn’t certain exactly where it went.
Hope spun around to face the owner of the familiar voice. Unfortunately for everyone, the pistol in her hand followed.
Sheriff Miles Grayson put up his hands. So, did the devastatingly handsome man standing beside him.
Too late, she realized she still had a loaded gun in her hand and it was pointed straight at the tin star on the lawman’s chest. “Sheriff Grayson,” she whispered.
Charity reached over and grabbed the gun from her hand. “Dang it, Hope. I thought I taught you better ‘n that. You don’t go pointin’ a loaded pistol at a man unless you plan on killing him. You are gonna get someone killed, and it is liable to be you if you keep drawin’ down on a lawman.”
Charity slipped the pistol back into the holster she wore low on her hip and faced the two men standing in front of them. She shot Hope a look that said, “now look what you’ve done.”
Embarrassment colored Hope’s face. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t meaning to point the gun at you. I was—well, you startled me, Sheriff. I wasn’t expecting…anyone.”
She turned her attention to the other man standing alongside the sheriff.
“Hello, Billy.” Her voice sounded breathy even to her own ears.
“Hello, Hope.” Her heart fluttered in her chest when the man’s deep blue eyes gazed down at her. Billy Buchanan was the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on. His even white teeth peeked at her through the scruff of a day-old beard which did nothing to hide his twin dimples. She felt a little weak at the knees. But she reminded herself Billy Buchanan wasn’t the man for her. He had admitted to trying to steal his best friend’s wife, who ultimately died, along with his friend’s unborn child.
“Are either of you…ladies gonna answer my question?” Sheriff Grayson walked closer and looked in the direction she and Charity had been shooting.
Hope understood the sheriff’s hesitation. No one in this part of the country would consider her or her sister a lady. But, as always, the sheriff was much too nice to say something about that fact in front of her always unpredictable sister.
Hope watched her chatty sister’s tongue lock up in the presence of the sheriff. It was as if she took on the qualities of those fainting goats old man Edwards brought from his former home in Tennessee. It was the strangest thing Hope had ever seen, but the resemblance to her sister was noteworthy when the sheriff was nearby. Hope smothered a grin behind her gloved hand.
Since it didn’t seem like Charity was going to regain her ability to speak anytime soon, Hope answered for the both of them. “Good afternoon, Sheriff Grayson. We were just, I mean Charity was teaching me how to use a pistol. You know, in case I ever needed to defend myself.”
“I see. Well, that’s an admirable quality. I suppose.” Sheriff Grayson’s voice drifted lower and Hope was certain he realized too late he almost gave her sister a compliment. “But, why not leave the protectin’ to us men, next time. A woman with a gun can be, shall we say, problematic.”
“Why? I would never point a gun at either one of you, at least not intentionally.” Hope was mortified the sheriff would think she was capable of shooting someone. But everyone in town knew another of her adopted sisters, Faith, had shot a man to death, and her sister Grace took the blame for it, so it would stand to reason the sheriff and the folks of Creede would think her capable of violence too.
Billy walked up to her and grinned. He smelled of sunshine and horses and leather. It was a heady combination that made her feel things way down low. Things a proper young woman shouldn’t be thinking about, and she went to great lengths to appear she was every bit the proper young woman regardless what her bloodline might indicate. She worked hard to follow society’s rules. It was important to her that she not be compared to the mother she never knew—a Kansas City prostitute who left her newborn daughter on the steps of a rundown orphanage.
“Look at your target down there, Hope.” Billy said, pulling her from her uncomplimentary thoughts. “Makes a man want to run right out of his boots.”
She turned and looked at the target painted on the old barn wall. “I don’t see anything—” she stopped short when she saw exactly what Billy was referring to. Instead of hitting her intended target between the eyes, she saw a hole gouged out of the wood at the apex between the painted man’s legs. “Oh.” Once again, embarrassment heated her face.
Hope turned back toward the men and tried to avoid meeting their amused gazes. Instead, she chose to focus on the mountains in the distance. Then the pine trees. Anything other than their faces. She even looked past them down the road toward town, but her eyes made up their own mind about where to focus and it was most embarrassingly the same southern point she just shot from the boot black target on the barn wall. Except this southern point was very real and attached to the man who was aware of where her eyes had drifted, if the knowing grin on his face was any indication of what was going through his mind.
Her face felt as if she stood over the blacksmith’s bellows. She wondered if this moment could grow any worse. And then her sister somehow found her voice and she realized, yes it could get worse. Much, much worse.
“Now, Sheriff, wouldn t you say there’s no better way to stop a man in his tracks than to remove his most prized possessions? And I don’t have to spell out which prized possessions I’m talkin’ about, now do I?”
Hope watched the sheriff’s face morph from shock to neutral to something close to amusement, although the man never cracked a smile. And he didn’t answer right away either. If Hope was a betting person, and she had been known to bet on a sure thing once or twice, although she would never admit to gambling in front of the respectable ladies of the town, the man was pickin’ and choosin’ his words so as not to offend or encourage her wild and unconventional sister.
Hope darted a guarded look at Billy who was grinning from one ear to the other. He caught her gaze and she couldn’t help but grin back at his breathtaking smile. She admonished herself for flirting. It was especially disconcerting to her that she was attracted to the man. He wasn’t someone she should be associated with. He wasn’t suitable husband material, to her great disappointment.
“Well, Sheriff. Am I right?” Her sister was never one to let go of an argument if there was a chance she could wear down her opponent.
Sheriff Grayson finally answered. “I would think a bullet to the—down there—would certainly slow a man if he was hell bent on doing a woman harm. I suppose.” The man’s voice trailed off.
Charity seemed totally unaware of the delicate nature of the conversation she was having with two men in the middle of an overgrown mountain meadow on a cold December day. She nodded in agreement as if she were agreeing to the preacher’s sermon on Sunday instead of discussing a man’s inappropriate-for-discussion body appendages. But Hope was mortified. This conversation was highly inappropriate for a respectable lady.
“Well, there you are then. We were just getting’ in a little target practice. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that now is there, Sheriff?”
Hope could see Charity was moony-eyed over the man. Her sister stepped closer to the lawman and he took a step back and shook his head from side to side. Hope didn’t know if he was agreeing no laws were broken or was conveying to her sister not to come any closer. She had a feeling the lawman was a little bit afraid of one Miss Charity Montgomery.
Billy spoke up. “Why would two beautiful ladies—” Billy stopped short and cut an uneasy look toward her sister then redirected his words specifically to Hope. “Um, let me rephrase that question. Hope, why would you need to know how to shoot a gun when I’m absolutely certain a gentleman would come to your rescue at any given moment?”
Billy looked at her with those smoky blue eyes of his leaving no doubt what gentleman he was referring to. Before Hope could answer his question, Charity spoke up.
“Well, I’ll tell ya, Billy, now that you done gone and asked me.” Hope exchanged looks with Billy because they both knew no one had asked Charity for her opinion. But again, that didn’t stop her sister from plowing ahead and speaking her mind.
“First off, ain’t no reason to leave the protectin’ of a woman to a man. What if he ain’t around when the protectin’ is needed? No, siree. Ain’t no reason to wait on a man. A woman can defend herself proper and right quick if the need should arise as long as she’s had someone teachin’ her the right way to handle a gun. Otherwise, the stinkin’ varmit can take it away from her and now she’s in more trouble than before. Ain’t that right, Sheriff Grayson?”
Charity didn’t wait for the man to answer and it didn’t appear he was going to anyway. “And iffin you don’t mind me addin’, in my sister’s case here, Hope has recently been bothered by a man in town and since we don’t know who he is or where he’s come from, I decided to teach her how to shoot a gun. Just in case he catches her out sometime when some man ain’t around.” Charity practically preened when she patted the heavy sidearm at her hip.
“What do you mean someone is bothering you?” Billy’s concern creased his handsome face.
Hope was embarrassed by all the unnecessary attention. She cut an exasperated look to her sister who was, as usual, oblivious to the delicate nature of subtly. Hope choose her words with care to diminish the overstated danger Charity implied she was in. “It’s nothing. Really. A man approached me in town this week and asked me if I had a beau, that’s all it was. Charity here is making a mountain of a mole hill.”
“Ain’t no mole hill when a stranger grabs your arm to keep you in place. I don’t call that nothin’. A man puts his hands on me without askin’ and I’ll be removing them from his body.”
Billy laughed at Charity’s comment. Hope watched him sober when he realized she wasn’t kidding and gave the sheriff a worried glance. The lawman’s furrowed brow conveyed he believed her sister capable of just about anything. He stepped back another step.
Billy turned his attention to her again. “The man touched you, Hope? You point him out and I’ll take care he never bother’s you again.”
“That’s the law’s business, Billy. It’s my job to protect the citizens of Creede.” The sheriff turned to her in earnest. “Miss Anderson, come by my office and look at my wanted posters. Let’s see if he’s a wanted man first. If we don’t get lucky there, then you give me a detailed description of the man. If he’s bothering other women, I want something to go on when I arrest him.”
Hope nodded. “Of course, Sheriff, but he didn’t hurt me. He was just being friendly. At least I think that was his intention.”
Billy walked to stand next to her and her stomach somersaulted when he reached for her hand and held it in his. She was tempted to leave it there and savor the feel of his warmth, but it wasn’t appropriate to encourage a man like Billy, and yet she was reluctant to sever the contact with him. She pulled her hand out of his and looked away from the disappointment she saw in his eyes.
Billy nodded his understanding and stepped away, but he didn’t shy away from the subject at hand. “Hope, the sheriff wants to know what kind of questions the man was asking you. If he’s going around town and asking everyone these questions, then I won’t be so worried. Just a troubled mind at work. But if he’s just asking you these questions, then I’m gonna be watchin’ and waitin’ for him because chances are, he’ll be back until he gets what he wants, whatever that is.”
Hope watched this handsome man who had captured her heart almost the day she arrived in Creede when Faith went on trial for murder. If only there wasn’t so much baggage between them.
“Hope? What kind of questions did he ask you?” Billy asked again.
“He just asked me what my name was and if I was new around town.”
“So, he was just interested in a pretty girl then,” the sheriff chimed in.
Charity bowed up and frowned at the sheriff. “So, you think my sister is pretty?”
Hope blushed at Charity’s bold remark and glanced at the sheriff. He looked pale as a ghost and ready to run for the hills. She was aware of Billy’s eyes on her. Leave it to her sister to create an awkward situation right out front instead of leaving it on the back porch where it belonged. She tried to refocus everyone’s attention to something less personal.
“How about we all walk back to town and have a piece of Mrs. Whitaker’s apple pie? Quite frankly, I’m starvin’ since I haven’t eaten a thing since this morning.”
Billy tugged her hand into his, reclaiming her attention. “Please know this, Hope, I understand what the sheriff said about it being his job to protect you and I know that your sister claims that you can protect yourself. But I want you to know you can count on me anytime, day—or night.”
“Well now looky here,” Charity said. “I see a man with his heart on his sleeve. My sister’s got herself a beau. Ain’t that sweet, Sheriff? Givin’ you any ideas about courtin’ someone special?”
