Wilda's Outlaw by Velda Brotherton Read Free Book Online Page B

rebellion of our mother. For two Catholic girls to have left their home in Ireland to marry brothers of the Protestant faith against their parents' wishes must have taken a great deal of courage. Wilda has that kind of courage, but I fear it will steer her away from this marriage and into trouble.
    I am ashamed to admit that a selfish concern for myself and Tyra causes me to pray she does nothing so drastic.
    If Lord Prescott were to cast us out, where would we go? I shudder to think of it, and can only hope and pray that should he be dissatisfied with Wilda, he will settle for me as a fit wife.

Chapter Four
    Along about dark, Calder saddled up his freckle-faced bay, and headed for the Johnson farmstead a few miles outside of Hays City. Though he kept a cautious eye out for the Ellis County sheriff and any of his men, he saw no one, and rode into the yard without incident.
    At the kitchen window a candle flickered. Rachel probably couldn’t afford coal oil for the lamps. Nudged by pity for the woman and her children, he vowed to be careful not to let his physical needs overpower his better sense. Baron had been right about her being attractive. Often, when he and the boys had carried out a good stick-up he’d brought them food. She was a pretty little thing and needy, her kids cute as a pen full of puppies. Next thing he knew he’d be adopting them all, and lately he did well to feed and clothe himself.
    He helloed the house so as not to scare her, then dismounted. “It’s me, Miz Johnson. Calder Raines. You in there?”
    The door inched open as he stepped beneath the sloping porch roof. Stair-step faces peered out through the crack, hers at the very top. There’d be a ten gauge propped behind the door within easy reach, and he sure didn’t want to get a bunch of holes blowed in him.
    “Mr. Raines. I didn’t recognize you.” Her voice was sweet as prairie flowers.
    He took off his hat, shifted from one foot to the other and self-consciously ran fingers through his fresh cut hair. “Yeah. About time I cleaned up. Wish I could say I brought you and the younguns something, but I didn’t. This time I come for help myself.”
    “You come right on in, then.” She stood away and let the door swing wide.
    He entered. The shotgun was propped just where he’d thought it would be. In easy reach should she need it. The three youngsters clung to their mother’s skirt, peeking out at him, their wide, hopeful eyes tugging at his heart. A candle burned in the center of a handmade table, the glow from its flame scarcely reaching into the shadowy corners of the soddy.
    She wiped small hands over her threadbare apron and flushed. “Why, look at you, Calder Raines. You’ve cut your hair and shaved off your whiskers. I wouldn’t have known you on the street. Makes you look younger.” She turned a deeper shade of red and clamped her lips tightly, as if she’d said too much.
    He bobbed his head. “Thank you, ma’am. Yes, I did cut my hair. Thinking of going into that new settlement, the one they’re calling Victoria City, and getting myself a job.”
    “That seems like a good idea.” She waited.
    One of the kids tugged at her skirt. “Mama, Mama.”
    “Hush, now. We’ve got company.”
    “Mama, did he bring us candy?”
    “Hush up, right now and mind your manners.”
    Calder wished he had a pocketful of sweets, felt guilty that he didn’t. Now that he actually stood before the widow, he didn’t know how to broach the subject of her dead husband’s clothes.
    “How can I help you with that, Mr. Raines?”
    “Well, you see, I…it’s this way. I…Baron thought…maybe…” He gazed down at the toes of his worn boots. His tongue felt like it was tangled around every tooth in his head. How did a fella ask a woman if he could borrow her dead husband’s clothes? Oh, hell, maybe she’d buried him in the only decent things he had. What was he doing here, anyway?
    “Baron thought?” she prodded.
    “He said I’d do