The Deputy's Mail Order Bride

Wives of the Wild West

Her eyes flicked to her husband, who was busy discussing the price of supplies with Sheriff Barden. His broad back was rigidly turned toward them, his attention locked on the sheriff’s gruff pronouncements about flour quality. She saw her chance. With a quick, almost imperceptible nod, she motioned for Eddie to follow her behind the faded calico curtains that separated the cluttered main room from the dim stockroom. Her heart pounded like a trapped bird against her ribs as she slipped behind the heavy fabric, the thick scent of dust, burlap, and old leather enveloping her.

Surprised, Eddie followed her slowly, his boots quiet on the wooden floor. The space was tight, the shelves towering over them like sentinels of the secrets they bore, stacked high with crates labeled “Dry Goods” and “Hardware,” casting long, distorted shadows in the weak light filtering through a single grimy window. She turned around, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and desperation, the whites stark against the gloom. The fading bruises on her face seemed darker here, the shadows deepening the hollows beneath her eyes. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively to steady her as she swayed, overwhelmed by the sudden intimacy and the crushing weight of her silent plea. But she bumped into him, her body pressing against his chest as she stumbled backward against a stack of grain sacks. The coarse fabric scraped against her thin dress, the sudden contact sending a jolt through them both.

Without thinking, she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him. Her lips trembled against his, soft and desperate, carrying the weight of every horror she’d endured, the mine, the cold altar, the brutal claiming upstairs. For a moment, Eddie was frozen, his eyes wide with shock, his hands hovering awkwardly at his sides. The scent of lavender soap clung faintly to her skin, a fragile bloom against the pervasive dust and leather. But then, something changed in his gaze. The shock melted into understanding, then into a fierce, protective tenderness. He kissed her back, his lips warm and surprisingly soft against hers, a stark, searing contrast to the cold brutality she had endured only hours before. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, shielding her body with his own as if absorbing the tremors that shook her frame.

The kiss deepened, a silent communion of shared pain and fragile hope. Lia felt a desperate sob catch in her throat, muffled against his mouth. His hand slid gently up her back, fingers tangling lightly in the loose strands of hair at her nape, anchoring her. The rough grain sacks pressed against her spine, the coarse texture a grounding reminder of the harsh reality waiting just beyond the curtain, but Eddie’s warmth, the solid feel of his chest against hers, the gentle pressure of his lips… it felt like the first real breath she’d taken since leaving Albany. His thumb brushed the tear track on her cheek, a gesture so tender it threatened to break her.

But their brief reprieve was shattered by the sound of Sheriff Barden’s booming voice cutting through the dusty air. “Colt!” he called out, sharp and impatient, his heavy footsteps thudding closer on the worn floorboards. “We’ve got trouble at the bank. You’re needed out front. Now!”