few saloon girls he’d kissed.
Her lip quivered slightly and he knew this lady might have known a man, but she’d never been loved. She’d never been kissed with tenderness. Deep down, he understood something she might never tell him.
“It’s going to be all right, Cozette,” he whispered to her. It was the first time he’d said her name and he wished he could believe his own words. “We’ll get through this and you will be safe. I swear it.”
Her eyes rounded and part of the fear he’d seen there vanished. To his surprise, she believed him.
This time she took his hand and asked, “Will you go with me to my father’s bedside? I’d like him to meet you when he wakes.”
Michael nodded once and opened the mission door for her. They stepped out into a crowd of men, all with guns raised at him.
The priest hurried out. “Do not worry!” he shouted. “All is well. They are married. This is the man our Cozette picked as her mate.”
For a moment, Michael feared those would be the last words he’d hear on earth. None of the cowhands looked like they’d be bothered if his new bride ordered him shot.
Then, surprisingly, the cowboys lowered their weapons and stepped forward to shake his hand.
Cozette’s laughter came too loud to sound real. “I know everyone expected us to wait until morning, but I wanted my father to meet Michael as my husband.” She waved her hand across the crowd. “I know my uncle plans a wedding breakfast and I’d like you all to wash up and join us at first light.”
The wranglers gave a hoot and started toward the bunkhouse.
Michael noticed his three uncles slowly backing into the shadows. “That means you three also.” His words froze them in midflight. You’ll be joining us for breakfast and you’ll behave yourselves.”
“There’s a well behind the house where you can clean up if you like,” Cozette added without venturing any closer to the three outlaws. “I’ll have towels and soap set out.”
“W-what’s going on here?” Uncle Joseph stuttered out his demand. “This don’t seem right. W-we ain’t never been invited to w-wash or eat nowhere in our lives.”
“It’s right.” Michael knew he couldn’t trust them with the details of the marriage. A few drinks and all three would be telling everything they knew about how their nephew found a bride in the middle of a robbery.
While they watched, he kissed Cozette’s cheek and motioned for her to go ahead into the front door of the big house. “I’ll be with you in a moment, dear.”
She glanced at the uncles and broke into a run. Michael had no idea if she feared them or simply got downwind of them.
Once she was out of sight, he turned to his kin. “I need you all. I can only trust family in this matter of life and death.”
“W-what can w-we do, get horses, find guns?” Joseph asked. “I’ll steal a few. It was just pure luck they caught us the first time. W-we can grab a few bags and be long gone before they notice.”
“No.” Michael shook his head. Flight seemed always their first thought. “I need the three of you to stay close and keep your eyes open. There are men here who didn’t want us to marry. They might mean my new bride harm. I don’t want them getting close to Cozette.”
“Who’s Cozette?” Abe asked.
Michael fought the urge to thump him hard. “My new wife, remember, the woman I just married. The one who told you to wash.”
“Oh,” he said. “The one in white. I remember now. You called her dear. I never knew you had a dear one, Mickey boy.”
“Yes, and we’ve got to protect her”—Michael stared at them—“with your lives if necessary.”
They looked at one another as if he were speaking a language they didn’t quite understand. “We’re bodyguards?” Moses whispered.
“Yeah, you’ve been promoted from outlaws.” Michael hated to admit it but he did need them. He had no idea what he was stepping into, but it had to be bad if she was willing to die to get away. It offered him no comfort that he was her second choice tonight.
“Now there are three rules you’ve got to remember. Listen close. One, no drinking. Two, no stealing. You can eat all you want, but rule number three is that one of you is to be armed and standing near my dear wife at all times. I don’t want anyone, and I mean anyone, laying a