Page 4 of The Banker's Bride

Mrs. O’Malley clutched her chest as her mouth opened. And for once, the woman was speechless.

Tired beyond words, Megan walked into the living room and collapsed onto a rocking chair and surrendered to grief. Everyone looked on in silence. For once, she wished she could be alone.

As she sobbed, she couldn’t blame Liam. He had defended her honor. And she couldn’t blame anyone other than the men who had killed him in cold blood, but she realized that she would probably never see those men again. As tears poured down her cheeks, she willed herself to remember the face of the man whohad done the deed, hoping that one day she would see him again. And God help him if that day ever came.

After a while, she walked into the bedroom where Mrs. O’Malley and two of her children were sitting. “I want to clean up.”

“Hmph!” Mrs. O’Malley scoffed but said nothing more to her as she took the children’s hands. “Come along.” Then she marched out the door.

When she was alone, Megan washed her face in the porcelain wash basin, vowing to take a bath in the communal bathhouse on the bottom floor when she could. No one stopped her or made a fuss. In fact, no one said anything at all. When she was finished, she opened the door so Mrs. O’Malley and her children could come back in, and then sat in a rocking chair in the corner, clutching hers and Liam’s pillowcases balled up in her lap. Unable to sleep, she lit a candle. From the bed, Mrs. O’Malley huffed but turned over and said nothing. As Megan rocked back and forth, thoughts of her promise to Liam ran through her mind: to find a husband and live a better life than the one they had been living. And she had every intention of keeping that promise.

Megan turned over in the chair and an ad in the newspaper lying on the side table caught her eye. She picked it up and read.Banker seeking wife in Wyoming. Interested parties inquire with Madame Samantha Chase, Matchmaker.Then it gave the address.

Megan yawned, closing her eyes. Could she do it? Could she marry someone she didn’t know for a chance at a better life? She opened her eyes and looked around. She was living in a tenement with two other families and no privacy. This wasn’t the life she had been meant to live. No, something had to change. At that moment, Megan vowed not to go back to the factory. If she hadn’t had to work so late, Liam would still be alive.

Megan looked at the ad once more. If she married a banker, her life would change, and money would no longer be an issue. But what if he was a cad? She let out a deep breath. Anything would be better than the life she was living now.

And what of love? She scoffed. Love. What had it gotten her? She had lost everyone she had ever loved. No, it would be better for her never to love anyone again. Megan yawned, vowing to see the matchmaker the next day… after her brother’s funeral. Soon sleep found her clutching the ad to her chest along with hers and Liam’s meager possessions, remembering her promise.

Chapter 2

Dallas

Whiskey River, Wyoming

“Hold it right there, mister.” A man wearing a black cowboy hat cocked his gun, walking into the Whiskey River Bank with two other men. Three more waited outside, standing guard. The leader pointed his six-shooter at the bank teller. “Give me all your money… now.”

“Nobody move!” one of the men with him shouted, pointing his gun at the other men in the bank. “If you try to stop us, you’re all dead!”

The other bank teller and a few other men held up their hands. Virgil Williams, a muscular man in a dark brown suit guarding the bank, reached quickly for his gun and killed one of the robbers, but the leader killed him before he could get off another shot.

“If anyone else tries to stop us, you’ll be lying there right beside him.” He motioned with his gun to Virgil lying dead on the floor but made no effort to check on his man that had been killed.

Dallas King slowly pulled two guns out from under his desk, holding one in each hand, and stood. “Drop your weapons, gentlemen, and I just might let you live.”

Both men laughed, along with the other three standing just outside keeping watch.

Dallas shrugged. “Have it your way then.” He shot one of the men between the eyes, and the man wearing the black cowboy hat ran out the door, alone.

The three men outside jumped on their horses and rode off, along with the man in the black cowboy hat, carrying a bag filled with money.

“Susan, go get Doc Morgan!” Dallas yelled, running out the door. Susan Mallory was his secretary.

Dallas jumped on a horse and tore out after the riders when Sheriff Daxton Clark and Deputy Colton Hill caught up with him. They whipped out their six shooters and fired, and the gang fired back. Dallas shot one and he fell off his horse. Colton shot another as the sound of horses’ hooves pounded against the ground, resonating around them. The last man, wearing the black cowboy hat, got away.

Dallas pulled his horse to a stop and ran over to one of the men lying on the ground. He had taken a bullet in the shoulder and was panting hard. “Who the hell are you, and why did you choose to rob my bank?”

“Go to hell!” The man tried to scoot away, reaching for his gun a few inches from him.

Dallas stepped on his hand, and the man screamed. “I asked you a question.” He picked up the man’s gun and shoved it into the back of his trousers.

The man snarled. “And I gave you an answer! Go to hell!”

“You first.” Dallas stepped on the wound on his shoulder, and he screamed in agony.

“My brothers are going to come after you for this!”

Dallas kept his foot on the man’s shoulder and leaned in when Daxton and Colton rode up. “Did you get ‘em?”

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