Mary Read online

  Mary

  BRIDES OF THE Rio Grande

  Peggy McKenzie

  Copyright 2020 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-Trayce Layne @ 3C Edit Services

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  About this book

  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

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  More books in the series…

  Peggy McKenzie & Friends

  About the Author

  The End

  About this book

  BOOK FIVE

  BRIDES OF THE RIO GRANDE SERIES

  Mary O'Brien was only ten when her family was murdered by a band of renegade Indians, but she was not so lucky. Captured as their slave, she suffered at their hands for four long years until they finally traded her to the generous and kind Mountain Utes. Treated as family, she spends the next fourteen years with these kind and generous people. But when she can no longer hide, once again her world is taken from her. This time, she’d rather die than leave it.

  Doc Howard has spent nearly his entire life hiding a secret his father made him promise never to tell for it would be a secret that would ruin his life—even put his life in danger. And for the last twenty-three years, he’s managed to keep that promise. But when he stumbles upon a beautiful red-haired woman with remarkable courage, he learns that a man must take a stand or his choices will no longer be his to make.

  What will it take to save these two lost souls and give them hope for the future?

  Chapter 1

  Moonfire squatted next to the clear, cold stream bubbling its way down the mountain and scooped water into her bucket. The bucket was cumbersome full and she struggled with its weight, but it was everyone’s chore to keep the village supplied with water and she always did her part.

  Shouldering the bucket’s rope over one shoulder, she turned away from the stream and followed the same trail through the pines back up the mountain to her village.

  Halfway up the trail she set the bucket down to get a better grip, and with the sound of the water rushing over rocks now far below her, she could once again hear the voice of the mountain forest. Birds trilled in the trees and feisty gray squirrels made it clear they were not happy with her being in their forest.

  Smiling at their antics, she reached down to retrieve the bucket at her feet and felt a rumble through the ground beneath her. It was the sound of many hoofs beating the hard-packed ground. She fell to the ground and placed her ear against it to listen. There was no mistaking the sound. Horses. And lots of them. Panic gripped her calm because she knew there was only one reason for that many horses on the mountain. Soldiers.

  She left the bucket where it rested and raced to the crest of the hill. The way was steep and rocky, but she ran despite the pain from the sharp rocks that covered the ground to her moccasin-covered feet. She reached the top of the trail, just in time to see a sight that sent fear into every nerve of her body. A long, double column of soldiers were stopped just outside the ring of tepees the people of her village called home.

  Keeping low and quiet she crept as close as she dared to the back of the tepees that surrounded the communal fire, using the brush bordering the village to remain hidden. Dust kicked up by the hoofs of the soldier’s horses clogged her nose and burned her eyes, but she was determined to get to her pe-adze and moonch for only her mother and father would know what to do.

  So with as much stealth as she could muster, she made her way through the thicket of brush until she finally reached the back wall of her family's tepee. Her nimble fingers searched and found the slit where two of the elk hides met against the lodge poles. Quickly, she slipped inside, searching in the dark interior for her adopted mother. “Where are you pe-adze? What is happening?” Even to her own ears, she could hear the sound of fear in her voice.

  “I am here, my daughter. Do not be afraid. They will not harm us. They only seek to rest before they continue on their journey,” her mother assured her.

  Moonfire was uneasy with the soldier’s presence, but she trusted the wisdom of her Ute mother. “Pe-adze, what should I do while they are here?”

  “You must do nothing. The men of our village will offer food to the soldiers and show them where to water their horses. The women will cook and serve them. Our elders will speak with their elders. Everyone must stay calm.”

  “I must do my part also. I will help cook—”

  “No, my daughter. You must stay out of sight. It is important that they not catch a glimpse of you or your hair that glows like lightning in the forest. You must not be seen,” her mother warned.

  She knew the truth of her mother’s words. “I will stay inside,” she promised, knowing it wasn't just her fiery red hair that would catch the soldiers’ attention. She lifted her hand to her cheek and brushed her fingertips across the raised tattoo that marred her pale features.

  Moonfire tried to relax while she and her adopted mother busied themselves inside the tepee for the next hour, hoping the soldiers would not stay the night, but their hopes were dashed when her father returned. “The soldiers are making camp down by the stream for the night. Their leader gave his word they would be gone at first light.” He cut a look toward her. “You must not go out until they have gone, Moonfire.”

  “I understand, Father. I will stay inside until morning,” she promised.

  “Good. Now, I must go and sit with the man they call, Colonel Beckham. He has much information about the talks between the Great Leader in Washington and some of the chiefs of the other tribes. It is important we maintain peace with the settlers coming into the mountains. Some want to take our land for farming. Others want to dig for shiny rocks. We must find a way to keep peace and still hold on to what is ours.”

  “But Father, we have no use for shiny rocks. Why not let these people have them all?” Moonfire offered.

  “No daughter, you misunderstand. It is not us who will cause problems. There are other tribes who are not as agreeable to sharing the land with the white man as we are.”

  She knew the words her father spoke were true. The warriors who had killed her family and marked her as their slave didn't want settlers or their wagons on their land. She managed to live through the horrors of that day, and even though it happened such a long ago, she could remember every detail as if it were yesterday. Shaking her head, she cleared away the ghosts. It would do no good to dwell in the land of the dead.

  “And yet our people will suffer for it too,” her mother said as she reached out and touched her father's arm.

  “Yes, that is true. But we will do our best to spread goodwill and friendship with the new settlers. Now, I must go. I don't want our young braves foolishly trying to show off their skills and accidentally killing a soldier.” Her father's weathered brown face cracked beneath his grin. “That would not promote goodwill among the blue coats, I fear.”

  Her father left her and her mother alone in the tepee. Her mother turned to her. “My daughter, I must go and help the other women cook
for the soldiers. Stay here and do not show yourself. I will return as soon as I am able.”

  Her mother kissed her on her cheek and left. Moonfire settled inside the large dark interior of her family's tepee and waited. Once morning came and the soldiers left, her life, and the life of her people, would go back to normal.

  Sitting on her pallet of pine boughs, she removed her moccasins and regretted leaving her water bucket on the trail. She would have liked to wash, but the sounds of men and horses outside reminded her why she left her bucket and why she must stay hidden now. It annoyed her they were here, but it scared her even more.

  With nothing to do, she sat on her soft bearskin-covered mattress full of fragrant pine boughs and stared up at the darkening sky through the hole in the center of the tepee’s roof. The sound of men's voices, women's laughter, and the excited yelps of the young braves lulled her tired body into relaxing. After an hour and her mother did not return with her supper, she knew the women of the village were busy tending to the soldiers. It didn’t matter, she wasn’t really hungry anyway. Resigned to hiding until the soldiers left, she settled into her bed, and soon drifted off to sleep, knowing that tomorrow the soldiers would be gone and peace would return to her village.

  Moonfire felt the call of nature tugging her from a sound sleep with an insistence that would not be denied. She forced her eyes open and saw the gentle glow of dawn through the center hole of the tepee. Although it was not yet daylight and she feared the soldiers had not yet departed, her need to relieve herself was fast becoming painful. She knew she should remain behind the protective walls of her family’s tepee, but she could no longer postpone the inevitable.

  Sitting up she listened for signs of the soldiers. All she heard was her father’s snores rumbling from her parent’s bed and the cry of an eagle hunting his morning breakfast in the distance.

  Quickly and quietly, she slipped her feet inside her moccasins and tied the leather thongs around her ankles. Not wanting to risk running into someone else who might also be answering the call of nature, she wrapped her fiery braids in a scarf and tied it tight around her face.

  Head cocked to one side, she listened once more at the entrance of the tepee before pushing the flap open. A quick look around showed nothing of concern. The soldiers must have left before sunup for there was no sign of them. She breathed a sigh of relief and inhaled a deep breath of the crisp morning air.

  A glance toward the communal fire revealed it had died out hours ago and only an occasional ember could be seen among the ashes. She took another cautious look around and stepped softly across the ground covered in pine needles to find privacy in the surrounding woods. She would quickly relieve herself and return with some wood to start the morning fire. It was only right since she had been unable to help cook the night before.

  She made quick work of her trip to the woods, then picked up sticks and moss as she made her way back to the village. Her scarf slipped over her face and she pushed it back on her head in order to see the familiar trail winding through the majestic pines. With her arms loaded with firewood, she climbed the trail back to her village, relief and happiness returned now that she knew she was safe from the soldiers.

  “Hey! You there. Woman. Where did you come from?”

  Startled, she dropped the firewood and spun around to see a soldier on horseback sitting among the pines.

  She froze, fear bubbled up from her chest nearly choking her as it curled around her rib cage and clogged her throat.

  “I said, you there. Woman.” When she didn't move, he rode his horse closer. “Do you understand what I'm saying to you?” He then asked in the Ute language. “What is your name? Where did you come from?”

  When she didn’t answer him again, he rode toward her. Fear, and the instinct to flee, was impossible to ignore. She knew she shouldn’t run, but she felt the overwhelming need to seek the shelter of her family. Turning up the trail, she darted through the pines, hoping to outrun the soldier, but his horse was too quick.

  He reined his horse to a stop in front of her and blocked her escape. She skidded to a stop and searched for another way to flee the horse and its rider.

  Before she could form a plan, the man easily dropped from his mount and grabbed her arm to keep her from bolting again. She struggled against his grip, but he held on tight and pulled her scarf the rest of the way off her head.

  “I don't want to hurt you, but you need to come with me,” he ordered. He led his horse with one hand and held tight to her arm with the other.

  “Please let me go,” she begged.

  “Ah, so you do understand me. Good. Colonel Beckham will have some questions for you.”

  “But I don't want to go. Please. Leave me alone,” she pleaded.

  “That's not possible. You need to come with me,” the soldier said, pulling her along.

  The fear surging through her body gave her the courage to protest, she jerked away from the man's strong grip and stiffened her spine. “I am not yours to command, nor am I this Colonel Beckham’s to command. Now leave me. I will not be ordered about.”

  At that moment, she heard another horse approaching. She turned to see a soldier with many stripes and stars on his uniform astride a large iron-gray horse heading towards them. “What’s going on here, Captain?”

  “I found this woman wandering the woods. It’s obvious she doesn’t belong here.”

  “The man looked down at her from his horse. “Come here. Let me take a closer look at you.”

  She turned to the man sitting on his horse, her chin high in defiance. “What is it you want of me? Why have you kept me here?” she demanded, hoping her bravado would make him leave her alone.

  The officer sat on his horse and studied her from beneath the brim of his wide blue hat. Finally, he spoke. “What is your name? How did you come to be here among the Utes?”

  “My name is Moonfire,” she stated with authority.

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t mean the name the Utes gave you. What's your given name?” He leaned over resting one arm against his saddle horn studying her with a keen eye.

  “I do not remember. I have lived among these people for many years. They are my family now,” she declared.

  She saw his jaw clench, but he did not move. “I asked you what your name is, woman. I expect my question to be answered.”

  She saw the determination on the man's face and knew it would not help to anger him. “My name was Mary,” she said, emphasizing the word was in an effort to force him to understand her situation.

  “What is your surname?” he pushed.

  She hesitated a moment but relented. “My family name was O'Brien. But that was many moons ago. I am called Moonfire now.”

  “Tell me how you came to be with the Utes.”

  Why couldn’t these men just leave her be? For that matter, why hadn’t she been more careful? Why hadn’t she returned to the shelter of her family’s tepee more quickly? If only she could have stayed inside with her family just a little while longer.

  Annoyed by her reluctance to answer his questions, he made her options plain. “If you don’t tell me what I want to know, I will take you and the people responsible for keeping you here, back to the fort and get the answers I intend to have. Do you understand what that means?”

  Fear darted through her body again at the thought he would take her family from their village and imprison them. Perhaps if she could convince him she was happy living with the Utes, he would be satisfied and leave her alone.

  “I understand.”

  “Then tell me what it is I wish to know,” he demanded.

  “My first family and I, we were traveling by wagon near the Brazos River in New Mexico when we were attacked by a band of warriors. They came upon us and . . . they killed my family and kidnapped me. They forced me to work as their . . .” her words trailed off as she tried to find just the right ones to explain what they had done to her.

  “I see the marks on your face. How long
were you held as their slave?”

  She raised her hand to her face and felt the familiar whelps across her cheek. “Four years. After they took me back to their village, they tattooed my face and gave me to their women. The women were . . . not kind.”

  “I see. So how did you come to live here in the mountains with the Utes? They don't usually take slaves.”

  “My captors abused me with never-ending, back breaking work. The women would beat me if I failed to do their bidding or displeased them. I was only ten when I was taken, but I knew I would rather die than to continue living like that, so I tried to escape every chance I got. But they always found me, and the women would beat me with willow switches again and again. Sometimes, I would put ashes in their stew. Anything to make them either kill me or let me go.”

  “I see. And how did you come to live among the Utes?”

  “My captives decided I was too much trouble to keep and too valuable to kill. So, they brought me to the Utes who gave them two horses and a worn out mule for me.”

  “How long have you lived among the Utes?”

  Moonfire sighed at the inquisition, but she relaxed a little. He seemed to understand her situation. Perhaps, she had nothing to worry about if she just told him what he wanted to know. “I am not sure. I think I’m about twenty-eight years old. I was ten when I was taken, and I believe I spent about four years as a slave. It was hard to keep track of time.”

  “Do you know what tribe they were?” the man asked.