Free Texas Mail Order Bride by Linda Broday

nearing noon. He swung into the saddle and meandered toward the ranch. He went around the burial plot that sat dead center in the middle of Main Street and as usual wondered who lay beneath the soil. Folks had told him how Indians massacred a group of government surveyors here in October 1838. Only seven out of twenty-four survived. More than likely these four graves held the bones of some of those men.
    The small section of hallowed ground had created lots of arguments over the years. But to him, the townsfolk of Battle Creek had a sacred duty to protect those buried there. You could tell a lot about a town by how its citizens treated the dead. He liked that they hadn’t moved them when Battle Creek was settled.
    Cooper paused near the edge of the community at a run-down shack adjacent to Mabel’s Boardinghouse when an animal’s frantic yelps split the air. A burly man with a head full of wild red hair, Cyrus Tull, was chaining a young dog to a tree. The poor animal’s ribs and hip bones protruded—the result of being starved for most of its young life, by the looks of things. The pooch’s pitiful cries cut Cooper to the quick. It was so weak it could barely stand.
    Anger stewed inside Cooper. He never mistreated an animal and couldn’t abide anyone else doing so. He dismounted.
    â€œMind me asking what you’re doing, Cyrus?”
    â€œAin’t no concern o’ yours,” the man snarled.
    The hell it wasn’t. “Well, I’m making it my business. Unchain that dog, if you know what’s good for you.”
    â€œAnd if’n I don’t?”
    â€œYou won’t like that option much. Trust me.” Though Cooper spoke softly, he could tell by the flicker in Tull’s eyes that he’d gotten the man’s attention. But would the drunk heed the warning?
    ***
    On her way to the boardinghouse for a quick bowl of soup, Delta Dandridge stopped, transfixed by the scene playing out before her. She’d seen the poor dog and had watched in horror as it became weaker from lack of food and water, its situation ever more desperate. Several times under the cover of darkness she’d slipped over there and had shared with the pitiful animal what little morsels she could sneak from supper.
    Before becoming a bag of skin and bones, it must’ve been a pretty dog, all white except for a black ear on the right and a circle around the left eye. It reminded her of an eye-patch-wearing pirate.
    Now she watched Cooper Thorne try to save the animal.
    â€œThis is my dog, an’ I’ll do as I damn well please with the stupid mutt.” The man Cooper had called Cyrus remained defiant.
    â€œNot today. Today you’re going to unchain it and let me take it.”
    â€œYou gotta be smokin’ locoweed,” the ill-tempered fellow snorted, pulling a revolver from the waist of his pants.
    Cooper’s long legs covered the space and he knocked the gun from the dog owner’s hand. His powerful arm shot out, his fist connecting with muscle and bone. The blow sent his adversary tumbling to the dirt.
    But Cooper wasn’t finished. He grabbed Cyrus’s shirt. Hauling him to his feet, he hit him again. Blood spurted from the mean good-for-nothing’s nose and mouth.
    Delta bit her lip, praying Cooper wouldn’t kill him, even though she was glad to see the miserable excuse for a human get what was coming to him.
    At last the horrible man lay in a heap in the dirt. Cooper stepped over him and undid the chain, then gently lifted the shivering dog, tucking him close to his side beneath one arm.
    â€œWhat are you going to do with the little thing?” Delta hurried toward Cooper.
    She realized she’d made a mistake when he spun around with a doubled fist and murder on his face, ready to take on another foe. It took a few seconds for him to grasp that she posed no threat. Her heart resumed its normal beat when he relaxed.
    â€œI’m taking him