The Anonymous Bride by Vickie Mcdonough Page B

the heart of winter. His lips pressed together into a thin line. He was probably wondering if he’d be safe with only her at his side. He jerked his stubbled chin toward the bank. “Let’s get this done.”
     
    She started toward him but stopped when he scowled. “Don’t forget the bag.”
     
    Returning his glare, she snatched the burlap feed sack out of her saddle bags. Making sure her hair was stuffed up under her hat, she followed him up the bank’s steps, heart pounding and stomach churning. She would do her part, but she couldn’t help being nervous.
     
    Ty had taken her in after their mother died when no one other than the saloon owner had shown any interest in her. At fourteen, most folks must have assumed she could make it on her own, or more likely, they weren’t willing to help the daughter of the town’s laundress. Once he found out their ma was dead, Tyson had come for her. He let her cook for his gang of outlaws, although he’d nearly sent her packing after the first meal. She smiled, remembering Will, the oldest of the outlaws and former chuck wagon cook for a ranch. If he hadn’t taken her under his wing, they’d all have starved. If only he hadn’t been pumped full of lead during a train robbery last year.
     
    What would it feel like to get shot? She knew it hurt, from the moans of the gang members injured during robberies. She swallowed hard, hoping nobody got hurt today.
     
    Her brother was a cranky sort and often griped at her; but for years, he’d protected her from his gang members and vowed to shoot anyone who laid a hand on her—at least until the day she’d decided to leave.
     
    She shoved back her shoulders and pushed aside all thoughts but the duty at hand. Daydreaming could get them all killed. Their boots echoed on the boardwalk, spurs jingled. As they entered the dimly lit building, Carly’s eyes took a moment to adjust. The fresh scent of wood polish made her stomach roil, and well-shined boards creaked beneath their feet. At the counter on the right, two female clerks stood talking to each other. Carly bit back a smile. There were no barred windows on the counter and no guard. Obviously, this bank hadn’t had trouble for a long while.
     
    Ty leaned close to her ear. “This bank is ripe for the pickin’.”
     
    An empty desk to the left probably belonged to the manager. Ty had surveyed the town for ten days, watching people come and go, and had timed their entry with the manager’s lunch break. Her brother might not be honest, but he was smart.
     
    The two clerks turned toward them, and the taller woman stepped up to the counter. She smiled, revealing pearly whites with a wide gap between her top middle teeth. “May I help you?”
     
    “Need some information on opening an account here.” Ty flashed a wide grin that generally melted the hearts of any nearby females. With his black hair, blue eyes, tanned skin, and comely features, women would battle their best friend for his attention. He sauntered up to the counter, looking as if he had all day. He leaned casually on his elbows, grinning at the unsuspecting clerks, and shook his head. “I’m surprised this bank ain’t overflowing with men, considerin’ how pretty you lovely ladies are.”
     
    Carly rolled her eyes at the blush on both women’s cheeks. The second clerk giggled behind her hand.
     
    “I’m Miss Holt, and this is Mrs. Springer.” She batted her lashes as if she’d been in a dust storm. “I apologize, but Mr. Wattenburger, the bank manager, is the only one who can open accounts. He’s currently at lunch but will return soon.”
     
    Carly eased toward the wall, fascinated by the elaborate gold brocade wallpaper that blended well with the dark wainscoting. Never having seen anything so fancy, she reached out and touched the raised surface. Ty cleared his throat, pulling her mind back to their business. If she inched to her left a few feet, she’d be behind the counter.
     
    “I’m only