Bushedwhacked Groom (24 page)

How could he extricate himself from this mess? He
wasn’t at all sure he could leave, but if he stayed he
was bound to make love to Molly any day now.

One more display of tears and the girl wouldn’t
know what had hit her. He’d be kissing her, distracting
her, loving her to the moon and back. And if he got her
pregnant—then he could never leave her. That meant
the only possible salvation for him—and maybe her,
too—was his escape, retreat.

He groaned. He and Sanchez had best get damn
busy rebuilding that stagecoach . . .

Chapter Twenty-four

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At church that Sunday, during the opening hymn, Cory Reklaw smiled across the aisle at Ida May, who looked
delicious as a maiden’s blush rose in her pale pink
Sunday dress. She started to wave back, only to freeze
at her father’s glower and the venomous look he
hurled Cory’s way. Cory sighed and turned his attention back to the hymnal, to the Charles Wesley selec
tion “Come, Sinners, to the Gospel Feast.”

He and his brothers weren’t making much progress
courting the sisters, given old man Trumble’s unceas
ing efforts to discourage them. Next to him, his broth
ers’ grim expressions gave mute testimony to their own feelings of frustration.

With a rueful smile, Cory wondered if his sister was
faring any better in the romance department. She sat
in front of him, all starched up in green gingham and
matching bonnet, sharing a hymnal with her husband,
though neither was touching the other.

They’d behaved so strangely all week. After the wed
ding it couldn’t have been more obvious that Molly
was brazenly flirting with Lucky, pursuing him with
every ounce of her femininity, while he bristled and
kept his distance. Then the next day, Lucky had started
pursuing her, and she had shied away. For the remain
der of the week, as far as Cory could tell, the two had
avoided each other like a seasonal malaise. Indeed,
on a morning or two he’d spied Lucky leaving the barn
after obviously having slept there, and he now spent
most of his days riding the range with the other Reklaw
men, helping them out with the spring calf roundup.

It was all so strange. The newlyweds seemed crazy
as a couple of barking squirrels. He couldn’t help won
dering if they’d gotten together yet, but he rather
doubted it. Which meant there still might be hope for
the rest of them. Not that Cory really cared that much if
he won the contest—truth to tell, he was much more interested in continuing his education than in becom
ing a rancher—but he did care about Ida May Trum
ble. He liked her a lot, was very concerned about her, wanted to get to know her better and yearned to help
her escape what he felt certain was a bad situation.
Every time he remembered Ezra Trumble’s shocking
displays of temper, it made him crazy to think the
tyrant might visit his physical anger on any of his
daughters.

He became distracted as Reverend Bledsoe launched
into his sermon, loudly proclaiming a passage from
Matthew 9:13:
“
I am not come to call the righteous, but
sinners to repentance.”

Oh, brother,
Cory thought. It appeared Reverend
Bledsoe was on another of his redemption benders. As
the preacher got into form, alternately whispering,
then pounding his fist and yelling, Cory noted that the
clergyman’s theme quickly evolved from sinners to
thieves. Then the parson began expounding on the
“evil robberies” in the area, decrying the “servants of
sin” and their “wicked fruit,” quoting Old Testament pas
sages about fire and brimstone. Indeed, Bledsoe got so
worked up that when he screamed, “Repent, ye
thieves!” Ezra Trumble stood, pointed an accusatory
finger at the Reklaw boys, and declared, “Amen, Reverend! Let’s lynch the heathens!”

A gasp rippled over the congregation, and Cory
watched his pa and his grandma all but come shooting
out of their seats, with only his ma’s quick, firm hands
holding them back. In the meantime dozens of eyes
had focused with suspicion on Cory and his brothers.

Pastor Bledsoe, having unwittingly encouraged the
outburst, appeared horrified and hastily turned the
congregation’s attention to a new hymn. As Ezra Trum
ble at last resumed his seat, Cory expelled a groan of
mingled frustration and relief.
This is splendid,
he thought cynically.
Reverend Bledsoe had inadvertently given Trumble
even more ammunition to condemn him and his
brothers, even though they’d had nothing at all to do
with the robberies.

Nothing? He remembered Molly’s question the other
day and a chill washed over him. After all, he wasn’t
with his brothers every minute—indeed, ever since the courting had begun and he’d offered his siblings
so much unsolicited advice, more of a rift had devel
oped between him and the others. What if his brothers
had
turned outlaw—and had conveniently forgotten
to tell him?

That was easy. If old man Trumble didn’t string them up, he would!

***

After the congregation was dismissed, the four brothers stood in a huddle outside, watching Ezra Trumble
lead his daughters back toward their surrey. “Fat
chance we got to court them girls now,” grumbled Matt.

“Yeah, fat chance,” seconded Zach, “after being labeled bushwhackers in front of God and everyone.”

“Yes, I must agree he guards those girls like an old miser with his gold,” added Cory, feeling quite glum
himself.

Vance was about to voice a comment of his own
when Grandma stepped up to join them in a rustle of
black silk skirts, her mouth pursed in angry determina
tion. “Cory Reklaw, you come with me.”

Cory knew better than to argue with Grandma when
she had her mouth set that way. “Yes, ma’am.” Tossing
his brothers a bemused look, he trooped off with her.

To Cory’s surprise, Grandma made a beeline for Ezra
Trumble’s surrey, arriving by his side right as he was about to snap the reins. With a defiant tilt of her feathered hat, she confronted him. “Ezra Trumble, I’ll be
having a word with you.”

He appeared delighted, tipping his bowler. “Why,
Eula, I’m honored. Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“Hush up that flowery talk of your’n and listen to me. First off, I should string you up for insulting my grand
sons at the meeting house.”

He scowled. “But Eula, I was only acknowledging
what the parson said—”

“Don’t Eula me, you old coot! You was accusing my
boys of outlawin’! I know you’re doin’ it out of pure meanness ‘cause everyone knows my boys favor your
daughters. And I want you to stop your shenanigans
right now—and start letting my boys court your girls.”

As Cory grinned and the girls tittered happily, Ezra
howled derisively. “You think I’d allow these sinners un
der my roof? How dare you accuse me of judging
them, when Reverend Bledsoe all but called them
thieves to their faces this morning.”

“He did not—and how dare
you,”
Grandma retorted.

“I don’t doubt they’re the gang that’s been robbin’
and pillaging hereabouts lately.” Trumble sneered at
Cory. “Maybe not the runt here
. . .
but them others—”

“You hush up, Ez Trumble,” Grandma cut in furiously.
“I’ll have you know my boys ain’t thieves, and see to it you
remember that. I’ll be sending them all by to call this
afternoon at three, and you’d best not be receivin’
them with that shotgun of yours.”

“Oh, yeah?” Trumble had gone livid with anger. “Just
who do you think you are, woman, to tell me my busi
ness? What kindness have you ever extended my way?”

“Well, I’m not marrying you, Trumble, so git that through your thick head.”

Balefully, Trumble turned to Cory. “See what I mean?
Your grandma treats me with utter contempt, then ex
pects me to allow you boys to court my girls.”

Cory gave his grandma a helpless look, and she
turned to scowl at Trumble. “All right, then, you made
your point, Ez. What’s it gonna take to change your
mind and give my boys a chance with your daugh
ters?” As he started to open his mouth, she added, “And
don’t you dare say my hand in wedlock, ‘cause I ain’t
giving it.”

He shot her a long-suffering look. “Very well, then,
I’ll tell you what it’ll take. You come along with the boys
today.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“When roosters lay eggs, I will.” She paused, scowl
ing. “But tell you what—just as a little, er, peace offer
ing, I’ll send over one of my molasses pies.”

He scowled a moment, then waved a hand in resig
nation. “Very well, woman, if you’re willing to extend
some token of friendship—”

Again she shook a finger at him. “Three o’clock,
Trumble. And no shotgun.”

As the girls tittered happily, Grandma turned and
stalked away. Cory caught Ida May’s delighted smile
and winked back at her before he too hurried off.

He caught up with his grandma as fast as he could.
“Thanks, Grandma, you did great.”

Eula harrumphed. “Damn that Ezra Trumble to
perdition, trying to blackmail me into going along. I’m
spiking his molasses pie with plenty of castor oil, let
me tell you. The geezer’ll never know what hit him till
he gets the dysentery.”

Cory was aghast. “Grandma, no. You want to get all
of us boys shot?”

Eula chuckled and pinched his cheek. “Reckon
you’re right, darlin’. That codger just gets me so worked
up. Guess I’ll have to play fair—even if the man is a
snake.”

Cory beamed. “Grandma, you’re earning your stars
in heaven.”

“Quit tryin’ to charm me, boy, or I’ll wallop you
good.”

But she gave him a bear hug as they went off together.

***

Promptly at three
P.M.,
starched and shining, bearing
gifts for the girls and a pie for Ezra, the four Reklaw
boys appeared on the Trumble porch.

“Ah, there ya be,” grumbled Mr. Trumble as he swung
open the screen door. “Ya boys got your calling cards
this time?”

Cory was prepared and thrust a stack of four cards at their host. “Ma got them printed up in town for us.”

He perused the cards with a frown but didn’t comment further. The girls is inside in the hallway. Mind
your manners now, and step inside.”

“Yes, sir.”

With Cory leading the way, the four removed their
hats and stepped into the wide central corridor. Cory
grinned at the four girls, who sat in a prim straight row
to their left, Sally and Nelly wedged on a small settee,
Bonnie and Ida May in
Windsor
chairs on either side
of them. All looked lovely in their Sunday frocks of var
ious feminine shades, their hair gleaming and tied
with ribbons. All greeted the boys with coy smiles and
giggles.

Zach, always the boldest, stepped forward, extend
ing a ribbon-wrapped box to Sally. “Miss Sally, I brung
you this here candy.

“Why, thank you, Zachary,
”
she said, taking it.

Now Vance strode up to Nelly. “Miss Nelly, I brought
you these here roses from my ma’s garden.”

“0h, how lovely,” she murmured.

Matt and Cory followed suit, Matt giving Bonnie a jar
of peppermints, Cory presenting Ida May with a slim
volume of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s
Sonnets from the
Portuguese.
After she lavishly thanked him, Cory turned
to Ezra with a cloth-wrapped dish. “Sir, here is your pie.”

He took the gift and harrumphed. “You boys park your
hindquarters on that there bench across from my girls.
You’ve gotten close enough to my daughters already.”

“Yes, sir.” Cory glanced with dismay at the long, hard
bench on the opposite side of the foyer, at least seven
feet away from the girls. “Come on, boys.”

Casting him baleful looks, Cory’s brothers dutifully
trooped across the hallway with him.

Cory watched Trumble walk to a small table just be
yond Ida May, which held a curious candle wrapped
with a black metal coil. Ezra set down the pie and
picked up a box of matches. “Time’s a-wastin’, boys. I’ll be lighting the courting candle now.”