Short-Straw Bride (33 page)

Pain ricocheted past her elbows from the force of the collision, and her hands opened against her will.

The logger shouted orders to his compatriots and pointed in the direction Jim had run. The other guards rushed past them, pistols and rifles in hand. Meredith tried to slide away from her captor, but the logger had no intention of relinquishing his prize. He snatched up a handful of fabric at her neck and hauled her upward.

Her hands instinctively circled about his meaty fist, but she had no strength left to pry free of his hold. His dark eyes promised retribution. He gave her a shake as if she were an oversized rag doll and ordered her to cease her fighting. Since he no longer posed a threat to Jim, she obeyed and stumbled along beside him as he made his way to the front of the cabin. He kicked the door in with his foot and dragged her across the threshold.

“I brung you another guest for the wedding, boss.”

A movement to her right drew Meredith's attention. Roy stood near the hearth, a shotgun looped casually through his bent arm, the barrel pointed at Uncle Everett, who sat on the floor against the wall with his wrists bound.

She'd heard of shotgun weddings, but never one in which the groom held the gun on the father of the bride.

“Meredith, my dear.” Roy smiled, and her stomach recoiled. “So glad you could make it.”

T
ravis tucked the butt of his rifle into his shoulder and sighted down the barrel from his position among the pines nearest the old gate. The quiet rumble he'd noted a moment ago had grown louder, more distinct. Hoofbeats. A rider approached. And fast.

Inhaling a cleansing breath, he forced his pulse to calm. He needed a steady hand and a clear head to deal with whatever came down the path. His mind turned heavenward for an instant—not long enough to form a complete thought, but long enough to connect.

Finger hovering over the trigger, Travis peered into the shadows. Before man or horse came into view, a shrill whistle pierced the air.
Jim
. Travis blew out his tension and lowered his rifle. Expecting the hoofbeats to slow, he was unprepared for the second whistle or for the sight of his brother's mount racing past him.

New urgency speared through Travis, and he took off at a dead run for the house. Jim knew their positions. He would have stopped or at least slowed to call out his findings unless a threat existed that was too imminent to spare the time.

Cassandra must truly be in danger. Travis pumped his legs faster, his lungs burning with the sudden heavy intake of cold air. He leapt over a small gully and pushed forward, his energy solely focused on getting to Jim. The others were positioned closer to the house, so they'd be waiting on him. Thankfully, their horses stood saddled and ready in the corral. They could be on their way in minutes.

By the time he sprinted through the clearing, Jim was giving orders from the saddle. Travis overheard him sending Crockett into the den to collect extra pistols. Neill was hustling to the corral to gather the mounts. Travis pulled up so as not to startle his brother's horse. Between heaving breaths, he asked Jim for a report.

“Cassie and her folks are being held at the cabin,” Jim said, his face grim. “Mitchell has Mr. Hayes tied up and at gunpoint. The women are under guard, as well, but not restrained. He's got at least four men patrolling. Two more inside. They're armed and don't seem too hesitant about attacking.”

“Then we ride.” Travis caught his breath and straightened his shoulders. “I'll tell Meredith and be back in a trice.” She'd be beside herself with worry, but he couldn't keep it from her. Cassie was like a sister to her.

He had just cleared the porch steps when Jim's voice stopped him.

“She's not there, Travis.”

He turned to face his brother, not comprehending his meaning. But when he saw the discomfiture etched into Jim's features, the regret in his eyes, his gut turned to lead.

“I tried to send her back, but she refused to go.” Jim stiffened in the saddle then, as if ready to do battle. “I wouldn't have gotten a look in the cabin without her help, Trav. She saved my life. Twice. I'm not sorry she came. Just sorry I couldn't get her out before Mitchell's men swarmed us.”

Meredith at the homestead? How could that be? She was in his room. Waiting for him. Safe. Wasn't she?

Holding down the bile that threatened to erupt, Travis spun back to the house and threw open the door. It crashed against the wall as he shouted his wife's name.

“Meredith!”

He ran down the hall, his boots slapping the floorboards. It was a mistake. She was there. Safe in his room.

Travis burst through the door. The emptiness hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. He scanned every corner as if she might be hiding somewhere. He even wrenched open the wardrobe in desperation.

“Meri.” The anguished whisper fell from his lips. This couldn't be happening. She told him she'd be in the house. How could she leave the ranch when he'd expressly forbidden it? How could she leave
him
?

In a daze, he pivoted back toward the door. He took a step, but something about the room whispered to his subconscious mind, something out of place. His attention shifted back to the bed, then the dresser. He blinked, sharpening his focus. There. The tablet. Travis pounced on the paper. His eyes devoured the words.

Travis,

I love you with all of my being, but I love Cassie, too. And right now she needs me more than you do.

Forgive me.
Meri

She loved him. The wonder of the statement seeped into him, but the joy that should have accompanied the knowledge faded beneath his growing frustration and fear. How could she possibly think that anyone needed her more than he did? She was his heart, his very life. If anything happened to her . . .

Travis tore the top page from the tablet and hardened his jaw. He'd just have to make sure nothing did happen. After all, if a wife was going to tell her husband she loved him, she ought to do it in person. And he aimed to see that she did precisely that. Right after he kissed the living fire out of her and showed her exactly how much he truly needed her.

Stuffing the note into the shirt pocket beneath his coat, Travis dropped the tablet on the bed and stormed out of the house. Crockett met him on the porch and handed him a second revolver. Since he only had one holster, and it was already full, he stuffed the gun into his waistband at the small of his back. He collected Bexar's reins from where they hung over the railing and mounted in a single motion.

Travis shared a look with Crockett and Jim and turned to Neill. “I want you to ride into Palestine and fetch the sheriff. All you have to do is head south once you hit the road. If you push your mount, you can be there before sundown. We can't afford to let Mitchell get away this time. We need the law on our side.” And
he
needed Neill out of harm's way. The kid could handle himself well enough, but if things went badly, he didn't have the experience necessary to improvise. And if things went really badly, Travis wanted to ensure that at least one Archer lived to see another day.

“Archers stand together, Trav,” Neill spat impatiently. “Isn't that what you always say?” He looked from one brother to the next. The errand was a pretense, and he knew it. “Y'all are already outnumbered. Why give Mitchell a bigger advantage? You have a better chance with me riding with you.”

“Maybe, but someone's got to get the law involved, and you're the logical choice.”

Neill opened his mouth to argue further, but Travis cut him off. “We're wasting time. You have your orders, Neill. Carry them out, like the Archer you are.” Travis nudged Bexar past Neill's mount, effectively ending the conversation.

“Boys, I believe we've been invited to a wedding,” Travis said, steel lacing his tone. “Let's not be late.”

Meredith clasped her cousin's hand as the two girls sat huddled together on the settee. The dreadful Mr. Wheeler loomed over them, legs braced apart, gun in hand. But it was the way he looked at her that frightened Meredith most. That wolfish gleam in his eyes, and the way his gaze kept traveling down her body as if he could see right through her clothing. He'd smile after perusing her in such abominable fashion, and the leering promise on his face turned her stomach.

“Should we start the ceremony now, sir?” A man standing in the back corner of the room posed the question. His black suit and white preacher's collar should have offered reassurance, but his bored expression as he scanned the room full of armed men and hostage women only served to confirm his complicity. There would be no help from that quarter.

“Not yet,” Roy said. “Although I'm anxious to wed my lovely bride, I believe we're due to have a few more visitors soon, and I'd hate for anything unpleasant to interrupt our nuptials.”

“Very well, but I'm charging you for the extra time.” The preacher, if the mercenary little man could be called by such a title, leaned against the wall and slid a silver flask from inside his coat. He unscrewed the lid and imbibed a large swig.

Cassie's grip tightened on Meredith's hand. “I hope he chokes.”

“It would be a rather poetic form of justice,” Meredith agreed softly. And such a lovely wrench to throw into Roy's plan. But then she remembered the logger going after Jim with that ax and decided it might be better for all concerned to keep Roy happy. At least for the time being.

Aunt Noreen paced across the carpet and glowered at Roy. “I don't approve of liquor, Mr. Mitchell. It's bad enough that my daughter's wedding is not taking place in a church, but I refuse to have a drunkard officiate her ceremony.”

Roy's lips thinned as he peered down at the woman before him. “Let me remind you, madam, that I was only too happy to sponsor a church wedding, but Miss Cassandra would not consent. Hence our current predicament. If you feel the need to complain, kindly take it up with your daughter.”

“But
you
were in charge of finding the minister. This one is unsatisfactory.” She folded her arms and frowned at Roy as if he were one of the ladies on her civic beautification committee who had failed to follow her instructions.

“Noreen . . .” Uncle Everett murmured her name in warning from his position on the floor across from her.

“Hush up, Everett. None of this would have happened if you hadn't given in to Cassandra's whining. The girl can't see past her nose. She's just young enough to think that some flutter in her heart is worth more than financial security. You should have taken her in hand. But, no. Like everything else, you bowed out and forced me to deal with it. You've got no backbone. That's the real reason the mill is failing. I probably should have taken that over, too.”

“Mama!” Cassie gasped. But the woman paid her no heed. She'd built up too much steam.

“And as for you . . .” Aunt Noreen pivoted back to face Roy and jabbed his shoulder with her finger, apparently too full of her own agenda to notice the anger brewing in his eyes. “If you want to be my son-in-law, you had best find a minister who isn't incapacitated with drink! I won't allow—”

Roy backhanded her across the mouth with enough force to send her crashing to the floor. “You're not in a position to disallow anything, madam. You might flay your husband with that sharp tongue of yours, but turn it on me, and I will bite you back.”

Aunt Noreen glared up at Roy, not all of her fire extinguished. “How dare you raise your hand to me!”

In a flash, Roy had the shotgun cocked and aimed directly at her head. “You know, it just occurred to me that married life would be much easier without a harpy for a mother-in-law.”

“No!” Cassie lunged to her feet. Wheeler immediately grasped her arm.

“Please,” she cried out to Roy, struggling against Wheeler's hold. “I'll marry you right now. Willingly. Just leave my mother alone.”

Roy pulled the gun back. “Such an ardent declaration, my sweet. How could I refuse?” He stepped toward the settee and clasped Cassie's hand, his gentlemanly veneer back in place. Wheeler released her arm, and Cassie lifted her chin.

As Roy led her toward the hearth, Meredith pushed to her feet. There was no way she was letting Cassie face this horror alone.

“Where do you think
you're
going, darlin'?” Wheeler's gravelly voice grated against her nerves. Then his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her roughly against his side.

“I intend to stand up with my cousin, sir,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Release me.”

Roy glanced over his shoulder and smirked at her. “Let her come, Wheeler. But keep a firm grip on her. She has a bad habit of starting trouble.”

“I'll keep her under control,” the man said as his arm tightened around her, nearly cutting off her air.

She stumbled past Aunt Noreen, who seemed to be in a state of shock, numbly letting Uncle Everett loop his bound arms around her and scoot her back against the wall.

The parson gulped down another swig from his flask, then pulled a Bible from his coat pocket and made a great show of flipping pages as he stepped out of the corner to join Roy and Cassie at the hearth.

“Dearly beloved,” the man droned in a ponderous, self-important tone. “We are gathered here—”

The front door crashed open.

Meredith's head swiveled.

“What is the meaning of this?” the parson sputtered.

“Found these two riding up the path.”

Her ax-wielding “friend” waved to his cohorts, and they shoved two dust-covered men, the obvious recipients of some very rough handling, into the room. One fell to his knee, his arms tied behind his back. The other, though also bound, managed to catch himself and halt his forward momentum before tumbling to the floor.

Meredith's heart recognized them the instant they came through the doorway. And when the man in front lifted his head and met her gaze beneath the brim of his hat, she instinctively stepped toward him.

“Travis.”

Wheeler jerked her back against him, a wicked chuckle echoing in her ear. Travis's face hardened in an instant. He surged forward only to be brought up short by a shotgun barrel in the chest.

“Nice of you to finally show up, Archer.” Roy tugged Cassandra behind him and nodded to the logger, who muscled Jim back down to his knees before he could fully regain his feet. “For a while there, I thought you decided to decline my invitation.”