Short-Straw Bride (7 page)

Besides, he wanted to keep an eye on the house, as well. And Meredith. He still couldn't believe she had come out to warn him. A pretty woman like that should have better things to do with her time than brave the den of a bunch of mangy men who'd lost touch with civilization years ago.

But she'd come. Because she felt beholden to him. Travis shook his head as he dismounted and pulled his rifle free of its scabbard. He'd noticed the woman favored her right leg, an injury he was no doubt responsible for, but instead of laying blame, she went out of her way to help him. Not your average female.

Not that he had much experience with females. He'd quit school after the eighth grade to run the ranch with his father, and a few years later he was raising his siblings on his own. Outside of a couple church socials he'd attended when he was fourteen, he had no experience with the fairer sex. That didn't mean he was too ignorant to recognize the effect of one, though.

Travis rubbed the stubble on his chin and frowned, wondering for the first time what kind of impression he'd made on her. She probably thought him half wild, pointing guns at innocent women and snapping out orders like a general. Yet when he and the boys had dragged in after clearing out the barn and found Meredith in a spotless kitchen, pouring hot coffee with a welcoming smile, his gut had tightened with longing. And he wasn't the only one suffering such a reaction. Crockett and Jim had felt it, too. He could tell by the strange tension radiating from them. Even Neill's youth had not kept him immune.

As Travis stared out into the darkness, watching for any movement that didn't belong, questions churned in his mind, distracting him. Would his reaction have been the same for any woman standing in his kitchen looking homey and inviting, or was it something specific about Meredith that kindled his appreciation and protective instincts?

Travis crossed his arms and leaned his shoulder against the trunk of a nearby tree. It was a shame she'd be leaving so soon. He would have enjoyed trying to figure that one out.

M
eredith's chin jerked up from its resting place on her chest, and she blinked several times, trying to get her bearings. She stared into the darkness from her seat on the porch rocker but failed to see anything amiss. Rearranging the thick folds of her quilt cocoon, she burrowed into the coverlet and leaned the side of her head against the back of the rocking chair, allowing her eyes to slide closed once again.

A low growl resonated near her feet, culminating in a sharp bark.

Meredith's eyes flew open, and she bolted upright. “Did you hear something, Sadie?” she whispered. Meredith freed her arms from the quilt and reached for the old shotgun she'd found in the den.

Sadie lurched to her feet, her posture stiff, her ears pricked. Meredith rose, as well. Clutching the shotgun across her middle with trembling hands, she squinted into the night, trying desperately to make out the form of someone moving about where he didn't belong. But the barn was nothing more than a dark, hazy form against a landscape of black and gray.

Then a shadow separated itself from the others. And divided into two . . . no . . . three smaller silhouettes. Meredith's heart dropped to her stomach. Her pulse thrumming erratically, she inched her way to the porch railing. Had Travis and the others returned to check on things, or had Roy's men somehow reached the barn undetected?

While she debated with herself over what to do, a breeze ruffled the loose strands of hair around her face—a breeze that carried a familiar, cloying scent.

Kerosene!

Meredith darted off the covered porch and lifted the shotgun to her shoulder. Pointing the double barrels into the air, she braced herself for the recoil and pulled the trigger. The blast shattered the silence, its alarm echoing in the stillness.

That should bring the Archers down around their ears!

Meredith lowered the weapon, satisfaction filling her as the man-sized shadows around the barn began to scramble. Then an answering gunshot cracked. Meredith yelped as a bullet kicked up dust a foot in front of her. She darted back into the darkness of the covered porch and hunkered down behind the rocker she'd been dozing in moments earlier. Sadie followed, protectively flanking her right side.

“Good girl.” Meredith grabbed the dog's neck and pulled her down behind the chair, too.

No longer concerned with stealth, Roy's men scurried around the barn with new urgency until one of them finally struck a match.

That tiny spark ignited a bonfire of dread in Meredith's chest. For it didn't stay tiny for long. It ignited a torch. Then a second. And a third.

Sadie barked despite Meredith's efforts to shush her. The mule in the paddock brayed and kicked against the fence with sharp thuds that carried all the way to the house. Meredith closed her eyes and prayed until the sound of hoofbeats descending upon the barn interrupted her pleas.

Travis!

A pair of horsemen emerged from the woods near the front of the barn, rifles drawn. Gunfire erupted and male shouts punctuated the air. Was one of the riders Travis? And where were the other brothers? Were they on the far side of the barn, hidden from view? How many of Roy's men were over there? Meredith peered between the spindles of the chairback, her grip on Sadie tightening until the dog finally squirmed away. If only she could see what was happening!

Soon the other two brothers rode in, and the torches were discarded in the fray as guns and horses became more important. For a few minutes, Meredith believed the barn would be spared, but when Roy's men gained their mounts and scattered into the woods, and Travis and his brothers gave chase, the smell of smoke wafted back toward the house. A stronger odor than could be explained by a few smoldering torches lying in the dirt.

Meredith came out from behind the chair and cautiously made her way down the porch steps. With one barrel of her shotgun still loaded, she shouldered the weapon and stole across the yard. She scanned from the barn to the corral to the trees, checking for any man-sized movement. Just as she determined that all was clear, Sadie rushed past her, ducked under the lowest rail of the corral fence, and set to barking at the barn entrance.

Tightening her grip on the gun, Meredith bit her lip and followed. “Anyone there?” she called.

The only answer came from the mule, Samson, which was still kicking up a fuss. The milk cow was nervous, too, sidestepping and moaning an occasional complaint. As Meredith strained to hear any evidence of a human threat, her ears picked out another sound altogether—a muffled crackling from within the barn.

Hurrying forward, Meredith straddled the bottom fence rail and squeezed her body through the opening between the slats, then ran to Sadie's side. A blast of heat hit her face when she crossed in front of the doorway.

Greedy flames were climbing the interior walls.

The thugs had lit the
inside
of the barn! Anger surged through Meredith's veins as she hiked up her skirts and sprinted to her bucket line. Travis and his brothers had no way of knowing that their barn was afire when they set off after Roy's men, so they'd be in no hurry to return. Capturing the men responsible would take precedence. Which left Meredith alone to fight the blaze.

In case Travis wasn't too far afield to hear a warning shot and grasp its meaning, Meredith fired the final shell from her shotgun and dropped the weapon on the far side of the trough. She grabbed two of the full pails she'd prepared earlier and walked as fast as she could without sloshing too much water over the edges.

“Of all the times to have an uneven gait,” Meredith grumbled. The moment the words left her mouth, her right foot hit a divot in the earth and water splashed onto her shoe. With a grimace, she redirected her path but didn't slow her pace.

Once in the barn, she maneuvered to the east wall, where the fire seemed to be the strongest. She tossed the bucket contents onto the burning wood, rejoicing at the hiss of dying flames. But in an instant, new ones rose to take their place.

Meredith ran back to the trough. “Lord, help me make a difference. Please. It's not right for good men to suffer on a wicked man's whim.”

Back and forth she ran. Dumping water over and over until the trough was nearly dry. Her arms felt like rubber, and her back screamed at her to stop. Her lungs burned from the smoke and heat, but she refused to quit.

Wiping a soot-covered arm across her brow, she turned away from the barn to inhale a deep breath of clean air. Then, ignoring the weariness that threatened to claim her, Meredith dropped a blanket into the trough and soaked up the last of the water. She'd beat out what flames she could, then refill the buckets at the pump. Surely the Archers would return soon.

Circling well out of the reach of Samson's hooves, Meredith trudged back into the barn and turned her attention to the west wall. She slapped at the flames with the wet blanket, but they seemed to tease her, dancing upward, out of her reach.

Then, as if a furnace door had suddenly swung wide, light flashed above Meredith's head and heat swooped down on her in a massive wave.

Lord, have mercy.

Fire had exploded across the hayloft.

Mitchell's men had escaped. Every last one of them. Travis glared at the cut wire that left a gaping hole in his boundary fence and ground his palm into the saddle horn. If it hadn't been so dark, things might have been different. But Archers knew better than to endanger a horse by racing over rough terrain at night.

Would there be another attempt? Without Meredith to warn them next time, Travis held little hope they'd be as successful in thwarting Roy Mitchell's efforts.

“Look at the bright side—they didn't get the barn, and none of us were injured in the fray.” Crockett's quiet statement seeped into Travis. He shifted his focus from the damaged fence to the three hale-and-hearty brothers congregated around him.

“You're right.” Travis cleared his throat, buying time to squirrel away his own disappointment and muster a half-hearted smile for the boys. “Things could certainly be worse. With the way those bullets were flying, it's a miracle no blood was drawn.”

“I still don't know how those skunks got past us in the first place,” Neill groused. “I didn't fall asleep, Travis. I swear it!”

“I know you didn't, little brother. Don't sweat it. What's done is done.” Travis nudged his chestnut gelding forward until he sat even with Neill. “There was too much ground for four men to monitor, and too little light to see more than a stone's throw in any direction. I knew going in that our best chance was to have them stumble onto one of us as they were coming in, since they expected us to be at the house, sleeping in our beds. But it wasn't meant to be.”

“Speaking of sleeping in our beds . . .” Crockett tugged on the reins until his horse faced homeward. “I'm more than ready to do just that. Let's head back.”

Travis nodded, his own energy giving way to weariness now that the danger had passed. “Lead the way.”

They wound through the trees, sticking to the well-worn paths that would cause the horses the least amount of trouble. No one spoke, too exhausted and dispirited to do more than keep themselves upright in their saddles. But as they climbed the rise that led to home, Neill broke the silence.

“It's a good thing you got off that warning shot when you did, Trav, or we wouldn'ta had a chance of stoppin' 'em.”

“Wasn't me.” Travis reined his horse around a large rock, keeping his gaze trained on the ground in front of him. “I saw a muzzle flash near the house. My guess is that Meredith fired the shot.”

“Meredith?” Disbelief tinged Neill's voice. “Didn't you tell her to stay in the house? What was she doin' out there, and where did she get a gun? You don't think she was helpin' 'em, do ya?”

“Of course she wasn't helping them,” Travis snapped. “If she were, there'd be no point in making all that racket to bring us charging out of the woods like the cavalry, would there?” Travis bit back the rest of the words that sprang to his tongue, shocked at his vehement reaction. Neill didn't know Meredith. Shoot. None of them did, really. Including him. Questioning her loyalty was reasonable—more reasonable than blindly defending her character based on two encounters that totaled less than a day's worth of time in her company.

Travis grimaced. Was he really so susceptible to a pair of bright blue eyes and a pretty smile? He'd better get a grip on his reactions before he ended up doing something stupid.

“She probably found one of Pa's hunting guns,” Crockett said. “The case in the den isn't lock—”

“Quiet!” Jim's sharp voice brought Travis's head up. “I smell smoke.”

Smoke? Travis sniffed the air, and alarm gouged through him. He smelled it, too.

Had a spark from one of the fallen torches managed to catch? He'd not seen any evidence of fire when he signaled the boys to give chase. Had he left their home unprotected?

Had he left Meredith unprotected?

“Yah!” Digging his heels into his horse's flanks, Travis charged toward home.