The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (6 page)

“Yet.” Jem teased, though his heart was only half in it. Although, he’d like nothing better than to see his old friend Ray married off and having a family of his own, Ray was the kind of man who kept to himself, liked things the way he liked them. And he wasn’t likely to change now, even for the love of a woman. He also suspected Ben needed Ray in his life now that his folks had passed.

But those were secondary issues, for Jem’s main concern at the moment was the rancher across the way, Major Elias Creed. He wanted nothing to do with the man—ever—and he wanted to get Annie safely out of sight before he noticed her.

And then it was too late. Major Creed turned and looked up and down the boardwalk, as if looking for someone. Before Jem could stop Ray, he raised a hand in greeting. Major Creed narrowed his eyes, taking in Jem’s frame with a lift of his head. He’d recognized him and Annie, and the dog. His eyes also took in little Mae.

Ice filled Jem’s chest. He quickly stepped forward to block the man’s view, not that he was afraid for himself. It just made him sick to think of that man looking at Annie, let alone his own little Mae. It made him even sicker to know the man lived right here in Colorado Springs. He knew a dangerous man when he saw one, and Major Elias Creed was a dangerous man—a man possibly bent on revenge.

“I’ll see to the horses,” Jem said. “While I’m doing that, how about you get Annie and Mae settled in the wagon?” he asked Ray.

“I can do that,” Ray said, offering his hand to Mae. When she scooted behind Annie and grabbed a handful of skirt to hold on, he puffed out his cheeks, perhaps gathering his patience, and then blew out breath. With a shrug and a grimace that communicated that he’d at least tried, Ray offered his arm to Annie. She cautiously took Ray’s sleeve in one hand, still holding onto the leash in the other. The puppy lunged ahead as they began to walk toward the wagon, first weaving to one side and then the other, and generally getting underfoot.

“You didn’t tell me you had a dog,” Ray grumbled, looking over his shoulder at Jem.

“Just got it. Why, don’t you like dogs?” Jem asked.

“Oh, I like them just fine.” Ray stopped short to avoid stepping on the pup. “So long as they stay out of my way.”

“We’ll get her trained,” Jem promised. He didn’t miss how Annie pulled the pup in closer to her side and smiled apologetically at Ray. He watched after them as they moved away, then rolled his shoulders back and made his way to the horse car.

Major Creed muscled forward through the few men waiting there and approached Jem. “I see you’re getting off here in Colorado Springs.”

Jem leveled a stare on the rancher. He widened his shoulders for good measure and raised himself to his full height. “You will not ever talk to me or my wife again, understand?”

Creed tightened one hand into a fist. He stared back just as intently, not looking cowed at all. If anything, he looked even more focused and determined, which was exactly what Jem didn’t want the man to feel. He wanted him disinterested. He wanted him gone for good.

“Are you threatening me?” Creed asked in a quiet voice.

“If I need to,” Jem said. He paused for one significant beat, then pushed past the man.

Creed caught his arm and stopped him. “I don’t like threats. And I don’t appreciate your interference.

“Perhaps
your wife
, ‘Miz Carina,’ would appreciate the news that you tried to marry up with another woman?” Jem bit off, snatching his arm out of the man’s grip and brushing down the sleeve of his leather jacket. There was something about this man that made him feel dirty just talking to him. He was evil, a man bent on no good. Whatever he had planned for Annie it hadn’t been good, that was for sure. He couldn’t have been planning to bring her back to his ranch and set her up as his second wife, so what
had
he been planning? The possibilities that sprang to mind made Jem sick with anger and disgust.

“I just want to know one thing,” Jem said. “What were you going to do with her? With Annie.”

A muscle flexed in Creed’s jaw. He obviously wasn’t a man who cared to be questioned.

“You’re married. Ray told me so. So what were you planning to do with her? Bring her home to your wife? I can’t see it.” Jem stopped for a moment to gather himself. What experience did he have with women? Besides Lorelei and Becky Jessup, not much. His own ma had left when he was young. She’d escaped Pa’s anger and his whiskey—and left Jem there. Maybe she loved Jem at one time, as his mother, but she hadn’t loved him then—not in that moment—to leave him behind. Maybe a woman could do a lot of things, Jem decided, things he didn’t understand. Maybe Creed’s wife was a woman like that. “Is she that kind of woman?” he asked, truly puzzled. “Would she not mind?”

“You’ve said enough,” Creed bit off, barely holding himself in check. “You will
not
talk about my wife—”

“Seems to me you brought her into this by
marrying
another woman,” Jem said in his most reasonable tone. Seemed obvious.

“Leave my wife out of this.” Creed flexed his hand. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t.”

“Saw you with Ray. That means you must be Jem Wheeler, Lorelei’s husband. Ah, I see I’m right. Heard she passed on. I’d offer my condolences, but...” The man’s lips curled ever so slightly.

He’s baiting me.

“Just stay away from us,” Jem said.

“Not likely.” Creed straightened and planted his hands on his hips, spreading his duster to the sides as he did so, revealing a pistol strapped to his right thigh. “I do business with Ray and young Ben, or hadn’t they told you? Be seeing you around.” It sounded to Jem like a veiled threat. With that, Creed stalked off to join three young men who were helping lead some horses down the ramp out of the horse car. Three of his sons, Jem imagined.

Jem closed his eyes briefly, then pressed forward to collect his own horses. He wasn’t about to let Creed—or anyone—intimidate him. He’d had enough of that in his youth to last him his whole life.

SIX

Creed Ranch, Colorado Springs, Colorado

G
abe Creed had never liked his name. He liked Gabriel just fine—his mother had given him that, saying it was the name of an angel. No, it was the Creed. He’d never liked the sound of it. Creed. It sounded like judgment.

Sometimes it sat in his mind like a pebble in his boot—like now as he rode the fence line with four of his father’s men, looking for the spots that needed mending. There were a lot.

Places where steers had kicked out a post.

Places where the weather had brought it down.

Places where time and rot had won out.

It was a bit like life, he thought.

Mostly, he kept thoughts like that to himself...especially around his father.

Had his train come in yet? A cold knot tightened in Gabe’s chest. It didn’t matter that the sun was shining just fine or that the sky was clear and blue. Or that he could see the stony rock faces of the Rockies in the distance, pointing upwards into the sky like upended arrowheads, silvery gray and solid.

None of that mattered.

It should have been cold and rainy to match his mood.

He let some distance build between him and the other men, waving them on as he stayed back to inspect a section of fence that was down.

After a while, a movement caught his attention—a rider trotting along the fence on the other side, the Castle Ranch side. He felt a slight lightening of his mood when he recognized Ben Castle, the owner’s son. Or, Gabe guessed he should say, the owner now. Mr. Castle had been gone about six months, but it still felt new.

Ben raised a hand as he drew closer. “Hoped I find you here,” he said when his horse stopped alongside the fence near a spot where the barbed wire had sprung free of the posts.

Gabe tilted his hat back so he could see Ben better. “You did?”

“One of my ranch hands spotted you all earlier.”

Gabe inclined his head, pleased that Ben had ridden out to say hello.

“You haven’t been by in a while...” Ben said, a note of question in his voice.

Gabe didn’t want to lie and say he’d been too busy. He didn’t want to tell the truth either. Fortunately, the worst of the bruises had faded, so he didn’t have to hide under the brim of his hat. In the end, he just shrugged.

“So your father’s coming home today?” Ben asked.

Gabe’s gloved fingers tightened on his reins, leather creaking against leather, barely a sound at all—more like the memory of a sound. “Where’d you hear that?”

“One of your men mentioned it.” Ben hiked his thumb in the direction he’d come from. “Says the major sent a telegram yesterday. The Army deal fell through?”

It did?
Gabe thought with a start.

“You’d have to ask Buck,” he said aloud.

“You didn’t know?”

Gabe just shook his head. His oldest brother enjoyed ruling Creed Ranch beside their father. Though his given name was William, most folks called him Buck—Buck Creed, the major’s son. Buck may have mentioned the news to their brothers, but Gabe doubted he’d told them all the details. Buck was the sort of person who liked to keep information close to his chest. Gabe was surprised any of the ranch hands knew anything, although maybe they’d overheard his brothers talking earlier. No one had mentioned the fact that the deal had fallen through to Gabe. Although, why would they?

His brothers had gone out earlier to meet their father at the depot in town. Gabe had elected not to go, and none of them had acted the least surprised. Robert had made some noise about him coming, but Gabe had shaken his head and mumbled something about the fence, and his brothers had simply nodded. Gabe suspected they all thought it best that he stay out of their father’s path. Made even more sense now that he knew his father’s precious deal had fallen through.

He’d be...disappointed.

A wave of cold dread swept over Gabe.

“You all right?” Ben asked, squinting at him.

Gabe gave a curt nod and lowered the brim of his hat.

“You look a little pale,” he persisted.

“I’m fine,” Gabe said, hoping to set his friend at ease. He didn’t want Ben worrying that he was sick. His friend had had enough sickness in his family: his sister, then his father. Besides, what Gabe felt had nothing to do with being sick and everything to do with his own father’s return. When would they ride in? Another couple of hours? If he was lucky, longer.

Most likely, the fencing would be done by then.

Unfortunately.

“You going to Tom Booker’s wedding?” Gabe asked, deciding it best to change the subject.

“That’s months away. But, yes, I’ll be there. Haven’t seen Tom since the funeral.”

Gabe noted Ben’s tight features, the way his friend had stiffened in his saddle. Ben had suffered a lot of life for such a young man. He’d lost his mother when he was young, Gabe knew. He’d lost his sister last year and then his father most recently. Ben had Ray, of course, but Ray wasn’t really family. What Ben needed was a wife, someone to be with him. Someone young and pretty, and not afraid of ranch life.

“My cousins may be c-coming. From Texas,” Gabe said, keeping his tone deliberately casual. Even so, one little stutter slipped out. And once there was one there was bound to be more. He knew that from experience. He took a breath and continued, “I’ve never met them, but Mama says they’re nice girls...”

“What are you doing, Gabe?” Ben asked, his lips twitching in a way that told Gabe he was more amused than irritated. “You matchmaking?”

“Well, if you’re not interested in my c-cousins, I’m sure there’ll be other g-girls at the wedding—girls from town. It wouldn’t hurt you to take a look,” he said, relieved to get the last sentence out with no stutter at all.

“And what about you?”

“Me?” Gabe asked, surprised.

“Yeah, you. You’re—what? Fifteen? Plenty old enough to court a lady friend.”

“A
lady friend
,” Gabe repeated, not so much asking a question as being dumbfounded. Heat rose up his neck, flooding his face, making him too warm. Edgy.

“You do like ladies?”

“I-I like ’em j-just fine,” Gabe stuttered. “It’s just—”

“And they’d like you too,” Ben interrupted, “if you gave them a chance to know you.”

Wait
, Gabe thought desperately,
when had this become about me?

“See?” Ben said, smiling wryly. “Doesn’t feel so good, does it? How about we leave the matchmaking to your mother?”

Gabe grimaced. “She says there’ll be dancing. She wants me to learn.”

“You should.”

“You know how?”

“Yeah, but I’m not teaching you,” Ben said, his tone as dry as dust.

“I wouldn’t ask,” Gabe said quickly, and then he saw a twinkle in his friend’s eye. Ben was just teasing. It was good to see him smiling. He hadn’t done much of that lately.

“It’s just—” Gabe swallowed. “Well, I’m not so good with that sort of thing.”
I’m not so good with girls.
He didn’t put it into words, but a look of understanding and sympathy passed over Ben’s face.

“Aw, you’ll do just fine. Dancing’s as good an excuse as any to hold a pretty girl’s hand.”

Gabe’s face heated again. That was only half the trouble: touching a girl. Talking to one was worse. He just couldn’t do it. Simply thinking about it made him feel slightly lightheaded and more than a little bit sick to his stomach.

What was it his father always said? He “couldn’t string two good words together.”

As if Gabe could ever forget.

The thing was, it was true, mostly. Gabe was fine talking to Ben or his mother. He could talk just fine to his father’s men—for the most part—or with his brothers.

But simply being around his father took the words right out of his mouth. Like his brain dried up. He’d get quieter and quieter, until his stuttering fell to a low mumble that hardly anyone could hear. Gabe knew it—could feel it coming over him. He just couldn’t seem to help himself.

And all his father’s pushing and prodding to get him to “speak up” only made it worse.

Being around girls was different. Gabe would go to church, and his mother would drag him along by his sleeve to greet Mrs. Somebody-or-other and her daughter. And, well, it was as if every word he’d ever known got jammed up in his throat. When he did try to speak, he’d stutter something awful. Never failed.

Gabe could always see the moment the girl would realize something was wrong with him. Her face would sort of freeze over, then she’d say something polite. After an awkward pause, her mother would start chatting with his mother about fabrics and such. He’d excuse himself to check on the horses, and his mother’s expression would change. Outwardly, she’d be as poised as ever, but a slight pucker between her brows would betray her worry.

Gabe felt that worry now. Would he always be this way? What if he never grew out of it?

He became aware of Ben watching him with an odd expression. Thoughtful, but patient. Was there pity too? Gabe wasn’t sure.

“How’s Ray?” Gabe asked, trying to take his mind off his worries and the steady feeling of dread tugging at him as every minute ticked by. He could almost feel his father’s approach.

“He’s meeting Jem and Mae today.” Ben turned his gaze to the fence, swinging easily out of the saddle and crouching to check the footing of one of the posts.

Gabe swung out of his saddle too and gave his horse an appreciative pat. He studied the top of Ben’s hat, tying to form something sensible to say.

“You—didn’t go with him?” he asked.

Ben glanced up without rising. “Nope.”

His response didn’t invite any chatter, nor did his impassive face. Still, Gabe pressed a little, “You haven’t seen him since, have you?”
Since your sister died
was implied. Gabe didn’t like to say it out loud, so he kept that part to himself. Didn’t seem right to shove it in his friend’s face.

“Nope.”

“You must be excited to see Mae.”

Ben hesitated at that. He’d clearly been prepared to repeat the same response until Gabe gave up on questioning him, but he could scarcely say “nope” to seeing his only niece.

“I suppose,” he finally said.

Well, that was something.

“So...it must be good to get Jem back.” Gabe rocked back on his heels. “He’ll be a help on the ranch, I’m sure.”

Jem would be half owner now too, Gabe reckoned. Ben had inherited his share. His sister would have inherited the other half, but with her gone, Ben’s father had named Jem as a beneficiary, intending to leave a legacy for Mae, his only granddaughter. Ben had told Gabe as much back when the will was read.

Ben just stared at him, his face a little too expressionless. He turned back to the post and gave it a shake. As if satisfied that it was as bad as he’d thought, he stood and brushed his hands off on the back of his denims.

There’d be no more talking about Jem. That was obvious.

Ben climbed back in the saddle. As he adjusted his stirrups and sat upright, Gabe was struck with how different his friend suddenly seemed. Ben had always been five years older than him—twenty years to Gabe’s fifteen—but today he seemed even older than that. More like a man. A man with worries and a ranch to run. He’d always had responsibilities, of course, but now it seemed more—more permanent maybe?

No, that wasn’t quite right.

He just didn’t seem
young
anymore. Sure, he’d smiled a couple of times and teased Gabe about matchmaking, but it was less like they were peers and more like Ben had crossed over to the other side. He was an adult. Gabe was still a boy—well, a youth anyway. Boy sounded a bit too young for how he felt inside. He’d always felt ancient on one hand and terribly, awkwardly young on the other. Like his outside and his inside were two different people trying to share the same body.

“This one will have to be replaced,” Ben said, nodding to the post.

“We’ll get to it,” Gabe promised, already pulling some red twine from his vest pocket to mark the post. “About the dancing?”