Romancing the Bride

by Melissa Jagears

Celia barely kept herself rooted to the ground instead of rushing at the men while screaming for help at the top of her lungs.

  Because no one would hear.

  No one could help.

  Rufus’s tall form appeared in front of them, backlit by the rosy pink of the morning sun just below the horizon. He rubbed his hands together. “It’s time for some fun.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Despite her shaky legs, Celia shoved her way between Rufus and Leah, spreading her arms out wide. “Don’t touch her. Let me do it.”

  Rufus’s leer transformed into a scowl. “Do what?”

  “I’ll rough her up.” Celia tried to give her voice a sinister edge despite her wavering vocal cords.

  Rufus erupted into laughter. “Sure, kid.”

  “No, I mean it.” She’d have to punch Leah or something. Her stomach rolled just thinking about hitting the nicest woman in town, but if she beat Leah up, then Rufus and Guy wouldn’t have reason to, right? She’d have to wallop her good to convince them.

  She put her fists on her hips. “I think it’d be fun. Boss said we’re only supposed to hurt her a little. I’m too small to do more than that.”

  Rufus stroked his jaw, his lower lip protruding. “I guess there ain’t no harm in letting you have at her.”

  Guy’s mare trotted away from the nearby herd, and he stopped next to Rufus. “Are you going to grab her or what? We haven’t got all night.”

  Rufus was still rubbing his scruffy face. “Celia here wants to pummel the lady for us.”

  “What?” Guy glared down at her. “We aren’t playing games.”

  “I don’t know.” Rufus shrugged. “Think it might be fun to watch.”

  Guy snapped his horse’s head to force his mount to walk closer to the women. “Well then, get on with it, girl.”

  Celia’s body trembled, and her teeth ground together so hard her jaw ached, but she forced the corners of her mouth upward. “Good.” She turned to Leah, whose face looked no more frightened than before.

  Leah frowned. “Don’t do this.”

  Celia took three deep breaths to calm herself. She could do this. She could save Leah from worse. “I’ll do what I want, lady.” She mouthed the word sorry, though Leah had already bowed her head, her lips moving rapidly.

  Good thing she had a real good reason to hit Leah. Striking a praying woman had to be lower than low.

  She pulled her arm back and swung her fist, making contact between Leah’s left eye and ear.

  Sparks jolted from her wrist up into her shoulder. “Ow!”

  Leah groaned and Celia clamped her hand to her chest. Her thumb pulsed in torment.

  The two men hooted with laughter.

  “Just grab the woman, Rufus.”

  “No, wait!” Celia bit her lip against the pain. “I’m not done yet.”

  “You probably hurt yourself more than you hurt her with that pitiful swing.”

  “If you don’t give me a chance, I can’t learn how, now can I?” Celia held up her throbbing fist. “So tell me how I’m supposed to hit her without hurting myself.”

  “For one,” Rufus snorted, “take your thumb out from inside your fingers.”

  Celia repositioned her pulsing thumb and brandished her fist.

  He sighed. “And then wrap it around the front or you’re liable to break it off.”

  She wrapped her thumb around her fingertips, and at his nod, whirled back around.

  Leah was still mouthing silent prayers.

  “Let’s try this again, shall we?” Celia growled menacingly, closed her eyes, and swung. She hit soft flesh, the pain in her hand not as bad this time, though it still smarted.

  Leah fell onto her side and groaned. “Father, forgive her.”

  Celia wanted forgiveness, yes, but she didn’t deserve it. Especially if she couldn’t keep Rufus from doing what he wanted with a woman who’d rather kiss a fly than smack it.

  Though tears blinded her aim, she took another swing, and another.

  “All right. Enough.” Guy slid off his saddle, stalked over, and pushed her aside. “That was pathetic.”

  “But—” Her voice held a whine she wished she could snatch back.

  “Our turn now.” Rufus rubbed his hands together.

  Guy hoisted Leah onto his shoulder.

  Her body flopped like a green corn husk doll.

  “Wait!” Celia blinked repeatedly as she forged forward. “Wait, I can do more.”

  Leah’s head lifted off Guy’s back, the pale morning light sparkling upon her damp eyelashes. “No more, Celia. Thank you.”

  “What did you say, woman?” Guy dropped his burden onto the ground. With both hands on his hips, he glared down at her. “‘Thank you’?”

  When she didn’t respond, he kicked her.

  She groaned and curled up on her side.

  Guy clamped his gaze onto Celia. “Why is she thanking you?”

  “I don’t know.” Celia put out her hands. “Maybe for not hitting her hard enough? Let me try again.”

  “You had your chance.” Guy turned back to the woman at his feet.

  “Lord, save us from evil,” Leah prayed aloud while sniffing, probably from the blood running from her nose. “Let us throw ourselves upon your mercy, for we are all sinners—”

  He shoved her with his foot. “Stop sniveling.”

  “May we seek your will, not our own. Let us turn from our wicked ways before—”

  Guy kicked Leah in the ribcage.

  “Father, help Celia—”

  Guy kicked her again.

  And again.

  Leah let out only the slightest hint of a moan as he continued, and continued...

  “Stop!” Celia ran over and yanked on his arm.

  “Get off me, brat!”

  “No.” She pulled with all her might, but his foul, stinking body wouldn’t budge.

  “Stop, you two.” Rufus’s voice was low, intense. “We need to move farther away from the—”

  Guy hollered from the bite Celia inflicted upon the soft flesh of his arm. He tried to yank away, but she held on, attempting to sink her teeth down to the bone.

  “Rufus, you lazy lout, get this she-cat off me.” He cursed and punched at her head. One of his glancing blows detached her.

  Her backside met the ground with a hard thump. She slammed the flat of her foot against his shin, knocking him forward.

  Arms flailing, he fell on top of her.

  Celia growled as a bellow rang out from the nearby calves.

  Guy popped up on all fours, but didn’t move away fast enough to keep her from pulling the revolver from his holster, and in the same instant, the gun kicked with a loud bang, and an explosion of dirt and sharp rocks near Guy’s cowboy boots hit her in the face. The gun slid from her frozen fingers, the scent of gunpowder burning her nose.

  A frightened uproar rose from the cattle now hastily scattering in every direction.

  “Now, you’ve done it.” Guy called Celia his favorite foul word as he scrambled up, then grabbed for his horse’s reins as the mare reared up and pawed the air in fright.

  A wild-eyed calf ran straight for Celia, and she rolled sideways.

  The calf’s front hoof grazed her in the back. “Oof.” She scrambled across the grass in the direction of a willow tree as the ground shook with the pounding of a hundred hooves.

  She hadn’t meant to pull the trigger.

  A soft body hit her as several steer ran past, almost knocking her to the ground.

  Guy hooted and hollered atop his horse, firing his other six-shooter at the ground near the front, trying to turn the stampede. “Get ‘em going in the right direction!”

  Rufus raced his buckskin toward the opposite edge of the panicking herd.

  And Leah was lying somewhere amid the chaos.

  Celia hugged the north side of the tree as tight as she could, squeezing her eyes against all thought until the thundering of the cattle grew faint and the dust settled.

/>   She peered around the tree to find both men had disappeared with the herd. There’d be no reason for them to come back.

  With how Leah had been left out there, she was likely far more “roughed up” than any of them had ever intended.

  And that was only if...

  She swallowed hard.

  “Leah?” she whispered as she looked out over the trampled grasses.

  No answer. No call for help.

  And there, in the dirt twenty yards away, lay Leah, a crumpled heap.

  “Leah!” A sob wrenched through her, but she punched herself in the gut to stop it. What right did she have to cry over anything!

  Oh God, I wanted to save her!

  Scrambling toward her, Celia fixed her gaze on Leah’s still form, looking for any sign of movement. She rolled Leah over and with trembling fingers traced a hoof mark near the woman’s collarbone. “Leah?” Her voice barely sounded above the crickets that had restarted their night time chorus. She picked up Leah’s hand, as heavy as a brick. “Leah!”

  She shook the woman’s shoulders, but the weight of her resisted the shaking.

  Her head rolled limply to the side.

  “No.” Her strangled whisper burned her throat and something banded her lungs together, stealing her breath. What had she done? What had she done!

  All she’d wanted was to be free to do as she pleased, but if she took Leah’s body back to town...

  She hugged herself, and a cold shiver jolted through her as an image of her father, dead and bloody with frightened, unseeing eyes flashed before her.

  Hanging her head between her knees, she sucked in big gulps of air. She’d tried to bury that image. Nothing could be worse than seeing one’s own father’s mangled remains over and over again.

  But what if she’d never seen his body? What if she’d had to wonder her whole life whether or not he lived?

  With her dirty sleeve, Celia wiped her damp face, then looked to her horse.

  The animal chomped the grass hanging from its mouth as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

  She could sneak onto the train, find somewhere else to live—

  Father, help Celia.

  She curled her fists.

  How could she even think of abandoning the woman who’d used her last prayers on her?

  Father, help Celia.

  Leah’s plea had been in vain.

  God wouldn’t bother to help a murderer.

  A moan.

  Celia’s heart jumped into her throat. She flattened herself against Leah, pressing an ear to her chest.

  Was Leah breathing?

  Or had the groan been her own, loosed amid the sobs wracking her body that were as out of control as the stampede she’d caused?

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Jacob groaned, rolled over, and draped his arm across Annie’s soft body. Except she felt too soft. He opened his right eye. Not Annie—Annie’s pillow.

  A burning, sugary smell accosted his nose.

  The sun wasn’t even up, yet she was downstairs baking.

  He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

  Celia’s disappearance had kept Annie awake, agitated, and restless most every night. Though he wished she had no reason to cry, at least he now had the privilege of holding her when those tears stole her sleep.

  He pushed himself upright and scooted to the edge of the bed to pull on his trousers. Outside the window, the deep reds, oranges, and purples of the rising sun over the wide plains shouted of God’s magnificent glory and caused him to stop and simply watch.

  Once the fiery colors succumbed to blue, he finished dressing and moved to the window.

  He scanned what land he could see beyond town, the rolling plains that smacked into mountains. Was Celia out there somewhere or long gone?

  She may not have cared a whit for him, but he’d do anything to have her back. And not just because it would bring Annie comfort, but because Celia was his daughter too, no matter whose blood ran through her veins.

  And what about Leah? Was she out there as well? Surely not. If Bryant had thought so, he’d have asked him to help scour the countryside—even if he had proven himself rather ineffectual at finding people lately.

  Last night, he’d had a hard time falling asleep knowing something was going on between Bryant and Leah. The only reason he could conjure up for her disappearance was that she’d learned of Bryant’s gambling and had left him.

  Leah leaving her husband felt like the last thing on this planet that would happen, but then, Bryant hadn’t been acting lately like the man he’d known so well for so many years either. Perhaps Leah had decided to jolt him into realizing what all he could lose if he didn’t straighten up.

  Jacob crossed to Spencer’s room and peeked around the open door. The boy lay on the floor surrounded by an army of lead soldiers. Though Spencer was certainly upset over his sister’s disappearance, he wasn’t having as hard a time as his mother was going on about life.

  “I see you’re already busy this morning.”

  “Yep. Got some rustlers trapped over there in the Hole in the Wall.” He pointed to several books he’d propped up on the floor, creating imaginary cliffs and valleys. “We’re going to flush them out.”

  Jacob chuckled. “If you succeed, let me know how so I can pass the information on to the marshal in Johnson County.”

  Spencer nodded, his furrowed brow serious.

  As Jacob clomped down the stairs, the funny burning smell grew stronger and stranger. Not exactly the smell of overdone sweets.

  Annie was slouched over the kitchen table, cradling her head in her arms. A plum cake sat before her with pools of hot wax spread over its top. One lone flame held tenaciously to the single remaining candle wick.

  He grabbed a chair, sat beside his wife, and placed a hand on her back.

  She faced him, her eyes cloudy. “Today would’ve been his birthday.”

  “Gregory’s?” He counted the pooled candles. Five.

  “No.” She returned her bleary gaze back to the cake. “Jack’s.”

  The flame gave out one last flicker before leaving behind a wisp of white smoke.

  She’d yet to talk to him about any of the children she’d buried on her ranch. “He’d be five today?”

  “Three.” She dipped her finger into the hardening wax. “I put a candle in for each of them: Gregory, Catherine, Jack, Augustus—” She gulped. “And Celia.”

  He scooted closer to wrap his arms around her, and she went limp in his embrace.

  He couldn’t fathom her pain.

  Though he hoped their daughter wasn’t dead, he wouldn’t chastise his wife for mourning her disappearance along with the rest. “Celia could come home any minute, love.”

  “But you’ve heard nothing, found nothing.”

  “That doesn’t necessarily mean bad news.” He pulled her onto his lap.

  She didn’t turn toward him. Instead, she fiddled with the cake pan, running her index finger along its rim. “But there’s no hope of you tracking her down, right? If she doesn’t choose to come back on her own...”

  He shook his head with a sigh. Armelle needed a more skilled lawman for marshal. He’d only ever succeeded at handing out sidewalk fines and corralling wandering livestock.

  But finding Celia or the rustlers? Stopping the clothesline thief? Figuring out why his gut insisted Annie’s land had been stolen despite contrary evidence? Those he failed at with aplomb.

  He pursed his lips and rested his chin atop Annie’s head. “I wish I was a good enough marshal to bring her back.”

  “You’ve done your best.”

  “Not enough.”

  “But it’s what’s important. Even if you had another job, that’s all you could do.”

  “Would you have a problem with me getting another job?”

  “No, but while we pray about it, your best is all God asks of you, so I can’t ask for anything more—whether you find Celia or not.” She sniffed, and her
breathing grew shaky again.

  Holding her tight, he watched the five wax spots harden atop the cake while listening to Spencer shuffle about in his room overhead.

  After the grandfather clock chimed the hour, he took in a deep breath. “Do we eat the cake?”

  She shrugged.

  She’d made the cake and lit the candles, but what sort of birthday celebration had no song?

  He began singing in a low, rumbly voice, “Many Happy Returns of the Day,” but the third stanza clogged his throat as Annie’s tears slowly wetted his shirtsleeve.

  But if ‘midst the greeting there’s one that we miss,

  And that one was the dearest of all,

  ‘Tis then we feel lone in a moment like this,

  When our loudly hailed birthday shall fall.

  What would we not give if the hours could restore,

  That dear form that is far, far away...

  His voice petered out.

  What indeed would they not give to have Celia back? He squeezed Annie tighter, and she wiped her face against his shirt.

  He restarted the song, humming it this time around.

  After the last note, Annie pushed herself away from his chest though not out of his arms. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  She gave him a tight, sad smile, then slipped off his lap and headed to the parlor. She swiveled the rocking chair to face the front window where she’d taken up praying this past week.

  He glanced at the cake but buttered bread for his breakfast instead. He was glad they were on better terms, even if they weren’t as carefree as he’d hoped they’d be once they declared their love for each other. But from what he’d heard, grief was a difficult thing to get through even for the strongest of couples.

  Lord, if you would, bring Celia back or help me find the rustlers so I can have more time to search for her.

  He’d asked every farmer and rancher in the area to keep an eye out, but he’d basically given up gaining information that way. If they had seen her the day or two after her disappearance, they would’ve already let him know.

  So either someone was hiding her or she’d left town.

  Of course, she could be camping somewhere, but if she was, she had more stubborn willfulness than he’d counted on.