by Tanya Hanson
“I will do that. Good-bye now.”
As he helped her into the wagon, Brix reckoned a lecture on the Bonnet Race was about to start, so he decided to hedge it off. And damn, if there was any righteousness in the world, Caldwell Hackett's mustang would be the first pony Ahab Perkins thieved.
“See you lost that big hat,” he said, as he climbed up.
“I did.” Just for an instant she gave off a breathy little chuckle that reminded him of that night in her arms. The manly thing happened again. “It blew off in a bramble patch somewhere. I didn't even care. I was so worried about Ned. And I'm so worried now.” Her voice and lips tightened.
“Well, Miz Haynes, you can shoot as good as any female around here. Let's see now how fast this churn-head can get us home.” He urged the draft horse along, and a cuss slipped out.
“Churn-head? What's wrong?” Minda asked, face pink as dawn.
“Churn-head means he's stubborn. This horse works strong, but he's slow. And I'd like to get home quick.”
“Well, I think we all want that.”
“Worse than that. Anybody with ears in any saloon in Platte County knows Norman Dale's horses are the best in these parts. He spent more cash than he should have on that pair. Even Dobby is a valuable piece of horseflesh.”
“Dobby?”
“This churn-head.” A grin slipped out even with his bones weary from the river and outlaws skulking up ahead and that unfulfilled kiss. “None of my doing, I'll have you know. My brother allowed his kids to name everything from pullets to, hell, barn mice.”
She frowned. Without that hat, sunshine turned her hair to spun silver and gold, tied here and there with copper wire.
“Must you speak so? Around the children? And I am a lady.”
He sighed deep. Another reason to leave. The trail was a place where a man could cuss in peace, smoke long-nine cigars at will, and engage in blackstrap whiskey without beseeching permission.
A man on the trail had no chance to get nagged by a wife, no matter how pretty she was.
No matter how much he liked the hot, sweet mysteries of her body.
“Sorry,” he muttered in such a way she'd know for sure he didn't mean it at all, and looked straight ahead. The miles of corn and prairie grass around him contented men who liked muddying their fingers, but his only peace came from riding from place to place. That was a fact, and everybody in Paradise knew it, including his wife.
And it couldn't happen soon enough.
“What's yours?” she asked, and confusion filled his head at her words.
“My what?” He looked sideways at her.
Even with the worry tweaking the edges of her eyes, she smiled a little, and he couldn't help but enjoy the glimpse of her lips. He recalled their taste, regretted that he'd halted that kiss. Turning a little more, he watched her mouth full on and thought of the few kisses they'd shared.
He almost wanted to die in her arms.
“The name of the horse that waits for you in Kansas,” she said, bringing him to his senses.
It sounded a harmless enough question.
“Fara. Farajido.” He wondered for a flash how his pinto was doing. It wouldn't be too long before the two of them were on their way back to Butter Creek.
“Hmm. I must guess that's Spanish?” A bump in the road made the word tumble on her tongue.
“Yep.” Her inkling surprised him. What did a Pennsylvania girl know about south of the border?
“So, what is the translation?”
“Outlaw.” He couldn't help a grin.
She didn't giggle or make any other sort of humorous sound. The word must have reminded her of their true quest, now that Ned was found.
“Oh, mercy, Mr. Haynes, we truly must hurry,” she said, her voice fluttering a little.
“Been saying that very thing. Dob's doing his best.” Brix scowled, suddenly spent of grins. He hadn't even had time to improve his mood over nearly losing Ned. Now he had to consider outlaws practically lined up at the homestead, waiting to strike.
She whispered close to his ear, his hands all but trembling on the reins just at her hair flowing so close to his nose. “Do you have your gun along?”
He nodded and tightened his lips together, thinking he had best speak his mind. Soon, she'd be the only one looking after the kids.
“You ought to have kept your eye on Ned.” He forced the words out, wondering if he should. She'd been a splendid ma up to now.
Those flower petal eyes turned dark with anger. “Why, Mr. Haynes, don't you dare cast any such blame on me. You have a pair of eyes, too. Besides, you yourself told me not to be concerned.”
He ignored her. “Well, it worked out good. Found him right as rain.”
“Well, I tried, too.”
“That you did,” he said, with some surprise. She truly hadn't carried on in any fainthearted way. “Truth is, it could have been you, except you went the other direction.”
The bouncing of the wheels had lulled Ned fast asleep in Katie's arms. Tilting the brim of his hat, Brix checked out the sun overhead. That meant only one thing. He could get in four more hours threshing that damn wheat. It didn't matter about his burning foot.
In July, night came late to Nebraska.
“It sure was a fine thing, all those people coming to help find Ned,” Minda said, interrupting his unhappy thoughts. “I actually felt a bit like I belong in Paradise now.”
What did that mean? She was staying on after her payback? That might answer some prayers. But he couldn't help grumbling about the wasted day and his aching foot.
“Shouldn't have gone on that picnic, any of us,” he groused. “Ned getting lost took a heap of folks away from their business. Myself included.”
“Why, Mr. Haynes, you just hush and reconsider. In a roundabout way, Neddie alerted Paradise to the presence of the outlaws.”
“Nothing but trouble.”
“Ned scared us all to death, but we might not have known about Ahab Perkins any other way.”
He grunted. They had reached the homestead, and with some unease, he turned the wagon toward the barn. Minda tensed beside him, but things looked undisturbed. His sigh sounded just like hers.
“Listen, Miz Haynes, I got hours left in the field. Taking this day off was not wise.” He raised his eyebrows.
“Well, again as I recall, you had the chance to say no to the invitation.” Her pretty nose went high in the air again in that way he had to admit he liked. “I remember perfectly well how much you hate farming. How much you hate Paradise. But at least after today, I'm assured that you don't hate the children!” She stomped down from the wagon seat all by herself.
Her words knocked into him like a hungry calf finally finding its ma. He had taken on the kids without a moment's hesitation, tossed his whole life upside down. How had such an uncharitable thought ever crossed her brain?
He jumped down beside her.
At that precise second, the sleeping kids stirred and calmed him down.
“Let's keep our voices down, Miz Haynes. Now you got kids to tend. And I got wheat to thresh.”
“I'll keep supper warm for you.” Her voice was stiff.
“Something else you need to keep, Miz Haynes.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Keep my brother's hog-leg pistol at your side.”
* * * *
Neddie continued his nap inside, and when Katie wasn't looking, Minda tied Norman Dale's gun to her leg with his old suspender.
Her husband had scared her into obedience, but she didn't want to frighten the children. When she tried out her new contrivance, the homemade gun belt held fine.
They'd have to feed the chickens somehow, but she hesitated to leave Ned alone in the house. And while she missed Priscilla, she felt comforted with the baby safe in town.
As Jake had said, one less thing to worry about.
Brixton's blaming her for Ned's accident troubled her. And breaking off that kiss had been downright humiliation. They'd seemed to
find a bit of accord during the picnic.
But now, outlaws crept around the prairie, threatening them all. Nervously, she peeked out the window.
“Let's start supper, Firefly,” she said. Keeping busy would chase away her runaway thoughts and feelings. “Then we can work on your new hat while the meat pie bakes.”
“Can I go to the pasture and pick some wildflowers first? They always look so pretty on the table,” Katie asked. “Uncle Brix might like it.”
“Not today.” Minda reached for her rolling pin and felt a twinge. He wouldn't be around long enough to see flowers wilt. “I'd like you to stay inside with me.”
“It's the outlaws fretting you, isn't it?”
She nodded. “Well, Katie, I don't like to think of them so close by. And I keep imagining just how terrified your brother must have been when he saw them ride practically right next to him.”
Katie peeked out the window. “But I don't see them now. And the pasture isn't all that far from the house. Besides, they don't want to steal Mabel. They're horse thieves, not cow thieves.”
Minda had to laugh, even with her nerves. “I believe your Uncle Brix calls them cattle rustlers. But no. Not today. Hopefully, things will be back to normal soon.”
The thought saddened her, even though she wanted the brigands locked tight behind bars. Brixton had said, allowing no argument at all, that he'd be going back to Texas the moment things settled down.
“Well, did you like the flowers I brought you before? You never said.”
In mortification, Minda paused her flattening of the pie dough. She prided herself on her good manners. Had she missed something?
“Firefly, I am sorry if I overlooked anything.”
“Oh, the other morning. Your first morning here. I put ‘em in a jar on the table before you got up.”
“Oh.” Minda couldn't find any other words, and her spirits sank to China and farther yet. All this time, she'd thought her bridegroom had brightened her day. But her disappointment didn't mean the child's offering shouldn't be appreciated. “Yes, I did. They were lovely, and I thank you for your thoughtfulness. I, well, I've had quite a lot on my mind.”
Katie chewed on her brown braid for a second, making her plump red cheeks look like apples in a basket. “Yes, I believe you have. And worrying about Neddie today just made it worse. But I hope you found out you should stay. We need a mother around here, and you're doing just fine.”
At least someone welcomed her. Of all people, she understood the heavy weight Katie had borne on her small shoulders since her mother's death. The girl's lost childhood touched Minda deeply. After all, she'd experienced something of the same.
“Thank you, Katie.” She hugged the little girl in spite of the flour. “I have had plenty of experience raising children, don't you think?” They'd already had discussions about Minda's three sisters.
“I say you did. And Papa knew that, too. Why, he was most excited when you accepted his proposal!”
Minda smacked the rolling pin down hard. That couldn't be the only reason Norman Dale had wanted her here, could it? He'd sent letter after letter, claiming that he cared. That his feelings for her had grown real.
“I know Uncle Brix's got to leave us, but you won't, will you, Mama? Please say you won't.”
Hearing the impossible words, and the even more impossible “mama” that she'd heard before along the river, Minda dropped the rolling pin with a huge clatter. Neddie whimpered from behind the curtain of the children's sleeping alcove. She tried to calm herself. What on earth should she say? She didn't even know the answer herself.
“Well, Katie,” she began carefully. “Pennsylvania is a long way from here. And today, with all those folks eager to help us, Paradise did start to feel more like home.”
There. She hadn't said anything untrue, but Katie had more to say. “No. Now that I think of it, Uncle Brix needs to stay with us, too. Be your husband like other men do.”
Once again, Minda had no real reply, so she gave Katie a direction, fighting down the hurt. “You snap some beans, and I'll cut up the potatoes.”
“Will you put dried chokecherries in the bacon pie, too? There's some in the cupboard. Uncle Brix likes them.”
She wanted to say she didn't care what he liked, but truth was, she did care, deeply. She wanted a wife's opportunity to please him.
“Yes, of course. Please go get them. Then we'll crimp the crust and get this pie in the oven. Finally, Firefly, we'll have time to work on your hat.”
Katie handed Minda a small brown paper package. “And then you can tell me about your bonnet race hat.”
Minda laughed lightly, but heard it ring false. There would be no bonnet race for her. She had no sweetheart here. Brixton would never stay.
As the scents of the meal cooking filled the little house, twilight fell and crickets chirped outside. Maybe she ought to feed the children early. It had been quite a day.
Brixton would no doubt be angrier with her than ever, for she and the children had left the evening chores for him, unwilling as she was for them to leave the house. She sighed long and deep, peering out the window. The wind chasing itself across the prairie, the sunset danced in the farmyard with the shadows it made.
She stitched for a while, and instinct trickled up and down her spine like a poisonous spider. Pulling the curtain taut, she glanced out the window. Ground-tethered at the edge of the windbreak that lined the farm's north ride were two horses she'd never seen before. Her throat drained dry.
She hadn't heard riders on the road. Dear Lord in heaven, what kind of mother was she? Her heart thumped so hard she held her hand to her chest.
Two shadowed men sawed against the barn-door lock, stealthy but arrogant at the same time as if they dared someone to see. One tossed a glance at the house and set right back to his task. Still, she knew he'd seen her.
The Perkins gang, coming in two's or three's, unconcerned by a woman cooking supper.
That meant they knew her husband wasn't inside. Her veins froze. Brixton had worn his gun belt to the fields, but she'd heard no gunshots. Had the gang come upon him by stealth and harmed him in some other way, eliminating the threat of a husband? Her heart pounded.
No. It wasn't possible. On the trail, Brixton lived with the threat of rustlers and guns and knives.
The horses inside the barn whinnied, and Katie looked up from her tasks at the unusual commotion.
“Katie,” Minda whispered, “you get Ned and hide under my ... under the big bed.”
“But...”
“Now, Firefly,” she ordered “And you two stay there, no matter what you hear. You stay put until Uncle Brix or I, or the Reverend or the sheriff, or some grown up person you know by name, tells you otherwise.”
The girl trembled but obeyed. With the children safely hidden and the quilt pulled low, Minda returned to the parted curtains and watched in continued disbelief.
How long would the old lock hold?
Hot blood raced from her feet to her head. Her husband had taught her shooting but no strategy. And he was still out in the field.
Unless ... She chased that tragic thought from her mind. Ahab Perkins had not widowed her. Neither Brixton nor God would have allowed that. Her fright gave way to ire. The nerve. Taking what wasn't theirs. Taking what a man had worked hard for and what innocent children had tended like kin.
After the fear of losing Neddie, nothing frightened her any longer. She reached underneath her skirts and stepped onto the back porch. “Halt, thieves!” she shouted in a firm voice.
The outlaws ignored her, so she aimed low, and fired, holding herself tight against the recoil. The bullet shrieked in her ears. “I said halt, thieves.”
Two hats tipped insolently, so she yelled again. “I said halt, and get off this property.” She sighted and fired again. The animals inside screamed.
“Minda!”
At her husband's shout, relief laved her like warm spring rainwater. From the far side of the barn, h
e came up on the thieves, his gun drawn. She'd never been so glad to see him, not even when she thought him to be Norman Dale.
“Get in the house,” he ordered.
“No.” She and Brix fired at the same time.
One outlaw crumpled, but the other shot back.
Minda fired the gun again, just as her husband slumped to the ground.
“Brixton!” She fired again, but the second man was too far away. Her bullet danced in the dust. As she ran toward her husband, the outlaw dashed across the yard to the waiting horses, jumped atop one effortlessly, grabbed the reins of the other, and disappeared into the trees.
Falling to her knees, she placed her ear on Brix's chest. His heart beat firm, and his hand came to rest on her hair.
* * * *
“Brixton, Brixton, are you all right?” She knelt before him in the dust, and he pulled her close, her loose hair soft as sunshine on his face.
But pain sliced through his outer thigh, and blood flowed free. He'd been gored worse by a feisty longhorn, and more than once, but the motion now put a gasp in his throat that stopped any possibility of a kiss.
She raised her head right away, likely not wanting to cause him more injury. Damn, he'd like to die wrapped up in her hair at the tail end of his life.
“Are you all right?” She breathed, close by.
“Yep, think so, Miz Haynes. Leastways I'm not dead.” He wanted to let her know he'd be all right and confess he'd wanted a stolen kiss, but he started fuming deep down. “What the hell are you doing outside? I was sneaking up just fine. Your job's to tend the kids.”
“They're safe. Let me help you up.” She started to rise, keeping her arms under him to bring him along with her. “Just what did you expect me to do? You yourself taught me to shoot and ordered me to keep my gun handy.”
Brix groaned and sat up. Across the yard, the outlaw wiggled and whimpered, grabbing at a shot-up knee.
“You didn't kill a man, but looks like my lesson worked,” he said, low, almost amused, then breathed sharp again at the pain.
She frowned, her face pale as moonlight. Hurting folks never sat well with a woman. “It could just as well have been your bullet.”