The Trail Master's Bride

by Maddie Taylor

  “There was no coercion, believe me. Elliott detested you and didn’t begrudge me one red cent, especially if it meant you would have it.”

  “You won’t get away with this. I told Weston of your behavior that day by our wagon. When he realizes you were nowhere around when I went missing, he’ll put it together.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll simply say I was out searching like everyone else. Besides, who’s to say you didn’t just run off after a squabble as you have so many times in the past.”

  “We’ve got hundreds of miles yet to go! Why are you doing this now?”

  “Fort Boise was the last army post on the trail and the last real chance for your husband to wise up and leave you behind. Although after all that rutting, I knew long ago that he wasn’t going to actually put you off. I had hope though. Bloodshed is so messy.” A high-pitched cackling rushed out of him as if he’d said the most amusing thing ever.

  “You’re mad,” Mina accused.

  He raised his gun, aiming point-blank at her chest. The odd light in his eyes told her it was mostly likely true. “You’re probably wondering why I took the time to explain. Why I didn’t simply shoot you while you were passed out and throw you over an embankment.”

  She hadn’t wondered. It was obvious he was toying with her.

  “It’s because I wanted to see your face when you found out you’d been used. Papa didn’t want you, poor dear, and then neither did your husband. Poor, poor Aramina Franks.” He mocked her with a singsong voice and a pretend pout. “Did you know I used to watch you come into your father’s store? I was a lowly clerk, stocking shelves, sweeping floors. You and your sisters would prance in, dressed to the nines as if you were better than everyone else. You had everything while I had nothing. Then I met Elliott. He had something, not as much as Burton Franks, but he was more than making do. Then he lost everything in the fire.” He was staring off to the side, as if lost in memory. “We decided to go somewhere far away and start over. Though how? Then, Vanessa made her generous offer. She was looking for any way to get you out of the house. Elliott was from a good family and it wasn’t widely known yet how much the family had lost, so he jumped at the offer. We had so much hope.” He turned tear-filled eyes toward her. “I lost my dear Elliott. All I have left are memories and they don’t keep you warm, fed, or sheltered at night. Though, I figured it would be nice to add one more pleasant memory to sustain me. The moment of your death and the knowledge that your last thought was how I’ll go on happily living on the land that your money bought.”

  Mina was stunned, simply amazed at the many twists and turns of fate that had brought her to this point. She’d never noticed Elliott at her father’s store. The prancing was far from true; she’d had nothing to prance about after her mother died. As for the fancy clothes, she couldn’t deny that. It was all for show, however. In private, papa was cold, but he wanted to show the world a different picture. Through Avery’s eyes she led a pampered life compared to his meager existence. His animosity had begun there, building when his lover took her for a wife. All the bends in the road that had led them here, to this moment, were nothing short of ironic.

  He stuffed the gag back into her mouth. The hammer of his pistol clicked, echoing through the clearing as he pulled it back. She hoped his aim was true; it would be quicker and limit her suffering. Prepared for a painful death, she closed her eyes, praying fervently it was instantaneous.

  “Yes,” he chortled manically, “that’s the face of fear and defeat I had hoped to see.”

  She shuddered at his cruelty as she waited, imagining if he missed her heart, a slow death from a chest wound would be pure torment, and if he left her tied to this tree… No, she couldn’t bear to think about what the animals would do to her body, or the pain she would suffer if she were still alive when they did it.

  Her thoughts turned to Weston, imagining what he would think when he found her gone. They’d fought. He would blame himself; she didn’t want that. Would he think she ran again? Or, would he suspect something was amiss? She’d planted the seed, including one about Avery Hill. He was sharp, he’d figure it out; she was certain.

  Hearing a rustling noise, she braced herself, but the shot never came. Instead, she heard a startled oomph and a thud. Her eyelids flew open and much to her surprise, she saw Mr. Jacobs grappling with Avery on the ground. The younger man was fit, though his frame was slight, much thinner than the older man who had at least fifty pounds on him. He soon had Avery straddled and slammed a fist into his jaw. Another punch followed, this one clipping him in the left eye. The blow must have knocked him out, because Avery stilled, his head rolling lifelessly to the side.

  Winded, Mr. Jacobs climbed to his feet and stared down at the man for a moment. When he didn’t move, he stepped away and rushed to help Mina. Pocket knife in hand, he reached high above her head and cut through the bindings. He should have, in hindsight, taken the gag out first. As soon as her hands were free, she pulled the cloth from her mouth and screamed hoarsely, “Behind you!”

  Her warning came too late as Avery tackled her rescuer. In a blink, they were once again on the ground, rolling in the dirt, each fighting for the upper hand.

  Mina looked around for a weapon, a stout tree branch or a good-sized rock. Providence, for once, was on her side as she spied Avery’s gun at her feet. It was the thud she had heard, no doubt. She didn’t waste time questioning her good fortune, although she praised heaven the gun hadn’t discharged and killed her when it landed. She bent, grasping the ivory grip. It was different from Weston’s revolver; still, she figured one gun was much like the other and swung it immediately toward the fighting men. Mina took aim, then paused. They were rolling back and forth so quickly, she was afraid to fire.

  First, Mr. Jacobs was on top, but Avery managed to push him off and roll to the prominent position. The older man’s chest was heaving and she worried about the state of his heart, when his opponent finally got the advantage by straddling him and wrapping his hands around her gallant hero’s throat.

  It was either watch him die or risk his life and fire. Mina aimed for Avery’s shoulder, thinking that would disable, not kill. With Weston’s instructions ringing in her ear, she pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Damn and blast! She almost came to tears with frustration.

  Examining the weapon, she decided the bullet was not in the chamber and pulled back on the hammer. It clicked. With shaky hands, Mina tried again. This time, the report of the gunshot echoed loudly through the clearing. As noisy as it was, it didn’t drown out Avery’s ear-piercing cry of pain. He slumped forward on top of Mr. Jacobs, howling at the top of his lungs. Mr. Jacobs had enough strength left to push him off. When he rolled onto his side, Mina’s eyes searched for a wound as he writhed in pain. There wasn’t any blood, no holes in his shirt or in his vest. He flopped onto his belly then and she saw it; well, sort of—it was hard to see anything except for his bloody hand. It wasn’t clasped over a bullet to the shoulder or one lodged in his side or back; it was positioned much lower, clutching his posterior. Clearly, she’d missed her mark by a good two feet and shot him square in the middle of his left buttock.

  “You bitch,” he screamed, turning accusatory eyes on Mina. “You put a bullet in my ass.”

  Jacobs sat up, still breathing heavily. Mina stared at him frozen, watching as he looked from her, still holding the gun in her trembling hands, to the whining, sniveling Mr. Hill who lay bleeding in the dirt while holding his lead-filled behind. He totally mystified Mina by bursting into great peals of laughter.

  “I swan, gal, you are a source of ceaseless entertainment.”

  “Shut up, old man, I’m bleeding to death from a hole in my ass and you’re laughing.”

  “I can see that and it’s the most appropriate place I can think of for a jackass to take a slug of lead.” He pushed to his feet and walked to Mina’s side. “You did well, gal, but I think I’ll take that now.”

  He’d no sooner taken the weapon, which she ga
ve up gladly hoping never to have to go through such an ordeal again, when horses tramped into the clearing. The lead horse was mounted by her husband, Jeremy at his side, with three other men from the wagon train following a moment later on foot.

  Taking in the scene in a single glance, Weston leaped from his saddle and rushed to her. “Jeremy, tie up the bastard, just in case.”

  At her side, he swept her into his arms, pushing her face into his chest as he squeezed her in what she could only describe as a death grip. His head dipped alongside hers and she heard as much as felt the rush of air as he filled his lungs. “That’s the first deep breath I’ve taken since finding you gone.” His fingers plunged into what remained of her bun, tumbling her hair over her shoulders as he pulled her head back. He gazed down at her with a searching look. “Are you all right, darlin’?”

  Mina nodded, tears of relief misting her eyes that she struggled to keep from falling. She failed. Her arms tightened around him as she whispered, “I was so afraid I’d never see you again.”

  “You’re safe now, sweetheart.” His soft reassurance, his heat, and the strength of his arms around her went a long way in making her realize the truth of his words. Avery was well and truly caught, and wouldn’t pose a threat anymore.

  “Jacobs, you have my thanks.”

  Jeremy, who had finished trussing Avery up like a Christmas goose, chuckled as he stood looking down at the injured man. “I’ve never seen a man’s ass shot before. Was that intentional, Ben, or is your vision going in your old age?”

  “Ask our captain’s lovely bride about her vision and aim, son. She put the lead in the man’s hind parts, not me.”

  “Mina?” Weston questioned in disbelief as Jeremy turned to her with an ear-to-ear grin.

  She shrugged as she nodded. “Yes, well, I think I might need a few more lessons, husband. I was aiming for his shoulder.”

  The men all looked at her, then to Hill who was still cursing a blue streak on the ground. “Bitch, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

  “Shut your disrespectful mouth,” Weston barked, all humor gone. “Gag him, Jeremy. Then get him out of my sight. If I have to look at him another minute, or listen to him insult my wife again, we won’t have to worry about hauling his lead-riddled carcass the rest of the way.”

  Jeremy shoved a wad of cloth in the injured man’s mouth, adding matter-of-factly, “That means he’ll kill you here and spare us the trouble. If I were you, I’d shut it.”

  Only a few years older than Mina, Jeremy was young, but he was big, like Weston, not as muscular, yet in time she was sure he would fill out. He made an intimidating figure as he loomed over his prisoner. Avery, showing that he had a modicum of sense, did as he suggested and shut it. His eyes narrowed in pain as they shifted between the two big men leading the wagon train. The only other sound he made was a painful groan when he was hauled to his feet. Jeremy’s muscles flexed as with impressive strength, he flung the bleeding troublemaker over the rump of his horse.

  As he mounted, Jeremy murmured a warning. “Best hold on. If you fall off, I might not exert myself to come fetch you.” With a nod to the other men, he turned his horse back toward camp.

  Once they were gone, leaving only Weston and Ben with her in the clearing, Mina slumped against her husband’s chest, his strength easily supporting her when she would have crumpled to the ground without it. She didn’t look up or open her eyes, clinging to him and the security in his arms as he addressed her rescuer.

  “Thank you, Ben. Without you, I might have lost her.”

  “I’m glad I found her in time, son.” She heard his footsteps followed by a slapping noise near her ear. She guessed Ben had clapped Weston on the shoulder as he passed. “Start groveling, son. I’ll check back with you in a week or so, to see if she holds out longer than Minnie.” Curious, Mina opened her eyes, but only saw the back of his head and his shaking shoulders as he walked away chuckling.

  “What was that all about groveling?” she asked.

  “He was reminding me I have some apologizing to do.”

  Her head angled back, her gaze colliding with his. “We haven’t been together long, Wes, and trust is earned over time. Still, I haven’t ever lied to you. I know my story sounded farfetched and nearly impossible to believe—”

  “I should have, though. You were right. As my wife, I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.” He removed his hat and with his heart in his eyes, bowed his head close to hers. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I humbly beg your forgiveness.”

  Her hand came up and cupped his jaw, rubbing her thumb against the scruff of beard on his chin. “I forgive you, honey.” Remember the very sorry bottom his mistrust had created, the imp in her added, “Just don’t let it happen again or I might need to teach you a little lesson of my own.”

  She winked as he made a choking sound. Standing on tiptoe, she brushed her smiling lips against his. “Hey!” An idea came to her as they drew apart. “Does that mean no more spankings?”

  “No, Mina. As your husband, it is up to me to see to your safety and provide discipline as I see fit, but I won’t doubt you again, especially when you promise to be telling the truth.”

  She frowned, although without much conviction. “I like the last part of that, at least.” Being honest with herself, his spankings weren’t all that bad and led to much more pleasant things after. All the same, she wasn’t about to admit that to him and promptly changed the subject. “What did Ben mean about holding out longer than Minnie?”

  “He told me about a time when a similar thing happened between him and his late wife. He disciplined her for something she didn’t do. When it became clear he was wrong, it took him a week of gifts and a heck of a lot of groveling to earn her forgiveness.”

  As they started across the clearing to where his horse stood munching grass, she imagined a groveling Weston Carr. It didn’t sit well to think of her very masculine and commanding husband on his knees to anyone, much less her. But that didn’t mean he was off the hook.

  “I don’t know about a week of groveling. That could become tedious. Perhaps you could do all of my chores, the cooking and the wash, especially the wash.”

  “I’d do just about anything for you, darlin’. So, if that’s what it takes to get back in your good graces, I’m not above washing your drawers and frying up johnnycakes.”

  The thought of him handling her unmentionables gave her a little thrill, but she didn’t want him toiling for her either, not when he had so much to do already. He’d apologized sincerely and that was good enough for her. She was about to tell him so when she spotted something on the ground; and decided a bit of teasing might be in order first. Breaking free of his hold, she leaned down and grabbed the stout switch she’d spied.

  “I’ve got an idea that will set this all behind us without a week of chores.” Spinning around, she brandished her whip. She made it cut through the air sharply with a swishing sound before bringing it down in a mild stroke he couldn’t possible feel along the seat of his thick twill trousers. “Drop ‘em and start counting to ten, honey.”

  His expression could only be described as pure shock as he gaped at her. She ruined it, of course, by dropping her disciplinarian mien and laughing uproariously.

  Pointing at him with her stick, she gasped for air. “If you could only see the look on your face, Wes.” Bent double, she horse-laughed at his expense.

  “Mina,” he warned, but she was too full of hilarity to hear his warning tone. She didn’t stop until he pulled the switch from her hand and swished it ominously in return. “I’ll give you a ten-second head start, little lady, then you are mine.”

  Her eyes flew wide and she imagined her look of shock mimicked his of only seconds before. “Head start to where? We’re taking your horse.”

  “One,” he said as a wolfish grin crossed his face.

  She blinked. “Am I supposed to walk back? I was unconscious. I have no idea which way that is.”

  “T
wo,” he continued, giving her an audacious wink and adding, “You best be hoping you’re fast, Mina.”

  “Wes!” she protested, taking two steps back.

  “Three.”

  “That swat didn’t hurt, surely,” she rationalized, backing up further.

  “My granny hit harder when she was sixty.”

  Mina choked, stifling a laugh, still not sure if this was play or not. “But, Wes—”

  “You’re not running, darlin’.” He paused, pushing his hat back slightly and scratching his head. “Now where was I? Oh, yes. Eight.”

  “Hey!” She cried foul, backing up faster. “What happened to four through seven?”

  He held his position, slapping the switch along the length of his pant leg as he watched her go. “Nine.”

  “Honey, I was only kidding.”

  “I know, darlin’, you’ll have to find out for yourself whether I am.”

  “I love you, Wes.” It was the truth and she hoped it would pacify him. Still she gathered her skirts preparing to flee.

  “I love you too, Mina. Don’t think that will stop me from tanning your hide when I think you need it, like now.” He took an ominous step forward and uttered, “Ten.”

  Whirling and squealing, she took off. Running as fast as she could, to where she had no clue. She heard his pounding boots behind her and veered left, away from his horse and a thick patch of high grass. Knowing she shouldn’t, she spared a quick glance over her shoulder. He was hot on her heels and coming fast. She screamed with laughter.

  “No fair, you big oaf. Your legs are twice as long as mine.”

  She left her feet the next instant as he hooked her waist with a long arm. Slowing, he tumbled them right into the thick green fragrant grass, high enough so that no one could possibly see them. He twisted, taking the brunt of their fall, so that she landed on top of him, his body cushioning the impact. Reaching up, his hands curled around the sides of her head, positioning it within reach of his kiss.

  “Don’t you know all’s fair in love and war?”