A Most Inconvenient Marriage

by Regina Jennings

  Up where? But Abigail didn’t have time to answer before three men came around the rock pass. They pulled their horses to a stop. She waited for Jeremiah to greet them, but then a chill ran up her spine. The man in the middle was the one who’d caught her in the trap, and judging from the sneer on his mouth, he recognized them, too.

  “If it ain’t our cripple friend and his lady.” He stood in his stirrups before plopping back into his saddle. “I never got a chance to introduce you to my friends.”

  Her hair stood on end. The deferential tone from their last encounter had disappeared. The man now had them outnumbered, and Abigail knew too much about the world to expect mercy.

  Jeremiah’s hand tightened on her shoulder, then he thrust her toward the rear and tried to angle in front of her. Abigail leaned in close to Ladymare as much out of range as possible, but Jeremiah had no option. He sat tall, facing the three men without a hint of fear. “You’re awfully brave to still be in these woods. Arkansas might be a healthier place for you.”

  “Too bad you won’t have a chance to follow your own advice. Now, get down off that horse, and we’ll see if we’re feeling generous or not.”

  “That’s the problem,” Jeremiah said. “It’s this blamed leg. I can’t get down without help.” A quick look told Abigail that he’d deliberately pulled his foot up short out of the stirrup. He had a plan. She didn’t know what it was, but she was fairly certain she wanted to be ready.

  “What do you expect us to do? Carry you off like a baby?”

  Slowly Jeremiah rode to them. Abigail inched toward the side of the path and the green refuge, but she was noticed. “Stay where you are,” the mean one ordered. Jeremiah was easing closer to them when Abigail saw a way to help.

  “I have a gun,” she called. “But I’ll throw it down, if you want. Here, let me get it.” Her heart hammered as she flipped up her pink skirt and braced her boot against a large rock on the side of the trail. Rolling her skirt up to her knee, she looked to see if her efforts were in vain. While she’d definitely distracted the three men, Jeremiah was turned in his saddle staring as well. He swallowed hard. She widened her eyes at him and he blinked to attention. He’d better hurry and do something, because she only had so much limb left to expose before she’d have to admit there was no gun.

  “Oh, it’s on the other side.” Her laugh fell flat, but it was enough to give Jeremiah the opening he needed. With lightning quickness he shoved his bad foot into the side of the closest horse and gave a mighty shove. The horse shied into the horse next to it, creating an opening for Jeremiah to bolt between them. In a flash he disappeared. Abigail dove behind the rock, but no one had shot at her, not yet. No, they were too busy turning around in the narrow pathway to pursue Jeremiah. Amid scalding oaths and orders the grim man took after her while the other two reversed course. Abigail searched the steep hill above her. Not enough cover, but it might be enough to keep her alive.

  She scrambled up the hillside, getting a good head start before the outlaw spotted her, but unless there was something just over the hill, she’d have nowhere to hide. She’d just neared the ridge when she heard limbs breaking and hooves thundering. Jeremiah flew over the ridge, crashing through the dry branches between them. He reached down and grabbed her arm in a bruising grip. She jumped, pushing off as hard as she could, still not clearing Ladymare’s back, but with his help she managed to throw one leg over the horse’s rump. Clawing at Jeremiah’s shoulder, wadding his shirt in desperate hands, Abigail wiggled her way up. Somehow, although leaning precariously, Jeremiah managed to keep his seat and muscle her into a riding position behind him. Abigail buried her face into his back and held on for all she was worth as they raced along the top of the mountain.

  He’d come back for her. But then again, she wasn’t surprised. Jeremiah did his duty whether he wanted to or not.

  A gunshot blasted as bark flew from a tree trunk next to them, but Ladymare kept running, weaving through the trees nimbly. Abigail thanked God that she hadn’t lost her sure feet and that her war experience hadn’t left her gun-shy.

  Once they headed down the hill they picked up speed, but with three horses now in pursuit their odds weren’t good. Their lead couldn’t last—not carrying both of their weight.

  Abigail couldn’t see where they were going. All she knew were the lean muscles of the man she held and the tiring horse beneath her.

  “Be ready to run,” Jeremiah said. “When we get around this bend, jump and go for the ledge.”

  “What about Ladymare?”

  He didn’t answer.

  The trail made a blind corner, and true to his prediction, layers of rock jutted out bare from the mountain. Both of them slid off the horse before she came to a stop. Jeremiah jerked the reins through the crook of a limb and pointed toward the outcroppings. Abigail ran two steps, then returned to his side. He threw his arm over her shoulder, forgetting his crutch, and they ran together to the wall of stone. Jeremiah shoved her toward a thick bramble.

  “Crawl,” he said.

  She ducked her head, cautious not to damage the bush that would hide them, and wormed back until she met the rock wall of the mountain. Jeremiah came in right behind her. Working their way beneath a ledge, they found a dark cove overlooking the trail.

  Abigail’s body began to shake. Those men would’ve killed them. They still might if they found them. She grabbed Jeremiah’s collar and pulled his ear to her lips. “Can you shoot them from here?”

  “No. Not with my pistol.”

  Her heart pounded as she surveyed the valley, growing dark with the waning of the sun. “Then what are we doing? They’ll take the horse.”

  “If they come up here, I’ll kill as many of them as I can, but otherwise they can have the horse.”

  “What?” Abigail jolted up and cracked her head against the rocky ceiling. In a heartbeat Jeremiah’s arms were around her, his hand over her mouth.

  “Shh!” He pulled her against him, crushing her head against his chest. “I’ll die protecting you if it comes to that, but I’d rather live to fight with you another day.”

  He was giving them her horse? Ladymare? She considered biting him, but for once she thought better of it. She lay still, as still as she could with the tremors that racked her body. Jeremiah loosened his grip, allowing Abigail a view of the scene below. Through the bushes she watched the horsemen as they cautiously approached Ladymare. Abigail clutched a fistful of Jeremiah’s shirt and held it against her mouth. With guns raised they scanned the shadowy cliffs, seeming to peer directly at them, but after a whispered conference, the bushwhackers pulled Ladymare’s reins free and led her away.

  Abigail’s eyes filled with tears. Her beloved dreams once again torn from her hands. Her chin rubbed against the cotton of his shirt as she whispered, “I remember when she was born. My father gave me a new copper penny to celebrate. That was the last gift he ever gave me. Today, when I found her, I thought maybe everything would be put right. That something good had survived from my family.”

  He brushed her hair away from her face. The last light of evening reflected off his eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d worked this close to him, but that was before. Now she knew what it could feel like to be loved by him. She had to keep her distance, whether through sarcasm or anger. Otherwise he’d invade the places in her heart where he didn’t belong, vulnerable places that were better off sealed.

  She dug her fingernails into her palms and forced her emotions down. “What are we going to do?”

  Still close enough that she could feel his breath against her cheek, he whispered, “I’m going to hunt those men down and get her back. They mustn’t be allowed to lurk about and pick us apart, man by man.”

  “Who’s going to help us?”

  “Us? Why is it that you’re the only one I can count on?” He tipped her chin up. “I wish you trusted me enough to tell me how you ended up in St. Louis.”

  The sudden declaration caught her off guard. She loo
ked deep into his eyes and wanted to tell him—wanted someone to share her burden, but she was too ashamed to admit she was unloved, even by her own mother.

  “We should go now before it gets any darker,” she said.

  He didn’t answer right away. Probably still wondering what horrendous secrets she held. “No, we stay here tonight.”

  “What?” Abigail tried to sit up again, and again met the same rock jutting out above her. “But why? They got the horse. That’s what they want.” She rubbed her skull.

  “That’s not all they want. Not after your little performance.”

  She would’ve crossed her arms over her chest, but there wasn’t room between them. “I was trying to distract them. And it would’ve worked if you had taken the opportunity instead of gawking at me, too.”

  He cleared his throat. “You should’ve warned me.”

  “Well, I’m warning you now. We can’t stay here.”

  “You have one of two choices. You can spend the night with those men who are right now sitting in the overlooks and passes, waiting for us to try to sneak past, or you can stay safe here with me.”

  “Safe with you?” She scowled at him. “I’m not so sure.”

  “I’m not the one strutting around town telling everyone we’re married.”

  “We might as well be if we stay here.”

  “Oh, the sacrifices I’m making to save your hide.” He stretched his free arm up and tucked his hand behind his head. She felt his chest expand against her.

  The bushes rattled at the foot of the ledge. Leaves dropped onto the damp, loose soil beneath. Jeremiah raised his head. Both remained breathless, until a squirrel burrowed out of the brush. Jeremiah stomped his boot and sent it scurrying away.

  “Nice kick on the horse, by the way.” Abigail felt around, trying to find a flat place on the rocks away from him. She’d resolved to keep her distance. Pretty sure spending the night alone in a cave while horizontal wasn’t wise.

  “Only pretended that he was a giant feed sack. That’s what my nurse taught me.”

  She reached down in the darkness to straighten her skirts around her ankles. “This was my nicest dress. It’s going to be ruined.”

  “Well, it looked very—” He grunted. “You shouldn’t fish for compliments. Just go to sleep.”

  “How can I sleep like this?” She tapped his arm pillowed beneath her head. “You don’t find this awkward?”

  “Extremely.” His voice was husky. “Which is why I don’t want to keep up the chitchat for the rest of the night.”

  No, although conversation would at least keep his warm lips busy. She sighed. “I see your point. So I’ll pretend to sleep until I really do, and we’ll both forget the improper situation we’ve found ourselves in.”

  But something told Abigail that she’d remember this night for the rest of her life.

  Chapter 16

  A mockingbird landed on the elm branch and brushed the morning dew off the leaves as it bounced. Its songs stirred Jeremiah to clarity, although he’d never completely given in to sleep. By the light and by his growling stomach he judged morning to be well under way. He looked at the lady cuddled against him. Her cheeks were flushed, but surely not by the cool air. They’d stayed snug all night. True, she’d occasionally startled him by mumbling gibberish—words of horses, pocket watches, her father, and even his name once. Jeremiah had nearly jumped out of his skin when she’d rolled and thrown an arm over his chest, but he soon settled back down and occupied himself by enjoying the silkiness of her blond locks.

  The strand of hair glided between his fingers. Her eyes fluttered. Her lips moved silently, and he remembered again the bliss at taking them. It’d never happen again, but any more lonesome nights like the previous one, and his resolve would be tested. He dearly wished to care for someone, to lavish love on a worthy woman like Abigail, but she wasn’t his and he had no right to act as if she were.

  Rumbling wheels echoed through the valley. Branches cracked as a wagon made its way down the mountain path. Taking advantage of a last excuse, Jeremiah laid his fingers against her lips. With gentle strokes he outlined the full curve, even though the warmth in his belly warned him to stop. He waited breathless until she opened her eyes. Placing his finger to his own lips, he then gestured to the conveyance below as it made its appearance around the bend.

  Slowly she seemed to realize their situation. Again she tried to move away, and again she had nowhere to go. Her brow troubled with creases.

  Tearing his eyes away, he found the wagon again and recognized it as Wallace’s. Sure enough, holding the reins was Hiram with Hopkins and Calbert riding shotgun, diligently scanning both sides of the pass.

  Jeremiah whistled. Calbert held up his hand, and Hiram halted the team. Calbert returned the call, and slowly Jeremiah squeezed past Abigail, worming his way beneath the brush to finally stand in the open.

  “We’re up here.” He waved and the men lowered their guns.

  “Wondered what became of you.” Calbert continued to gauge the mountainside for danger.

  “We were waylaid. Stole my horse, in fact.”

  “Your horse or Abigail’s horse?”

  That Hopkins. Couldn’t leave well enough alone.

  Jeremiah turned to take Abigail’s hand. He lifted her out of the brambles and set her down to dust off her skirt. Jeremiah could see Hiram’s mouth move, even though he couldn’t hear the words. Hopkins’s shoulders bounced in mirth, and Calbert shook his head ominously.

  “We had to hide.” Jeremiah explained. “We figured they’d be camping right over the ridge, waiting for us to come out.”

  “And that’s exactly what they done.” Calbert pulled on his beard. “We saw their camp just over the way. Must have flown the coop when they heard us coming.”

  “We’re glad you did.” Abigail picked her way down the hill. Jeremiah nearly swallowed his tongue. Her tousled hair gave her a decidedly unholy halo. And blast it, if that old Calbert didn’t read his guilt from a hundred yards away. Jeremiah took two steps forward before realizing he didn’t have his crutch.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Calbert drawled. “Whatever happened last night must’ve done you some good.”

  Abigail spun and gaped. “Jeremiah! I had no idea you were doing so well.”

  “I’m not exactly, but they stole my crutch. Hand me that stick, would you?”

  She bent, then extended the knobby branch toward him. Too little to replace his crutch, but if he could do with a cane, then glory hallelujah! Jeremiah pulled himself into the back of the wagon with Calbert and Hopkins while Abigail sat on the bench next to Hiram. “Keep alert. There were three of them, and they are downright nasty.”

  “It’s time we stopped hiding,” Calbert said. “Seems like it’s them that should be doing the hiding.”

  Hopkins scanned the ridge above them, thick with trees. “And I’m tired of riding from patient to patient, watching over my shoulder. If you’ve got an idea, count me in.”

  Jeremiah thought again of Abigail’s horse being led away. Of the trap. Of Varina and Mr. Rankin. His shoulders tightened. Enough was enough. “Consider it started.”

  Tired of being the prey, they were going hunting. Jeremiah hefted the last bushel of sweet corn into the wagon. A few days to get their work set by was what they agreed on, and then Hiram, Calbert, and even Dr. Hopkins would meet to flush out the raiders from the mountains. Sorrow weighed heavily on him with the thought of killing again, and killing there would be if they succeeded. No outlier horse thieves would surrender, not when they knew what awaited them at sentencing. Jeremiah couldn’t fool himself into believing this task would be accomplished without bloodshed. Whether it was his blood or theirs, he knew the price such justice cost.

  The Bible said that the Lord was a man of war. God offered strength for such ventures, and Jeremiah wasn’t shy in asking for His help, but he did have to wonder how long before he could beat his sword into a plowshare. How long did he have to fight b
efore he could become a man of peace? When would his home be a place of rest instead of another field to defend?

  Fastening the tailgate, Jeremiah limped to the seat in time to see Abigail leave the house with the slop bucket—one shoulder tilted high and an arm thrown out straight from her side for balance. She never complained. And the physical work wasn’t the worst. Rachel’s acidic attitude wore at the woman. Even Jeremiah could see how discouraged Abigail looked after tending his sister. At a flick of the reins, the old mare rocked the wagon out of its deep ruts toward the barn. Hard to believe a nice woman like Abigail didn’t have anywhere she’d rather be. Even if she had no home, surely she could find nicer folk than his family.

  But did he want her to?

  He slowed the horse until Abigail had dumped the bucket into the trough and left the barnyard. Not since that kiss had they worked together in the barn. Not since the night in the cave had they had a conversation alone. He missed her. How he wished he could share his frustrations and concerns with her. If only he could let Abigail know what her friendship meant to him without giving her the wrong idea. But getting near her was like crossing the creek on slippery stones. He was bound to slip and fall head over heels . . .

  Laurel and Hopkins had nearly reached him before he noticed them walking up the trail. Laurel plucked a violet from her hair and tossed it behind her while Hopkins swung his doctoring bag merrily. “Howdy, Jeremiah.”

  Jeremiah clucked to the horse and pulled up to meet them. “We don’t ride until tomorrow.”

  “I know.” Hopkins’s smile disappeared as though the gravity of the coming task had settled on him. “I’m making rounds before then and thought I might ought to check on Rachel.”

  “Much obliged.” And he meant it. If something happened to him, Jeremiah wanted to know he’d done all he could before he died. “Ma’s in the house. Just knock.”

  Hopkins tugged on his old vest and took long steps to the house.

  Laurel hung back, eyeing the bushels. “You need help unloading?”