Madeline’s stomach roiled. Dear God, what have I gotten myself into? She should have stayed inside. She could have provoked Croft to violence, but now she’d be passed around to all the men to be used any way they wanted. She looked over his arm, hoping—beyond reason—that Croft would come around the corner. She didn’t know if she should scream, or if that would be worse—it could bring other men running.
The man grabbed Madeline by the chin, crushing his lips to hers. The disgusting taste of tobacco filled her mouth.
“No!” She pushed against him with her valise, but he was huge, and her efforts did nothing but jostle him a bit.
And he seemed to like it.
“So you’re a feisty one, are you?” He ripped the bag from her hands and threw it, then rucked her skirts up, along with the legs of her pantaloons, exposing the bottoms of her legs completely. He pinned her to the wall with his body while he undid his trousers with the other hand. When they were down, and he was exposed, she looked away, pushing and beating against his chest, struggling with all her might to free herself.
It was no use. He hoisted her up, forcing her legs around his waist, while she kicked. All that separated his flesh from hers was the pantaloons she wore under her skirts.
She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t force so much as a whisper from her throat. He was parting her pantaloons with his hands, ripping the small opening in them wider, and she cried, panting, struggling, desperate to get away from what she knew was coming.
A dark object flashed past her face, and she was dropped to the ground. She landed on her tailbone onto the now-packed-down snow, the wetness soaking instantly through the thin cotton pantaloons. The man lay sprawled at her feet, struggling to get up, but having trouble since his trousers were down around his knees.
Looking up, Madeline saw Clay standing over the man, her valise in his hands, fury etched into his face. He threw the bag down, then climbed on top of the struggling man and pummeled him over and over with his fists. The man got in a few good punches, nearly knocking Clay to the ground, but he still couldn’t get up off the ground with his tangled trousers, and Clay kept pushing him back down.
Madeline scrambled to cover herself, then looked around for a rock or other weapon to help Clay, before the large man could get to his feet and take away Clay’s only advantage. But there was nothing to grab. Even her valise was out of reach, as the two men were half-lying on it as each struggled to get the upper hand.
She never even saw the gun, until after the shot had gone off.
Chapter 15
The shot echoed over the barren prairie. In the distance, men’s footsteps crunched over the snow as they all came running.
Both men on the ground stopped moving, and Madeline looked up at the malevolent face of Samuel Croft.
“Stop!” He hollered, and lowered the smoking pistol he’d just shot into the air.
His men came running around the corner of the cabin, guns drawn.
Clay climbed slowly off of the hulking man, whose trousers were still halfway down.
“What the hell—” Croft looked confused.
Madeline realized with shock what the situation must look like to the arriving men—two men rolling around on the ground, with one man’s trousers down. She looked away, embarrassed.
“Porter, get off my man!” Croft holstered his gun and hauled the man up onto his feet. “Put your trousers on Jimmy, what’s wrong with you?”
“That pig was forcing himself on Miss Barstow!” Clay pointed, and took a step toward the man.
“That’s a lie!” Jimmy lunged for him, and Croft ordered his men to keep Jimmy and Clay apart. “He’s lying! He’s the one I caught sneaking her out the window.”
Croft wheeled on Clay. “I knew it! You’re after my woman!”
“Mr. Croft, only one of us has his trousers around his knees, and it isn’t me.”
Croft eyed Jimmy, who was fastening his belt. Croft grabbed him by the collar and stared him down, eye to eye. “Who do you think you are?” he hissed through his teeth. “Go back to the bunkhouse. I’ll deal with you later.” Then he gave Jimmy a shove.
Jimmy slunk off as Croft turned on the other ranch hands.
“The rest of you—get back to work!” he yelled.
The men all trudged off slowly, trying to listen in as they left.
Then Croft turned on Madeline. “What do you think you’re doing? Do I look stupid to you?” He pointed up at the open window, then glanced down at her bag.
She was speechless, unable to tear her eyes from the gun holstered on Croft’s hip.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Clay cut in. “She doesn’t want to marry you.”
Croft took a menacing step forward. “You’re trespassing, son. I asked you to leave. I’m within my rights to defend my property, with lethal means, if necessary.”
“And my sister and half of Helena knows I was hired to come out here, so unless you want the sheriff making a trip out here and poking into your business, I don’t think you’re going to want me to go missing any time soon.”
Croft stopped, thought about it, then took a step back. “I want you off my property.”
“Not yet. I came to take Miss Barstow with me.”
Croft threw his head back and laughed. “You think you can just steal my wife because you want to get into her skirts? Sheriff or no sheriff, I’ll bury you, boy.”
“I have no interest in stealing your wife. But she doesn’t want to marry you. You got her out here under false pretenses. That could be considered fraud. I’m sure she has the letters to prove it, and we both know she has a fraudulent photograph from you.”
“It’s not my fault if she misinterpreted anything I said in my letters.”
“Well then, we can let a judge decide.” Clay crossed his arms and waited. He suspected a man capable of the violence he’d heard about probably had no qualms about breaking other laws—which would mean he wouldn’t want too much attention from the sheriff.
Croft looked as if he wanted to tear Clay limb from limb, but he made no move. After an endless pause, he looked Madeline up and down. “Clearly she’s going to be a handful. Maybe more than I want to deal with. But she owes me. I sent her a train ticket and traveling money, and paid you to deliver her.”
Madeline’s rage flared at hearing him discuss her, yet again, as if she was nothing more than a package to be delivered by parcel post. But she decided the wiser course was to let Clay do the talking.
“I’ll give you back the money you paid me. I have it here.”
“And the rest of it?”
Clay hesitated. “I don’t have enough for that. Not with me.”
“Then you’ll get the girl when I get your money.” He grabbed Madeline by the arm, squeezing hard, and pulling her to him.
“Stop!”
Clay took a step forward, but Croft’s pistol was already at Madeline’s head.
“Look,” he said holding up his hands to show Croft he wouldn’t attack, “we can come to some arrangements. You know me. You know my reputation. You know I’m honest. I have the rest of the money, but not here with me.”
“And like I said, you bring the money, you can have the girl.”
Tears stung Madeline’s eyes. If Clay left, she wouldn’t be alive when he came back. She’d get Croft’s gun somehow, and put it to her own head if that’s what it took. She’d never be Croft’s whore, not even for a day.
Clay looked at Madeline. They both knew what would happen the moment he left Croft’s land. She’d be despoiled by every man in the place before he could reach the mountains.
“My sleigh,” he said, in a choked voice. “Take my sleigh to hold as payment until I get back with the rest. And I take Madeline with me. You know where I live, so you know I’ll have to come back with the money.”
“No.” A mirthful grin spread across his face. “No, I want the sleigh. For keeps. And the horses.”
“No!” Madeline cried, and struggled against Crof
t. “Clay, no. That’s half your livelihood, you can’t agree—”
“Shut up, woman!” Croft pressed the barrel to her head. “Don’t forget who has the upper hand, here.”
“The sleigh is worth much more than what you could ever have spent on her trip.”
Croft shrugged a shoulder. “Extra for my trouble. I’ll have to order myself another wife, now, and I have no housekeeper in the meantime. And I never did get to finish taking my turn with her.” He looked down at her with an oily expression.
Madeline blushed, looking away for a moment and clutching the neckline of her coat tighter.
The color drained from Clay’s face as an anguished expression passed over it. “Fine. The sleigh. Only the sleigh. The supplies aren’t all mine, we need the horses to get back. Plus, I don’t trust you with a horse any more than I do with a woman.”
Croft considered, then grinned. “Done. Pleasure doing business with you.”
He pushed Madeline at Clay, and she stumbled before Clay was able to catch her, and pull her to him.
She clutched him tight, afraid to let go, as she watched him pull out a wad of cash and toss it to Croft. She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him that he shouldn’t have to give up everything he had to save a woman he could scarcely tolerate, but she’d do almost anything to get away from Croft, even if it meant swallowing her pride and letting Clay give up his dream for her safety.
Croft counted the money before stuffing it in his pocket. “I’m afraid you’ll find that she disappoints you. You’d have done better with a saloon girl.” He laughed as he walked off toward the front of the cabin.
Madeline buried her head in Clay’s shoulder and sobbed with relief.
He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“Did he…?”
“Let’s just go,” she whispered, “before he changes his mind.”
Clay put his arm around her, snatched up her valise, and led her toward the front of the cabin.
***
After Clay had unhitched the horses from the sleigh, he watched as Croft’s men pushed the sleigh toward the barn. It galled him to think of Croft riding around in it.
He fastened Madeline’s bag and the roll of blankets and furs to Tansy’s harness, using rope that a sympathetic ranch hand had slipped to him on the sly. Then he secured the rest of the supplies to Sunny’s harness, and switched some things around to make sure that each horse would carry about the same weight as the other.
Laying a folded blanket over Tansy’s back, he turned to Madeline. “I don’t have any saddles, so we’ll have to ride bareback. You can ride, can’t you?”
“I may not have driven a carriage, but no woman of class hasn’t participated in a hunt or a riding competition. We spent a month in England once, with relatives. They are very fond of the hunt over there.” She gave him a wan smile.
His heart lurched, thinking of what had almost happened to her…and what Croft may already have done to her. Not knowing was killing him, but he’d tried to ask, and she had changed the subject. It probably wasn’t proper for him to ask such a thing.
Madeline studied Tansy. “It will be harder getting up without a saddle. And I’ll have to ride side-saddle…without the saddle, of course.”
It took a minute to get her up into place with her narrow skirt and no stirrup, steps, or ladder for help. Once he had her settled on Tansy’s back, he hoisted himself up onto Sunny’s back.
“I’m so sorry about your sleigh,” Madeline murmured. “I don’t know how, but I’ll help you get another one.”
“I have enough for another one already. Or almost enough. But I only needed the sleigh to earn my shop money, and I’d have to use the shop money if I wanted to buy another sleigh. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m sure Croft will do all he can to make sure no one hires me for deliveries again.”
He spied Croft standing on his porch, arms folded, watching them. It took every bit of restraint Clay had to resist leaping off Sunny, running at Croft, and pummeling the man until he was little more than a mass of bloody flesh. Only his concern for Madeline’s safety stopped him. “Let’s go before he loses his senses and guns us both down.”
Casting a frightened glance over her shoulder, she signaled Tansy to get moving.
As they passed the sign at the entrance to the ranch that warned cattle rustlers, Clay let out a sigh of relief. Croft probably wasn’t coming after them. “Let’s pick up the pace. We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to make it to Cara’s before dark. But be careful. We can’t go too fast in the snow, or the horses could lose their footing.”
He watched her riding side-saddle, and admired the way her legs draped elegantly over the side, covered by her fancy dress, with a hint of her crinolines peeking out. She was very adept at staying upright, and it was a sight to behold. He assumed most of the women must ride that way where she came from, but in the wilds of Montana, the woman mostly rode as the men did, wearing voluminous skirts that accommodated that way of riding.
They stopped once to let the horses drink, and to drink themselves. Then they got back on the road as quickly as possible, racing against the approaching dusk. The sky had cleared, giving them a little more light than usual, and without the sleigh to pull, the horses made better time.
***
They made it back to Cara’s place just before nightfall.
Cara and the children came running out to greet Clay when they arrived. Cara was shocked to see him with Madeline, but without the sleigh. “Was there an accident? Did you lose a runner? Are you both alright?”
“We’re fine,” he insisted, as he got down from his horse and reached to help Madeline. But his sister kept peppering them with questions. “Cara.” He sent her a warning look. “I’ll explain later.”
“I should have listened to you.” Madeline whispered. “It…it was awful.”
“My goodness, you’re white as a sheet.” She put her arm around Madeline, who was unsteady on her feet.
“Get her inside, Cara. She needs rest.”
Cara flicked him a look of confused concern, then led Madeline away.
“Where’s your father?” Clay asked Lawrence.
“Running the traps,” he replied sullenly, then scraped at the snow with one boot. “But he wouldn’t let me come.”
“Well now, I could use an assistant to help me with the horses.”
“Really?” His eyes lit up.
“Me too?” piped up Joseph.
“Absolutely. Both of you. These are some pretty tuckered-out horses, and they need our attention. Come along.”
The boys followed Clay. Martha had already taken Mary and followed Madeline and Cara into the house, no doubt to ply Madeline with questions. Clay trusted Cara to see to it that Madeline got the rest she needed.
He dreaded having to face Cara’s questions. It would be easier going before a firing squad.
The boys chattered on and asked a million questions as they helped him brush, feed, and water the horses. He didn’t even bother to ask Cara for carrots—he just sent Lawrence in to fetch them, knowing she wouldn’t care, given the circumstances. Sunny and Tansy deserved them.
When the horses were settled and Clay had helped the boys with their barn chores, they took all the supplies from the journey and went inside to get warm.
“Stack all that stuff in the corner, and I’ll take care of it later.” Clay gestured, and went to stand by the woodstove to warm his hands. The two boys joined him as Cara came out of Martha’s room, where she had Madeline ensconced. Balancing a tray with a small, empty plate and a teacup, she shut the door quietly behind her.
“I told her to get some sleep. She looked worn out.” Cara set the tray down on the table, where Martha sat feeding Mary. “Martha, why don’t you get those blankets I put on the bench and take them up to the boys’ loft? Boys, you go up and shift things around. Martha will share the pallet with you, Joseph
, while Lawrence shares the bed with Clay.”
Martha gathered the stack of blankets from the bench beside her, and carried them awkwardly up the ladder. The boys complained, but did as they were told.
“Martha is the one getting the boot from her own room, but it’s the boys who complain about it.” Cara shook her head, then after a quick glance up at the loft, she pulled Clay aside.
“Clay Porter, I don’t know what’s going on—and I didn’t ask her—but she has marks around her throat, and her blouse was torn. What on earth happened?”
“Oh God.” The strength went out of his legs, and he staggered to the table to sit down across from Mary, who was covered in her food. “I hadn’t seen that. Her coat was buttoned when I got there…”
“Well, she tried to hide it, but…” She sat beside Clay with a heavy sigh. “It was Croft, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Partly, at least. I…I never should have left her there.”
“You left her?” Cara was aghast.
“Well, it was what I was paid for,” he snapped, then buried his face in his hands. “She wouldn’t come with me. I gave her one last chance, but she didn’t…I don’t know why. Probably because she was angry with me.”
“You had words? Again? Oh, Clay.”
He looked up at her, miserably. “There was more…there was a…misunderstanding. And she overreacted.”
“Uh huh.” Cara’s tone told him she didn’t believe that.
“Alright, maybe I overreacted to her, too. I guess I don’t blame her for not wanting to go with me when I asked her if she wanted to. But I swear, Cara, I never thought he’d be that bad. If I had, I wouldn’t have left her.”
“Well he beat a boy, and beat a horse half to death. What did you think he would do?”
“I guess…I don’t know. I couldn’t be absolutely sure that any of that was more than just bitter words from fired ranch hands. And I felt helpless. I couldn’t just grab her and run. In case you hadn’t noticed, the woman is stubborn.”
Mail Order Regrets Page 16