The Wrangler's Inconvenient Wife

by Lacy Williams

  He was raw, rage filled, hot.

  He rode into a brushy woods and ran off his horse, going knee deep in the little meandering creek they’d been following for three days.

  Tossing his hat, he cupped his hands and scooped up handfuls of cool water, splashing his face.

  The icy water did nothing to quench the burn inside him.

  A twig snapped and he jerked around, water arcing from his hands.

  Seb.

  “You okay? You flew out of there pretty quick.”

  He nodded. Then shook his head.

  Turned his back on his younger brother and ran both hands down his face.

  “Should I have checked on Fran first?” Seb asked.

  He squeezed, but the pounding in his head didn’t dissipate.

  “You yell at her?” His younger brother was looking for trouble, nosing in where he didn’t belong.

  “Could you go away?” he responded. “I need—”

  He needed to take it back. All of it. But couldn’t.

  He splashed both hands violently through the water, getting wet and cold up to his armpits.

  “Did it help? Yelling at her?” Seb pushed.

  “No!” he burst out, hanging his head and sliding the fingers of both hands back along his scalp.

  All that did was make him think of her, too. The tender way she’d cut his hair. She was driving him insane.

  “No, it didn’t help.”

  Seeing her tears had torn something open inside of him, releasing a flow of hot emotion that broke him.

  Reopening an old wound like his that had scarred over didn’t help, it just created more scar tissue, more memories he didn’t need.

  Unless the wound needed to be lanced.

  He shook his head, confusion and that old pain warring with regret that he’d spoken to Fran like he had. She shouldn’t have been prying into his past, but that didn’t mean she deserved to be yelled at.

  He needed a clear head. The cattle. He had to think of the cattle first, and Emma’s safety.

  “You could always...oh, I don’t know. Apologize,” Seb said.

  Before Edgar could turn and read his brother the riot act, he heard hoofbeats heading into the distance. He looked over his shoulder to see Seb’s retreating back.

  He was alone.

  He hadn’t felt this alone since Jonas had fit him into his family. He’d been accepted immediately, been made a part of the group. Was expected to pull his weight and was taken care of in ways he hadn’t known since he’d come to the orphanage at a young age.

  Now, with his brother’s disapproval stinging and himself worn raw from the confrontation with Fran, he felt like that four-year-old boy again.

  And it hurt.

  * * *

  She’d ruined it all.

  Thankfully, Emma claimed not to have heard the altercation with Edgar. She remained quiet and withdrawn as they got closer and closer to their destination.

  What could they expect when they arrived?

  Edgar hadn’t said what he planned to do with them until they reached Calvin, but he wouldn’t just leave them unprotected if men were following them, would he?

  She hadn’t known him long, but she couldn’t imagine he would.

  She trusted him to keep Emma safe. Had since the beginning.

  He’d proved his mettle when he’d rescued Emma during the rainstorm on the range.

  He was a man who took seriously the care of his own. His loyalty to his father proved as much.

  What did she have to do for him to see her as a real wife?

  Where was God in all of this?

  She’d watched Edgar circle the herd for a good part of the past hour, taking minutes to speak to each horseman. Making plans?

  She saw him exchange words with Ricky, both men wearing fierce expressions. Things were obviously tense between them.

  He never looked back at the wagon.

  Her stomach hurt. Worse than when she realized Tim didn’t love her.

  Nearly as bad as when she’d realized Daniel wasn’t coming for her and Emma.

  When Edgar got them settled, she would be very much on her own. Unless she could change things.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. She hated that Edgar was hurt. Hated that he kept it so well hidden. Had his brothers even known that his pain ran so deeply, that he still felt it?

  She would apologize if she could, but if Edgar remained at a distance from her, what chance did she have? She didn’t know how to ride a horse—not really—and chase him down.

  The sun had long passed its zenith, and her belly was warning her it was suppertime when Matty turned back from the herd and approached the wagon on his horse.

  “Ladies,” he greeted them.

  “Hello, Matty,” Fran replied.

  Emma stirred in the back of the wagon.

  He sidled his horse up to the wagon, matched its pace with that of the horses Fran drove.

  “Is Edgar all right?” Fran asked, because she couldn’t contain the question.

  Matty winked beneath his Stetson. “I have faith he’ll come around, don’t you worry. He hasn’t always been such a crotchety grandpapa, you know.”

  His words comforted her, a little. Edgar had his family. And his family was obviously important to him.

  “Ed’s worked up a plan to get y’all in town to the train station. Interested in hearing it?”

  She was interested in knowing why her husband didn’t come and tell her the plan himself. Was he still that furious with her? Or avoiding her because her questions had cut too close to the true source of his pain?

  “Of course,” she said.

  Matty tossed a bundle and she caught it by rote. Juggling the reins, she revealed a pair of...men’s trousers and a cowboy’s woolen shirt?

  She looked at the cowboy askance. “What’s this?”

  “Ed says it’s time for your second riding lesson. He wants ya to put that on.”

  She held up the trousers between two fingers. “I can’t wear this. It’s not appropriate.”

  “Maybe not in a big city, but my ma’s been seen wearing trousers a time or two workin’ on certain chores on the ranch.”

  How peculiar. Heat rose in her face just thinking of it.

  “And I’m going to...ride? Dressed as a cowboy?” She was having trouble understanding this plan of her husband’s.

  “Exactly.” He tossed his cowboy hat to Emma, beneath the canvas cover of the wagon. “Ed wants you to tuck your hair up in that hat as best you can. Wants you to try to pass for a cowboy.”

  “But...won’t anybody looking at me know that I’m not an accomplished rider?”

  He shrugged. “The horse is a pretty well-trained cutter. All you gotta do is hold on, and he’ll do the work for you. ’Sides...Ed thinks someone looking for two women won’t be paying too much attention to a greenhorn cowboy.”

  “So they’ll only find one woman in the wagon. Emma.”

  That didn’t comfort her at all.

  But Matty was grinning. Widely.

  And someone else was approaching from the herd. Not Edgar, much to her disappointment. A closer look revealed Seb.

  “Nope. Someone lookin’ at the wagon’s gonna see two women.”

  She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Emma. “Seb?” she gurgled, barely able to get the word out.

  Matty chuckled. “Yep. He ain’t too happy with Ed’s idea. But it’s just until we get the cattle into the holding pens at the rail station. After that, the boys will be free to escort you ladies to the hotel and keep an eye on ya. Just in case.”

  Well. This plan was either ingenious...or insane. She didn’t know which.

  “Shouldn’t Emma ride out
, and I’ll keep driving the wagon?”

  He shook his head. “It’d work if she could ride at all, but two men riding double might raise questions and merit a second look. Seb’s a good shot, and the rest of us’ll be keeping an eye on the wagon anyway.”

  Fran didn’t argue that she had very little more experience than Emma. She’d left Tennessee and vowed to do whatever she had to do to keep her sister safe.

  And if this was it, she would do it. No matter how foolish she looked or felt.

  And she did look foolish, she concluded a quarter hour later as she descended from the wagon dressed like a cowboy. They’d given her Seb’s boots and left him to go barefoot. Even with a sock rolled and stuffed into the toe of each boot, she felt clunky and awkward in the men’s footwear. Maybe it would be better on horseback.

  Her neck was exposed beneath the cowboy hat.

  And she thought that probably anybody who took a look at her would be able to tell she was a woman. Wouldn’t they?

  She’d passed her dress out of the back of the wagon while Emma had helped her put on the cowboy garb. Now Seb appeared from behind his horse, where he’d donned the dress over his own trousers.

  Lanky as he was, his shoulders still stretched the fabric of the dress. She sincerely hoped he didn’t tear it, or she’d have nothing left to wear at all.

  He didn’t look happy, stomping in bare feet back to the wagon.

  Matty looked like he was barely suppressing his laughter behind lips clamped together until they were white.

  “Well, Fran here might pass for a cowboy, but you sure don’t make much of a girl. You’d better stay in the back of the wagon.”

  “Then who’s going to drive?”

  “Emma,” the cowboy said with a nod at Fran’s sister.

  Fran began to protest. “She hasn’t driven a wagon before—”

  “Ed said you might argue and that I should remind you something about coddling.”

  She opened her mouth to argue—the man wouldn’t even face her but he was going to get onto her for trying to protect Emma.

  Emma broke in. Quietly, with a beseeching look at Fran. “I can do it. If something happens, Seb will be right there in the wagon. Right?”

  Matty winked at the younger girl, a brotherly admiration apparent on his face. “Exactly right. None of us are gonna let anything happen to you.”

  “Are you sure?” Fran asked.

  Emma’s lips pinched with determination.

  Fran gave in with little grace—because she didn’t seem to have much of a choice.

  Had Edgar somehow known that having a chore to do would put a little starch back into Emma, when Fran hadn’t been able to help her sister do it herself?

  Matty boosted her onto the horse’s back and she clung to the knob on the front of the saddle, but the animal didn’t move. Not even a quiver.

  The cowboy grinned at her. “I’ll be right beside ya until we get to the herd, then I’ll give ya some instructions. Mostly just stay out of the way of the cattle. If they start getting out of control, one of the other boys’ll come to your aid.”

  She managed to get the horse moving in a placid walk. Praying that she didn’t look too awkward.

  Praying that all this preparation was for nothing.

  But knowing there was a chance it wasn’t.

  * * *

  Edgar had promised himself he would stay away from Fran.

  But he found his horse gravitating toward her around the herd regardless.

  He had never imagined that a woman wearing trousers would look so good. Her slender hips and the definition the trousers gave to her legs... He had to wrestle his wayward thoughts into submission several times, like chasing one of the stray steers back to the herd.

  What was it about her that kept drawing him, even over the discomfort that she now knew about his past?

  Matty had only ridden by and given a short report, but Edgar wasn’t surprised that Fran hadn’t complained about his zany plan. She hadn’t complained yet, no matter what he’d asked, no matter how hard it was on her.

  Right now she didn’t look comfortable in the saddle, but at least she hadn’t fallen off.

  They were coming up to the outskirts of Tuck’s Station when a dozen head decided to wander away from the main herd, right in front of her.

  Her cow pony started skirting them, just like it was supposed to. The burst of speed turned into a trot.

  And she started bouncing in the saddle.

  He moved in to help, rounding the steers and pushing them back toward the herd. He pulled up next to her. “You doing okay?”

  She reined in the pony, clutching the saddle horn with her other hand. White-faced, she attempted a smile at him. “Mostly trying not to fall off.”

  Somehow he found himself wanting to smile back at her. Even now. “Emma okay?”

  “Yes, I think so. She was when I rode out anyway.”

  He nodded.

  “Edgar, I really am sorry—about before. About pushing into your past.”

  He went hot and then cold. Surprised that she’d brought it up. He steeled his features. Squinted into the sun pretending to watch the herd. “I don’t like to talk about it. But I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

  He could practically hear his ma blasting his ears for not apologizing the right way. “I’m sorry,” he choked out.

  He chanced a look at her. Her clear, assessing gaze had him shifting in his saddle, and the animal beneath him scooted to one side, probably wondering what burr Edgar had got under his caboose.

  His little wife did tend to get under his skin.

  “Let’s just leave it be, all right?”

  She nodded, but he still felt as though her eyes saw too much.

  Was this what a real marriage was like? Someone else knowing the dark parts about you? It was uncomfortable....

  But also...

  Now that she knew, now that the secret was out there, there was a relief in not being forced to hide it anymore.

  They rode quietly together over the next hill, and the town of Tuck’s Station came into view, nestled in the valley. Close enough almost to touch.

  Finally.

  “Stay close,” he said as he idly scanned their surroundings. Arriving from this direction afforded him a nice view, something he’d been counting on.

  No one in sight, except those that looked to be working around town. The town wasn’t any bigger than Bear Creek, and the goings-on looked to be normal. Someone loading a wagon near the livery; a couple of people were passing on the boardwalk. The saloon was quiet, but it wasn’t late enough in the day yet for it to be busy.

  The holding pens at the train station were empty, which was a surprise. He’d expected to see some activity there. It might be nothing, or it might be something. The agent in Bear Creek had said the train was running, and he had to get the cattle to Cheyenne.

  “Do you...expect trouble?” Fran glanced over her shoulder toward the wagon.

  He’d told Seb to keep it close to the herd, even if it meant his brother and Emma would be eating trail dust. So far everything had gone according to his plan.

  “Don’t know. John tried to track the men following us earlier today and it seemed like they just disappeared. So we want to be prepared for anything.”

  He saw her swallow, her neck slender beneath the hat and disappearing into the neckline of one of Seb’s second-choice shirts.

  Then he had to swallow hard and avert his eyes, and those wayward thoughts.

  Someone might be following them. Or in front of them. Right. Focus on possible danger. Not his enchanting little wife.

  “We’re going to push the cattle right into the holding pens over there at the rail station.” He pointed to the fenced area to one side
of town. “Should be able to just send the cattle in with no issues.”

  The pens were out in the open. No cover, except for the train station. Nowhere for men to hide if they were after Emma.

  “By the time the cattle are penned, the cowboys will circle around to flank the wagon and we’ll have enough men to watch out for Emma—and you—until I can get things settled with the ticket agent.”

  This time when she looked at him, her eyes were moist.

  “What?” he asked. A little gruffly, because he wasn’t sure what had her upset now.

  She shook her head slightly. “Just...thank you. For getting us this far.”

  Her gratitude had him shifting uncomfortably again. What had he done, exactly, other than save Emma from the rushing water? Put Fran to work, that was what. And she was thanking him. It rubbed him wrong, somehow.

  His horse neighed, telling him exactly what it thought of Edgar’s discomfort.

  “All right, old boy,” he said to it, settling in his saddle.

  He nodded to Fran. “Let’s get them in. Stay close to me.”

  And she did.

  When he told her left, she went left. The longer the afternoon wore on, the more comfortable she got in the saddle. It helped that the pony was experienced and not green-broke. By the time they’d driven the last few head into the pens, she was reading his cues without him having to instruct her. And her beaming smile buoyed him into almost forgetting about their trouble.

  Until he got to see the ticket agent.

  He’d sent Fran to the wagon with the cowboys after sending his brothers a hard look that said they’d better look after the girls.

  And now in front of the ticket agent, he got an answer he did not want to hear.

  “What do you mean, the train’s not running today?”

  The man reminded Edgar so much of the agent back in Bear Creek with his mannerisms and thinly veiled disdain that Edgar had to wonder if they were long-lost cousins.

  “Trains can’t get through from the east,” the man said, jerking one finger back toward Bear Creek. “On account of the broken tracks.”

  That made sense.

  “So until the next train comes in from the west—” now he jerked his finger the opposite direction “—there’s no train to take your animals to the next station. Sorry.”