The Wrangler's Inconvenient Wife

by Lacy Williams

  Which worked until he started thinking about seeing her around the supper campfire. Maybe...maybe they could sneak away and he could steal a kiss....

  He was on the opposite side of the herd from the chuck wagon when a group of riders thundered over a bluff and into view.

  Fear sliced through him, sharp and painful in its intensity. He must be falling for her if a threat against her had this powerful an effect on him. The fear was followed by a deep sense of unease.

  A sharp whistle to his brother and a wave at the horizon sent Matty—and his brace of pistols—back to the wagon. They’d planned for this. Seb and John also rode toward the wagon as Edgar made his way around the herd.

  Although the approaching men didn’t seem to be in any hurry—they came on at a steady walk.

  Edgar didn’t like the numbers. By his count, there were sixteen of them, and twelve cowboys in his group.

  Except his cowboys were busy keeping the herd in line.

  Without at least a few riders constantly circling, the herd would scatter. If they wandered too far, it could take hours or even days to round them up again.

  And he didn’t have that kind of time, not with the buyer’s deadline looming.

  Which meant he couldn’t spare many of their twelve to keep guard over the girls, should they need it.

  It wouldn’t be a fair fight, if lead started flying.

  He’d given Fran a pistol to hide in the front of the wagon, but dearly hoped she wouldn’t need it to protect her sister.

  By the time Edgar thundered up to them, the wagon had rolled to a stop and Fran and Emma stood huddled between his brother and the wagon’s scanty protection. The riders neared.

  Edgar jumped off his horse, leaving it standing untied behind the wagon. If he or the girls needed to take off, having it unencumbered would be important.

  Both girls were whiter than the wagon’s canvas cover when he stepped up between them. Fran relaxed infinitesimally as she registered his presence.

  “This the Underhill you been worrying about?”

  She nodded, mouth pinched tight. “In the middle, on the black horse. I don’t know the other men.”

  The horse was a beautiful animal. Well cared for, with good lines. Obviously expensive. Fran had said this Underhill had money, and riding that animal, it was obvious.

  The men around him...not so much. They had the look of cowpokes, unless a body looked closer. Their clothes were in good condition—not worn like the other cowboys he’d been riding with these past few days. Their saddles were tooled and fancy.

  They looked like hired guns.

  And that he didn’t like at all. If the man’s purpose was legitimate, why all the firepower? The last thing Edgar wanted to do was put his brothers, or Fran and Emma, in harm’s way.

  Matty was out in front of the wagon and spoke over his shoulder. “Saw something shiny reflecting from the man on the big bay. Might be a lawman.”

  He almost didn’t hear Fran’s soft gasp as Seb said, “Pretty sure the one on the gray dappled is the same man we saw back at Tuck’s Station, too.”

  Edgar let his palm rest on Fran’s lower back. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Or Emma.”

  She whispered something under her breath, but he couldn’t make out the words as the riders reined in with a rush of hoofbeats and creaking leather. Had she been praying?

  Underhill reined in and smiled evilly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Fran couldn’t help shivering as Mr. Underhill’s cold glare flicked over her and rested on Emma.

  “You’ve brought me on a merry chase, girls.”

  The man on a huge brown horse slid down. Matty had been right. There was a silver star-shaped badge on his chest. “These them, Mr. Underhill?”

  “Yes. That is Fran and Emma Morris.”

  “What’s your business with my wife?” Edgar asked. Steady at her side, a mountain of a man she could count on.

  If only she didn’t know that Mr. Underhill would do anything in his considerable power to have what he wanted.

  Underhill’s eyes flashed briefly in surprise. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to have married a cowboy.

  “These ladies have traveled far from their home in Memphis. I’ve come to take them back.”

  Edgar crossed his muscled arms over his chest. “I’ve heard you’re the reason my wife and her sister left Tennessee. Fran, Emma, you want to go back?”

  She shook her head quickly, and saw that Emma did the same on Edgar’s other side.

  Mr. Underhill took a long look around, taking in the cattle now moving on up the hillside, the wagon, the number of men standing around.

  “You’ve got a big herd there. On your way to sell them, I believe?”

  Why had he changed the subject? Fran knew his shrewd gaze would miss nothing, but she didn’t understand the change in topic.

  Edgar nodded slowly.

  “It would be a shame to not have enough cowboys to get your cattle where they’re going on time.”

  “You threatening me and mine?” Edgar asked, voice level.

  Emma whimpered a little on his other side. He rested a kind hand on her shoulder. Fran could still see her sister shaking.

  Fran couldn’t help noticing that his other hand rested at his hip, just above the revolver in his belt. Why had she left the gun he’d given her in the wagon?

  “Of course not,” he said, voice just as calm as Edgar’s. Even a little cold.

  “Good. Because if you were, I’d want you to know that you might have a few more guns than we do, but that doesn’t mean you’d all get away unscathed.”

  Underhill bared his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “I must confess to being a little surprised Miss Morris has found herself such a...passionate champion.”

  That made two of them. She hadn’t wanted to think about what would happen if Edgar had to stand up for her against Underhill, but now that it was unfolding, she worried for her husband. She knew what Underhill was capable of.

  And she’d fallen for the rough-edged cowboy. She loved him.

  The realization hit her hard, as if she’d been struck.

  It didn’t seem possible. She’d only known him for a few days and for most of that time she’d been afraid for her life, on the run, overly emotional.

  And he’d been a rock through all of it, steady and unyielding. Someone she could count on for the rest of her life.

  She wished she’d seen it sooner. What if she never got the chance to tell him?

  What if something happened to him because of her? She couldn’t even countenance it.

  She must’ve made some noise of distress, because Edgar looked down on her with a puzzled gaze.

  She shook her head minutely, fear and love and distress all entwined inside her.

  “I can see you’re a man of some intelligence,” Underhill said, bringing Edgar’s attention back to him.

  Edgar grunted.

  “So let’s talk about just whom you are protecting.”

  Fran’s stomach dipped. He couldn’t accuse her...not all the way out here, in Wyoming.

  “This is a federal marshal.” Underhill motioned to the man with the badge. “He has accompanied me all this way in an attempt to get back something that was taken from me.”

  Fran knew exactly what it was. Emma.

  “No doubt Miss Morris has told you that she and her sister escaped Memphis, running from capture.”

  Edgar nodded. She watched his eyes scan the men before them, planning, thinking. But he was also listening.

  “Did Miss Morris also tell you that she stole a valuable family heirloom from me?”

  She flinched. It was the only sign she made that she’d been expecting the accusation, b
ut it was enough.

  At her side, Edgar went completely still. She couldn’t be sure he was even breathing.

  “I didn’t steal anything,” she said quietly. The words carried over the space between the men and the horses.

  But they didn’t faze the man beside her.

  “She snuck into my home and took a valuable French vase worth at least five hundred dollars.”

  “I didn’t,” she argued.

  “Then she and her sister ran, attempting to evade the authorities. If the vase wasn’t so priceless, I never would’ve sought them this far, at this expense.”

  “Where is the vase?” she cried. “Where is the money? I have neither.”

  She turned to Edgar. Matty and Seb and the other cowboy watched, too. “Why would I have gone on the orphan train if I had five hundred dollars?”

  “To escape,” said Underhill.

  Edgar’s unblinking eyes stayed on her face, but she couldn’t read him, couldn’t tell if he believed her.

  With what she knew about his lack of trust in women in general, she didn’t know what he was thinking.

  “I have proof.” Underhill’s voice rang with satisfaction. As if he knew he’d won.

  No! This couldn’t be happening. It was wrong, all wrong. The man was pure evil.

  “Where is the proof? It’s a lie!” she cried.

  “Back in Tennessee. Its very existence is why I was able to persuade this federal marshal to accompany me here to fetch the two of you.”

  “He’s lying.” She breathed the words, entreating Edgar with her gaze to believe her. “Please...”

  The man with the tin star didn’t bat an eyelash. “It will be up to a judge to decide. I’m to take you into custody now, miss.”

  And no doubt by the length of time that would take, Underhill would’ve already had his way with Emma.

  “Please,” she said again to Edgar. “Don’t let him take Emma,” she begged.

  She couldn’t allow Emma to be hurt. She’d come so far, done everything in her power to prevent it. Married a cowboy, traveled all this way under slightly more than primitive conditions, given her heart...

  “You said Fran was the one who stole from you,” Edgar said, turning away from her to face Underhill. “She and I are married. There’s a legal document at the courthouse back in Bear Creek that says so. And that means Emma is given into my custody.”

  Fran’s knees threatened to give way, so strong was her relief.

  He barely glanced at her. The coldness in his eyes... The warmth she’d seen, what they’d shared earlier in the meadow was gone.

  Her heart was breaking.

  “You said Fran’s the one who stole from you. Then Emma doesn’t have anything to do with it. Emma stays with me.” With the firmness in his voice, there was no arguing with Edgar.

  Some of the men’s horses shifted. The marshal looked back at Underhill.

  Matty and Seb put their hands on their guns.

  “And Fran’s my responsibility. I won’t turn her over to a gun-toting posse. She ain’t that dangerous.” His voice was devoid of any humor. “I’ll deliver her to the sheriff’s office in Cheyenne.”

  Underhill looked furious.

  But he wasn’t the one who spoke. It was the federal marshal. “How do we know you won’t run with her? She’s a fugitive.”

  “Well, you could take my word for it. Or you—just you, Mister Marshal—can ride along with our outfit to Cheyenne. In the meantime, we’ve got a job to do.”

  His words were dismissive, but Underhill didn’t appear to want to let it go that easy.

  He marched over to the federal marshal and they conferred in low tones. It looked like he wasn’t getting the answer he wanted, as his face reddened and he gesticulated angrily.

  Edgar remained a cold stone mountain at her side.

  “I didn’t do what he said—”

  “I don’t care,” her husband interrupted, voice dead and quiet. “It doesn’t matter to me at all.” You don’t matter to me at all was the unspoken meaning behind his words.

  Mr. Underhill swung up into his saddle. “I will see you in Cheyenne,” he said, his voice a cold promise.

  But Fran couldn’t even feel the fear she knew she should. Her heart was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces.

  Edgar didn’t believe her.

  After all of this, after she’d told him the truth the entire time they’d been together, his heart was too hard.

  * * *

  Underhill and his cronies thundered over the hillside, scattering part of the cattle. Edgar didn’t like the way he’d taken one long hard look at Emma before he’d galloped off.

  The marshal stayed behind.

  “Edgar?” Seb asked quietly.

  He shook his head. He couldn’t talk to anyone, not right now. “You stay with the wagon.” He leveled his pointer finger at Seb. Seb, who’d gotten him involved in this mess in the first place. Sort of.

  “I don’t want either of the girls alone for one second. Understand?”

  Seb nodded gravely.

  Edgar turned to his horse. He told himself he felt nothing. That he was completely numb.

  But it didn’t help. Pain and betrayal seared through him.

  Fran had lied.

  Straight to his face. The whole time she’d been with him.

  He didn’t know about the stolen goods. The way Fran had gone pale and her lack of surprise at Underhill’s accusation, plus the fact that she’d kept something so huge from him, was incriminating enough.

  If she was innocent, why hadn’t she told him from the start?

  She tried to talk to him as he moved toward his horse, but he had no capacity for talk right now—not without losing his temper.

  How had she fooled him so completely? He, who had been determined to be unaffected by her wiles?

  He felt sick, completely sick.

  A stone-faced Matty sidled up to him as he made his way back to the herd. “Doubt we’ve seen the last of Underhill.”

  Edgar rolled his shoulders beneath his shirt, but the tension in him remained. Maybe it was ingrained so deeply he’d never get rid of it now.

  “He seemed too slick. What he said—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Edgar snapped.

  He was too raw. He felt as if he was five years old again, and had just realized that his ma wasn’t coming back to get him like she’d said. Disappointed and hurt...

  ...because he loved her.

  What a fine time to realize it. At the same time that his faith in her had been shattered.

  Well, emotion didn’t have any place on a cattle drive. He had a job to do.

  “We’ve got a job to do,” he reminded his brother and himself. “Get the cattle to Cheyenne. That’s it.”

  “Then what?” Matty asked.

  “I don’t know.” He really didn’t.

  * * *

  They made camp late, after nightfall. Fran didn’t know if Edgar pushed so hard for the sake of his papa’s cattle sale, or because he wanted to reach Cheyenne to get rid of her.

  She had a guess as to which it was.

  He’d stayed away from the wagon the entire rest of the afternoon, although Seb had stayed beside them the whole time. The federal marshal had ridden several paces behind or beside them.

  She didn’t know what to think about that man. Either Underhill had enough sway back in Memphis to convince the lawman to ride along and apprehend her, or he’d paid off the man. Whatever the case, it didn’t bode well for her when they got her in front of a judge. If he could manufacture evidence enough or pay witnesses, she could be convicted of a crime she didn’t do.

  But at least Emma would come out of this unharmed.

>   Edgar’s refusal to listen, to consider her side of things, hurt. But she knew he’d been in a hurry to get the cattle moving again after facing off with Underhill and his associates.

  She held one tiny sliver of hope that he’d be considering things over the afternoon and would at least allow her to explain once they stopped for the evening.

  Maybe that made her foolish, but she couldn’t give up.

  What they’d shared earlier in the day, lying together under the spring sun and simply being, was real. It wasn’t the passion they’d shared in the stolen kisses—although that was there, too, underneath. It was the relationship, the friendship, the togetherness.

  That was what she didn’t want to lose.

  And if she could convince him of it, that was what he needed, too.

  Seb had taken over the reins as it got darker, and when Edgar finally called a halt, he guided the wagon into a shallow wash. The grasses were so tall in this meadow that with the wagon hidden in the depression, only the very top of the canvas was visible unless one was so close they were nearly on top of it.

  “Edgar says not to use a cook fire tonight,” Seb told her in a low voice.

  “But what about the cowboys?”

  “It’ll be hardtack and more cold biscuits.” He didn’t look thrilled about the prospect, but he winked, obviously trying to reassure her. “We’ll be in Cheyenne before you know it and we’ll sort all this out. And get a hot meal!”

  He hopped out of the wagon and met the marshal several feet away, guiding the other man several more feet as he chatted with him. They were too far for her to hear what was said.

  Fran didn’t feel good about the man being in their camp, but it wasn’t as if she had a choice. At least Edgar hadn’t sent her on with Underhill and his men.

  A large form approached through the darkness and her heart leaped with simultaneous fear and hope.

  “It’s me.”

  Matty.

  Her heart thumped once in disappointment. “Everyone okay out there?”

  “The cowboys are a little on edge.”