The Wrangler's Inconvenient Wife

by Lacy Williams

He was close now—he urged his horse forward, knocking one of the men aside.

  The whip arced through the air again, but this time he threw himself off the horse and on top of a prone Fran.

  The whip struck him instead, a sharp sting of pain across his back from one side to the other.

  The pain was intense, a burn through his skin and down into his muscles.

  How had Fran borne it?

  He started shaking, realizing just what he’d put her through, all because of his stubbornness. How would she ever forgive him?

  Through a haze of white noise, he realized some of the cowboys had engaged with Underhill’s men. He heard sounds of fists meeting flesh and struggling.

  He looked up to see several of Underhill’s men ride off. Cowards. What else did Underhill expect when he’d likely paid them to be there?

  Edgar trusted his boys to take care of what needed taking care of.

  Fran needed him.

  She pushed against him. He moved his shoulders slightly, giving her room but keeping her pinned. “Stay down,” he murmured. “You okay? Of course you’re not okay.” He could feel her shaking.

  Underhill’s voice rang out loudly. “She’s cost me everything!”

  “Let me up!” Fran insisted.

  The red-faced man had exchanged his whip for a gun, and waved it wildly, spewing vitriol.

  “Sorry,” Edgar told her, keeping her tucked beneath him. He was sure her back was paining her. “If he starts shooting, I don’t want you to catch a bullet.”

  He’d rather it be him, if it came to that.

  He’d rather it be no one.

  “Where’s Emma?”

  “Not here. With Seb.” He twisted his head, trying to see between the shuffling cowboys’ legs and milling, restless horses.

  The scuffle had turned dangerous.

  The federal marshal was trying to talk Underhill down. At this point, Edgar didn’t know if he was on Underhill’s side or regretting what he’d gotten himself into.

  Underhill was having none of it. He pointed the pistol in Fran’s—and consequently, Edgar’s—direction.

  Where was Ricky? Matty? He didn’t want any of his men getting shot.

  They were on the periphery, apparently thinking the same thing he was.

  “Edgar, please.” Fran twisted beneath him, maybe trying to see. “I can’t breathe!”

  He could see the federal marshal attempting to get Underhill’s gun away from him.

  And as they both scrabbled for the weapon, a lone rider trotted up to the group. Fran’s brother. Had he been behind them this whole time, and just now arrived?

  With the sorry excuse for a horse he had, Edgar wouldn’t be too surprised.

  Problem was, he didn’t have great control over his animal and the horse aimed for the scuffling men.

  The horse walked right into the two of them and the gun went off.

  Beneath him, Fran jumped.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured into her hair. Even though he didn’t know if it was or wasn’t.

  Had Daniel been hit?

  Ricky and the other cowboys were just about done sorting it out. Two of Underhill’s men lay groaning on the ground.

  Ricky reached up for the horse’s reins and Daniel tumbled off. He rose to his feet, dusting himself off. Not hurt.

  One less thing for Edgar to have to apologize for.

  When Ricky moved the horse, the federal marshal was on his knees, and Underhill was flat on his back on the ground, a red stain blooming on his chest.

  Ricky looked back at him, still holding the horse, and shook his head.

  Underhill was gone.

  Edgar pushed up off the ground, careful of Fran and her injuries. He had to clamp down on his back teeth as, helping her to her feet, he again spotted the red stain on the back of her dress. He tried not to let her see the violent scene behind where they stood, but she was too quick for him and edged around to see Underhill.

  She gasped and looked away, squeezing her eyes closed.

  Some protector he’d been.

  He smoothed her tumbledown hair away from her shoulders. Underhill’s strike had hit Fran completely across her middle back and up across her shoulders.

  “Oh, darlin’,” he crooned.

  Her shoulders bowed, and a fine tremor went through her. Relief? Fear? He couldn’t imagine the mess of emotions she must have been facing at that moment.

  She looked up at him, then quickly away. “What about you? You’re hurt, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a rangy cowboy who can survive a snakebite. What do you think?” he tried to tease, but she trembled again.

  “Fran...” He touched her elbow lightly, conscious of how she must be hurting. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. She looked up at him, but the words stuck in his throat. How could he ever apologize enough for not believing her, not trusting her when she’d needed him?

  Her eyes clung to his face but then darted away. She went perfectly still.

  “Daniel?” she asked, quiet and disbelieving. Then she cried out, “Daniel!”

  Her brother pushed past Edgar and took her in his arms. “Frannie!”

  “Ow!” Her exclamation was muffled by her brother’s shoulder.

  “Watch it,” Edgar growled. “She’s hurt.”

  Daniel shot him a scathing glare over his shoulder.

  Fran pushed away. “What are you doing here? How did you find us?”

  Daniel smoothed the hair from her temple. “You didn’t make it easy, that’s for sure.”

  Watching her greet her brother squeezed Edgar’s stomach tight as a fist. She was shining with joy, even after everything she’d just been through.

  Daniel turned Fran and started leading her away.

  Edgar reached out for her, but then stopped.

  Now that Daniel was there, Fran didn’t need him any longer.

  She didn’t have to stay married to him. They’d been married under duress and she’d been forced into it by the judge. He knew that could be grounds for annulment under Wyoming law. Would her brother push her to annul their marriage?

  Ricky came up beside him. “You want us to go after the others riding with Underhill’s outfit?”

  Edgar shook his head. “I don’t think they’re coming back, and the rest of us have had enough adventure for one day.”

  Ricky nodded.

  Stood there silent at Edgar’s shoulder as they watched Daniel make over Fran.

  “You gonna just let her walk away?” Ricky asked finally.

  He should have. He didn’t deserve her. And if she abandoned him, it would be completely his fault. He hadn’t proved himself to her—all he’d proved was that he didn’t keep his promises.

  She’d be in the right to walk away from him.

  But...

  “Not if I can help it,” he told his brother.

  * * *

  Fran’s relief knew no bounds. Emma was safe. Daniel was there, although he was thinner than she remembered and pale, as if he’d been sick.

  And Underhill was dead, thanks to the federal marshal.

  But what brought tears to her eyes was Edgar, safe and whole. He had survived the stampede.

  She glanced at him over Daniel’s shoulder, only to find him and Ricky standing side by side, a powerful pair of cowboys. Edgar’s eyes were locked on her.

  She was conscious of her ragged, dirt-covered appearance—she’d been rolling on the ground to escape after all, and her hair had long before fallen out of its pins.

  She shouldn’t care so much. She knew what he thought about her, that she couldn’t be trusted.

  In the face of everything that had happened, her determination to tell him that she l
oved him wavered.

  She could tell him—later.

  “We need to get Emma and get back to a town with a train station,” Daniel was saying.

  All of a sudden, Edgar was there at her brother’s elbow, near enough for her to smell horse and man. “Fran’s got to be exhausted. She needs to get to town to rest.”

  “She can rest after we get home to Tennessee,” Daniel argued.

  “She’s my wife, my responsibility—”

  “I can sleep in the wagon,” she said, to keep the argument from escalating further.

  Edgar looked chagrined. “The wagon didn’t make it through the stampede.”

  A ripple of latent fear shook her. If the cattle had destroyed the wagon, big and bulky as it was, they could have easily killed Edgar when he’d fallen.

  Then she thought of something else. “Your ma’s recipe cards!”

  It was a combination of her relief, bottled-up fear and distress that made her eyes fill with tears.

  She tried to turn away.

  Both men behind her gasped.

  Edgar took her shoulders. Gently. “You need to wash up, and then we’ll get you to town to see a doctor.”

  He meant her back. The stinging was constant, so she’d forgotten about it momentarily.

  “I’ll send Ricky back to fetch Emma—”

  “How long will that take?” Daniel asked belligerently.

  There must have been something between the two men. Fran rarely heard her mild-mannered brother angry, but he seemed really perturbed at Edgar.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want Emma to see—”

  She met Edgar’s gaze and one corner of his mouth turned up, a bit ruefully.

  “Coddling,” she whispered. Still tearful. “Can you... Could you—”

  He didn’t make her ask. “Let me see if I’ve got some clean cloth in my saddlebag.”

  He escorted her to a nearby creek—after extensive reassurance from her to Daniel—where the scrub trees shaded them from the bright morning sun and gave them a little privacy.

  He’d found a washrag and now rinsed it in the creek. The water was icy against her upper back as he dabbed carefully at the cut.

  His hands were shaking. Badly. And he was silent.

  Was he still that angry with her for not telling the whole truth about what had transpired with Underhill?

  She couldn’t stop crying.

  Partly, she was relieved that they were all okay, but partly she was afraid he would send her away with Daniel.

  It was similar to what had happened two days before, during the rainstorm. The storm had come, and her emotions had overflowed like rushing water. Unstoppable.

  * * *

  Fran’s silent tears unmanned him.

  He had let her down. He was desperately afraid that she would leave—and he knew he deserved it if she did.

  He bandaged her cut as best he could.

  “We’ll see the doctor in Cheyenne,” he said.

  She turned on him. “You’d better let me see to your back.”

  He stood dumbfounded for a moment.

  “Didn’t he get you with the whip, as well?” she prompted.

  He nodded, jaw tight as he remembered all over again what that monster had done to her.

  He knelt on the bank, shrugging out of his shirt.

  Her hands were cool against his skin, but not as cool as the cloth she’d dipped in the creek. He jumped.

  “Sorry,” she murmured. “Will we make it to Cheyenne tonight?”

  “Early this afternoon. Maybe even by lunchtime.”

  “With the cows?”

  Ah, the cattle. He’d realized too late what was really important.

  “I’ll let Ricky and the boys worry about the cattle. I don’t want your back getting infected out here on the trail.”

  “But what about your papa?”

  He turned his head to the side but couldn’t get a good look at her face.

  Jonas would’ve known what was important well before Edgar had realized it. He imagined his pa would be pretty sore at him for letting Fran get into trouble like she had.

  “He’ll understand if the deal falls through. We can look for another buyer.”

  It wasn’t worth jeopardizing Fran’s health. Infection could be deadly.

  She hesitated, one hand resting on his shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  He was. He just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  * * *

  Knock, knock.

  Still shaken from the events of the morning, Fran opened the hotel room door and a shaft of late-afternoon sunlight fell across the floor.

  Emma.

  Her sister vaulted toward her, knocking the door in, and Fran opened her arms in time to catch the younger girl in a firm embrace. Emma clutched her shoulders, avoiding the injuries on Fran’s back that Daniel must have warned her about.

  A shadow moved outside the hotel door, and for a moment, Fran’s heart tripped, thinking it was Edgar.

  But when he passed through the doorway, she saw it was Daniel instead, carrying a brown-wrapped package.

  And she couldn’t be disappointed that her brother was there, could she?

  She pulled them both into the hotel room, laughing a bit tearfully.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she told her brother.

  He set the package on the bed. “I almost wasn’t.”

  His words stopped her. He was serious, deadly serious. Her brother, older by a decade, tended toward solemnity anyway, but the gravity of his words stopped her.

  She and Emma sat on the bed while he told them just how ill he’d been with tuberculosis and how he’d come to track them down. Hearing his story, she went from skepticism, to disbelief, to horror and then to thankfulness that God had spared her brother’s life. He’d come close to dying, but she hadn’t lost him.

  Finally, Daniel shrugged out of her hug. “We’ll get this situation with the cowboy taken care of and get back to Tennessee.”

  Fran shook her head. “Do you mean my marriage?”

  He nodded. “You’ll want to annul it, won’t you?”

  “No!”

  Emma wrapped her arms around her knees. “He sent you that package.” She nodded to the item sitting on the bed. Fran had forgotten about it until Emma’s reminder.

  When she twisted and reached for it, Emma let out a gasp.

  Chagrined, Fran realized her sister must’ve seen the blood on the back of her dress.

  “I’m all right,” she reassured her sister. “It’s only a cut—the doctor said it wasn’t too deep. As long as I keep it clean it should heal in a week or two. And Edgar saved me from the second blow.”

  “He’s the reason you were hurt in the first place,” Daniel muttered.

  She shot her brother a look before she ripped the paper to reveal a pretty lavender dress—clearly store-bought and of fine quality.

  “I would say Underhill and his obsession was the real reason,” she returned as she shook out the dress and stood up from the bed. She held it to her torso, fingering the lace-edged sleeve.

  It was high quality, expensive. Edgar had sent it to her.

  But why hadn’t he come himself?

  “You really want to stay married to a cowboy like that?” Daniel asked. “Do you know what life is like out here in the wilds? You’ll have to work. Much harder than if you marry a businessman or some such.”

  “I’m married to Edgar.”

  “He hasn’t been the most sensitive of men,” Emma reminded her.

  Fran didn’t downplay their concern, but they didn’t know him like she did. “His mother abandoned him to an orphanage when he was very small,” she told them. She hoped he would
n’t mind her sharing his story, but she would need to make them understand if she was going to have any hope of remaining in the marriage. “That one event has shaped much of his thinking about women.”

  She shared what she felt she could without betraying Edgar’s privacy too much.

  Daniel still looked skeptical, but Emma seemed to understand that Fran couldn’t just walk away.

  “I’m in love with him,” she finally whispered. “Scars and all.”

  Daniel just shook his head. “I’ll give you a week. If he hasn’t convinced me that he returns your feelings, I’ll insist on an annulment.”

  One week.

  It was longer than she and Edgar had known each other. But she didn’t need more time to be sure of her heart.

  She just needed a plan to convince a stubborn cowboy that she was right.

  * * *

  “What do you mean, he’s gone?”

  Seb’s pronouncement that Ricky had disappeared set Edgar’s teeth on edge.

  Edgar had forced himself to leave the hotel and go out to meet the herd and his brothers as the sun was setting, only to find his youngest brother as the lead rider. After eating trail dust and drawing the overnight watches, Seb had managed as trail boss for the last patch into town.

  “There’s been a burr under his saddle for a long time,” Seb said.

  But he’d ridden out with Edgar to save Fran. Hadn’t that meant anything?

  How could Ricky have just left? Abandoned the family?

  It hurt.

  And it quelled the plans that had been spinning in Edgar’s mind all afternoon. What to do about Fran?

  “What am I supposed to do?” Edgar asked the mostly rhetorical question of the bovines as he scratched the back of his suddenly aching neck.

  He stared at the cattle, willing a different answer to show itself to him.

  Now that the cattle were in Cheyenne, it shouldn’t have been too difficult to find another buyer, but it could take time—days—to see a deal through.

  He’d been planning to hand over the duties to Ricky. His brother was of age, was business minded enough to handle the transaction.

  And now he was gone.

  Which left the duty to Edgar.

  He’d promised his pa he would take care of it.

  And he’d promised Fran he would take care of her.