The Bride Series (Omnibus Edition)

by Bittner, Rosanne

  With shaking hands Marybeth climbed inside the wagon, kneeling down beside Danny, who lay still as death.

  “He’s still alive,” Ella told her, “but his pulse is very slow.”

  Marybeth shivered with pain and fear. Her baby lay near death, and outside the brutal fight continued. She sat down, gently pulling Danny into her lap. The sides of the wagon canvas were rolled up because of the heat, and she could see the fight going on outside. How any man could withstand the punches both John and Josh were dealing and receiving, she could not imagine. For the moment they seemed almost evenly matched, except for John’s bigger size. That size seemed at times to be a disadvantage. Josh seemed to be quicker at ducking and punching, and his rage gave him an edge.

  Marybeth gently stroked Danny’s curly hair, feeling sick at the sight of the ugly, swollen bite mark. Outside, Josh grunted from John’s blows, but he dealt just as much damage as his own big fist landed over and over into John’s middle and his face. They tumbled together in the dust, growling like animals, and she felt responsible for all of it. What would the others think of two men fighting over her? She put a hand to her throat, which ached fiercely, realizing John could have killed her.

  Men had gathered around the scene, all but Bill and Mac cheering for Josh. The women had left, except for Delores, and farther back Marybeth noticed Florence was watching anxiously. Ella wet a rag and handed it to Marybeth. She gently washed Danny’s face, and Ella ran another wet cloth over the boy’s chest and arms, more emotion on her face than Marybeth had seen since she had known the woman. She wondered what was going through Ella’s mind at the sight of her son fighting, but then she had seen this sort of thing before. Perhaps she had given up getting upset by it.

  Marybeth knew with shivering certainty that John would not give up until Josh Rivers was dead or close to dead. Still, Josh held his own. Both men were wearying, stopping to circle each other while they panted for breath, their faces and hands covered with blood, their clothes torn and filthy.

  “No MacKinder…finishes a…fight…on his back!” John spit out.

  Josh wiped at a bloody nose. “There’s a first time…for everything,” he hissed. He charged at John again, but John’s booted foot came up into Josh’s gut. Marybeth gasped, and someone swore in the crowd of men.

  “Goddamn dirty fighter, is he? Get him back, Josh! You can get dirty, too!”

  “Josh,” Marybeth whispered, watching him roll to his knees, holding his ribs. “Stay down, Josh, just stay down.” She closed her eyes and bent over Danny, imagining the horror of losing her little son, and the only man who had ever meant anything to her. She wished there were two of her at the moment, one to be with Josh when this was over, and one to be with Danny. Ella wet the rag again and squeezed it into Danny’s curly hair to keep his head cool. The baby made no movement or sound.

  Marybeth dared to look out again. Josh had got back to his feet, and John began taunting him. “Come on, Rivers. Come at me again. I’ve got…plenty left.” He was near the shovel, and he reached down and picked it up. Men gasped and swore and backed farther away, and Marybeth wondered where her next breath would come from.

  “You’re…pretty brave…when you’ve got your pa…to help…or you’ve got a woman…to beat on or a weapon in your hand…” Josh growled. “Big, brave…John MacKinder. You’re…a coward, MacKinder! You’re all talk…but bullshit doesn’t…win a fight. You’re a braggart…and a woman beater…and this whole camp…is sick of all you MacKinders!”

  Marybeth gasped as John swung the shovel. It grazed across Josh’s back as he ducked low, the corner of it cutting through shirt and skin. By then Josh was ramming into John again. Swinging the shovel left John off balance, and Josh kept shoving until John fell backward, landing in the hot coals of the MacKinder campfire. He screamed in horrible pain, and Marybeth looked away, but Ella was still watching.

  Marybeth turned her eyes back to the fight to see John roll out of the fire, dragging Josh with him and jerking him up, kicking viciously at Josh while his back and shirt smouldered. Even some of the men had to turn away from the awful sight. In rage from pain, John used only his foot, kicking and kicking until Josh went down. John kicked at him again while he was bent over, and Marybeth cried out Josh’s name. The crowd quieted, sure Josh was finished off.

  John stood over him then, legs spread, still on his feet in spite of his smoking back. “I told you…Rivers…” He grimaced with pain before finishing. “No MacKinder man…finishes a fight…on his back. Give it up, Rivers! You’re…no match…for John MacKinder.”

  Marybeth and the others watched with sickening horror, everyone praying Josh would stay down; but he got to his knees in front of John. He was still bent over.

  “Go ahead, Rivers,” John panted. “Beg me…to quit! Beg me, Rivers!”

  Josh folded his hands together as though in prayer, and for a moment most thought he really would kneel there and give up the fight. Suddenly his hands came up between John’s legs, ramming hard into the man’s groin. John bent over in agony. Josh kept his hands locked as he brought them up hard into John’s nose, sending the man reeling backward.

  The crowd of onlookers cheered wildly. John rolled to his side, holding his groin and groaning, his nose bleeding profusely now and looking flatter.

  “Come on, MacKinder,” Josh taunted this time. “You said…a MacKinder never ends a fight…on his back.”

  John rolled to his knees, everything looking black.

  “Give it to him again, Josh,” Aaron yelled.

  Mac stood by with agony on his face. “Get up, John! Get the hell up!”

  John managed to get to his feet, hardly able to see Josh. Josh began punching again, sending John staggering backward while the men shouted and whooped in Josh’s support. John went down again. When he rolled to his side, he spotted Josh’s pistol that had been tossed aside. He grabbed for it, but Josh’s booted foot came down hard on his arm. John cried out with the pain, screaming that his arm was broken. Josh reached down and yanked the gun from his hand.

  “Serves you right…for thinking about…shooting an unarmed man.” He tossed the gun aside, and although it was obvious he was in agonizing pain himself, he yanked John up again. One final blow to John’s mid-section and another to his face again sent the man sprawling onto his back, out cold. Josh grasped at his ribs, standing over his opponent and managing a grin in spite of his battered face. “There’s your first…a MacKinder…flat out cold…on his back!” He wiped at his bloody face again and staggered over to Mac. “You bring…any harm to Marybeth…and you’ll end up the…same way. Soon as…Danny recovers…I’m coming to take Marybeth…away from your camp. And don’t you…try to stop me!”

  Aaron and Delores hurried over to him as he staggered away, and Aaron grabbed hold of him as his legs began to crumble from under him.

  “Marybeth,” Josh muttered. “Take me there.” Aaron and Delores helped him walk to the MacKinder wagon, and Marybeth’s eyes teared at the sight of him. “Danny—take care…of Danny.”

  “Oh, Josh,” she wept. “Please let someone help you.”

  “I’m…coming back for you.” His face was so battered Marybeth was sure she wouldn’t have recognized him if she didn’t already know who he was. “Danny—he’ll be all right. You just pray over those…beads.” He grimaced with pain, and started to slump. “Don’t…let me pass out…in front of MacKinder,” he told Aaron. “Get me to a wagon.”

  The Svenssons helped him walk away, and Marybeth heard Florence telling them to take him to the Sleiter wagon. “I’ll take care of him,” Florence was saying. Marybeth was glad. Florence needed the distraction. She knew Josh was in good hands.

  “Get him into my wagon,” she heard Bill Stone telling the men who were lifting John. He was still unconscious. She looked at Ella, who was watching her son being carried off. Ella met her eyes then.

  “It has been a long time coming, but I knew that it would,” she told Marybeth. “I should fee
l sorry for him, but for some reason I don’t. I only feel sorry for little Danny.” She ran another cool rag over the boy. “He brings a sweetness and joy to this family that has not been with us for years—since Dan and John got older and Mac taught them the MacKinder way.”

  Her words surprised Marybeth. They were spoken in bitter resignation. She looked at Marybeth again. “Sometimes I hate you, Marybeth for having the courage to do and say things I have held inside my entire married life. I do not always like you, but I respect you, and I love this child. You are in love with Josh Rivers, aren’t you?”

  Marybeth watched her eyes, trying to read them. “Yes,” she answered firmly.

  “Would he make a good father for Danny?”

  “He would be a wonderful father.”

  Ella looked down at Danny. “Then go to him when he comes for you. I don’t want Danny to grow up to be like Mac and John.” She sighed deeply. “Our religion does not allow us to leave our husbands. I have never once considered divorce, and neither would you have. But God saw fit to give you a second chance by taking Dan to Him and leaving you a free woman. I only hope there will be a way I can see Danny once in a while. Once you leave this camp, Marybeth, I don’t think there is any way you can ever be a part of this family again.”

  She looked at Marybeth. “You were right. Mrs. Sleiter took the easy way, and in a sense, so have I. I think you are strong enough to take the hard way. And Josh Rivers has proven he is the man who can help you. John fought out of pride and meanness. Josh Rivers fought for you. You are a lucky woman.”

  Marybeth felt a lump rising in her throat. Never did she dream she would hear such words from Ella MacKinder. She knew the woman well enough, though, not to thank her. A thank you would embarrass her and make her withdraw again. “Stay with Danny all you want,” she told Ella. “At least…if you aren’t able to see more of him after he’s recovered, you can be with him now.”

  They heard a terrible scream then from Bill’s wagon, as Cap yanked John’s broken arm into place. “Get me somethin’ to use for a splint,” Marybeth heard Cap ordering. “Soon as I’m done here, these wagons get moving, wounds, snakebites and all. You MacKinders have cost us enough problems. This is the last of it, unless you want to go out there and see how you do alone against the Indians. With John all broken up, I don’t think you want to be in that kind of a fix.”

  John groaned again. Bill came to the back of the MacKinder wagon to ask where Ella kept the salve for bums. The woman took a jar from one of the pockets in the wagon and handed it out to him. “Tell Mac to tend to him himself. I am staying with my grandson until he wakes up.”

  “Goddamn bastard!” They could all hear John’s half sobbed words. “I’ll kill him! This isn’t the last of it! I’ll kill Joshua Rivers! He stole her! He stole Marybeth from me, and he’ll die for it!”

  Marybeth looked at Ella, who just closed her eyes and turned away. Marybeth felt a cold shiver at the words. She leaned over Danny, kissing his cheek. “Please wake up, Danny. Please wake up.”

  For the rest of the day and through the night Danny lay in a sleep that seemed more like a coma, while Marybeth and Ella kept him constantly bathed. Mac checked on him occasionally, refusing to even look at Marybeth. He spoke only to Ella and asked about the boy as though Marybeth was not even there. John lay groaning in Bill Stone’s wagon, the pain of his broken arm and his burns agonizing.

  By mid-morning the next day, while the wagon bounced and jolted over rough terrain, Danny opened his eyes and looked around, as if in a daze. Marybeth leaned over him and spoke to him, her heart taking a leap of joy when he smiled at her. But when he began to move slightly, his face contorted into a frown of pain and he started crying. Ella examined his ankle and saw it looked puffy and sore. She sprinkled some whiskey on it, bringing even louder screeches from Danny’s strong lungs. Marybeth tried to soothe him, and soon the wagon began to slow as Mac halted the oxen. Moments later Cap appeared at the back of the MacKinder wagon.

  “By golly, I thought that was Danny I heard squawkin’,” he told Marybeth with a grin. “I could hear him clear up ahead. Josh will be glad to know he’s awake.”

  Marybeth smiled through tear-filled eyes. “I was never so happy to hear him cry,” she replied.

  “Just don’t be givin’ him any laudanum or whiskey or anything that might put him back to sleep. He’s better off stayin’ awake and cryin’ his lungs out and workin’ up a good sweat now—work more of that venom out of his system.”

  Marybeth nodded. “We’ll keep him awake.” Their eyes held, and Cap saw the question in her own.

  “He’s gonna be all right, Marybeth. A few cracked ribs and hands so swole up he can’t even make a fist. His face ain’t so pretty either, but it will get back to normal.”

  Marybeth longed to go to Josh and comfort him. “Thanks, Cap. Tell him—tell him I love him.”

  Cap glanced at Ella, who had begun sponging the baby again. The woman said nothing. “I reckon he already knows that,” he told Marybeth, “but I’ll remind him.”

  Cap left, and Mac climbed up onto the wagon seat to look again at Danny. “He looks and sounds back to normal.”

  “I think he’ll be all right, Mac,” Ella told him.

  The man glowered down at Marybeth. “What you’ve done to this family is worse than a sin, Marybeth MacKinder! You might think you can get away with this, but by God you won’t! We’ll not make trouble for now, and if you want to go whore around with Josh Rivers, you’re welcome to him! But Danny will end up back with us where he belongs, I promise you that!”

  He climbed down, and Marybeth closed her eyes against tears at his cruel words. Her throat still ached fiercely, and it showed dark bruises from John’s big hand. Her back was bruised where it had hit the wagon wheel the day before.

  Ella said nothing as the wagons started rolling again. Danny cried until noon break, then fell asleep on Marybeth’s lap, his fist in his mouth. Nothing Ella or Marybeth could do would keep the boy awake. Cap rode up to check on him again, and Marybeth looked at the man anxiously. “Cap, he went back to sleep!”

  Cap just grinned. “With all the hollerin’ I heard, I expect he’s out of danger. He’s just wore out now. Let him sleep. When he wakes up again, I expect it would be all right to feed him.” The man turned his horse, and Marybeth could hear him exclaiming, “What the hell are you doin’ on your feet?”

  “I want…to see the boy,” she heard Josh’s voice answer. Her heart quickened as Josh came to the back of the wagon, Aaron holding his arm for support. Her heart ached at the sight of her beautiful Josh, his face bruised and swollen and covered with scabbed cuts. “I reckon I’d scare Danny half to death if he was awake,” he told her, trying to grin.

  “Oh, Josh, you shouldn’t be up at all,” she told him.

  He shook his head. “Damned if I was going to let John MacKinder get to his feet before me. He went down first—and he’ll get up last.”

  Her eyes misted as she studied him lovingly.

  “What the hell are you doing at my wagon,” Mac yelled then. He approached from where he had walked off to relieve himself.

  “You touch him and there will be another fight here,” Aaron warned the man. “He has come to see the child and you will let him do it.”

  Cap and Devon both rode closer to Mac. “That’s right, MacKinder. You stay out of it,” Cap told him. Devon looked down at Mac with the eyes of an Indian looking for revenge. Mac looked away, and then shouted to Ella, “Come out here and fix me something to eat.”

  Ella looked at Marybeth. “Things are back to normal. You stay here and talk to Josh.” The woman climbed out of the wagon, looking up at Josh. “It was a good fight,” she told him, astonishing him with the remark. She smiled a little and walked off.

  Josh looked at Marybeth, who smiled sadly. “It was a good fight.”

  He managed another crooked smile through swollen lips. “Wish I could have watched instead of participated,” he told her. He turn
ed to Aaron. “Help me up, will you?”

  “Oh, Josh, be careful,” Marybeth said as he hooked his arms over the wagon gate. He couldn’t grab the gate because of his crippled hands, so he used his arms, and Aaron gave him a boost. Josh grimaced with the pain of cracked ribs but he managed to climb into the wagon. His shirt was open because of the heat, and Marybeth could see his ribs were wrapped tightly with bandages. He sat down gingerly near her. Marybeth kept Danny in her lap as she turned and touched Josh’s shoulder gently. “I was so afraid for you,” she told him.

  He put a hand to her hair, his fingers stiff and curled, but he managed to stroke it gently. “You have bruises on your neck. And what about when you fell? Are you—all right?”

  “Yes. I’m just very sore.”

  “Danny. I heard him crying earlier. I prayed all night for him, at least when I was alert enough to remember what happened before the fight.” His words came out slightly slurred because of his swollen lips.

  “Cap says he’ll be all right now. He cried himself back to sleep, but it’s just an exhausted sleep—not the coma the venom caused.”

  “I’ve never been so scared in my life, as when I saw those—bite marks.”

  She touched his face gently. “You saved his life.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “Here you are, all beat up and in pain, and you’re asking about me and Danny. You shouldn’t even be up. There could be internal damage.”

  He grinned again. “Not me. My pa was tough, and so are his boys.” He laughed lightly, then grimaced and grabbed at his ribs. “My God, I sound like a MacKinder—talking like that. I guess it rubbed off on me.”

  Marybeth studied him lovingly. “You could never be like a MacKinder. That’s why I love you.”

  Their eyes held. “Marry me—Marybeth.” Her eyes widened at the surprising request. “I don’t want to just let you use my wagon,” Josh added. “I want us to use it—together. I know it seems…crazy and…too soon and totally illogical; but I do want to marry you. I want you to be my wife, and I want to be able to lie in your arms at night—and wake up to you in the morning. God only knows what could happen…before this journey is over. I don’t want to miss the chance of knowing the joy of lying with you. I don’t want to wait…until we get to Oregon.”