By the time Ramsey and the miners with him entered town, they had a welcoming party to greet them. The miners were the first to inform the occupants of the saloon that one of the Neely women was no longer in circulation. Ramsey informed the ladies at the hacienda.
***
Sam patted the Indian pony's neck as they rode up the final stretch of mountainside. Sloan had scarcely spoken two words since they left the ranch, and the silence between them had grown so tense that she found the pony's company preferable.
There wasn't much she could say to end the silence. She had given him his forty-eight hours. He had set someone to find her father. They'd both upheld their ends of the bargain. It was easier to pretend the other hadn't happened. They'd both kept to their separate ways as much as possible since the revelation of Sloan's marriage.
The strain of keeping to herself was getting to Sam though. She wanted to demand better explanations. She wanted to know what Sloan's wife had done to him to make him think all women were scheming creatures not to be trusted. Or if he really thought he was so detestable that no woman would ever stay with him for long. Or just precisely what in hell made him think marriage was a state to devoutly be avoided to the extent that he would tolerate the outer confines but not the legal ones.
But she didn't say anything. They had known each other in the most intimate manner imaginable, but they didn't know each other at all. She realized what a mistake that had been now, when she could do nothing about it. He had used physical intimacy to manipulate her, and she had allowed it. She had only herself to blame. She'd stopped thinking with her head the moment she'd started thinking with her heart. That was a hard lesson to learn.
At least she could console herself with the knowledge that there wouldn't be any results from her foolishness. They’d left Ramsey and his men back in town when they’d rode out early this morning. Sloan had promised to talk to them when the miners returned to town, before they could say anything to anyone else. She thought he might be planning on bribing them to keep their mouths shut, but she hadn't inquired into the details. Mostly, she'd been relieved that Sloan had said anything at all.
She still worried that he might try again to throw her and her family out of town, but he hadn't mentioned it once. He could probably hire lawyers and find a sheriff somewhere to evict them if his deed held stronger than theirs. But that would take years, she suspected. If anything, he'd find a more devious method.
Lost in these dismal thoughts, Sam scarcely paid attention to where they were until she heard the hiss of Sloan's sudden intake of breath. She looked up, and her eyes widened as she saw what he was already cursing.
Above a crowd of well-wishers cramming the plaza rose a banner that read: Congratulations Mr. and Mrs. Talbott!
Ramsey and some of his men had apparently beat them to town.
Chapter Thirty-one
Sam's tongue stuck in her mouth as the crowd surged around them. She could see her mother's smiling face and her sisters jumping up and down with excitement. Doc Ramsey was there, grinning broadly. Injun Joe looked a little sour, but he came forward to grab the reins of their horses. She quivered a little inside as she turned to see how Sloan would deal with this unpleasant development.
Stoically, he dismounted and reached up to haul her out of the saddle. She couldn't fight him in front of this crowd. They thought she was his wife. A husband had a right to manhandle his wife. They probably thought it romantic.
Terror took root in her soul. Her family thought she was married to Sloan. Doc Ramsey had told them he had seen her stand before the altar with Sloan Talbott. They'd been gone several nights since then. No one would believe nothing had happened. What had happened hadn't been nothing. They had very definitely indulged in marital activities. She couldn't lie to her mother about that.
Sam was almost grateful for the support of Sloan's arm around her waist. Without it, she might have sunk into the dust, her knees were that weak. She tried not to think about it when Injun Joe took off their saddlebags and threw them on the porch of the hotel—her possessions as well as Sloan's. A wife would be expected to live with her husband. Her fingernails dug into her palms.
The crowd made way for Alice Neely to come forward. Sam's mother was considerably shorter than Sloan, but when she held out her arms to him, he bent obediently to accept her hug and kiss.
"Welcome to the family, Mr. Talbott. I knew you would do the proper thing."
Sam felt her heart sink to her feet when Sloan didn't correct her mother. The twins raced to give him a hug, and a roar went up from the crowd. Before Sam knew what was happening, every man in town crushed around her, attempting to kiss her as if this were the wedding and they had the right to kiss the bride.
Sloan set the twins firmly aside and grabbed the collar of the man currently bussing Sam on the cheek. Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he tugged her back to his side and proceeded through the crowd at her mother's direction. She simply wasn't in any state to slap every man in town right now.
"We've prepared a wedding feast," Bernadette said breathlessly as she ran alongside of them. "It's so exciting! Mama's fixed the biggest, prettiest cake you've ever seen. Doc Ramsey brought up some candied fruits, so it's just as pretty on the inside. Oh, Sam, it's so wonderful! I wish I could have been there."
Sam knew her sister well enough to follow these meanderings, but Sloan looked a trifle dazed. She imagined he was wondering if her sister was wishing to be on the cake's inside, and she couldn't help smiling just a little. If Sloan didn't get them out of this one, he was going to be saddled with a ready-made family of eccentric propensities.
He didn't seem in any hurry to disabuse anyone about their "marriage." He even managed a grim smile when the crowd parted to reveal the magnificent wedding cake they were expected to cut. Sam sighed in pleasure at the delicate fantasy of white tiered icing. Her mother made the best wedding cakes in all Tennessee. She had never dreamed of having one of her own.
Someone handed them a knife, and Sam held it uncertainly, glancing up to Sloan for guidance. Without a word, he covered her hand with his and helped her guide the knife through the top tier of cake. Sam watched in somewhat abstract fascination as he handed her the first slice. A cheer rang out as she took a bite, then shared it with him. It was almost like a real wedding.
Of course, Sloan already had experience at getting married, Sam thought miserably some while later as everyone chatted and carried on. Someone rosined up a bow, and others pushed tables against the walls. Sloan had already gone through one wedding with someone else. Or more likely, he'd gone through an elegant, more fashionable version with his prim and proper wife in Boston.
Wife. Sam ground her teeth together and watched her so-called husband bend over to listen to her mother speak. She didn't know how he had the nerve to stand there and act as if this celebration were real. He knew as well as she did that it was a farce. She just couldn't figure how to get out of it.
But she knew damned good and well that whatever happened, Sloan Talbott was sleeping in his bed alone tonight. When he took her in his arms to lead off the dancing, she gave him a look that warned he'd better not push her much further.
"You have a better idea?" he asked dryly, glancing around at the crowd merrily celebrating what they considered a happy occasion.
"The truth usually works wonders."
"Oh, it will work wonders all right. There isn't a soul in this town that would believe we haven't shared a bed together. And half of them wouldn't believe that we aren't really married. Your mother will come after me with a butcher knife and then insist that all of you pack up and leave, even if you haven't any place to go. The men will raise an uproar, and a pack of them will follow you to town. Word will spread like wildfire. Not only your reputation, but your entire family's will be smeared in mud as gossip grows. Truth is a marvelous thing."
Sam gritted her teeth as she acknowledged the probability of his words. "I'll not sleep with you," she warned. "I'm not an a
dulteress."
Sloan pulled her closer and swept her in a wide circle to the cheers of the crowd. "Would it make a difference if I told you I wasn't married?"
She glared up at him. "I'm not a whore, either."
His lips straightened into a grim line. "Fine. Just keep out of my way, and we'll manage to go on as before. The hotel's a big place."
She didn't like the sound of that at all, but she didn't have time to argue. The dance came to an end, and men pushed around her, clamoring for the next dance. Before she could protest, Doc Ramsey swung her off in his arms, and Sloan was talking to her mother.
Sam watched helplessly as men carried her trunk of clothes out the front door, presumably to her new home. Her saddle and rifle were already there. She wondered if Sloan were brash enough to take her bed and mattress, too. Surely he wouldn't have them paraded through this crowd like some sort of trophy.
The music scarcely stopped before another song began, and still another man carried her off. Even her mother was dancing now. Some of the men danced with other men. The widow and the teacher and the blacksmith's wife all had partners. She couldn't tell if it was Bernadette or Harriet swinging around in the arms of the mine foreman. She looked for the other twin, but couldn't see her in the crowd.
Sam was nearly faint with exhaustion and dry as a desert by the time Sloan elbowed his way to her side and rescued her from her latest partner. She took the lemonade he offered gratefully and welcomed the support of his arm around her waist as he disentangled them from the crowd and found a place along the wall.
"I didn't think it wise to have my bride fainting on the dance floor. It might lead to some wrongful conclusions," he offered in explanation as she sipped at the soothing drink.
"Your concern is overwhelming." Sam searched the dance floor, trying to account for all her family. She'd spent too many years protecting them to give up the urge now.
She could still find only one twin. Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. "Have you seen Harriet recently?"
Sloan scanned the room. "Isn't she the one with Craycraft?"
"No, that's Bernadette. I'm going to go back to the kitchen and look for her. There seems to be a lot of whiskey around in here."
The last seemingly irrelevant statement brought Sloan from the wall to follow her. They both knew that men and whiskey made a dangerous combination. Add women, and the potential for an explosive situation multiplied. Sam couldn't say she was grateful for his accompaniment, but these were his men. He had as much interest in keeping the peace as she did.
They heard the faint scream as soon as they escaped the noise in the parlor. Sloan took off at a run, leaving Sam one pace behind.
They slammed through the kitchen and out into the darkness now enveloping the backyard. The screams were louder out here. From behind them, Sam could hear more running footsteps. Someone must have been watching and followed them out.
Everyone would have been watching them. As Sloan dashed through the darkness in the direction of the screams, Sam heard shouts of alarm being raised in the house behind them. Sam easily followed in Sloan's path. She could see the white of his linen shirt directly ahead of her. Someone ran out the kitchen door with a lantern in hand, and a broad swathe of light cut across the yard.
Fear and fury took equal place in her heart as the scene ahead unfolded. She could see Harriet's golden hair splashed against the dark side of the shed. A heavy masculine silhouette cut off the sight of the rest of her, but Sam recognized Harriet's screams and the suddenly muffled moan that ensued when the man holding her covered her mouth. Screaming with rage, Sam ran to leap on the man's back, but Sloan was there before her.
Jerking the culprit backward by the collar, he plowed his fist into a hard jaw, slamming Harriet's attacker to the ground. Then he bent over and jerked the man to his feet so he could pound him again, this time with a vicious blow to the stomach. The man gagged and fell to his knees.
Harriet collapsed into Sam's arms, sobbing against her shoulder as they watched Sloan pull the man to his feet one more time. His next punch was as methodical and murderous as the first two. Sam gave a gasp of sympathetic pain as a bone-crushing blow again sent Harriet's assailant into a huddled heap at Sloan's feet.
By this time a crowd had formed around them. Injun Joe stepped into the circle around Sloan, preventing him from reaching for the fallen man again. He grabbed the culprit's collar and hauled him upward, shoving him into the arms of two husky miners. "What do you want us to do with him?" he asked laconically, of no one in particular.
"Hang him," Sloan replied as he wiped his face on his sleeve and glanced back to the two women huddled against the wall. Harriet's dress was torn and tattered, and her usually neatly rolled hair had been jerked down around her bare shoulders. His jaw tightened grimly as the terror in her eyes grew with his order of execution. "Or tar and feather him. Which do you prefer, Miss Neely?"
Sam tried to identify the man being held, but he was no more than one of the nameless faces that came and went through town. His jaw was already swelling from Sloan's blows, but she felt no sympathy for him whatsoever. Only the fact that his trousers were still fastened kept her from taking a knife to his throat.
Beside her, Harriet whispered, "Tar and feather."
The crowd whooped. Someone ran to find rope.
"Where's Chief Coyote?" Sloan called. "Has he still got those chicken feathers?"
"I'll heat the kettle," the blacksmith offered, pushing his way toward his shop.
The swift change from merriment to violence was sobering. Samantha released Harriet into her mother's arms and turned to glance at Sloan. His eyes when they met hers were cold but somehow reassuring. He wasn't drunk. He knew precisely what he was doing. He was making an example of this man for all the town to see, while venting the violence surging through the crowd in a manner that would bring harm to no one but the man who deserved it.
She let them go without following. The men swept through the yard in search of the necessary ingredients for the assigned punishment. She turned back to the house, her emotions in chaos.
She had always been the one to protect her family. It hadn't been easy. Men didn't take her seriously until she aimed a weapon at them. She wasn't carrying any weapon now. She was actually wearing her traveling dress instead of her jeans. She would have been helpless against Harriet's attacker. Sloan had stepped in and done her job for her.
It was a little frightening giving up that right to a man she despised, but she was the only one to resent his interference. Everyone else considered it perfectly natural, not just because he was a man and she was a woman, but because he was part of their family now. Sloan would have the right to protect the Neely women in any way he saw fit.
That was even more sobering than the violence taking place outside.
Not wishing to think about it, Samantha went to help her mother calm Harriet. Maybe in the morning when everyone was rested things would be a little clearer.
By the time the noise in the street calmed, Harriet had dozed off under the effects of her mother's sedative tea. Samantha nervously worked at returning the front room to order, not knowing what else she was expected to do. The men would be over at the saloon now, celebrating with liquor. She couldn't very well go over to the hotel on her own and make herself at home. But she had a feeling Sloan wouldn't appreciate it if she retired to her own bed in her mother's house.
When Sloan walked into the house without knocking, his back tall and straight and his expression forbidding, she knew she had made the right assumption. His eyes sought her out immediately, and something in the way his jaw relaxed told her he would more than likely have come and hauled her out of bed if she'd been silly enough to go there. After ascertaining she was waiting for him, he looked for her mother.
Alice Neely appeared immediately. He nodded cautiously. "How is she?"
"Asleep. She's learned a harsh lesson, but you arrived in time. It could have been
much worse." She took a deep shuddering breath. "I thank you for being there, Mr. Talbott."
He nodded and looked warily to Sam before speaking again to her mother. "The man's been informed we'll hang him if he shows his face around here again. He's not been here for long, and I don't know him well. Do you know why your daughter was out there with him?"
Sloan's hand clasped Sam's when she came to stand beside him. She could feel the anger still coursing through him in the way he held her hand, but he was doing his very best to remain polite for her mother's sake. He really was an unfathomable man.
"She wasn't. She was out there with Chief Coyote's grandson. He came to tell her good-bye. Bernadette is the twin I would think more likely to act so foolishly. I'm afraid Harriet has developed some romantic notions. After Mr. Eagle left, she dawdled outside a while longer. That's when the other man found her."
"Chief Coyote doesn't have a grandson," Sloan said harshly. "Who the hell is this Mr. Eagle?"
Alice Neely shook her head. "He appeared a few days after you left. He seemed a nice enough young man. He spoke English very well, but he looked Indian to me. He is quite good-looking actually. I can understand why Harriet was a little incautious. She was teaching him to read."
Sloan ran his hand up the side of his face as if to rub away the weariness. "Eagle. Hawk. Tall, long black hair, dark coloring, a gold ring in his ear?"
Alice nodded. "You know him?"
Sloan glanced down at Sam. "Hawk's younger brother."
She crinkled her brow in puzzlement. "You hired Hawk the day we got down there. Why would he send his brother up here?"
Sloan looked back to Mrs. Neely. "Was he asking questions?"
"Now that I think about it, yes. He always seemed to have questions on his tongue. I just thought he was naturally curious, like Samantha and Jack."
Sloan curled his arm around Sam's shoulders. "We hired his brother to find your husband. Hawk's the best tracker west of the Rockies, not because he can read horse droppings, but because he asks the right questions of the right people. He probably sent his brother to see if he could find any leads up here in case the trail got cold down in the valley. His name's not Eagle, and he already reads. If I remember correctly, he's a Harvard graduate."
Denim and Lace Page 26