His Remarkable Bride

by Merry Farmer

  “Look at me,” Thomas yelled, holding out his arms. “I’m covered in mud and I nearly died twice today!”

  The grey suit lady’s eyes went wide, and her lips pursed in a disapproving line.

  “How did you nearly die?” Hubert asked, moving to lean against the porch railing above where Elspeth and Thomas stood.

  “I ate soap,” Thomas declared proudly.

  Hubert laughed. “I’m so hungry I could eat soap. I haven’t eaten in ages.”

  A sudden shout of alarm came from the tree above along with a heavy rustling and a flash of downward movement. Geneva and Millicent screamed. Even Vernon cried out in wordless fright. A moment later, the movement stopped with a rustle.

  “It’s okay,” Lael announced, a little tremulously. “I fell off a branch, but I caught the next one down.” He tried to laugh. “Nearly dying isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.”

  Elspeth’s mouth opened as she tried to think of the right way to scold the boy into next Sunday.

  “Excuse me,” the grey suit woman said. No one paid her any mind at first, so she barked, “Excuse me!”

  Elspeth fought not to roll her eyes. “I’m sorry.” She left Thomas where he was in the mud puddle and marched around to the woman, not even trying to be polite now. “I’m sorry, but I’ve had quite enough visits from neighbors for one day. I would be delighted to meet you some other time, but as you can see, I have my hands full.”

  The grey suit woman’s nostrils flared, and splotches of red began to form on her face. “I am not a neighbor,” she said in clipped tones.

  Elspeth blinked. “I’m not buying anything,” she said, far less friendly. “I’m not even sure peddling is legal in this town.”

  “Well!” the woman exclaimed in sharp offense. “I am not selling anything.”

  “Then please leave.” Every last bit of politeness was gone from Elspeth’s tone.

  The woman’s face hardened. Her already square jaw grew sharp and her eyes narrowed. “Are you the mother of these children?”

  Elspeth was too exhausted to explain. Lael had climbed down from the tree, and the youngest four were running like a bear was chasing them through the yard. Vernon was throwing something down from the tree onto Ivy and Heather as they worked, provoking shouts of protest.

  “I’m Mrs. Strong,” Elspeth answered.

  A tight, smug grin spread across the woman’s face. She reached into her flat bag and took out a formal-looking paper. “I’m Mrs. Margaret Lyon from the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children.” She thrust the paper at Elspeth. “Under order of the government of the Territory of Wyoming, I have been charged with taking these children into custody to prevent any further abuse to their persons or minds.”

  The bottom dropped out of Elspeth’s stomach. She barely managed to hold onto the paper when Mrs. Lyon let go. “What?”

  “I’m taking these children into custody,” Mrs. Lyon repeated. She turned back to the front part of the yard and gestured. Four large, burly men came forward from the picket fence that separated the front yard from the street. “Round them up,” she ordered.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Elspeth scrambled to look at the paper she’d been handed. She knew nothing—absolutely nothing—about societies for the prevention of cruelty to anything or laws in Wyoming. The document looked zealously complicated and legal as she scanned over it. The only things that really stood out were the words “Order for immediate removal from negligent parent” and “As reported by Mr. Rex Bonneville.” The name rang a bell, but Elspeth couldn’t put a face to it.

  “You can’t do this,” she insisted, staring Mrs. Lyon down.

  “The judge signed there.” Mrs. Lyon leaned over to point out a squiggly signature, her smile so self-satisfied that Elspeth had to fight the urge to punch the woman in the face.

  “No!” Thomas was the first one to scream in terror, but right away, Geneva and Millicent joined him.

  Elspeth whipped around to find three of the four strong-arms chasing after the younger children. One scooped Thomas up without trouble, but Geneva, Millie, Lael, and Vernon were giving the others a vicious chase. The fourth thug had Hubert, Ivy, and Heather cornered on the stairs. Hubert’s fists were balled and he looked like he would overcome the shock that painted his face and start fighting any second.

  “Leave them alone,” Elspeth shouted, rushing into the heart of the fray.

  “Elspeth, Elspeth!” Thomas cried for her, stretching out his arms even as the tough that held him clamped harder around his waist.

  Millicent ran right at Elspeth and slammed into her, grabbing her waist for dear life, panting and whimpering, as Geneva was swept up by one of the other men.

  “You leave my sister alone!” Hubert snapped at last, surging forward. He was stopped when the man guarding him and the older twins thrust out an arm to keep him on the stairs. Hubert ran right into that arm, and the result looked a little too much like the man had punched him in the stomach.

  Elspeth screamed in wordless outrage, but with Millie clinging to her, she couldn’t move.

  “The Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children has made it our crusade to stop the heartless abuse and neglect of our most precious resource, our children.” Mrs. Lyon spoke in supercilious tones, her nose in the air, as the children continued to scream and wail. She could have been addressing a room full of lawyers for all the emotion she showed. “From the factory floor to the unfit home, we have made it our mission to rescue children in dire circumstances from the degradation of unfit parenting.”

  “You call this a rescue?” Elspeth snapped in outrage.

  Lael let out a ferocious howl as he was caught and lugged back to the stairs. The men who had caught Geneva and Thomas handed them off to the stair guard, then went after Vernon together. Vernon had climbed the tree and was shouting for help at the top of his lungs.

  “No child shall be oppressed while our vigilant eyes oversee them,” Mrs. Lyon went on, her smile turning almost rapturous as she spouted her drivel. “We are angels of mercy, intent on God’s work, and we shall bring these poor, neglected souls to a gentler understanding of life and morality.”

  “You’re taking them from their father,” Elspeth shouted. “Their father loves them.”

  “Love is not dirt and drudgery.” Mrs. Lyon sniffed. “Why look at the state of that one.” She tossed a gesture at Thomas and turned up her nose.

  “I nearly died three times today,” Thomas wailed.

  Elspeth cringed, but that was all she could do.

  The thugs chasing Vernon began to shake the tree he’d climbed. For all his twelve years, Vernon still cried out in fear. “I’ll come down, I’ll come down,” he vowed, sobbing.

  “You’re frightening them,” Elspeth yelled. “You call that a mission of mercy?”

  “Sometimes the initial extraction can appear to be painful.” Mrs. Lyon glanced at her fingernails, turning her hand this way and that, and sniffing as if the wailing around her was of no consequence. “They’ll be so much happier once they’ve undergone our strict program of moral and physical education.”

  “What?”

  Before Elspeth’s question could be answered, Vernon dropped out of the tree and into the arms of one of the thugs. The other marched over to her and ripped Millicent away. Millie screamed, Vernon was sobbing in fear and shame, and the rest of the children were weeping bitterly. Except Hubert, who looked as though he might commit murder any second.

  “Hold on, children.” Elspeth rushed over to where they had all been gathered on the stairs. Two of the thugs rounded on her, holding out their arms to keep her away. She ignored them. “Hold on. This is a mistake. Just a horrible mistake. Please be patient and obedient for now.”

  No sooner were the words out of her mouth then Mrs. Lyon called, “Bring them along.”

  The four thugs lifted, pushed, and herded the children off the stairs and around the yard toward the front of the house.


  “What? Wait! Where are you taking them?” Elspeth rushed after them. She spotted Josephine and a girl about Hubert’s age running out of their house. A small crowd waited around the front in the street.

  “The paper explains it all,” Mrs. Lyon said, full of disdain. “The children are being removed from their abusive parent. Removed means taken away,” she added as if Elspeth were stupid as well as negligent.

  “But where are you taking them?” Elspeth demanded over the cries and protests of the children.

  “To the hotel.”

  For whatever reason, that announcement lessened the children’s shrieks and panic.

  “I have engaged a suite at the hotel where the children will be kept until such a time as a place can be made for them at the Cheyenne Home for Miscreant Children.”

  “There is no such thing,” Hubert shouted.

  “There is,” Mrs. Lyon replied ominously.

  Elspeth’s mind reeled. She glanced at the paper in her hands once more, but the words didn’t make any more sense this time than they had before. She jogged to keep up with the cluster as they marched toward the large, white hotel Athos had pointed out to her the day before. Mrs. Lyon walked with her nose on the air, a superior, oblivious smile on her face. Elspeth still wanted to slap the woman, but that wasn’t going to help. No, the only thing she could think of that would help was Athos.

  “Children, be good.” She picked up her pace to get as close to the children as the thugs would let her. “This must be some sort of misunderstanding. Stay calm and quiet, and I’ll fetch your father.”

  “Papa, Papa!” The younger ones wailed.

  “I’ll get him,” Elspeth vowed. “And then we’ll sort this muddle out.”

  Chapter Five

  Busy days meant better days. The old adage that his mother used to recite when Athos was a boy came back to him now as he worked stacking crates of supplies for the general store that had come in on the second train of the day. The first train had contained more passengers than cargo, including the curious group consisting of one woman in a tight, grey suit and four men that would have been more in their element in a logging camp than escorting one woman. Athos didn’t think much of it, though.

  No, if he was going to think about any woman, it was going to be his new wife. Charlie Garrett and the others involved with the women at Hurst Home had hit a homerun with Elspeth, as far as he was concerned. He grinned like a fool as he loaded crates for the general store into Lex Kline’s wagon. Elspeth was intelligent and capable, and darn near the prettiest woman he’d seen in ages. He’d had a hard time not staring at her hair—dark and rich as chocolate—when she’d taken it down before bed the night before. He’d had a hard time not staring at other things about her too. A nightgown could only conceal so much. Then again, she’d gotten an eyeful of more of him than he’d bargained for that morning.

  “That’s the smile of a man content with his lot.”

  Athos turned to find Gideon Faraday approaching him from the other end of the platform. He laughed as he hoisted the last crate into Lex’s wagon. “I’m feeling remarkably content with my lot in life this morning.”

  Gideon thumped him on the back as soon as he was close enough. “I can’t wait to meet your new wife. Whispers already say she’s something special.”

  “You know, I think she is.” Athos didn’t mean to sound so mystified as he spoke, but the fact that such a wonderful woman could have been paired with him was baffling as far as he was concerned.

  “I hear she’s English,” Gideon went on.

  Athos blinked. “Yes, I think she is.” He laughed. “Of course she is. I don’t know why I didn’t ask her about that yesterday.”

  “Love makes us forget everything,” Gideon said.

  “Oh, it’s not love,” Athos insisted. “We’ve only just met, after all. And I wouldn’t ask someone like Elspeth for something so…so personal. Not until we’ve known each other for years at least. And even then we’ll probably be too busy to feel anything at all.” Like he and Natalie had been. The thought was disquieting, so he cleared his throat and shook it off.

  He rapped on the back of Lex’s wagon to let the man know the loading was finished, then turned and headed up onto the platform with Gideon.

  “What can I do for you today, Gid?” he asked.

  “I’m just checking to see if the equipment I ordered came in.” Gideon followed him into the warehouse portion of the stationhouse.

  “This last train had dozens of boxes on it,” he said, searching through the piles he’d made earlier. “I had to get the train porters to help me unload, and they weren’t happy about that. I told them it was either that or make the train late.”

  “Have you considered asking Howard to pay for an assistant?” Gideon asked.

  The question went unanswered. Before Athos could so much as open his mouth, he was startled by Elspeth’s cry of, “Athos! Athos!”

  Dropping everything, Athos dashed out of the stationhouse. He searched the platform, then rushed around the side, only to see Elspeth tearing down Main Street toward him. His heart shot to his throat. Was someone injured? Was the house on fire? Had one of his children caused a riot?

  “Athos!” Elspeth skidded to a breathless halt near the edge of the platform.

  Athos leapt down to catch her. “What? What is it? Are the children hurt?”

  She shook her head, face pinched, eyes red-rimmed and glassy, then gulped for air. “They’ve been taken.”

  “What?” He tightened his hold on Elspeth’s arms. His heart thundered in his chest. He hugged Elspeth close on instinct. “What happened?”

  She struggled away from him enough to hand him a piece of crumpled parchment. “A Mrs. Margaret Lyon from the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children claimed that they were being mistreated. She had four men with her. They snatched up the children and took them away to the hotel.”

  “No!” Panic washed through Athos in a nauseating wave. His hands shook as he stared at the parchment, trying to make sense of what was printed on it. He’d seen his fair share of legal documents as stationmaster, but this was outrageous.

  At least, it was outrageous until he noticed a key piece of information near the bottom: by the order of Rex Bonneville.

  “Bonneville,” he growled, fury taking over from fear.

  “Who?”

  “Rex Bonneville.” He balled his hand into a fist around the parchment. “There was an incident a few weeks ago, before you came,” he explained quickly, pivoting and marching up onto the platform, Elspeth by his side. “Lael, Neva, Millie, and Thomas bumped into Bonneville’s daughters after church, causing a spill and knocking a table of food onto them. There have been other instances where the kids have upset the Bonneville sisters as well, but that one…” He sighed, some of his energy leaving him as the reality of the situation grabbed hold of him. “Rex said I would regret this.”

  “That’s awful,” Elspeth exclaimed. “What kind of man would order children taken from their father as an act of revenge?”

  “Rex Bonneville,” Athos answered.

  They crossed into the station office, where Athos grabbed his uniform jacket. He shrugged into it as they headed out again. No one took his children and got away with it.

  “What’s this I hear about Bonneville causing trouble with the children?” Gideon—who was still looking for his shipment in the warehouse room—asked as they marched past.

  Athos was too outraged to answer the question. “Gideon, would you be able to mind the station while I deal with this?”

  “Absolutely,” Gideon answered without hesitation. “I’ll help in any way I can.”

  “Thanks.”

  Athos continued around the edge of the platform and out into the street. He grabbed Elspeth’s hand when they started up Main Street, fearing that he would need her courage—and possibly her restraint—to deal with this.

  “That woman took the children to the hotel,” Elspeth told him as they ha
lf walked, half ran.

  “The hotel?” Athos skipped a step, then doubled his speed.

  “She said she rented a suite there.”

  His panic eased by a hair. Everyone knew The Cattleman Hotel was neutral territory in Haskell. More than that, it was overseen by Theophilus Gunn, one of the few people Athos could trust in a situation like this.

  Indeed, as Athos and Elspeth rushed up the steps of the hotel’s porch and barged through the front door into the lobby, Gunn was standing near the front desk, as though he was expecting them.

  But Gunn wasn’t the only one. Rex Bonneville and all four of his daughters loitered suspiciously in the lobby as well, as if waiting for a baseball game to begin. Athos didn’t know which direction to run in or which demands to make first.

  A sharp cry of “Papa!” from the hallway to the right of the front desk decided him.

  “Millie!” He dropped Elspeth’s hand and darted for the side hall just as someone grabbed Millie and yanked her away.

  Millie’s sharp scream was followed by excited and frightened shouts from all of his children. Athos made it around the corner and into the hall just as a door slammed shut at the far end. The shouts and pleas of his children continued on the other side as two muscular men—two of the ones he had seen getting off the train—stood guard in front of it. The woman in the grey suit that he had seen earlier was just straightening from the door, a hotel key in her hand. She turned to Athos with a frigid smile.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Athos demanded, charging down the hall. “By whose authority have you kidnapped my children?”

  The cries of “Papa, Papa!” on the other side of the door abruptly stopped, and Athos had the feeling his children were listening. They weren’t the only ones. The lobby end of the hall quickly filled with Bonnevilles, Elspeth, and Gunn.

  The woman in the grey suit stepped away from the door, her back straight, her nose tilted up in disgust, and advanced toward him. “I suppose you are the father.” She said the word as though saying he was the drunkard. She must have been the Mrs. Lyon Elspeth mentioned earlier.