“I’m fast realizing that,” she said. Oh, it was truly magnificent to feel his hands holding her own. Brevan cocked his head slightly—his eyebrows drawing together in a curious frown. “Ya’re not yarself,” he said in a lowered voice.
“I’m fine,” Genieva assured him—unconvincingly. She couldn’t help but quickly glance past him at Jenny—Jenny who stood watching them. She knew Jenny would only be reassured at seeing Brevan and Genieva together. She knew she would see through their farce. Yet she didn’t see Mrs. Wilburn indicate to Brevan with a nod in Jenny’s direction that Jenny was the cause of his wife’s discomfort.
Brevan started to turn and look in the direction Mrs. Wilburn nodded. He stopped, however, remembering then that Jenny Evans stood behind him. With an instant understanding of the situation, he pitied Genieva, knowing full well Jenny Evans must’ve been taunting his young wife somehow. It angered him—infuriated him. The little banshee! Jenny had endlessly hounded him before he’d married Genieva. In fact, the complete and unwanted attention he had received from the girl had often kept him from town in the past. Apparently, she’d now turned to irritating his wife. He would not stand for it! Not today.
“Ya’re a liar, Genieva McLean,” he said. Turning to Jenny and Mrs. Fenton, he added, “But don’t ya worry, Lilly…Jenny. I know how to make her day bright and beautiful once more.” Genieva gasped, caught completely unaware as Brevan suddenly pulled her snugly against him, wrapping her securely in his powerful arms. “Pucker up, me lassie. I’ve far too much excitement in me today to leave ya be for long.” Genieva’s senses were completely lost—lost to Brevan’s delicious kiss. His kiss was firm, thorough, and she realized it had been far too long since she had reveled in the feel and taste of it.
Her heavenly euphoria was interrupted, however, when Jenny exclaimed from behind Brevan, “Well, what public indecency!” Putting a small hand to Brevan’s roughly shaven cheek, Genieva attempted to break their kiss. Still, he only released her long enough to push her hand away from his face as he continued in his endeavor. “If I wanted to witness this kind of lewd behavior…I’d loiter in the saloon where it should be kept,” Jenny spat.
Brevan broke from Genieva, shaking his head with satisfaction. Moistening his lips as if having just enjoyed some delicious dessert, he turned to Jenny and said, “You’ll find nothin’ in the saloon the likes of what’s between Genieva and me, Miss Evans. But if ya’re more comfortable in that atmosphere over there…well then…”
“I’ll be back later for my mother’s order, Mrs. Fenton!” Jenny spat. “The air is far too stifling in here at this moment.” With a face crimson with humiliation and anger, the girl stormed out of the store.
As soon as she was out of distance to hear what was said, Mrs. Fenton, Amy, and her mother broke into peels of giggles. Genieva looked to Brevan, seeing his smile fade as he turned from her and walked toward the door.
“That girl gives me a pain in me stomach,” he mumbled. Then to Mrs. Fenton he added, “I’ll be back to collect the items on that list, I will. And me wife along with them, Lilly.” Without another word or glance to Genieva, he left.
“How do!” Mrs. Fenton exclaimed. “That husband of yours, dear! He doesn’t take anybody’s guff!”
“Now I’ve ruined his happy day,” Genieva mumbled as she watched him stride across the street to the blacksmith’s building.
“What are you going on about?” Mrs. Fenton asked, coming to stand beside Genieva.
Genieva watched as Brevan stood across the street speaking with Mr. Clawson. “Did you see his face when he came in here, Lilly? The happiest I’ve seen him since the rains came in July,” she said.
“He was as giddy as all get out, wasn’t he?” Lilly agreed.
“And look at him now. He’s irritated. Completely,” Genieva pointed out.
“Well…yes. But by her…not anything you did,” Mrs. Fenton assured her.
“Come on,” Amy offered, tugging at Genieva’s sleeve. “Let’s you and I go for a little walk while Mrs. Fenton gets your things together.”
“No, I…” Genieva began.
“It will do you good. Fresh air always brightens the mood after a minute spent in the company of Jenny Evans.”
As Amy talked of her baby and Joaquin, Genieva tried to listen. Yet her mind, in all honesty, was still back in the store—in Brevan’s arms. As she thought over the incident, she did begin to feel better, for in an odd way Brevan had championed her—come to her rescue. He must’ve somehow sensed the tension Genieva felt in Jenny’s presence, and he’d dispelled any doubt the irritating young woman might have concerning the sincerity of their relationship.
“You’re right, Amy,” she said when Amy finally drew a breath and paused in her babble. “I do feel better.”
“Good. I told you. We’re almost back to the store, and look…Brevan’s loading your things into the wagon already,” Amy observed.
Yet as Genieva looked in the direction of the wagon, she gasped when Cruz Archuleta suddenly appeared before her. He had simply stepped out of the alley and into their path. Genieva looked quickly to Amy, who clutched the baby tightly to her bosom, hatefully glaring at the man.
“Hola, señora, señorita” he greeted, boasting a broad and sickening smile. “My two favorite ladies.”
“Move aside, sir,” Genieva demanded, attempting to appear calm.
Cruz chuckled, amused at her boldness. “I move aside for no one,” he reminded her.
“You’ll move aside for us or regret it for the rest of your life,” Genieva stated. She wanted to scream, to cry out for Brevan’s help. Yet she remained outwardly unruffled—for she suspected screaming was what Cruz wanted. She would not endanger her husband. She only hoped she could remove Cruz from their presence before Brevan came out of the store once more.
“Do not threaten me, mí amor,” Cruz growled. Reaching out, he grasped Genieva’s chin tightly in one hand. “I no fear you or your ugly husband.”
“You are afraid of him. That’s why you try to frighten me instead of threatening him face to face. You’re nothing but a coward.” She pushed his hand from her face and stood glaring up at him. Genieva sensed Amy could only watch in terrorized bewilderment. She was too frightened to act on her own and go for help. “Now, let us pass.”
Cruz shrugged and moved to one side, motioning for Amy to move on. Amy moved past him, hurrying to the store. Yet as Genieva made to move past him, he caught her tightly—one arm around her neck and his hand over her mouth as he pulled her into the alley. Genieva tried to scream, but his hand was secure over her mouth, and he slammed her small frame against the outer wall of a building.
“I see why the idioto married you,” Cruz growled—his face so close to Genieva’s that the stench of his breath caused her stomach to churn. Wantonly, he chuckled. “You make a man loco…and I think it’s time Brevan McLean shared his good luck with others.” Genieva tried to struggle even harder, for she knew all too well what he intended. “It will be better for both of us if you do not cry out,” he threatened as he released his fierce hold over her mouth. Still, the second he released her, she did cry out.
“Brevan!” she screamed only to feel the stinging pain as Cruz slapped her soundly across one cheek. It shocked her into silence for a moment—but only a moment, and she began her struggling anew. “Brevan!” she screamed again. Genieva moved her head from side to side as Cruz attempted to take hold of her mouth with his. When he took hold of her hair just above her forehead, slamming her head back against the wall, it sent pain and bright lights shooting every direction in her mind. Her head ached with the intense pain of the blow.
“Call for him again, and I’ll rip the hair from your head,” he growled.
A moment before his wet, stench-ridden kiss would’ve attacked her own pretty mouth, Genieva saw Brevan step up behind the man. Brevan took hold of Cruz’s hair, causing the villain such surprise as to release his hold on Genieva. The moment she was free of him, Bre
van, still gripping the degenerate’s hair, pulled back powerfully, sending the man stumbling to the ground to land flat on his back.
“Brevan,” Genieva breathed as she reached out for him. Her relief was short-lived, however, for Cruz rebounded instantly, reaching up and swiping Brevan’s feet out from under him. The two men were rolling about on the ground, slamming each other’s heads against whatever building, rock, or object was at hand—throwing already bloodied fists at each other’s faces. Genieva screamed as Brevan dealt a particularly brutal blow to Cruz’s head, and it did indeed seem to scatter his wits for a moment. It was long enough for Brevan to stand. His breathing was labored as he wiped the blood from his lip, glaring down at the devil at his feet.
“Get up, Cruz. Ándele,” a voice ordered from the alley behind Brevan. Genieva turned. Three other men approached, and Genieva knew fear as she had never known it. She recognized only one of the men. He had been the man who had accompanied Cruz and Joaquin when she and Brevan had been watering the crops months earlier. She remembered Cruz referring to this man as his brother Mateo. The other two men were Mexican as well, and Genieva knew her worst fears were being realized—Cruz had used her to provoke Brevan into a trap.
Cruz chuckled as he slowly stood up. “Where will you run now, hombre?” he mocked.
Brevan turned to face Cruz once more, growling, “Why run from you? I’d have more reason to run from me grandmother.” Swiftly, the sole of Brevan’s large boot met squarely with Cruz’s face, sending his arms flailing, and Cruz fell to the ground once more. As Brevan turned to face the other three men, Genieva knew he would not back down from them.
Panic began to burn within Genieva, and in desperation she stepped in front of him protectively. “Move aside, Genieva!” Brevan demanded, pushing her aside. She only stepped in front of him once more.
“Hide behind your wife’s skirts, McLean. It won’t stop us,” the familiar-looking man threatened. As Genieva felt Brevan’s hands on her shoulders, no doubt intending to move her again, she turned and fastened her arms tightly about his waist.
“Let me alone, Genieva!” Brevan commanded as he tried to detach his wife from his body.
“No!” she cried.
“Move the woman, McLean. She’s in our way,” the leader threatened.
“Genieva!” Brevan bellowed. “You’ll not dare to touch her, Mateo!” Brevan’s strength was a hundred times Genieva’s, and he managed to detach her and push her aside just before Cruz’s brother Mateo lunged at him with a knife.
Genieva saw Cruz was trying to stand. Quickly, she picked up a nearby board, hitting him solidly on the back of the head. He fell, dazed, and she ran into the street screaming, “Help me! Help!”
She saw Amy down the street talking to Mr. Clawson—pointing in her direction. Mr. Clawson dropped the large tool in his hand and started toward her. Two other men from a building across the street were nearing as well, and from her right she saw Joaquin intent on her as he ran toward her. Frantic, she turned back toward Brevan—saw him catch Mateo’s wrist, halting the knife the villain held in mid-air. Brevan’s knee met the man’s waist, rendering him breathless, and Brevan sent him tumbling to the ground.
Mr. Clawson and the other two men began shouting as they hurried toward Genieva. Their angry threats caused enough intimidation to send the two remaining to retreating.
“Get up, Mateo,” Cruz growled, raising himself to his hands and knees and spitting blood from his mouth. “You are only a coward if you lay there,” he spat.
Genieva gasped as Cruz reached down and pulled a long knife from his boot. He stood, glaring at Brevan.
“Leave here, Cruz.”
Genieva turned to see that it was Joaquin who had reached them first. “Go home, Mateo.”
Cruz turned, spitting on the ground before his brother. “Joaquin,” he panted. “Finish the Irish idioto,” he ordered.
Genieva looked to Joaquin. Brevan was still standing, but had been badly beaten by the men. Joaquin was fresh, and should he choose finally to side with his family and attack Brevan…
“No. McLean has done nothing, Cruz. Papá is wrong…you are wrong to attack him,” Joaquin said.
“Coward!” Cruz shouted. “When Papá hears of this, he will no longer call you son.”
Genieva could see the obvious pain in Joaquin’s eyes as he said, “Tell Juan Miguel that I no longer call him father. And I no longer call you hermano, Cruz.” He looked to Mateo and urged, “Don’t do this thing, Mateo. It is wrong.”
Mateo spit on the ground ceremoniously and shouted, “Go away, you coward. Show your face no more on Archuleta lands.”
“You Archuleta boys go home!” Mr. Clawson ordered as he came to stand beside Brevan. “You’ve caused enough trouble today.” Cruz and Mateo walked past Brevan and down the alley. “And tell your father he’s no longer welcome in my business!” Mr. Clawson called after them.
“I thank you, Ralph, for comin’ to me aid,” Brevan panted, shaking the man’s hand. “Hoof, Tandy,” he said, nodding his thanks at the other two men. Going to Joaquin, he offered his hand, and when the man took it tentatively, he assured him, “It was a hard thing to do, Joaquin. But it was the right thing, it was.”
Joaquin nodded, and it was obvious that he was still uncertain of his choice. “Please,” he began. “Please let me know when Lita’s baby is come.”
Brevan nodded and wiped at the blood that still trickled from the corner of his mouth. Then he turned his attention to Genieva, and she saw the anger in his eyes. “Never,” he said, shaking an index finger at her. “Never interfere. Ya could’ve been hurt badly.”
“You could’ve been killed badly,” Genieva argued.
Mr. Clawson chuckled, and as he turned he said, “I’ll leave this fight to you alone, McLean. And I wouldn’t be as confident of victory if I were you.”
Again Brevan wiped the blood from his mouth, wiping it carelessly on his trousers. “We’ll discuss this further in private, we will,” he muttered, taking Genieva’s hand and pulling her toward the wagon, which still stood in front of the store.
Mrs. Fenton gasped when she saw Brevan’s condition as he forcefully boosted Genieva up into the wagon. “Are you certain you are well, Brevan? The doctor is just around the corner and…”
“I’m fine, Lilly. Just need to get Genieva home now. I thank ya for everythin’. Have a nice day,” he said, smiling pleasantly at the woman. Amy and Mrs. Wilburn stood staring—mouths agape in awe. Amy offered a friendly wave to Genieva as the wagon lurched forward.
“I can take care of meself and of you, Genieva! I don’t need ya steppin’ between me and me trouble,” Brevan scolded once they were well on their way.
“They meant to kill you!” Genieva reminded him, brushing a tear of frustration and residual fear from her cheek.
“That they did. But they wouldn’t mind riddin’ themselves of me wife in the process,” he grumbled. He inhaled a deep breath. “I should’ve killed Cruz anyway just for layin’ his filthy hands on ya.” After a moment, he chuckled—quite unexpectedly. “Still, it’s flattered I am…that ya would try to protect me as ya did.”
“This won’t be the last time they try to kill you, Brevan. Cruz is…”
“We’ll talk no more of it today, lass. It’s determined I am...to enjoy our good fortune of the day.”
“But…”
“No more of it, Genieva,” he ordered. Sighing and smiling with contentment, he handed the lines to her. “You drive them,” he said. He leaned back, stretching his arms wide before tucking his hands at the back of his head. “I want to enjoy the ride.”
Genieva was unsettled—frustrated. Fear and anger simultaneously welled up inside her. She pulled the team to a halt abruptly, jumped down from the wagon, and began walking.
“What are ya doin’, lass? We’ve got to get home. The day is far from over, and I’ve…” Brevan called after her.
Genieva kept walking, shaking her head as she raised one hand
in the air to indicate to him she would not listen. Her body began to quiver with anxiety as her feet carried her to no particular destination. The tears were flowing freely down her cheeks, and she did not try to stifle them—for they gave her much needed release of powerful and conflicting emotions.
“Genieva, for pity’s sake, lass…” Brevan grumbled from behind her. She quickened her step, knowing he was directly at her heels. “’Twas a scuffle. A wee wrestlin’ match that…”
Turning to face him, she cried, “A scuffle? A scuffle? Do you really think me so dimwitted, Brevan?” His eyebrows rose in surprise as she continued her verbal scolding. “They meant to kill you!” she said. “Do you understand that? They meant to kill you. Leave you dead in the alley, with me standing there having watched! It’s not something I can dismiss…simply sigh and forget just because you’ve sold your corn for a good price today. Unlike you…there are more important things to me on this earth than the crops…than the farm for that matter.”
“Come, Genieva. Get back into the wagon and let’s be for home. It’s early in the day…” he demanded, pointing to where the team stood, careless of what their masters were doing.
“I’m walking. I can’t sit still in that wagon after what just happened,” Genieva argued, turning from him and walking away once more.
“You’ll get in that wagon, lass, or I’ll pick ya up and drop ya there meself,” Brevan growled.
Genieva turned toward him, her defiance complete. “You will?” she dared.
“I will…and don’t ya dare to doubt it,” he assured her.
“You? Pick me up and dump me in the wagon? In your condition?” Brazenly she returned to where he stood—the buttons from his shirt flying every direction as she ripped the garment open and inspected his torso. The painful-looking bruises, purpling and bluing on either side of his rib cage, indicated to Genieva at once that if his ribs had escaped breaking, they were bruised to an agonizing pain in the least.
The Heavenly Surrender Page 20