Short-Straw Bride

by Karen Witemeyer

  Meredith licked her lips, then cupped her hands around her mouth and threw her cooing voice as deep into the surrounding woods as she could. She waited a moment and repeated the signal, aiming her call more directly toward the cabin.

  The silence stretched out for long minutes. Either Jim hadn’t heard her call or he’d been unable to answer. Had he been captured? She prayed not. As she tried to determine her next strategy, a rustling to the south of her hailed a man’s approach. Only then did she realize that she might have given her position away to one of Roy’s men instead of Jim. The crunch of dead leaves grew louder, and Meredith’s pulse throbbed harder.

  Gripping Ginger’s reins tightly between her fingers, she prepared to flee. The muscles in her thighs grew taut. Her heels twitched. Every instinct screamed at her to race away. But just as she began turning Ginger’s head toward home, an answering call floated to her ear, one with a beautiful, well-practiced warble.

  “Thank heaven,” she whispered, releasing her hold on the reins as Jim emerged on foot between a pair of scrubby post oaks.

  Her brother-in-law didn’t appear nearly as relieved to see her as she was to see him. The hardheaded man was actually scowling at her.

  “What are you doing here?” he hissed.

  Meredith dismounted and squared her shoulders. Jim wasn’t one to dance around a subject, so she got straight to the point. “I can help you get to the cabin unseen.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Travis know what you’re doing?”

  “I left a note.” She glared back at him in challenge.

  The man let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck, but in the end, his desire to help Cassie trumped his reluctance to defy his brother.

  “I’ve scouted the perimeter. No obvious guards are posted at the cabin, but I saw evidence of at least four men at the edge of the woods near the house. I think they’re patrolling, so it’d be hard to know their exact position at any one time. I imagine Mitchell’s got even more inside.”

  Meredith grimaced. It was a good thing the game trail lay deeper into the woods than Roy’s men had penetrated. “So Travis was right. It is an ambush.”

  Jim shrugged. “A trap at least. Hard to know if they plan to pick us off or just ensure our cooperation.”

  Which would mean either loss of life or loss of land—both options equally heinous to an Archer.

  “Have you seen Cassie?”

  “No. Haven’t been able to get close enough.” Jim’s gaze shifted, targeting the rooftop of the old homestead barely visible through the trees. “Heard the shrill voice of that mother of hers, though.” He twisted his head to face her again, his dark eyes tortured. “She’s here, Meri. I’m sure of it.”

  Meredith touched his arm, a similar dread flowing through her own heart. “Travis needs proof before he’ll come, and you can’t take on all of Roy’s men by yourself.” She squeezed his forearm and lifted her chin. “I’ll get you to the house.”

  He didn’t ask how or pester her for details. He simply nodded and pointed down the trail. “Show me.”

  Thankful, for once, for Jim’s taciturn ways, Meredith looped Ginger’s reins over a low branch and trudged ahead. Lifting her skirts and folding them close to her body to eliminate excess rustling, she kept her eyes to the ground and avoided as many twigs and pinecones as possible.

  The trail wound closer to the cabin before forking. The main path led to a watering hole deeper in the woods, but a narrow shoot darted toward the left rear corner of the homestead—the corner that housed her childhood bedroom.

  Meredith halted and peered into the thinning cover that separated them from the house. She looked to the right, then to the left. No one. At least, none that she could see.

  “Have you spotted any of Roy’s men?” she whispered to the man behind her. “I can take you closer, but I don’t want to draw the attention of one of the guards.” She stared at the foot of her weak leg and winced. “I cannot walk as quietly as you.”

  “Just tell me what I need to know.” Jim came abreast of her, his rifle at the ready.

  “If you stay to the left, the pines will give way to a stand of broad oaks. They shade the house in the summer, and since no one’s trimmed their branches the last few years, a few limbs stretch all the way to the roof.” She watched as understanding dawned in his eyes. His jaw hardened, and he strode forward, but Meredith stopped him with a hand to his arm.

  “There is not as much cover near the house, so you’ll have to be careful. You might be able to peer through one of the back windows from within the branches of the tree, but if you need to see into the main room, you’ll have to crawl over the roof to the front of the house. It’s risky, but hopefully none of the men will expect trouble from above.”

  Jim slid his arm from her grasp and took her hand in his. “Thank you.”

  She nodded. “Be careful.” The earlier vision of his lying upon the ground came back to her, raking a shiver over her skin.

  “Stay out of sight,” her brother-in-law ordered. “Travis will kill me if anything happens to you.” He released her hand and soundlessly moved past.

  Meredith prayed over every step Jim took, her throat seeming to constrict at each sound that echoed in the trees. When he rounded the first oak and disappeared from her view, her breathing nearly ceased altogether. This wasn’t right. She was supposed to be watching his back. She couldn’t do that from this distance.

  Taking extra care with her uneven gait, she crept forward, staying in the shadows of the trees until she stood behind the largest oak. Meredith spied Jim between the branches of the tree nearest the cabin and finally breathed easier. His rifle slung over his shoulder, he climbed higher, his footholds secure. The only trouble was the way the brittle winter leaves rattled with his movements.

  Jim stretched himself across one of the thicker limbs that reached toward the roof, and began scooting along its length on his belly. Then all at once, he froze.

  A twig snapped. But it wasn’t from Jim’s tree. It echoed lower. Closer.

  Meredith silently gathered her cloak more tightly around her and drew the hood over her hair as she tucked her face against the coarse bark of the oak at her side. If she could have climbed beneath the bark itself, she would have.

  A rough-looking logger emerged between the trees that she and Jim occupied. His heavy brows scrunched against his eyes as he scanned the area, his ear cocked in Jim’s direction. Instead of a gun, the burly fellow carried an ax.

  A gust of wind blew across the tree limbs. Meredith’s gaze darted to Jim. The branch swayed. Jim’s face contorted as he struggled to keep his back perfectly flat so his rifle wouldn’t shift and knock into the leaves surrounding him.

  The logger jerked his face toward the cabin, as if he sensed the intruder. He slapped the wooden handle of his ax against his left palm and stalked closer to the tree. All he had to do was glance up. . . .

  Meredith scoured the ground near her for something she could use as a weapon, but all she found were decayed branches and pinecones. Nothing that would even slow the man down. But maybe she could draw the man away somehow. If she were to dart back toward the Survivor tree, he’d hear and follow, giving Jim time to lay eyes on Cassie and leave. All she had to do was outrun a bear-sized man for the short distance to Ginger. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d have a head start and was more familiar with the land.

  She inhaled a deep breath and grabbed a handful of skirt. Then, just as she prepared to take flight, a saner idea took shape. Meredith released the fabric of her cape and scooped up a large pinecone. Taking careful aim, she hurled it behind the oaks, back into the forest. It cracked against the trunk of a small pine, and the sound brought Mr. Bushy Brow’s head around. The man set off with a determined stride, and Meredith sagged against the trunk of her oak.

  Thank the Lord for timely inspiration.

  Once the logger disappeared into the woods, Meredith waved Jim toward the roof. The ungrateful man glared at her and j
abbed his finger as if ordering her to retreat, but there was no time for a pantomime skirmish. If Jim didn’t go now, he might not get another chance. Fortunately, the Archers were an intelligent lot. After a final jab in her direction, Jim resumed his belly crawl and soon lowered himself silently onto the cabin roof.

  Shrinking into a crouch, he crossed to the peak. There, he laid flat and peered over the edge. Meredith fisted her hands in the fabric of her cape as he slid out of her view to the front side of the cabin. He seemed to be gone for an eternity. The roof’s slope wasn’t too steep, but even then, Jim would have to hang upside down from the eaves to see in the front window. What if someone saw him? What if he fell? He would have never been on that roof if she hadn’t suggested such an idiotic scheme.

  What have I done? Her soul cried out to the only one who could rescue them. Protect him from my folly, Lord. I should have trusted my husband. I should have trusted you.

  All her big talk to Travis about trusting God to protect his family, about not letting fear dictate his actions, and here she was doing exactly that which she had so adamantly preached against. She should have sought the Lord’s will from the very beginning. Instead she’d proceeded with her own plans and only once she was in the midst of them did she think to ask for God’s blessing. And even then her mind was set on her own course of action. What if the Lord had inspired that vision of Jim as a warning to her that she not go, but because of her own willfulness, she chose to use it as justification for her actions?

  Meredith bowed her head. I surrender. A tear trickled down her cheek. I surrender. Only you can make this right. Show me what to do. Whatever sacrifice is required, I’ll make it. Just, please . . . spare Jim and Cassie.

  When she lifted her head, there was Jim, slinking back over the peak of the roof and scrambling toward the tree. Her heart surged in gratitude. Thank you!

  He had made it as far as the main trunk when the logger charged out of the shallow woods. The bushy-browed henchman ran full out as if he planned to leap into the tree like a cougar after its prey. Jim was too high to drop to the ground without breaking a leg. He struggled to find a defensible position among the branches. He needed his rifle, but his hands were too busy keeping him in the tree to reach for the weapon.

  Meredith sprinted toward the logger, her eyes locked on the arm that wielded the ax.

  Roy’s man latched onto a branch, the soles of his shoes bracing his weight against the trunk. With a roar, he swung the ax in an upward arc, the blade aimed at Jim’s flesh.

  Meredith vaulted off her good leg midstride and caught the logger’s beefy arm as it circled behind him. The logger tried to shove her aside, but she held fast to his right arm and threw what little weight she had to sway him. She had to give Jim time to escape.

  She twisted and writhed, kicked out with her legs, anything she could think of to slow him down. The shouts of other men echoed behind her. Reinforcements were coming.

  A rifle cocked nearby, and for a split second, both Meredith and the logger froze. Meredith spotted Jim from the corner of her eye. He was on the ground with his rifle aimed at the logger!

  He jerked his head to the side, urging her to move away so he would have a clean shot, but a beefy arm locked around her waist, holding her in place.

  “Run, Jim!” she shouted between grunts as the logger renewed his efforts to wrench his right arm free of her grasp, no doubt hoping to hurl his ax at his foe. “Get Travis!”

  For once Jim didn’t scowl at her. His eyes had a desperate look to them, as if he were the one trapped. She knew he didn’t want to leave her, that his protective nature demanded he stay and fight. But when the others arrived, he’d be finished.

  “For Cassie, Jim,” she pleaded. “Go for Cassie.”

  A yell from the other side of the cabin made his decision for him. He spun and ran.

  The instant Jim’s rifle was no longer pointed at him, the logger shifted to free his arm. But she hung on—all of her energy focused on keeping him from using his weapon.

  “Blasted female!” The logger raised his ax. “Let”—he slammed his arm and hers into the tree—“go!”

  Pain ricocheted past her elbows from the force of the collision, and her hands opened against her will.

  The logger shouted orders to his compatriots and pointed in the direction Jim had run. The other guards rushed past them, pistols and rifles in hand. Meredith tried to slide away from her captor, but the logger had no intention of relinquishing his prize. He snatched up a handful of fabric at her neck and hauled her upward.

  Her hands instinctively circled about his meaty fist, but she had no strength left to pry free of his hold. His dark eyes promised retribution. He gave her a shake as if she were an oversized rag doll and ordered her to cease her fighting. Since he no longer posed a threat to Jim, she obeyed and stumbled along beside him as he made his way to the front of the cabin. He kicked the door in with his foot and dragged her across the threshold.

  “I brung you another guest for the wedding, boss.”

  A movement to her right drew Meredith’s attention. Roy stood near the hearth, a shotgun looped casually through his bent arm, the barrel pointed at Uncle Everett, who sat on the floor against the wall with his wrists bound.

  She’d heard of shotgun weddings, but never one in which the groom held the gun on the father of the bride.

  “Meredith, my dear.” Roy smiled, and her stomach recoiled. “So glad you could make it.”

  37

  Travis tucked the butt of his rifle into his shoulder and sighted down the barrel from his position among the pines nearest the old gate. The quiet rumble he’d noted a moment ago had grown louder, more distinct. Hoofbeats. A rider approached. And fast.

  Inhaling a cleansing breath, he forced his pulse to calm. He needed a steady hand and a clear head to deal with whatever came down the path. His mind turned heavenward for an instant—not long enough to form a complete thought, but long enough to connect.

  Finger hovering over the trigger, Travis peered into the shadows. Before man or horse came into view, a shrill whistle pierced the air. Jim. Travis blew out his tension and lowered his rifle. Expecting the hoofbeats to slow, he was unprepared for the second whistle or for the sight of his brother’s mount racing past him.

  New urgency speared through Travis, and he took off at a dead run for the house. Jim knew their positions. He would have stopped or at least slowed to call out his findings unless a threat existed that was too imminent to spare the time.

  Cassandra must truly be in danger. Travis pumped his legs faster, his lungs burning with the sudden heavy intake of cold air. He leapt over a small gully and pushed forward, his energy solely focused on getting to Jim. The others were positioned closer to the house, so they’d be waiting on him. Thankfully, their horses stood saddled and ready in the corral. They could be on their way in minutes.

  By the time he sprinted through the clearing, Jim was giving orders from the saddle. Travis overheard him sending Crockett into the den to collect extra pistols. Neill was hustling to the corral to gather the mounts. Travis pulled up so as not to startle his brother’s horse. Between heaving breaths, he asked Jim for a report.

  “Cassie and her folks are being held at the cabin,” Jim said, his face grim. “Mitchell has Mr. Hayes tied up and at gunpoint. The women are under guard, as well, but not restrained. He’s got at least four men patrolling. Two more inside. They’re armed and don’t seem too hesitant about attacking.”

  “Then we ride.” Travis caught his breath and straightened his shoulders. “I’ll tell Meredith and be back in a trice.” She’d be beside herself with worry, but he couldn’t keep it from her. Cassie was like a sister to her.

  He had just cleared the porch steps when Jim’s voice stopped him.

  “She’s not there, Travis.”

  He turned to face his brother, not comprehending his meaning. But when he saw the discomfiture etched into Jim’s features, the regret in his eyes, his gut turned
to lead.

  “I tried to send her back, but she refused to go.” Jim stiffened in the saddle then, as if ready to do battle. “I wouldn’t have gotten a look in the cabin without her help, Trav. She saved my life. Twice. I’m not sorry she came. Just sorry I couldn’t get her out before Mitchell’s men swarmed us.”

  Meredith at the homestead? How could that be? She was in his room. Waiting for him. Safe. Wasn’t she?

  Holding down the bile that threatened to erupt, Travis spun back to the house and threw open the door. It crashed against the wall as he shouted his wife’s name.

  “Meredith!”

  He ran down the hall, his boots slapping the floorboards. It was a mistake. She was there. Safe in his room.

  Travis burst through the door. The emptiness hit him like a sledgehammer to the chest. He scanned every corner as if she might be hiding somewhere. He even wrenched open the wardrobe in desperation.

  “Meri.” The anguished whisper fell from his lips. This couldn’t be happening. She told him she’d be in the house. How could she leave the ranch when he’d expressly forbidden it? How could she leave him?

  In a daze, he pivoted back toward the door. He took a step, but something about the room whispered to his subconscious mind, something out of place. His attention shifted back to the bed, then the dresser. He blinked, sharpening his focus. There. The tablet. Travis pounced on the paper. His eyes devoured the words.

  Travis,

  I love you with all of my being, but I love Cassie, too. And right now she needs me more than you do.

  Forgive me.

  Meri

  She loved him. The wonder of the statement seeped into him, but the joy that should have accompanied the knowledge faded beneath his growing frustration and fear. How could she possibly think that anyone needed her more than he did? She was his heart, his very life. If anything happened to her . . .