Travis tore the top page from the tablet and hardened his jaw. He’d just have to make sure nothing did happen. After all, if a wife was going to tell her husband she loved him, she ought to do it in person. And he aimed to see that she did precisely that. Right after he kissed the living fire out of her and showed her exactly how much he truly needed her.
Stuffing the note into the shirt pocket beneath his coat, Travis dropped the tablet on the bed and stormed out of the house. Crockett met him on the porch and handed him a second revolver. Since he only had one holster, and it was already full, he stuffed the gun into his waistband at the small of his back. He collected Bexar’s reins from where they hung over the railing and mounted in a single motion.
Travis shared a look with Crockett and Jim and turned to Neill. “I want you to ride into Palestine and fetch the sheriff. All you have to do is head south once you hit the road. If you push your mount, you can be there before sundown. We can’t afford to let Mitchell get away this time. We need the law on our side.” And he needed Neill out of harm’s way. The kid could handle himself well enough, but if things went badly, he didn’t have the experience necessary to improvise. And if things went really badly, Travis wanted to ensure that at least one Archer lived to see another day.
“Archers stand together, Trav,” Neill spat impatiently. “Isn’t that what you always say?” He looked from one brother to the next. The errand was a pretense, and he knew it. “Y’all are already outnumbered. Why give Mitchell a bigger advantage? You have a better chance with me riding with you.”
“Maybe, but someone’s got to get the law involved, and you’re the logical choice.”
Neill opened his mouth to argue further, but Travis cut him off. “We’re wasting time. You have your orders, Neill. Carry them out, like the Archer you are.” Travis nudged Bexar past Neill’s mount, effectively ending the conversation.
“Boys, I believe we’ve been invited to a wedding,” Travis said, steel lacing his tone. “Let’s not be late.”
Meredith clasped her cousin’s hand as the two girls sat huddled together on the settee. The dreadful Mr. Wheeler loomed over them, legs braced apart, gun in hand. But it was the way he looked at her that frightened Meredith most. That wolfish gleam in his eyes, and the way his gaze kept traveling down her body as if he could see right through her clothing. He’d smile after perusing her in such abominable fashion, and the leering promise on his face turned her stomach.
“Should we start the ceremony now, sir?” A man standing in the back corner of the room posed the question. His black suit and white preacher’s collar should have offered reassurance, but his bored expression as he scanned the room full of armed men and hostage women only served to confirm his complicity. There would be no help from that quarter.
“Not yet,” Roy said. “Although I’m anxious to wed my lovely bride, I believe we’re due to have a few more visitors soon, and I’d hate for anything unpleasant to interrupt our nuptials.”
“Very well, but I’m charging you for the extra time.” The preacher, if the mercenary little man could be called by such a title, leaned against the wall and slid a silver flask from inside his coat. He unscrewed the lid and imbibed a large swig.
Cassie’s grip tightened on Meredith’s hand. “I hope he chokes.”
“It would be a rather poetic form of justice,” Meredith agreed softly. And such a lovely wrench to throw into Roy’s plan. But then she remembered the logger going after Jim with that ax and decided it might be better for all concerned to keep Roy happy. At least for the time being.
Aunt Noreen paced across the carpet and glowered at Roy. “I don’t approve of liquor, Mr. Mitchell. It’s bad enough that my daughter’s wedding is not taking place in a church, but I refuse to have a drunkard officiate her ceremony.”
Roy’s lips thinned as he peered down at the woman before him. “Let me remind you, madam, that I was only too happy to sponsor a church wedding, but Miss Cassandra would not consent. Hence our current predicament. If you feel the need to complain, kindly take it up with your daughter.”
“But you were in charge of finding the minister. This one is unsatisfactory.” She folded her arms and frowned at Roy as if he were one of the ladies on her civic beautification committee who had failed to follow her instructions.
“Noreen . . .” Uncle Everett murmured her name in warning from his position on the floor across from her.
“Hush up, Everett. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t given in to Cassandra’s whining. The girl can’t see past her nose. She’s just young enough to think that some flutter in her heart is worth more than financial security. You should have taken her in hand. But, no. Like everything else, you bowed out and forced me to deal with it. You’ve got no backbone. That’s the real reason the mill is failing. I probably should have taken that over, too.”
“Mama!” Cassie gasped. But the woman paid her no heed. She’d built up too much steam.
“And as for you . . .” Aunt Noreen pivoted back to face Roy and jabbed his shoulder with her finger, apparently too full of her own agenda to notice the anger brewing in his eyes. “If you want to be my son-in-law, you had best find a minister who isn’t incapacitated with drink! I won’t allow—”
Roy backhanded her across the mouth with enough force to send her crashing to the floor. “You’re not in a position to disallow anything, madam. You might flay your husband with that sharp tongue of yours, but turn it on me, and I will bite you back.”
Aunt Noreen glared up at Roy, not all of her fire extinguished. “How dare you raise your hand to me!”
In a flash, Roy had the shotgun cocked and aimed directly at her head. “You know, it just occurred to me that married life would be much easier without a harpy for a mother-in-law.”
“No!” Cassie lunged to her feet. Wheeler immediately grasped her arm.
“Please,” she cried out to Roy, struggling against Wheeler’s hold. “I’ll marry you right now. Willingly. Just leave my mother alone.”
Roy pulled the gun back. “Such an ardent declaration, my sweet. How could I refuse?” He stepped toward the settee and clasped Cassie’s hand, his gentlemanly veneer back in place. Wheeler released her arm, and Cassie lifted her chin.
As Roy led her toward the hearth, Meredith pushed to her feet. There was no way she was letting Cassie face this horror alone.
“Where do you think you’re going, darlin’?” Wheeler’s gravelly voice grated against her nerves. Then his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her roughly against his side.
“I intend to stand up with my cousin, sir,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Release me.”
Roy glanced over his shoulder and smirked at her. “Let her come, Wheeler. But keep a firm grip on her. She has a bad habit of starting trouble.”
“I’ll keep her under control,” the man said as his arm tightened around her, nearly cutting off her air.
She stumbled past Aunt Noreen, who seemed to be in a state of shock, numbly letting Uncle Everett loop his bound arms around her and scoot her back against the wall.
The parson gulped down another swig from his flask, then pulled a Bible from his coat pocket and made a great show of flipping pages as he stepped out of the corner to join Roy and Cassie at the hearth.
“Dearly beloved,” the man droned in a ponderous, self-important tone. “We are gathered here—”
The front door crashed open.
Meredith’s head swiveled.
“What is the meaning of this?” the parson sputtered.
“Found these two riding up the path.”
Her ax-wielding “friend” waved to his cohorts, and they shoved two dust-covered men, the obvious recipients of some very rough handling, into the room. One fell to his knee, his arms tied behind his back. The other, though also bound, managed to catch himself and halt his forward momentum before tumbling to the floor.
Meredith’s heart recognized them the instant they came through the doorwa
y. And when the man in front lifted his head and met her gaze beneath the brim of his hat, she instinctively stepped toward him.
“Travis.”
Wheeler jerked her back against him, a wicked chuckle echoing in her ear. Travis’s face hardened in an instant. He surged forward only to be brought up short by a shotgun barrel in the chest.
“Nice of you to finally show up, Archer.” Roy tugged Cassandra behind him and nodded to the logger, who muscled Jim back down to his knees before he could fully regain his feet. “For a while there, I thought you decided to decline my invitation.”
38
The metal gun barrel dug into his chest, but Travis barely felt it. All his energy was focused on Mitchell.
“I’ve come for my wife.” The words rumbled out of him like thunder gathering in the distance, low and ominous.
The guards had confiscated his rife and gun belt, but the hidden revolver itched against his back, begging him to take it in hand. Never before had he actually wanted to shoot a man. But now it was all he could do not to reach for his weapon.
Mitchell’s lips turned down in a mock pout. “I’m devastated. And here I thought you’d come to offer your felicitations.”
Travis glared his disgust at the man.
“I assure you, Mr. Wheeler is taking very good care of our dear Miss Meredith. Aren’t you, Louis?”
“Indeed I am, Mr. Mitchell. Indeed I am.” The man tightened his hold on Meri, his arm deliberately pressing against the underside of her breasts. Meredith clawed at his sleeve until he lifted his right hand and stroked the side of her face with his pistol. “Easy now, kitten.” Meri stilled. “You might not want to jostle me too much. It’d be a shame if someone got hurt.”
Rage steamed through Travis. Wheeler had just etched his name on one of the bullets in Travis’s gun.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his focus away from Wheeler and settled it again on the man behind the shotgun. “I know you designed this meeting, Mitchell. Why don’t we skip all the small talk and get down to business. What do I have to do to ensure Meri leaves this cabin unharmed?”
“Not much.” Mitchell smiled that ingratiating smile of his that made Travis want to slam his fist into his face. “All I need is your signature on a little document I had my attorney draw up.” He gestured to the table that stood on the opposite side of the room near the cookstove. “Should only take a minute. Then you and your bride will be free to go. Unless, of course, you’d like to stay for the wedding.”
“Fine,” Travis growled. “Bring me a pen. And get one of your men to untie my hands.”
“No, Travis,” Meredith gasped. “You can’t.”
But he could. He’d give up anything for her. Without a moment’s regret. What he couldn’t do was look at those big blue eyes of hers without getting distracted. So he set his jaw and marched toward the table, tipping his head so his hat blocked his view of her.
As he moved, he tallied Mitchell’s men. Mitchell and Wheeler made two. The thug with the ax wrestling with Jim was three. And the two fellows who had trussed him and Jim up were loitering outside the door; he could see their shadows through the front window. According to Jim’s earlier count, that left only one for Crockett to track down and disable before returning to the cabin. Their plan to draw the men out of the woods had worked. Now they just had to figure out a way to get Jim’s hands untied and take out five armed men without endangering the women. He was still working on that part.
Meredith watched with swelling dread as Travis made his way to the table. He couldn’t sign away his land. He just couldn’t. That land was everything to him. If he sacrificed it for her, it would kill whatever hope they had of making a love-filled marriage together. Oh, he’d never voice his regrets. He was too noble. But he would grow to resent her. How could he not? Because of her, he was breaking his deathbed promise to his father and forfeiting the one thing he treasured above all else—his land.
She bit her lip. He’d never even looked at her. Not since Roy named his price. And that more than anything ate away at her hope.
“You mind untying my hands, Mitchell?” Travis twisted sideways, aiming his bound arms at Roy. “I can’t exactly sign your papers with my hands behind my back.”
Roy hesitated a moment, then nodded to the only man on his payroll without a gun in his hand. “Parson? Some assistance, please.”
“All right,” the man huffed. “But it will—”
“Cost me extra. I know.” Roy glared at the minister. “Just do it.”
The man pulled a blade from his boot and sawed through the rope at Travis’s wrists. When her husband was finally free, he rubbed his chafed skin and immediately took up the pen that lay beside the document on the table. He only spared a moment to glance over the words before inking the nib and scratching his name across the bottom of the page.
A silent sob caught in Meredith’s throat. It was done.
“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Archer.” Roy nodded his head toward Travis in a mockery of a bow. “You and your wife may leave if you wish.”
Travis strode toward her, but his narrowed eyes focused at a point above her head. Wheeler pressed the side of his pistol against her chin and forced her head around. Then before she knew what he was about, his mouth crashed down on hers. A sound of protest reverberated in her throat as she struggled to free herself from the violation.
From somewhere behind her, Travis shouted, and Cassie cried out for Wheeler to stop. Meredith could hear her husband’s pounding footfalls, but right before he reached her, Wheeler yanked his horrible mouth from hers and threw her into Travis, nearly knocking them both to the ground. His wicked chuckle echoed through the cabin as Travis’s arms closed around her.
Meredith scrubbed the vile man’s taste from her lips with the back of her hand, wishing she could crawl into Travis and hide.
“Go outside and get on Bexar,” Travis whispered close to her ear. “Ride for home.”
Meredith stiffened. “I can’t leave Cassie.”
“Jim and I will take care of Cassie.” There was no soothing in his tone. Only command. “I need you to go.”
How were he and Jim, who was still bound as far as she could tell, going to take care of Cassie? It made no sense.
Travis’s grip tightened on her arm ever so slightly. “Trust me, Meri.”
The words cut through her. She’d not let him down a second time.
Meredith nodded and slowly stepped away from him. He released her arms, then staggered forward as if her moving had thrown him off-balance. She turned back and grabbed for him, but he’d already recovered. He found her hand within the folds of her skirt and slid a small cylindrical object into her palm. Her eyes widened, and in an instant he glanced toward Jim, let her go, and gave her a little nudge toward the door.
Not only was he asking her to trust him, he was trusting her in return.
Not knowing exactly how to fulfill her mission, Meredith exacerbated her limp so she had an excuse to slow her pace. Stomach fluttering, she made her way to where the logger was kneeling with a knee against Jim’s hunched back near the doorway.
“Would you mind letting him up,” she asked the man, struggling to minimize the nervous quiver in her voice. “I’m afraid I’ll trip over his legs if I try to step over him.”
The logger muttered something about “worthless cripples” but did as she requested, hauling Jim to his feet.
When the man was holding Jim only by the elbow, Meredith seized her chance and slid up against Jim’s side, reaching for his hands as if to assist him in gaining his feet.
“Get away from there.” The logger scowled at her and jerked Jim away from her grasp. But the transfer had been made.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, praying he hadn’t noticed anything. “I was just trying to help.”
She turned back to the door, intending to leave as she’d promised, when one of the outside guards burst into the cabin, sending her skittering back toward Jim.
; “We got comp’ny.”
39
Roy cursed. “What is it now?”
Meredith flinched at his harshness.
“There’s about a dozen townsfolk coming down the path, screechin’ and carrying on with drums and washboards and such. They look like a bunch of crazies. What do you want me to do?”
“What I want you to do, Mr. Elliott,” Roy answered through gritted teeth, “is to go out there and dissuade them.”
“Dis . . . what?”
Roy slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the ink bottle Travis had used mere moments ago. “Scare them off, you idiot!”
Mr. Elliott recoiled from the shout and backed away. “Y-yes, sir.” He spun around and lumbered past Meredith, leaving the cabin with all possible haste.
Meredith darted a glance toward Travis. Her husband seemed as surprised as anyone by the guard’s announcement. The distraction was buying Jim some much needed time, though.
He’d gotten the penknife open and was working on the ropes at his wrists. Meredith maneuvered her way closer, using her body to shield Jim’s hands.
The logger moved to the window and reported, “They’re mostly darkies. Women and men. Only one feller looks like he’d be worth much in a fight, but even from here I can see a big stupid grin on his face. They’re more nuisance than threat.”
Could Moses be the man he referred to? A little thrill shot through Meredith. Perhaps the Lord had sent them assistance. The sound of drums, shakers, and other crude noisemakers grew louder as the group advanced on the cabin.
Then she heard the man called Elliott yell out a warning. “You’re not welcome here. Turn around and go on home.” His rifle boomed, but the oncoming noise never lessened.
“We heard Miss Cassie done got herself hitched,” a strident female voice called out. Myra. “We come to give her a shivaree, and we ain’t leavin’ until we give it.”
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