Laura Drewry

by Here Comes The Bride

  Tess lay down in the grass, but she did not go to sleep; she would not go to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, Gabriel’s face loomed in her subconscious, his broken and confused soul pleading with her through his storm-filled eyes. One day, perhaps, he would learn the truth and understand why she needed to do what she did, but that wasn’t the least bit of comfort to her at that moment.

  She rolled onto her side and studied the two men on the other side of the fire. Her own father—the man who raised her and claimed to love her—had sold her to the highest bidder, as he had done with his older daughter. How could he do that to her? She couldn’t imagine doing that to her own child—couldn’t imagine not protecting her child from every single thing.

  But, as Harm said, you’d be surprised what people’d do for a little bit of money.

  Tess’s brain sparked—Harm carried a gun! She’d seen it hidden under his coat. Maybe if she waited until he was asleep—really good and asleep—she could get it away from him somehow. But then what? Shoot him? Shoot her own father?

  Her mind toiled over the idea long into the night. Maybe she could tie them up with something and keep them there until somebody passed by. Surely someone would happen by and offer assistance, wouldn’t they?

  It was her only hope. If she stayed with Harm, she would no doubt be beaten into submission, or worse, and the life growing inside her would be in terrible jeopardy. She couldn’t let that happen—this child, conceived out of a deep and mutual love, deserved the chance at a decent life.

  Her soul cried out to Gabriel for strength. She had to get free of Harm, without letting him go free, so she could make her way back to her husband.

  With painstaking caution, she inched her way around the fire, closer and closer to Harm. Certain the pounding of her heart would wake him, she took deep, quiet breaths, trying to calm it. One of the horses, hobbled nearby, nickered softly, but neither Harm nor her father stirred.

  Another inch closer to freedom, another inch closer to death. Finally she was beside him, but her hands trembled so hard she had to sit on them for a moment to still them. Ever so slowly, with featherlight fingers, she lifted the side of his coat, revealing the smooth handle of the revolver. Tess’s throat was too dry to swallow. Her tongue flicked out, trying to moisten her lips, but it, too, was dryer than the dirt.

  She eased the gun from its holster with a steadiness that came from being deathly afraid. The horse nickered again, louder this time, startling Tess and making her hand jerk.

  “What the . . .” Harmon’s hand clamped down over hers. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Tess knew what was coming, tried to brace herself for it, but it wasn’t enough. The force of his blow sent her reeling until she was flat on her back, blood oozing from her bottom lip. She tried to sit up but Harm was standing over her, his evil eyes flashing wickedly.

  “What were you going to do, shoot me?” His lips pulled back in a threatening sneer. “You don’t have what it takes to shoot a man, Tess.”

  She didn’t answer but tried to push herself backward away from him. He grasped her by the upper arm, hauled her to her feet, and backhanded her, sending her staggering back again. Her head throbbed, the world around her spun, and the ground raced up to meet her.

  “Get up!” he bellowed. “You want to fight me, Tess? Then let’s fight.”

  He hauled her up again only to knock her back down.

  Please, Tess prayed, please don’t let him hurt my baby.

  “Wh-what’s going on?” Stan Kinley finally rousted himself out of sleep.

  “F-father,” she gasped. “Help me, please.”

  He rose to his feet, his eyes moving slowly over his daughter and then Harm.

  “What’s going on?” he repeated. “Stiles?”

  Harm didn’t even look at him. “She was trying to steal my gun.”

  “Tess?” her father said, looking back at his daughter on the ground. “Is this true?”

  “Please, Father,” she begged again. “Help me. . . .”

  Stan shook his head slowly. “Why can’t you do as you’re told? Your sister was never any trouble, but you . . . you’d test the patience of the Almighty.”

  “Father,” she pleaded. “Please . . .”

  “Shut up!” Harm snapped, grasping her by the elbow. He half dragged her back to the fire and threw her down in a heap. From somewhere in his saddlebag, he produced a ball of twine and bound her, hands and feet, and left her to bleed beside the fire.

  Tess’s cries fell on deaf ears. Neither her father nor Harm paid her another minute’s notice but returned to their bedrolls and closed their eyes. Blood trickled into her mouth, leaving a dirty metal taste. She tried to spit it out but could not, for the life of her, find the strength.

  It sickened her more than anything else to realize both men were again fast asleep as if nothing had happened. The sound of their breathing reverberated inside her already pounding head. Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Tess’s heavy lids eventually slid shut, partly from swelling and partly from exhaustion, and as usual, Gabriel’s face loomed before her, taunting her from beyond her reach.

  “Gabriel,” she sobbed softly. “Oh, Gabriel.”

  “Shhh, it’s okay.”

  She willed her eyes to open, but they wouldn’t budge. Icy fear raced through her veins—never before had Gabriel’s image spoken back to her. She must be dying and her angel had come to take her home; she was going to die right there in the dirt and so was her baby.

  “No,” she wailed, her raw throat barely able to whisper.

  A hand clamped down over her mouth—a strong, gentle hand. She knew this hand, but still . . . she forced her mouth to open wide enough that she could sink her teeth into the fleshy part between the thumb and forefinger. This was no dream—that hand was real! But still her eyes wouldn’t open.

  She heard a muffled yelp and then a voice right in her ear.

  “Tess, it’s me,” Gabriel whispered. “You need to keep still, okay?”

  Gabriel! Tess’s body convulsed against its binding. With the last of her willpower, she finally forced her lids open a slit and there, heaven help her, was Gabriel, his face mere inches from hers, his breath warm against her face.

  “Gabr—” she started, but he clamped his hand down over her mouth.

  “Shhh,” he repeated. “You need to stay quiet.”

  Pain and exhaustion forgotten, Tess’s eyes flew open wide. He really was there, really speaking to her, really touching her. Tears gushed from her eyes, rolling down her cheeks to the dust below her.

  “I’m going to move my hand now,” he whispered. “But don’t move. Do you understand?”

  Her head bobbed rapidly.

  Gabe’s hand slipped from her mouth, but he stayed where he was, his eyes darting across the fire.

  “Stay right here,” he ordered fiercely. “Right here!”

  She opened her mouth to protest but slammed it shut. Gabriel was here! Relief flooded through her in one giant wave but was quickly drowned out by the fierce panic that followed. Harm was sure to kill him—she had to get him away from here.

  “Gabriel!” she whispered hoarsely.

  He put his finger to her lips and scowled, silencing her instantly.

  He tiptoed back to Zeus, who’d been standing there the whole time, and silently removed a rope and a small silver flask. The horse tossed his head back and whinnied softly, barely audible over the gentle breeze.

  In the next instant, all hell broke loose. Harm’s horses caught Zeus’s scent and kicked up enough ruckus to wake both Harm and Stan, who were on their feet instantly, guns drawn.

  Gabe turned slowly, his hands out to his sides, and faced the two of them. Fear gripped Tess’s heart and throat. Why was he acting so calm when she was scared to death.

  “Harm,” she cried. “Don’t! Whatever you’re thinking of doing, I beg you, please don’t do it.”

  “Shut up,” Harm ordered, sauntering clos
er. “Well, isn’t this sweet? Come to rescue your little woman, have you?”

  Gabe didn’t answer, but his eyes never wavered.

  “I thought she made it pretty clear the other day she was through with you.” He took another step, then another. “Why the hell would she want a nowhere farmer when she could live the high life in the big city with money, prestige . . . power.”

  Again, no answer. Tess fought against the ropes, trying to get to her feet, but it was useless.

  “Gabriel,” she begged. “Please go. He’s going to kill you if you stay here! Please!”

  Still Gabe didn’t move. Harm was right in front of him now, his pistol pressed against the underside of Gabe’s jaw.

  “Thought you’d be a hero, didn’t you? Well, you heard the lady, Calloway, she asked you to leave. Now I suggest you get back on that animal you rode in on and get the hell on out of here before you make me do something you’re going to regret.”

  “Is this where I’m supposed to start shaking?” Gabe asked, his voice steady and even.

  “No,” Harm sneered. “Heroes like you don’t get scared, do they? Hell, you probably wouldn’t care if I shot you right between the eyes, would you? No, you wouldn’t, because then you’d be a martyr, too.”

  Gabe didn’t even blink. “You’re such a piece of crap, Stiles. I don’t care what you do to me. . . .”

  “Well, how about if I put the bullet in her instead?” He whirled the gun away from Gabe and pointed it at Tess, who trembled uncontrollably on the ground.

  The next instant, the night sky exploded in gunfire and flashes of light, but Tess witnessed none of it from the safety of her cocoon. Something—no, someone—was on top of her. Gabriel’s huge body sprawled over her, protecting her from flying bullets and debris. Somehow from his twisted position he managed to fire off a couple rounds himself, putting one bullet through Harm’s right arm and another through Stan’s left shin.

  Then suddenly there was silence. Dead, eerie silence that frightened Tess more than the bullets.

  Her mind clamored with fear—why didn’t Gabriel move? Why didn’t he get off of her?

  Chapter 36

  “Gabriel!” she cried, wriggling and squirming beneath him. Her efforts were futile, as he was far too heavy and her bindings made it impossible to move him. “Oh please, God, please . . .”

  “Stay still,” he rasped in her ear. “Are you hurt?”

  “No,” she answered in a rush of air, offering a silent prayer of thanks. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine.” He sat up, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed as tight as he dared without snapping her in two. “What the hell did you think you were doing taking off with him? Why didn’t you just tell me . . . ?”

  “Oh, Gabriel,” she sobbed, clutching his shirt in her hands. “He told me he’d kill you if I didn’t go with him and after what he did to Rosa and Miguel . . .”

  “He what?” Gabe roared. “You left with him, knowing full well he killed them?”

  Tess nodded solemnly. “I had to. He didn’t actually do it himself, but he said he paid someone to do it for him.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” she answered, hanging her head. “To get to me, I guess. I’m so sorry, Gabriel. If only I’d gone away like you tried to make me do so many times, then none of this would have happened.”

  “Hush now,” he soothed. “None of this is your fault.”

  “But if I’d stayed in Boston, Rosa and Miguel would still be alive and . . .”

  “Stop it,” he said forcefully. “Just stop it. You didn’t do this, Tess, he did.”

  “Is he . . . ?”

  “No, but he’s hurt pretty bad. Just a minute,” he said, tugging at the ropes. Finally freed, she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed. When her eyes opened again, the sight before her made her want to gag. Her father lay on the ground in front of her, blood pooling beneath him; his eyes rolled up in their sockets, his tight lips twitching with every breath.

  “Father!” she cried. “Oh, no!”

  She fell in a heap beside him, running her hands over his face and hair. Harmon Stiles lay a few feet away, swearing like a banshee. And from out of nowhere, Bart appeared, towering over Stiles.

  Gabe knelt beside Tess, taking her in his arms and turning her away from her father.

  “He’s gone, Tess,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “No!” she sobbed. Her tiny hands flailed against Gabe’s chest, then suddenly stilled. She pushed Gabe away, rose to her feet, and flung herself at Harmon Stiles, beating him mercilessly with her balled fists.

  “You did this!” she screeched. “You bastard!”

  Harm cursed louder, swinging back at her with his one good arm, until Gabe lifted her in the air and pulled her out of his reach. So angry was Tess, so wild was her fury, she did the only other thing she could think of—she wound up and spat on Harmon Stiles, spat right in his face.

  “I hate you,” she seethed. “I hope you rot in hell!”

  She lifted her head and the whole world went black around her. If Gabe hadn’t been standing right behind her, she would have landed right back down in the dirt. He scooped her into his arms and stormed at Harmon.

  “Gabe,” Bart warned.

  “So help me, Stiles,” he spat through gritted teeth. “When I get through with you, you’ll be wishing I killed you right here.”

  Stiles hurled more insults and curses at Gabe, but he had already turned and walked away, Tess’s limp form pressed against him.

  Without any help, Bart somehow managed to saddle the hog-tied Stiles and the lifeless Stan Kinley onto their horses before easing Tess from his brother’s arm. Once Gabe was seated high on Zeus, Bart handed his wife back to him and mounted his own mare. And so began the long ride home, with a stop in Shelton to pay a visit to the sheriff and the local doctor.

  The old medic pronounced Tess healthy but exhausted, and so far as he could tell, the child had not been harmed. Still, Gabe kept her right in the saddle with him, even when she weakly protested she was able to ride on her own.

  Gabriel hardly spoke the rest of the ride home. His silence frightened Tess more than anything—he knew about the baby now, knew she’d lied to him. How on earth could she ever make that up to him?

  “What the . . . ?” Bart’s voice drifted off as he spurred his horse toward the yard.

  “Holy jumpin’ Jiminy,” Gabe whistled. “Would you look at that?”

  In the last light of day, Tess could barely make out the shape of a building—a new building—right where she’d cleared land several days before.

  As they approached, Collette and Wyatt Langman stepped out of the structure, Collette rushing past to greet them.

  “Welcome home, Tess,” she cried, tears streaming down her face. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she smiled wanly. “Thank you.”

  Gabe pushed his knee into the horse’s side and urged it forward, leaving his brother and Collette to their own welcome home greeting.

  “Calloway,” Wyatt nodded. “Good to see you. We only got the one room together so far, but it’ll give you a roof over your head for now.”

  Gabe was struck dumb for a moment. This was not the Wyatt Langman he’d grown up hating.

  “I-I’m much obliged,” he finally said, sliding down from his saddle.

  “Oh, Mr. Langman,” Tess choked. “I don’t know what to say. You are very kind . . .”

  “Bah! Weren’t nothin’. Figured you’d be needin’ somethin’ to come home to eventually.” He shrugged as if his gesture had been nothing more than offering them a cup of coffee. “We’ll be back in the mornin’ and we’ll get to work on the rest of it.”

  Gabe’s face tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbed, but no words would form. At last he managed a short nod of thanks.

  Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder as he strolled by.

  “You take care of that little girl,” he said, in reminiscence of Gabe and Tess�
�s wedding day. “Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

  Gabe finally chuckled. “Won’t let her out of my sight.”

  “Come on, Lettie,” Wyatt called, taking his horse by the reins. “Let’s let these people get settled.”

  Collette’s nervous eyes flitted from Bart to her father.

  “P-Pa,” she began, but he cut her off.

  “I know what yer gonna say, and it ain’t right.”

  “But Pa . . .”

  “Let me finish,” he growled. “It ain’t right for you to be spendin’ so much time with that Calloway boy unless you’ve set a date.”

  “Oh, Pa!” Collette squealed, throwing her arms around her father’s neck. “Do you really mean it?”

  “Now now, that’s enough,” he said, pulling Collette’s arms away. A faint shimmer gleamed in his eyes when he turned to Bart. “Now don’t you go thinkin’ I’m doin’ this ’cuz I like ya—’cuz I don’t. Yer still a Calloway and I mean to hate the Calloway name ’til the day I die. Got that?”

  Bart’s face broke into that stupid Calloway grin. “Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” he said. “Or can I call you Pa?”

  “You cannot!” Wyatt bellowed good naturedly. “You ain’t family yet, Calloway!”

  Collette kissed her father on the cheek, but Wyatt wasn’t finished yet—and this time his expression was sober.

  “Weddin’ or no weddin’,” he said, pointing his crooked finger at Bart, “you git my daughter home at a respectable time, you hear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Wyatt mounted up and rode off, leaving the four of them alone. Bart took Zeus by the bit and disappeared into the barn with Collette.

  “Come on, Tess,” Gabe murmured. “Let’s go see our new house.”

  The small room was still bare wood, but someone—Collette, no doubt—had had the foresight to furnish it with an ample-sized mattress and fresh linens. Gabe sank down on the soft bed, falling back against the pillows with an exhausted sigh. Tess immediately crawled up beside him and snuggled up against his chest.

  “Gabriel?”

  “Hmmm?”