The Taming of Shaw MacCade

by Judith E. French

  "The Good Book also says an 'eye for an eye,'" Uncle Quinn said.

  "I must have failed as a father, that both of my girls would stray," her father continued. "But it ends here. I'll not have that fine manchild in there labeled a bastard. You got Eve with child, and you'll marry her. Give the boy a name."

  Eve began to weep. "This is madness," she wailed.

  "Like hell, I will," Shaw answered. He stood motionless, black eyes snapping with fury, his face a rigid mask of anger. "I didn't father Eve's child. My brother Laird did. And I'm already married to Becca."

  "That true, Becca?" Uncle Quinn asked her.

  "Yes, yes, it's true. We were married in Miles City."

  "In what church?"

  "We were wed by a judge," Shaw grated. "Judge—"

  "At the hotel," Rebecca said. "The judge came—"

  "Where's your marriage lines?" Uncle Quinn demanded.

  Tears of frustration spilled down Rebecca's cheeks. "Please, listen," she begged. "We are married."

  "I asked you for your marriage certificate," her uncle reminded her.

  "We don't have it, but we'll get it," Rebecca replied. She began to tremble, suddenly afraid of him... afraid of what he and her father would do to Shaw. "Have I ever lied to you? Poppa? Am I a liar?" She tried to yank away, but Quinn's grip was an iron band. "You've got to believe me!"

  "A marriage by a judge is no marriage at all," her father said. "So it don't matter if you're telling the truth or not. Shaw MacCade's first duty is to your sister and the son he got on her."

  "Jamie isn't his!" Eve screamed. "He's Laird's."

  Drummond walked closer to Shaw and rammed the barrel of his scattergun into Shaw's ribs. "Say the word, Poppa. I'll pull this trigger, and he'll pay for ruinin' my sisters." He lowered the gun a few inches and shoved it hard against Shaw's belly. "Not so tough now, are you MacCade?"

  Shaw stared him straight in the eye. "Easy, son. Don't be pushed into something you'll regret for the rest of your life."

  Welsh came running from the barn and tackled Shaw from the back. Shaw went sprawling facedown, twisted, and started to spring up. But Drum slammed the barrel of his gun against Shaw's head. Shaw collapsed and fell back, eyes closed, arms outstretched.

  Rebecca drew in a shuddering breath.

  "Looks like we're having a wedding," Uncle Quinn said. "And after that, we just might have ourselves a hanging. Get the horses, boys. Corbett, you fetch the preacher to the church."

  He released Rebecca, and she went to Shaw and cradled his head in her lap. "He's bleeding," she said. "Noah! Eve! Fetch me some water and clean rags."

  "Leave him be," her father said, coming to stand over them. "He'll be Eve's worry now. And it will take more than a knock on the head to slow a devil MacCade."

  She looked up at him. "Why won't you listen? Jamie's Laird's child, not Shaw's. What you're trying to force him to do is bigamy!"

  "A marriage before God is what counts," her father replied. "And a Missouri court will see it that way."

  "It's easy to blame a dead man for sinning," Uncle Quinn said. "I'm just sorry you and your sister see fit to try and protect Shaw."

  Hot tears burned Rebecca's eyes. "I'll never forgive either of you for this. Never."

  Her father's expression softened from anger to sorrow. "You'll thank me, girl. In time. It's Eve you should be weeping for, not him. But he's that boy's father, and I'll see him do right by Jamie."

  Noah came to her side with a bucket of water.

  Her father turned and walked away. "Corbett! Help your brothers with the horses. Harness a team to the wagon. And bring me some rope to tie MacCade's hands."

  Trembling, Rebecca rose to her feet. "Come inside, Noah," she said. "There's no need for you to see this."

  He followed her through the kitchen and into the parlor.

  "Noah," Rebecca murmured quietly. "I need you to do something for me. Something brave."

  He grinned and straightened his shoulders.

  She put a finger to her lips. "Shhh. It's a secret. You can't tell anybody." Quickly she went to her father's oak desk and opened the drawer where he kept paper, pen, and ink. "Will you do it for me, Noah?"

  He stared at her. "Uh-huh."

  "I want you to wait until we leave for the church. Then I want you to saddle Echo and ride to the MacCades. Can you do that?"

  Noah's blue eyes blinked twice. "Uh-huh."

  "Ride fast," she said. "And don't stop until you put this into Mrs. MacCade's hand."

  "Yep," Noah agreed.

  Hastily, she scribbled a brief message to Shaw's mother.

  Mrs. MacCade,

  My father and uncle are taking Shaw to Jarrell's church to force him into a shotgun marriage with my sister. After the wedding, Uncle Quinn is threatening to hang him. Please!

  You must do something.

  Rebecca Raeburn

  Thunder rumbled ominously as a late-season thunderstorm bore down on the churchyard. The wind picked up and the first drops of cold rain were beginning to spatter the ground when Drum caught sight of the minister's carriage. Corbett was right behind him on horseback, slicker held over his head to protect himself from the coming downpour. "Reverend's coming!" Drum shouted from his vantage point on the wagon bed.

  Shaw tried to sit up. His hat was gone, his face swollen and bruised, and thin lines of blood trickled down his neck to stain his damp shirt. Shaw's wrists and ankles were tightly bound, and Welsh stood guard over him.

  "Time to tie the knot," Drum said. "Too bad you won't last long enough to enjoy the wedding night."

  Welsh snickered. "He's already done that."

  "Shut your filthy mouths!" Rebecca said. "What's wrong with the lot of you, that you can't see what a mistake Poppa and Uncle Quinn are making?" She paid no more heed to the coming storm than the others did. "If you go through with this, it's murder. You'll all go to prison or worse."

  "No sense in trying to talk to them, honey," Shaw said. "They're doing to me what they did to Laird. And for the same reason."

  "There you go again," Drum said. "I didn't kill your damned brother. Maybe I should have, but I didn't. And neither did Welsh."

  "Maybe not, but I'll bet you know who did," Shaw answered.

  The thunder was much louder, and the rain pelted them with large, stinging drops. Rebecca reached out to touch Shaw's arm, but Welsh shook his head. "You know what Poppa said. Keep your hands off him or get inside with the other women. I'd think you'd have more pride in you to take Eve's leavings."

  Drum nodded. "You better get in the church. You're going to drown out here."

  "To hell with the weather!" she cried. "Do you think Reverend Jarrell will go along with this? He—"

  "He won't be able to stop us." Drum scowled. "We put up with enough from the MacCades, Sis. They tried to send Poppa to jail for murder, and they tried to burn us out. Poppa and Uncle Quinn aren't going to stand by and see both you girls shamed and do nothing about it. This is mountain justice."

  "This isn't justice," she shouted above the rain. "It's the Raeburn curse. And what you do here today, you'll live to regret." Rebecca jumped down off the wagon and ran across the muddy yard to John Jarrell's carriage. "Reverend," she cried. "You can't be a part of this. Shaw and I are already married. We—"

  Lightning illuminated the sky.

  "Rebecca... I..." The minister's expression was grim.

  "Don't let them. Refuse to perform the ceremony. You can't marry my sister to Shaw. We're already wed."

  "I didn't want to come," Jarrell said. "But your brother wouldn't listen to reason. He told me that if I don't marry Shaw and Eve, they'll resort to violence."

  "Have it your way, then, Becca," Uncle Quinn said as he stepped out of the church door into the storm. "If MacCade is dead set against giving his son a proper name, we'll skip the wedding and go right to the hanging."

  Chapter 25

  The minister hurried into the church as a jagged bolt of lightning shattered a cot
tonwood along the creek. The sky opened, and rain came down in torrents, drenching Rebecca to the skin.

  The overpowering odors of sulfur and brimstone choked the air. Rebecca shivered, cold to the bone and feeling the odd prickling of raw energy along the surface of her bare skin. Moaning wind shook the trees, hurling branches and leaves across the yard to batter the church. She braced herself against the gusts and tried to protect her eyes from the flying debris.

  "Come on!" Shouting to be heard, Drum sliced through the rope around Shaw's ankles and ordered him out of the wagon. "Try and run for it, and we'll shoot."

  Shaw started for the church, his wrists still tightly bound behind him. Welsh and Drummond followed closely, guns ready.

  Rebecca and Corbett waited just outside the door. "I'm not going to let you do this," she shouted to Corbett. "Shaw and I were married months ago. If you do force him to marry Eve, it will be a farce."

  "Doesn't matter," Corbett shook his head. "This is the marriage that will count. It will satisfy the neighbors and keep the boy from being called a bastard."

  "I won't let you murder Shaw!" she flung back. "You'll have to hang me with him!"

  "Get out of the way, Becca," Drummond warned. "You're only going to get hurt if you—"

  Without warning, the door frame above her head splintered.

  Instinctively, she threw up her hands to protect her head and flung herself onto the muddy ground beside the steps. Her first thought was that lightning had struck the church, but when she looked up, she didn't see fire or scorched wood. "What..."

  She pushed herself up out of the wet grass, then was knocked flat as Shaw threw himself on top of her. "Keep down!" he yelled.

  Another crack sounded. And then she heard the unmistakable rumble of horses' hooves. Welsh dashed past her into the church as a dozen MacCades galloped into the churchyard. Corbett fired his gun, then scrambled after his brother.

  Drummond put the barrel of his rifle to the back of Shaw's neck. "Hold it right there!" he shouted. "I'll shoot him. I swear I'll blow his damned head off."

  Will MacCade was the first man off his horse. Rifle in hand, bowie knife jammed in his belt, he took cover behind a large tree. "I'll shoot my brother myself before I see him wed to a Raeburn!" he yelled.

  Shaw's father, Murdoch, hauled back on his mount's head, forcing the huge animal to rear. "Make up your mind, Shaw! Are you a MacCade or a Raeburn? You can't have it both ways!"

  "Go ahead and shoot me, Pap!" Shaw shouted back. "Kill me if you think two dead sons will take away the pain of losing one." Then to Drum, he said, "Get her the hell inside, before they stop talkin' and start shootin' for real."

  "No!" Rebecca cried. "I'm not leaving you." She felt sick with fear, not for herself, but for Shaw.

  "You get to your feet. Slow," Corbett said. Then he raised his voice. "We're going in the church. All three of us! You shoot, you'll hit him!"

  Shaw scrambled up, and Drum yanked Rebecca to her feet. She stared through the slanting downpour, trying to identify the MacCades as her brother tugged her along.

  The teeming deluge made it nearly impossible to recognize faces, but she thought she could make out Ewen and Payton. Another rider, maybe Nigel, had dismounted toward the back of the church. He was crouching, running a zigzag course toward the far east window.

  "Nobody make any sudden moves now," Shaw called out. "Lower that pistol, Drum. You want to get Becca killed?"

  "Like hell." White-faced with fear, Drum backed toward the steps, keeping hold of Rebecca. Shaw shadowed her, shielding her body with his.

  "Come out and face me like a man, Campbell Raeburn!" Murdoch roared. "It all ends right here, you swivin' back-shooter!"

  "Stop! Stop it all of you!" Suddenly, Fiona MacCade and Noah appeared from the far side of the meetinghouse and dashed toward the entrance.

  "Fiona?" Shaw's father swore a foul oath. "You've no business here! Get out of the way!"

  "What you gonna do? Shoot me, too?" She didn't stop until she'd reached the church. Murdoch threw himself out of the saddle and lunged for her, but she whipped out a pistol and fired two shots over his head.

  Murdoch stopped in his tracks and shook his fist at her.

  "Devil take you, Murdoch!" she cried. "I heard what you said! All of you, put down your guns! Now!" She shoved Drum out of the way and called through the door. "Jeanne Monro Campbell? You in there?"

  "I am," Grandma answered.

  "Get your menfolk to put down their weapons, and I'll see these mangy coyotes do the same."

  "Done!" her grandmother replied.

  Fiona nudged Noah. "Go on in, boy. No one will hurt you." Noah did as he was told, and then Shaw's mother turned her angry stare on Drummond. "Ain't you got no manners, boy! I said put down that pistol."

  Drum shook his head. "No, ma'am. He shamed my sister, and he's going to marry her."

  Fiona snapped her revolver up, smashing it into Drum's rifle hand. He let out a yelp of pain and dropped his rifle just as she drove a hefty shoulder into him. Drum rocked back, slid off the wooden steps, and landed in the mud. "Best Jeanne should teach you to mind your elders," Fiona admonished. Then she turned her attention to Shaw and Rebecca. "Have you lost your minds? Get inside out of the rain."

  Shaw gave Rebecca a nudge. She darted inside, and he came after her. Fiona waited a moment, then called out, "I'm comin' in, Jeanne. If they shoot me, it's on your soul."

  Rebecca stared around the room. Noah was just inside the door, somewhat puzzled at this new game. Her father stood at the window, her brothers beside him. Poppa still clutched his rifle, but the barrel was pointed at the floor. Uncle Quinn was at the front of the church, guarding the west window. Reverend Jarrell, Eve, and Dagmar Hedger sat on the floor between the pews. When Eve saw her come through the door, she got up and came closer, careful to keep away from both the front door and the windows.

  "Cowards, the lot of you," Grandma said. She took off her coat and draped it over Rebecca's shoulders. "Are you satisfied, Campbell? You've made a fool of yourself and nearly gotten us all killed. And for what? Your honor?" She threw him a look of utter contempt. "Dagmar? Give me your cloak, woman. Your cloak." She motioned to the Norwegian woman's cape. "Yours is bigger than Eve's."

  Rebecca's grandmother handed the garment to Shaw's mother. "Put it on, Fiona. We'll keep the reverend busy performing funerals if you all stay wet." She glanced at Welsh. "You, boy. Start a fire in the stove."

  "This doesn't change anything, Mother," Rebecca's father said. "You know I didn't mean to hang Shaw. Quinn thought it would put a proper scare into him—make him go through with the wedding to Eve."

  "We didn't?" Drum said.

  Rebecca fumbled with the rope at Shaw's wrists. Her fingers were stiff and the knots wet. She looked at Noah. "Cut this rope," she said. Obediently, he pulled out his knife and began sawing at the ties.

  "What we need," Fiona said to Rebecca's grandmother, "is a talk."

  "Let Shaw marry Eve. Then we'll talk," her father said.

  "All right with you if Murdoch and my boys come in out of the rain?" Fiona asked. "We can let the preacher take charge of the weapons." She chuckled. "Just not mine."

  "Ma..." Shaw said.

  "You hold your tongue same as the rest. It's time you men listened." Fiona looked at Rebecca's father questioningly. "If I promise you that Eve will walk out of here a married woman, will you listen to reason?"

  Rebecca's father glanced at Quinn. Her uncle nodded. "It's what we come here for, isn't it?"

  John Jarrell got up and held out his hand. "Your gun, Quinn? Campbell? The rest of you?"

  "Get theirs first," Uncle Quinn said.

  Fiona went to the door. "Murdoch. Will. Ewen. Payton. Bruce. All of you. Come in here. And hand your firearms to the parson as you step inside. It's a truce."

  Shaw's father cursed. His mother replied with a more colorful profanity, concentrating on Murdoch's ancestry and intelligence.

  Shaw's hands came free.
He put an arm around Rebecca's shoulder, and she turned and hugged him. "This is a crazy place," she murmured. "We've got to get—"

  "Shh," he said. "Ma's got some kind of a plan."

  One by one his brothers filed into the church. Some handed their guns to Jarrell; others apparently had left their weapons outside. Bruce came in alone. Murdoch didn't show his face.

  "I s'pose I've got to go out after him," Fiona said. "He's proud, same as you, Campbell. And he's believed you've done him wrong for a long time." She glanced at Rebecca's grandmother. "Think you can keep these boys from killin' each other while I'm gone?"

  "Count on it," Rebecca's grandmother answered. She motioned to Reverend Jarrell as Fiona left the church. "This might not be a bad time for a Bible reading."

  Awkwardly, he stacked the guns on a pew seat. "If you'd all..." He cleared his throat. "If you'd all please bow your heads for a moment of prayer." Rebecca clasped Shaw's hand as the prayer ended, and Jarrell began to recite a passage of Scripture from memory.

  In the silence that followed, MacCades and Raeburns eyed each other with undisguised hostility. Eve, Dagmar, and Rebecca's grandmother joined the minister, blocking the pile of weapons with united determination.

  "Shaw," Rebecca whispered. "Maybe we should—"

  A blast of wind and rain blew through the open door as Murdoch MacCade flung it open. He strode in, followed by Fiona, their son Leslie, and two sons-in-law. "I hear you're ready to talk, Campbell," Murdoch declared. "This is your chance."

  "Not before your boy makes my daughter an honest woman!" Rebecca's father said.

  "Fair enough," Fiona said. She held out her hand to Eve. "You ready?"

  "Not to marry him," Eve protested, indicating Shaw.

  "No. Not him," Bruce said. Red-faced, he stepped forward. "Reckon this is the time and place, Eve."

  "Bruce?" Shaw said. "What the hell? What have you got to do with this?"

  A rumble rose from both sides of the church. Then Rebecca's father called out, "Are you Jamie's father?"

  "No, Mr. Raeburn, I'm not." Bruce straightened his shoulders and ran a nervous hand through his rain-soaked hair. "Laird was the boy's daddy. But he's dead, and we..." Shaw's cousin broke off, his usual garrulous self silenced by the tension contained in these four walls.