A Highwayman's Mail Order Bride

by Blythe Carver

  Jed got up to join him, just in case there was trouble and he needed the extra help. Why in the hell did he care? Damn it, he liked the man far too much. At least he could rest easy knowing Melissa would be with a good, honest fellow.

  Outside, surrounded by four rather surly looking hands, was a tall, thick-shouldered man with raven-black hair and hard, dark eyes which shifted back and forth as he sized up the men around him. The way he held himself told Jed he was ready for a fight.

  He might even be looking for one.

  Jed disliked him intensely even before he stepped over the threshold, a few paces behind the owner of the house.

  “What can I help you with?” Mark asked, hands on hips as he looked down at the man before him.

  “I’ve come to collect what’s mine. I believe you’ll want to hear what I have to say.” He lifted his chin, a strangely triumphant smile on his face. “In fact, I know you will. You need to know who it is you think you’re about to take as your wife.”

  Just like that, it was all clear.

  How had he?

  How was it possible?

  At the same time, light footsteps rang out behind him, coming closer. No. It couldn’t be. This was all going to explode into something more terrible than anything he could imagine.

  Jed turned, intent on stopping her from coming out.

  Desperate to stop her.

  “Don’t,” he managed to say, a second before her husband saw her.

  “Melissa.” John spat the name out as though it were a curse. “It’s been a long time, wife.”

  “Wife?” Mark asked.

  Melissa’s eyes widened into two horrified, panicked orbs. Her lovely face shifted into a mask of terror.

  “That’s what I said.” John jabbed a finger in Jed’s direction, sneering. “And that’s the man who kidnapped her from the stagecoach.”

  21

  It couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t possibly be happening. She must have fallen asleep in that big, soft feather bed upstairs, after taking the longest bath she’d ever enjoyed.

  She must have been dreaming this. Her inner thoughts were still tied up in John Carter and his evil, vicious ways. She could not stop dreaming about him.

  But that did not mean he truly stood before her in the front yard of what was soon to be her home, for that would be impossible. There was no earthly way he could have found her.

  Yet when she blinked hard, a gesture which normally woke her when she was aware of a nightmare and wished to escape, nothing happened. She remained in the front hall, just inside the door, still looking out at the man who could not possibly be there.

  But he was. And he laughed that same nasty laugh at the sight of her dismay.

  “There she is. The woman I traveled all this way to find.” John shook his head, then glanced at Mark from the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t blame you if you killed her for this—or the man who came with her.”

  “Wait just a minute.” Mark stepped between them, blessedly blocking John from her view. “What is this all about? Who are you?”

  “John Carter, of Boston, Massachusetts. That woman has been my wife for a year. And have you forgotten that the man she’s with is the one who kidnapped her? I suggest you get him under your control before he pulls out a pistol.”

  Mark turned, a pained look on his face. “Is this true?”

  When Jed didn’t answer quickly enough, Mark nodded to his men. “Take him inside. Tie him to a chair in the study, make certain he’s disarmed.”

  Words of dismay, words of defense, pleas and bargains came to Melissa’s mind, but none of them would form on her deadened tongue. Something about the presence of that evil man silenced her. All of the daring she’d built up over the weeks of travel dissolved like a lump of sugar in a cup of tea.

  She could only watch helplessly as the men who’d only just surrounded John enclosed Jed instead. They all but carried him into the house, muttering amongst themselves in angry tones.

  He did not look at her.

  Mark met her gaze instead. “Come inside. I want to have this out.” He took her elbow before looking over his shoulder. “You, too. Just remember you are a guest in my house, sir.”

  Melissa was careful to keep her eyes low, on the floor, away from the brute she’d lost a year of her life to.

  How had he found her, the devil? Only he would go to such lengths. Mark’s hand was firm, gripping her tightly as he led her to the study where Jed was already tied to a chair at his wrists and ankles.

  What did he think of her? And of the weeks he’d spent waiting? She could never make it up to him.

  “Now.” Mark deposited her beside his desk—he was not rough, but the gentleness he’d shown her up until now had gone away—before sitting behind it in a leather chair. “What is this really all about? I would ask you to explain yourself, sir.”

  “I am not the one who needs to explain,” John spat, throwing his head back in a gesture of pride Melissa had seen many times before. “She is, as well as the thief who brought her here.”

  “What makes you call him a thief?” Mark looked to Jed, who sat straight in the chair.

  Jed did not cower, did not look elsewhere or even appear apologetic. In fact, he looked furious.

  He glared at John with such intensity, it was a wonder her husband did not burst into flame. John, naturally, was unaware of this or simply did not care.

  “His name is Jed, is it not?” he asked, arching one heavy, black eyebrow. “One of the men who survived that terrible robbery heard one of the robbers refer to the man who rode off with my wife as Jed.”

  Of course, they had. The fools. They weren’t supposed to use anyone’s name—and of all the names they could have shared, it was Jed’s.

  Mark frowned, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he studied Jed. “Have you anything to say for yourself?”

  “What could he possibly have to say?” John laughed.

  “I don’t recall asking you, sir.” Mark’s eyes reflected the hardness in his voice. “I was speaking to Jed.”

  For the first time, John appeared to back down. For once, he was not the strongest man in the room. Mark Furnish might have appeared gentle and kind on the surface—and perhaps he was—but beneath that was a core of steel.

  If nothing came of this but the chance to see him cut down to size, it would be worthwhile.

  Jed glared at John. “I was one of the men who robbed the stagecoach.”

  Melissa’s heart sank, both for him and for Mark.

  “Why did you go to the trouble of bringing Melissa here?” Mark asked.

  “Because she asked me for help. My men died or ran off, leaving only me. I had no wish to continue in the vein I’d started in and offered to let her go—but rather than allow her to wander alone with no money and no sense of where she was, I agreed to escort her here.”

  “Such a gentleman,” John snorted.

  “You’re one to talk,” Jed fired back, his hands working, his arms straining against the rope restraints. “I ought to tear your head off for the things you’ve done to her. Why do you think she went to this trouble? Because she adored being your wife?” Jed snarled in laughter. “Your wife. More like something to kick around like a stray dog.”

  “Wait, wait.” Mark raised his voice over the others as he stood. “I’m the one asking questions, and this is still my house. I would thank you both to remain quiet unless you’re asked to speak.”

  John threw back his broad shoulders. “This is ridiculous, and I refuse to play nice in front of these two simply because you told me to do so. I’m not a child. I’m a man who is claiming what’s his.”

  “Do you have proof of that claim?” Mark asked.

  John blinked. “Do I what?”

  “Have proof that she’s your wife. Do you have a marriage certificate I can review?”

  Melissa met John’s eyes for the first time since he’d arrived, her spine stiffening as she found her voice. “I would like to see it,
too, since I never have.”

  “Shut up,” he snarled, his vicious nature bubbling to the surface—as she’d known it would the moment they shared words.

  “Do not speak to her that way,” Mark warned. “Your own wife has never seen proof of your marriage?”

  “She wears the ring I gave her,” John pointed out. “And it was good enough for her to live under my roof, supported by me when her family didn’t have money or food enough to keep her.”

  His thin mouth curved into a nasty smile then, as he looked her up and down. She knew that smile. It was the smile he wore before he was about to land a terrible blow. He’d once knocked her to the floor with a single slap to her face after smiling that way.

  Just the sight of it made her fear she might lose her water there in the middle of the room.

  “Not to mention the fact that she’s carrying my child,” he added, still smiling.

  The room went silent. Even the ranch hands lingering in the corner froze in place as though time itself had stopped in the face of this devastating announcement.

  How did he know? How had he always managed to remain a step ahead of her?

  Mark, bless him, sat down with a thud. “Come again?”

  “She’s carrying a child. My child. I suspect she would have pretended it was yours,” John chuckled. “You owe me quite a lot, Mr. Furnish. I’ve spared you a great deal of embarrassment.”

  “How did you know?” she whispered. She needed to understand, regardless of the fact that none of it mattered.

  “Did you truly believe Dr. Hawkins would remain silent simply because you asked him to?” John murmured, his head tilted to the side. “Did you think he would refuse to tell a husband, a father-to-be, of his wife’s condition after hearing she’d run away? That child is mine, and you are mine, and as such, I deserve to know where you are and what you’ve done. I’ve crossed the country in search of you after the station master told me he’d seen you board a train to St. Louis. After that, I followed the route the stagecoach took and heard of the robbery. I followed you all the way out here—but I guess I made better time, since I waited in town three days for you to arrive.”

  He turned to Mark. “It was because of you that I knew I’d hit the right place. You were waiting for your bride-to-be, who was captured in a robbery. I admit, I was stunned—I still didn’t know then that she’d planned to wed, but it made sense once I got over the shock of it. Yes, sir. She intended to make fools of us both.”

  “What of the fool you made of me?” she asked, gripping the side of the desk for support. With the men around, she could finally ask what had weighed on her since three days after their supposed wedding. “You granted me a pitiful excuse for a wedding which might not even have been legal. You waited three days before the beatings began.”

  “Beatings,” he sniffed, shaking his head.

  She opened her mouth, pointing inside. “You knocked out three of my teeth when I burned your toast on the fourth morning of our married life. Do you remember?” She touched the back of her head. “There will always be a scar from the time you struck me, and I fell against the bedpost. There are stormy days when I cannot use my right arm very well. Do you remember dislocating my shoulder?”

  “I refuse to listen to any more of this,” John growled, leaning over the desk.

  “I, for one, would like to hear it,” Mark said, standing by her side.

  This bolstered her even further. “You call yourself a husband when you speak of me as though I was nothing but property you bought one day. You would treat your child the same if you even allowed it to be born, if you managed to keep from beating it out of me. Yes. I came out here to make a new life for my child, and I would have lied to this good, kind man just to make sure my baby and I had a decent place to live and security, which we would never have gotten if I stayed with you. I’ve finally met good men, honest men who don’t believe in hurting women to make themselves feel strong, and you are nothing compared to them. You are weak and cowardly, and I hate you.”

  He lunged for her before she had the chance to duck him, his massive hand making contact with the side of her head hard enough to send stars dancing in front of her eyes. She fell against the desk and slid to the floor.

  A burst of shouts came from all sides as John took a handful of her hair and pulled her to her knees. She gripped his wrist in an effort to prevent him from tearing her hair clean out, Jed’s screams and curses filling her head.

  “Let go of her!” Mark shouted. “You will not do this!” He scuffled with John, who would not release her. John pushed him away before pulling his arm back to strike her again—this time, his hand was curled into a fist.

  “I’ll kill the bitch if I damn well choose!” John roared over the shouts and warnings all around him.

  Melissa crossed her arms over her head, bracing herself for the blow.

  The crack of a gunshot startled a yelp from her throat. The smell of gunpowder filled the air, all but choking her.

  The hand in her hair relaxed. Released.

  John’s powerful body fell to the floor, powerful no more.

  Melissa blinked rapidly, one hand against the side of her face where a bruise would most certainly form.

  At first, she couldn’t believe what she saw. A red rose blooming against the white of John’s shirt, over his chest. His dark eyes, no longer hard and mean but wide, unblinking.

  Unseeing.

  She looked up at the hand extended to her. Mark’s hand.

  In the other was the still-smoking pistol he’d used to shoot her husband dead.

  “You were right about one thing,” he growled on helping her to her feet. “I cannot abide a man who would hurt a woman.”

  22

  Jed was certain he’d never been so surprised.

  Or relieved.

  Or envious, as he’d wanted to be the one to take the man down.

  “Untie him,” Mark ordered his men as Jed comforted Melissa, who trembled and turned her face from her dead husband. Jed had wasted no time in leaping from the chair and going to her.

  She turned to him, leaned against his chest, allowed him to enfold her in his arms. “I wanted to be the one to do it,” he murmured in her ear, holding her as tight as she would let him.

  “I know,” she mumbled against his chest.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jed caught Mark’s perceptive gaze, and his sigh as he understood and took a step away from them.

  He turned to the men. “I suppose there’ll be an inquest. Somebody better ride for Doc Perkins, not that it’ll do this scoundrel much good.”

  “You won’t get in trouble, will you?” Melissa asked, pulling away from Jed and taking Mark’s arm.

  He patted her hand. “I have several witnesses including yourself. It was done in your defense.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You don’t need to.” He nodded to another of the men. “Please head down to the ice house and fetch some for Melissa’s cheek, would you? And I believe we ought to get you out of here, away from this bloody mess.”

  He turned to Melissa, frowning. “Maybe you ought to lie down and rest until we’re certain you’re well. Doc Perkins can come up and take a look at you when he arrives.” He glanced down at her stomach before quickly turning his eyes away.

  She took his meaning. “Yes, I think I ought to. Are you… sure you don’t mind? It’s all right if I do?”

  His eyebrows lifted in silent question—but this, too, he understood. “If you mean, would I turn away a woman in a delicate condition because she was desperate to escape an animal like that, the answer is no. I would never do any such thing. When Seth returns with the ice, you lie down and take care of yourself.”

  She did just that, casting one more look over her shoulder to where Jed stood before climbing the stairs. He was careful to maintain a smile until she was out of sight.

  He looked at Mark.

  Mark looked at him.

  “I be
lieve we could both use another drink,” he decided, waving Jed into the drawing room across from the study. “Good thing I keep a supply handy. Not that I’m too overly fond of it, mind you, but I believe in having it close at hand for my guests, wherever they happen to be in the house.”

  Jed followed him with caution. What was this? Some sort of game? He watched as Mark went to a cabinet and withdrew another decanter, another pair of glasses.

  When he turned to hand one of them to Jed, it was time to speak. “What do you intend to do now? What is this all about?”

  Mark blinked, then nodded. “Right. Of course. You want to know what I think about what that nasty bastard said before I shot him.”

  “A good shot,” Jed observed.

  “I’m a dead eye when it counts,” Mark muttered before draining half the whiskey in the glass. He took a slow breath after swallowing, steadying himself. Jed noticed for the first time how his hands shook slightly, as though reality was setting in.

  “But what of what he said? I won’t lie to you anymore. I did kidnap Melissa with the intention of ransoming her to you.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  The frankness of the question and the curiosity in Mark’s voice surprised him, made it difficult to answer right away. “I—I hoped to use it to buy some land for myself. The money, I mean.”

  “You made a career of robbing stagecoaches before this last robbery, I assume.” He perched on a windowsill in the vast, airy room, somehow managing to look casual. As though he shot men in his home every day.

  Jed was careful to hold his gaze, to return Mark’s frankness. “I did. For several years.”

  “Because you no longer had a home to go to?”

  “That’s a large part of it, yes. I needed money. I needed a way to live. I had no skills outside ranching and, well, I feared that word of the accident at my pa’s ranch had gotten around. There was no one to write to for references, as everyone had scattered to the four winds.”

  “What was this accident all about? Can you tell me?”

  And so, Jed told him in the briefest, simplest way he could of the accident which claimed his brother’s life. After having shared with Melissa, it became easier to speak of it. Yet another thing he could thank her for.