Romancing the Bride

by Melissa Jagears

  “I don’t remember that vow.”

  “Not a ceremony vow. I made it when I went back into the church.” She should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to keep it considering she’d failed to give up her old wedding ring.

  “I didn’t ask you to do that.” He brought up a hand to cup her face. “He was your first love and the father of your children, not someone you should erase from your memory.”

  “Though I should, shouldn’t I? Finding out that he was a...” She still couldn’t voice the word murderer. It just didn’t ring true, though it seemed as if it had to be.

  “What you learned of him after he died doesn’t change the fact that he was a man you deeply loved, right?”

  She shook her head against him, strangely comforted by talking about Gregory aloud, despite Jacob being the last person she’d thought she should be talking to about this.

  “Then don’t try to forget him, not because of a mistake he made, or for my sake either. I mean...” Jacob shifted and propped himself up to look down at her, his eyes blinking heavily. “If I died tomorrow, I wouldn’t want you to forget about me whenever you remarried. If you did...” His voice faded into a whisper. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to, even though I know you’re not in love with me. So why would I ask you to forget about a man you did love?”

  “You’re wrong about that.”

  “You didn’t love him?” He rubbed an eye as a yawn overtook him, though he spoke through it. “But if that’s the—?”

  “No.” She put a finger against his mouth as he finished his yawn. “You’re wrong about me not being in love with you. I haven’t told you yet, because I thought it’d be best if I—”

  “You love me?” He held his breath.

  “Yes.” How could she not?

  He snuggled back down against her and placed a kiss against her hairline. “I love you too. If it weren’t ... so late...”

  He placed a couple more kisses against her temple before his body slowly went limp with sleep.

  She ran her hand across his jaw and up to smooth the hair sticking out at a funny angle behind his ear, allowing herself all the time she desired to take in his features, pale in the moonlight, more content in sleep than she’d ever seen him.

  Why had she ever cared what anyone thought of her loving such a man?

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Celia rubbed her eyes, but they insisted on staying at half-mast, not that it was bright enough to see much anymore.

  Though she’d slept plenty the night before, her body was ready to call it quits. Thankfully her horse didn’t need much prodding to follow the group, and she could doze as she rode.

  Rufus and Guy better come through with the gold they’d promised, otherwise working all day hunched over the river wasn’t worth it.

  And this cattle rustling job?

  Being lookout for rustlers was bad enough, so she’d not insisted on knowing the pay beforehand. But doing nothing more than staying alert wasn’t too terrible, right? Especially since there’d likely be nobody out this late at night.

  Ahead of her, the backside of Daniel’s horse disappeared into shadow. What was left of the moon barely illuminated the ground around her.

  “Wait up.” She kicked her buckskin harder, but the nag continued at a lullaby’s pace. She hadn’t the heart to kick the horse again—the old thing had to be more tired than she was. Tired enough to die on the spot if she weren’t careful how she handled the beast.

  “I’m not waiting around for some girl.” Daniel’s voice echoed against a nearby rock wall.

  His horse sped up, leaving her in the dust.

  “I don’t need you.” Celia spit toward Daniel, but most of her spittle clung to her lips. She furiously swiped at her mouth.

  Daniel used to want her around. Even claimed she was fun—unlike the prissy girls at school. But ever since she’d started working the river, he’d treated her like a miserable kid tag along.

  Just like she treated Spencer.

  Biting her lip, Celia concentrated on the clomp and stomp of her swayback horse. The animal walked slowly, unintimidated by their shadowy surroundings.

  The small glow of a campfire ahead turned the river’s rippling water into a dance of lights. The muffled male voices grew distinctly into Rufus and Guy cussing at each other.

  The other day, she’d tried spouting off a few of their forbidden words, but they hadn’t sat right. Maybe they’d eventually feel natural.

  But did she want to be like them? How could she live like Rufus—sporting near rags for clothing, an ugly fighting scar on his left cheek, matted hair growing out in scraggly swaths, and a stench only bathing with something stronger than soap could rectify? She’d be unfit for anybody’s company except scoundrels like these.

  She pressed a hand to her stomach, which rolled with the sway of her horse’s slow gait. Weeks ago, she’d overheard the marshal talking of a gal named Belle Starr in Arkansas, a rough woman who’d been sent to prison for horse thieving.

  Celia glanced down at her oversized shirt, her body odor imbuing the fabric covered in stains large enough to see in the dim firelight. Did Ms. Starr look and smell like this?

  At the camp, the silhouettes of Rufus and Guy stood next to a very short man, whose sombrero seemed as wide as he was tall.

  A lump wriggled near the visitor’s feet.

  Celia sat straighter in her saddle and squinted at the blurry shape—it wasn’t an animal being made ready for the spit, but a person, bound and gagged. Long hair fluttered about the captive’s head—a woman.

  A violent shiver rolled through her, leaving a trail of prickles along her arms. With a jerk of the reins, Celia slowed her plodding horse to a near standstill. Were they kidnapping a woman?

  The short man leapt into the saddle of a nearby horse and nodded at Daniel, who’d entered the circle of campfire light. “Don’t do her major harm. Boss only wants her shaken up for her husband’s benefit.”

  The voice of the tiny man sounded familiar, but the only man she knew that size was her father’s old foreman, Tom Passey.

  She pulled her nag sideways into the hanging branches of a willow. If he caught a glimpse of her, would he rat her out to the marshal?

  No. If he tattled on her, she’d snitch on him.

  But didn’t Tom work for the mayor now?

  Mayor McGill already owned more cattle than anyone else, did he really need more?

  She shook her head in disgust. Could Mr. Whitsett and the marshal be shady, too?

  No, the marshal couldn’t be. He was too much of a stickler for rule-following.

  After slipping from her saddle, she tied her horse to a tree near the fire.

  The short cowboy yanked on his horse’s reins, and the poor animal fought against the bit as he made the small horse turn sharply. “Then again, no reason not to have some fun with her. Just don’t leave marks.” He thundered away in the direction of town, the man’s teensy legs bouncing against his horse’s ribs.

  With her thumbs tucked into her pockets, Celia looked surreptitiously at the woman hunched near the campfire’s glow, then moseyed over to the riverside where Daniel was arguing with Rufus.

  “She can’t see me, or she’ll turn me in.” Daniel’s whisper hissed like the green branches Guy was throwing into the flames.

  “She knows me. Her, too.” He jerked his thumb toward Celia. “Goes to church with her folks.”

  Celia stopped beside Daniel and squinted in an attempt to see through the blurry darkness obscuring the woman. The hostage’s hair fell in a curtain around her bowed head.

  Guy spat on the ground as he moseyed over. “With it being nearly the new moon and two of the ranch hands feverish, there’s no better time for cutting out so many head. Boss expects us to round up the cattle tonight.”

  “How does he expect us to do two jobs at once?” Rufus growled, and his hand shot out and gripped Celia’s wrist. She jerked her arm, but he held tightly. “Daniel still hangs around about town
, but you don’t. Won’t matter if the woman knows who you are if you ain’t intending to go back.”

  Celia wet her lips and stared at the captive. “Who is she?”

  “Leah Whitsett,” Daniel answered.

  Celia’s lungs sucked in a quick, short breath. “Whatever could she have done?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Boss’s orders.” Rufus’s hand tightened around her. “But I can’t be taking care of no woman when there’s a bigger job to do.”

  Celia’s breathing grew shallow. She didn’t want to go home. But as sure as sagebrush covered Wyoming, Leah would inform the marshal where she was the minute she returned to Armelle.

  Guy stepped closer. “Why don’t we just leave her here? She can’t go nowhere.”

  “Because someone could follow Passey’s tracks.” Rufus shook his head. “Naw, we take her with. Rough her up and drop her at that abandoned farm north of the county line tomorrow. By the time she stumbles into town, we’ll be well on our way to Helena.”

  “Helena?” Daniel whined. “You expect us to go all the way there and back?”

  Rufus and Guy exchanged guarded looks.

  Daniel crossed his arms. “I’m not helping unless I get paid up front.”

  “We don’t need no whiny kid to deal with on top of this. Go home.” Guy snarled. “And if you don’t want to find yourself ground into mincemeat, you keep things to yourself.”

  Daniel tried to stare the older man down, but his gaze eventually dropped to the dirt at his feet. He turned to Celia. “Let’s go.”

  She bit her lip and sized up the filthy men cloaked in their usual skunk-like aroma. Her memory burned with overheard snippets of the men’s conversation while they’d separated silt from sand. Talk like she’d never heard about what happened between a man and a woman in houses of ill repute.

  Last week, she hadn’t even known what those houses along the tracks were.

  Did Tom’s comment of having fun with Leah mean what she thought it meant?

  Guy tapped his foot impatiently. “If you keep your mouth shut, the woman won’t recognize you with your short hair and pants.”

  Celia fingered the hacked lock tickling her ear. Rufus had seemed to lose interest in her when she’d drastically changed her appearance, but Leah was beautiful, well-formed, and defenseless. Just last week, this woman had hugged her and told her she loved her, despite the fact she’d done nothing worthy of the woman’s affection.

  Could she live with herself if she left Leah alone with these two?

  But if they released her as Tom had told them to, why didn’t the mayor expect the Whitsetts to press charges? Surely Leah had recognized Tom, and if not, describing him would easily lead to his arrest, for who else was that short and wore such a fancy getup?

  Something didn’t add up. Celia scratched her head, scraping loose a disgusting layer of caked dirt. “I’ll stay.”

  Her presence would hopefully ensure Leah was left with nothing more than bumps and bruises.

  “Then let’s go.” Rufus slapped his cowboy hat against his leg before jamming it on his head. “Guy, throw the woman over the mule and tie the lead to Celia’s saddle.”

  Daniel took hold of her wrist. “Staying ain’t smart. Get out while the gettin’s good.”

  Daniel hadn’t proved himself to be the friend she’d thought he was, though it was nice to know he cared a little. “Leah being here gives me no choice. I don’t want to go home, but I can’t stay with Rufus and Guy forever.” One day, she’d gain back Rufus’s attention by growing up a little too much. “Helena’s as good a place as any.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Cattle drives aren’t a jolly picnic.”

  She pulled her wrist from Daniel’s grasp and crossed her arms to keep them from shaking. Now that the reality of leaving home was sinking in, she couldn’t fathom never seeing Ma or Spencer again—she’d even miss the marshal a little.

  Daniel mounted his horse and turned his gelding toward Armelle.

  Celia sniffed and wiped her nose against her sleeve. Closing her eyes, she willed herself not to get back on her horse and follow after Daniel. She couldn’t leave Leah alone. Perhaps if she kept her identity concealed, once they let Leah go, she could sneak back into town and let someone know where they’d dropped her off without getting caught.

  Guy walked over to Leah and pulled her to stand. “Soon, it’ll be just you and me, darling.”

  Leah turned her face from his, pushing against him with her bound wrists.

  Daniel’s silhouette faded into the horizon.

  He’d actually, truly left.

  Swoony smiles were good for nothing.

  Guy hoisted Leah onto his shoulder, slung her across his mule, then patted Leah’s rump before bending to tie her ankles and wrists beneath the animal’s belly.

  Celia’s heart chugged at a terrible speed. Maybe she should race after Daniel.

  Guy tipped Leah’s face up and licked his lips. “As soon as we get the cattle rounded up, we’ll have some fun.”

  He dropped her head, and Leah didn’t so much as whimper, though she was holding her head at an awkward angle since her arms were too close together to lie flat.

  The men chortled, and Rufus slapped Guy’s back as he talked loudly to Leah about their “fun” plans for her.

  Celia’s cheeks burned hotter than a dozen campfires.

  She couldn’t stay with these men—she had to leave—tonight.

  But not without Leah. She couldn’t live with herself if she abandoned one of the few nice adults she knew to these guys.

  But how would she get away? If these ruffians caught her, things would be worse—so much worse.

  Leah turned her head toward Guy as he finished tightening her knots. “Please, don’t do this.” Her whisper-soft voice trembled. “You don’t need to do this.”

  Celia closed her eyes. That tiny bedroom back at the marshal’s hadn’t been so bad after all.

  Bryant’s hand trembled on the doorknob to his house. No light escaped from around the door, and the crypt-like stillness hadn’t changed from the last time he’d been here, just hours ago.

  A cricket hidden somewhere behind the cold cook stove chirped its annoying nighttime song. “Leah?”

  No answer.

  He lighted the lantern and checked every room, even peering under beds and behind furniture this time. Ridiculous to think his wife would be under any of them, but if she wasn’t here and she wasn’t at his daughter and son-in-law’s...

  He’d visited them first, but he hadn’t told Ava her mother was missing. Their daughter was too close to giving birth to frighten her. Jennie’s special boarding school was too far away to visit without Leah talking to him first. And he’d dropped by the houses of their friends, mentioning Leah had thought about visiting them today, though she’d never said such a thing.

  No trace of her.

  This morning, all she’d discussed with him was what she was planning for supper. But the kitchen hadn’t even been cleaned up after lunch.

  The only other place he could think Leah might be was with McGill, but the man couldn’t be that dastardly.

  She could be dead.

  He needed help. Needed it now.

  He left his house and nearly ran five blocks to pound on the Hendrixes’ back door.

  Annie opened the door, her eyes bloodshot and underscored with sleepless bags. Her shoulders deflated upon seeing him.

  She’d probably hoped Celia was the one knocking.

  The girl had been gone for days, which wasn’t too surprising; the little vixen was as hot-headed as they came.

  Leah, however, wouldn’t so much as change the supper menu without asking him if he minded.

  He swiped off his hat and held it in front of him. “Have you seen my wife?”

  The last time he’d been by, Annie had been gone, likely searching for her girl.

  She shook her head.

  Telling her of Leah’s disappearance would only add to he
r worry, but he had to tell someone—had to get help. “Is Jake home?”

  “Yes.” Jacob stepped around her and opened the door wider. “Let the man come in, Anne.”

  She stepped back, and Jacob lifted an eyebrow. “What brings you here so late?”

  Bryant stepped into the cozy warmth of their kitchen. “Leah didn’t make me supper.”

  “Did you not deserve food?”

  Jacob’s sarcasm wasn’t funny in the least tonight.

  “No.” His throat went dry, but he scratched out some words. “She’s missing and...”

  Jacob’s eyes lost their twinkle. “Let’s look around town, shall we?” He grabbed his coat and then cupped Annie’s chin. “Please get some sleep.”

  At their tender kiss, Bryant turned on his heel. He’d wait for Jacob on the porch.

  A few moments later, the door clicked shut behind him, and Jacob came near, tugging on his jacket. “When did you last see her?”

  “This morning. That’s all I know.”

  “Did she find out about your gambling?”

  Bryant shook his head. Even if she had, she’d not leave without telling him.

  “Surely, someone’s seen her.” Jacob led him toward the livery where they saddled their horses.

  His friend’s silence confirmed every fear piercing his heart. Leah wouldn’t be gone unless something terrible had happened—even Jacob knew that.

  Once atop his horse, Jacob pointed to the right side of Main Street. “You go north. I’ll go south. We’ll stop at any house you have connections with, meet up on the other side of town.”

  * * *

  An hour later, Bryant rode up to Jacob’s mare grazing in the deep shadows at the edge of town. “Learn anything?”

  “Nobody’s seen her since this morning. You?”

  Bryant tried not to let the churning in his gut overwhelm him. “Same.”

  “You don’t think someone would want to hurt her?” Jacob gathered Duchess’s reins and remounted.

  “Leah doesn’t have a single enemy.”

  “But you?”

  McGill. Would the bully sink so low as to kidnap his wife to prod him into doing what he refused to do? His fingernails clawed into his hat brim. “Perhaps I do know where she is.”