by Ciara Knight
He removed his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Listen, it’s okay if you need help.”
“I don’t.” She sat down under the guise of organizing the food, but in reality, she needed a second to cool off in the shade of the wagon and drink some water.
“Understood.” Jeb unhitched the wagon and took the horses.
The sun was fierce, and the dust caked onto her face, but she had work to do. If she could survive the war, she could survive a few days of driving cattle. With a bucket in hand, she hobbled over to the creek and scooped up water, then returned to find sticks. Only, they hadn’t pulled up near any, so she made her way over to the few trees a couple of hundred paces away.
With determined steps, she managed to make the trek and return with the knowledge she’d proven to herself that she was as strong as she wanted to be. After building the fire and putting the water on, she threw the raw vegetables that she needed to use before they went bad into the pot, and then she added the chunks of meat. She left it simmering while she took out the sourdough bread she’d made early in the morning, then sliced the bread into big chunks. When she realized the men weren’t showing up with mouths open and whining for their stew, she wondered what they were up to.
She made her way around the wagon and spotted the men near the cattle, hands raised over their heads. Four men on horseback looked down on them with guns in their hands. Without a thought, she snagged her shotgun and raced to the trees. No way she was gonna let someone take her future again. Even if she died protecting it.
Chapter Twelve
Jeb boiled under the hot sun and his anger. If there was one thing he couldn’t stand, it was criminals, and these men were not taking his cattle. He reached for his gun, but the man with a scar down the right side of his face moved forward, gun straight at Jeb’s temple. “Try it.”
He held out his hands to his side, and one of the men dismounted and removed Jeb’s gun from his holster.
“Go check out that wagon over there,” the scar-faced man ordered one of his crew.
Samuel lunged forward, and the man atop his horse fired at his feet.
“No need. I’m the cook. Was helping out here before I started making grub,” Teddy announced.
Jeb kicked himself for leaving a woman defenseless and alone. He knew he shouldn’t have brought Elizabeth along. With a quick scan of the men, he attempted to formulate a plan. He needed a good one if he had a prayer of fighting them off. Based on the scars on some of them, he guessed they’d been in the war. Something Jeb had never experienced, and therefore wasn’t trained for, either. But if he could get one of them off their horse, he could take him fist to fist. He hated to admit it, but maybe Elizabeth would provide enough distraction for him to take down the leader.
The men eyed one another, looking like pups with their mama disappearing. Jeb readied to move, knowing he might be shot, but he’d save the others. It was his job as trail boss to protect everyone.
“No one here,” the man yelled from the front of the wagon.
All the men turned to look at him. Jeb searched the wagon to see if he could spot Elizabeth, but he didn’t catch sight of her. Good, she must’ve seen the men and hid. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about her.
“Look again,” Scar-face yelled.
The man shrugged and went around the side of the wagon. They all waited, but he didn’t return.
“Jake!” Scar-face shouted, but nothing. “Go see where he’s gone off to.”
One of the other men dismounted his horse and jogged to the wagon, disappeared around the side, then returned. “Been knocked out,” he shouted. “Tied to the wagon wheel.”
That was Jeb’s moment, and he took it. He lunged toward the scar-faced man, but a shot rang out and his horse spooked, clobbering Jeb with a hoof to the shoulder.
Blinding pain sliced through his arm and neck. Jeb gasped. The hot sting shot from neck to hips to toes. The horse reared again. Jeb rolled away, hammering the pain deeper into his ribs and neck. He threw his legs around catching the man’s foot and sending him tumbling forward. His gun lurched from his grip, and Jeb pounced on top of it.
Shots echoed across the land, and shouts rang in between. The head man hid behind his horse and continued to fire toward the wagon. Jeb dared a quick scan of the terrain and saw red hair through the trees taking fire. “Elizabeth!”
She didn’t listen, or couldn’t hear him, but instead of staying crouched behind a stump, she stood and fired like a soldier on the battlefield.
One took a hit to the side, which scattered the men. Scar-face lifted his gun and aimed for Elizabeth. Still suffering from the horse’s kick, Jeb’s arm wouldn’t move. It was stuck at his waist, where he couldn’t move it any higher. With no time to switch, he took aim at the height his injured arm would allow and fired at the man’s boot. A loud growl sounded followed by hoofs against the packed ground.
The man turned and raised his gun at Jeb. The scar on his right cheek ran from the edge of his eye to the edge of his lips.
“No one is taking anything else away from me. You hear?” Elizabeth sounded closer. Both of them looked up to discover her marching toward them, and they both saw killing in her eyes. “Not now, not ever again.” She kept the butt of the gun braced to her shoulder and fired, sending the leader scrambling for his horse. With only one foot in the stirrup he raced away, keeping his body behind the mare’s flank.
Smoke drifted around them. The smell of cordite filled the air. One more shot fired from the shotgun before Jeb could manage to stand and stumble toward her.
“It’s okay, they’re gone.”
Her eyes were wild, almost as wild as the curls that had escaped their confinement. The darkness told him she’d seen too much. The way her body was present, but her gaze far off, told him she knew what war was. He’d seen that look enough in men’s eyes, but seeing it in hers made his heart compete with his shoulder for the most searing pain.
“Elizabeth, look at me.” Jeb achieved another tumble forward, but he only managed to catch his balance a second before plowing into Elizabeth.
She didn’t lower the gun or blink at him. How was he supposed to get her back to the present? He’d slapped a man to get his attention, but that wasn’t an option with her. The way her lip stayed firm and her arms tight, she looked bigger than her tiny, less-than-five-foot-four frame.
The men began running over to them hooting and hollering praise for Elizabeth, but Jeb held up his hand to keep them a few paces away. He’d seen men turn the gun or fists to the closest person, thinking they were the enemy.
“You’re safe. Lower the gun.” Jeb dropped his voice to a low, calm tone. “You did it, you ran them off, saved us all.”
She blinked twice.
“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be a dead man,” he said. Distant clomping still sounded and drew her attention, so he dared another step, stopped a breath from her cheek, and whispered, “Thank you.”
Her arms shook, her bottom lip quivered. “Everyone’s safe?” Her red hair floated in the wind, brushing Jeb’s cheek. It was the softest thing that had ever touched his skin.
“I believe so, let’s go check on them.” He rested a hand on the top of the rifle and nudged it lower.
She continued lowering the gun until it rested at her side and she looked at him. Her eyes were wide and full of tears, but she wouldn’t let the tears fall. Instead, she swallowed and cleared her throat. With a side step, she turned and scanned the area, looking at each of the men standing a few paces away, gawking with mouths open. “Anyone hurt?”
The men shuffled closer. Teddy shook his head. “No, ma’am. You took care of those men but good.”
Samuel clapped his hands together twice. “I thought those men were going to—”
“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” Bart said. “I think that name they called you fits.”
“Name?” Elizabeth asked, her voice shaking.
“Fire lady, on account of
your fierceness and red hair, I’d imagine,” Teddy said with a hint of pride.
Elizabeth chuckled. “I’ve been called worse.” She turned back to Jeb and gasped. “You’re hurt!”
Jeb followed her gaze to his right arm. Blood saturated his sleeve, but he’d forgotten all about the pain. And now, as if his eyes were poking the wound, his pain lit up in a blaze. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming but couldn’t stand any longer. He fell to his knees with a curse. Before he could get any words out, the men surrounded him, and Elizabeth was kneeling on the ground beside him.
She handed the rifle off to Samuel. “Let me see.”
Jeb looked to his men, not wanting to expose the woman to any more gore, but before he could protest, she poked her fingers into the tear in his shirt and ripped it open. “You’ve dislocated your shoulder.”
“More accurate to say the horse dislocated it.”
“And who decided to stand there and let his horse kick him?” He opened his mouth to retort, but she pushed on his flesh until blood bubbled out of his skin on his arm, and it was all he could not to scream. “Need stiches, too. Can’t move you until I reset that arm. It’s gonna hurt, though.”
Teddy squatted by them both. “How we do that?”
Elizabeth pushed the hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ears, then took his forearm gently in her hands. “It’s not that difficult.” She rotated his forearm away from his body.
He ground his teeth through the pain.
“Just breathe and think about something that makes you happy or calm,” she said while tightening her grip on his wrist. “Think about all that money you’re going to get when you reach that camp.”
Before he could respond, she rotated his arm further and pushed up and in.
“Ahhhh!” The scream he’d barely held at bay finally exploded and he reached for his shoulder, but Teddy grabbed his left arm and held it away as Elizabeth continued.
“There, done.” Elizabeth stood, brushing off her skirt as if she could dust off the road debris of the day and the terror that had just claimed her mind. “Men, take him to the wagon. I’ll need to stitch him up.”
Chapter Thirteen
The smell of blood tugged Elizabeth back in time, but she refused to go to a past she’d tried so hard to forget. Nightmares didn’t plague her like they did Abigail. Anxiety didn’t give her fits like it did Josephine. Thunder did make her pulse quicken, but it never made her scream.
Even the sound of guns didn’t send her hiding. Instead, she learned to hunt for food and protect herself. She may have been born into privilege and the destiny of being a Southern belle with slaves and servants and suitors, but that’s what’s funny about destiny. It’s a vixen, sure to trick you into feeling secure, only to twist your future into knots you spend your life untangling.
Thanks to her sisters sheltering her, she’d spent many of her years at peace, but they couldn’t shelter her from everything.
“Hold him down, men.” Elizabeth eyed Samuel, who huddled at the edge of the commotion, overrun with fear. She had all of the compassion in the world for his terror, but in the wake of a gunfight, she needed everyone’s help. They could afford to be scared later. “Get some whiskey.”
“No,” Jeb protested and tried to push from the back of the wagon.
“He don’t touch the stuff,” Teddy said.
They exchanged a knowing glance, and she decided not to press the issue. “Then let’s get started.” She dug the needle into his upper bicep and drove it through his skin. “Good thing that bullet only grazed you. Between the horse and the guns, you’re lucky to be alive.”
Jeb didn’t speak, only bit down on the stick one of the men had shoved in his mouth. She dabbed at the blood and wiped it away so that she could see where to place the next stitch. One thing she wouldn’t abide by, and that was bad stitching. Perhaps it was her mother’s constant harping about a woman’s needlepoint and sewing skills.
“You only need a few more,” Elizabeth said, trying to sooth him, but she knew what it felt like to have stitches without anything to dull the pain. The good news was that the stinging would subside in a matter of hours, then he’d be able to cope with the ache and itching.
She finished the last stitch. “There you go. All done.”
Jeb collapsed back inside the wagon, his legs dangling off the edge. He breathed again through clenched teeth for a moment, making a whistling sound.
“I’ll fetch you some water.” Teddy uncurled his legs from under him.
“No, we need to get moving. Men eat yet?” Jeb asked.
Elizabeth shook her head. “You should rest.”
Jeb pushed on his good elbow to sit up. “No, we need to make it on time or we won’t get the contract. Besides, those men could return anytime now. I want all men armed and ready for another attack. Tonight, we sleep in shifts and guard the cattle.”
Teddy hopped down from the wagon and slid his thumbs into his vest pocket. “If Miss McKinnie says you can travel we’ll get moving, but I ain’t risking you.”
Jeb cursed under his breath. “You said it. I’m the boss.”
Elizabeth saw a battle of wills brewing and knew it wouldn’t be good for Jeb to get too excited or he could pop a stitch. “I’ll make you a deal. You ride in the wagon and we can get moving. Teddy will have to take your position. If you fall off a horse right now, you’d be in a world of hurt.”
Jeb shifted and shimmied toward the end of the wagon to face Teddy eye to eye. “I’ll be fine on my horse.”
Five of the men walked up behind Teddy and crossed their arms.
Jeb looked back and forth across all of them. “What is this, mutiny?”
“We ain’t on a ship, but we are protecting our boss,” Bart said. “Ever thunk that if you get killed we ain’t gonna get paid.” He spit brown saliva onto the ground.
Teddy tipped his hat. “Best accept the terms. I don’t think the little lady is open to any further negotiations, and I know the men aren’t.”
“Nope,” they all grumbled.
“Fine, for the rest of today if it’ll get us moving. We need to make the river by supper.” Jeb stood but wavered for a moment. None of the men reached for him, but Elizabeth knew the man was too proud to ask for help.
She climbed out of the wagon herself, ignoring the five hands jutting out and offering to assist her. When she surfaced from the canopy, she found the men standing in a semicircle with fruit pie on their face. She’d forgotten about the surprise treats with all that had happened, but apparently the men had enjoyed them.
The men had cleaned up the meal and left two plates for her and Jeb, along with a piece of pie each. Two of the men grabbed the crates and loaded them into the wagon.
Jeb growled. “Don’t you all have work to do?”
“Already done while we were waiting on you to get prettied up,” Samuel teased. “Besides, she done save all our lives. We owe a debt to Fire Lady.”
“Fire lady?” Jeb raised a brow and looked between the men and her.
“Yeah, that’s what one of the men called her. They feared her,” Charles said, stacking another crate in the wagon.
Elizabeth held her breath, waiting for Jeb’s insulting remark at the term. He gave a nod, then smiled. “Good, maybe the myth will spread, and we’ll be left alone. Miss McKinnie here might be our good luck charm.”
The smell of gunpowder faded, as did the odor of saturated ash from the fire being put out. She took the plate of food and sat down on a rock long enough to eat before boarding the wagon again.
“Did you see the way she took on all those men?” one of the men said in a low tone as he headed to his horse. “She’s braver than any man I know.”
They were right. He’d never seen someone braver than Elizabeth. Jeb joined her and sat on a rock at her side. He scooped up several spoons full of stew, keeping his gaze straight ahead. “You know, I may have misjudged you when we met. You are certainly tiny and pretty, but you are stron
g, too.”
Pretty?
But no sooner did she think the question than she chided herself. She’d been longing for respect so long, why did her mind stop on pretty? “Thanks.”
“Still you lied to me, and trust isn’t something you can get back,” he said in a flat tone before scooping up the last of his food and taking his plate to the stream. “Best get going.”
Should she tell him the truth? That his mother had intercepted the message? No. A man like that would never believe her, and besides, she didn’t want him, anyway. Sure, he was handsome and strong, an amazing match for most women, but she’d been around enough men to know she valued kindness above all. She’d rather marry a man that she didn’t think was good looking, but one that would cherish her.
Jeb Clayton wasn’t capable of cherishing anything but money.
Chapter Fourteen
The ride was quiet, too quiet. The entire time they didn’t speak. Elizabeth sat stiff with hands tight around the reins. Cattle mooed and stomped along at a steady pace. Teddy rode point, with Samuel and Charles at swing. When they reached the best water and grass source, they broke for the night with Teddy and Samuel taking first watch.
Elizabeth settled the wagon near the water source, and the men hunkered down on their saddle blankets surrounding the chuckwagon. Jeb wasn’t sure if they were protecting the food, the cattle, Elizabeth, or themselves. When the moon was high in the sky and the snores were competing for dominance, Elizabeth laid out a saddle blanket and joined them. Jeb didn’t think it was the best place for a lady, but he knew now wasn’t the time to argue. Although his eyes were heavy and his shoulder screaming for him to rest, he leaned against the wagon wheel and kept watch.
If the men who tried to rob them were going to return, then he wanted to be ready. Still, like the rest of the men, he found his eyes on the woman with red hair sleeping at his feet. Despite the danger, she was all he could focus on throughout the night. Even when he finally did allow himself to fall asleep in the early morning hours as the rest of the men were rousing, he dreamed of a woman with fire for hair marching across the field with a rifle pointed at the enemy.
