In Your Arms

by Goings, Rebecca

  “How close?” Marcus asked as he held his midsection. His makeshift bandage was already soaked with blood and needed to be changed, but despite Chuck’s urgings, he wouldn’t stop. Not when they were so close to finding Lissa.

  “Shh,” Chuck said suddenly, reining in his horse and silently ordering Marcus to do the same.

  Marcus watched as Chuck listened for something. Gesturing for Marcus to follow but to be quiet about it, Chuck urged his horse forward a few yards until four tethered horses could be seen within the cover of trees.

  Marcus smiled and drew his gun.

  ~ * ~

  “Shit!” Dean spat as he stopped his attack.

  Melissa held her breath, wondering if he was going to hit her again. She could already feel the blood rushing to her face as her left eye swelled shut.

  “Damn it, woman! Why didn’t you say you were on your monthly?”

  Her eyes widened at that as she shook her head, unable to answer him with the bandanna in her mouth.

  “Oh yes you are, missy!” Dean groaned in disgust as he pushed himself up from the ground. “Might not stop Joe, but I can’t abide a bleeding woman.”

  How was that possible? She couldn’t be having her monthly, she was pregnant. As she glanced down at herself, she indeed saw the blood staining her drawers. It could only mean one thing--she’d lost the baby!

  Deep sobs wracked her as she fell back to the ground, uncaring now what they might do to her. They’d killed the only man who’d ever loved her, along with her last link to him--their child. Turning onto her side, she couldn’t stop the torrents that fell from her eyes.

  Dean didn’t give her any time to grieve. “Damn, I’m still hard as a rock. Can’t take you down there, missy, but you’ve got a perfectly good mouth.”

  Reaching for her once again, he yanked her to her knees and pulled out the bandanna. Her mouth was unbelievably dry, but that didn’t stop the look of revulsion she gave him in the realization of what he wanted her to do.

  Twining one hand in her hair, he dug the other hand into his jeans until it wrapped around his manhood. Melissa tried to pull away, but he held her fast.

  “Oh, you’ll do it, missy,” he growled. “And you’ll be nice about it too.”

  The sound of a cocking gun echoed through the trees.

  “Let her go.”

  Instantly, Dean went still, his hand still buried painfully in her hair.

  “I said to let her go, unless you want to die.”

  It was Marcus!

  Melissa’s heart soared at the sight of him sitting on Pete’s back pointing not one but two guns at Dean’s head. His eyes were on fire as he stared him down, looking as if it was all he could do not to pull the trigger.

  “I could snap her neck right now,” Dean taunted, yanking his hand and making Melissa cry out.

  “I wouldn’t,” another voice sounded from the other side of the clearing.

  Gazing that way, Melissa saw her father pointing a shotgun at Dean’s chest!

  Glancing back and forth between Marcus and her father, Dean resembled a trapped animal. She knew she was his only bargaining chip, and she had to remove herself somehow. Lacing her fingers together, Melissa did the only thing she could do. She brought her hands up hard between Dean’s legs with all her might.

  He screamed in what sounded like mortal agony as he let go of her and fell over, but as Melissa crawled away as fast as she could, Dean pulled out a small pistol from his boot and aimed it at her head.

  Melissa closed her eyes and heard two sharp gunshots. When she opened her eyes again, she saw smoke rising from Marcus’s revolvers and Dean collapsed on the ground. Instantly, her father was off of his horse, the barrel of his shotgun resting on the man’s chest.

  “He’s dead,” Chuck said as he spat on the corpse.

  Sobbing, Melissa crawled over to Pete and stopped near the horse’s hooves. “Marcus!” she cried out, barely able to see him through the blur of her tears.

  She heard him clamor off his horse only to crumple next to her. His belly was wrapped in the remnants of his shirt, and it was soaked through with blood.

  “Oh, Marcus, you’re bleeding!”

  She moaned as she scooted closer. He made short work of the bonds on her hands and feet, and she embraced him.

  “I thought you were dead, Marcus. I thought I’d lost you.”

  She could feel him crying as he held her tight. “I thought the same thing, sugar. God, I never want to feel that way again.” He stiffened. “Those bastards!”

  “What is it, Marcus?” she asked, then she saw he was staring at her blood-soaked drawers.

  “What did they do to you?”

  “I… I…” she began, not wanting to speak what she’d only just realized.

  “Lissa, tell me what they did to you.”

  “He hit me. He hit me and was about to rape me, but he stopped when he saw I was bleeding.”

  “Did someone cut you?” Marcus asked, his entire body tense as he whispered the words.

  Shaking her head, tears shone in her eyes as she framed his pale face. “I lost our baby, Marcus.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw as he stared hard at her, then he embraced her once again and pulled her into his lap. “Oh, sugar. I’m so sorry.”

  “Hold on to me, Marcus,” she whispered into his ear. “Hold on to me and don’t let go.”

  “Don’t worry, honey. You aren’t ever getting away from me,” he promised.

  “Where are the other two, Lissa?” Chuck asked, bringing them both back to the scene at hand.

  “He sent them out to rustle up some food for dinner.”

  “So they’re not too far away. Marcus, get Lissa out of here. I’ll take care of the other two.”

  “You?” She gaped at him.

  “Don’t look so surprised, honey,” he touched her cheek tenderly. “There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “He’s right.” Marcus groaned as he pulled himself up. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “But, Father--”

  “I’ll be all right, Lissa. Trust me. Go with Marcus.”

  Marcus was panting hard, but he was able to mount his horse on the second try. Chuck lifted Melissa to sit across his lap. Instantly, she tucked her head under his chin.

  “Take care of my daughter, McCaide,” Chuck said.

  “I intend to.” Marcus smiled down at him even though pain was etched on his face. “For the rest of my life.

  Twenty-one

  “Timothy!” Melissa pounded on the door of Dr. Newcomb’s office a few hours later.

  Marcus leaned heavily on her, his head resting on her shoulder as they both stood on the boardwalk of Gideon’s Gulch. The sun wasn’t up yet, but Melissa didn’t care. Marcus needed a doctor, and she was going to bust down the door if Timothy didn’t open it soon. After a few more bangs, the door finally swung open, and Dr. Newcomb appeared looking disgruntled at being awakened at such an hour.

  “Lissa?” He gasped as he recognized her.

  “Timothy, help me get him inside. Please!”

  “Good Lord, what happened? There’s so much blood!” Timothy hooked his arm underneath Marcus and shuffled him into the room. A few candles burned in the office as the doctor helped him lie on the fluffy green chaise lounge near the wall.

  “He’s been shot,” Melissa cried, trying to stop the tears that wanted to fall. “He can’t die, Timothy. You have to save him.”

  Gazing back at Melissa, Timothy took in her own haggard appearance and gasped again. “Lissa, where are your clothes? And what happened to you? Were you shot as well?” He moved to rise from the chaise, but Melissa pushed him gently back toward Marcus.

  “No, Timothy. I’m fine, but I… I lost the…” She couldn’t finish her sentence as she rubbed her belly.

  Timothy’s expression softened as understanding lit in his eyes.

  Marcus was no longer conscious, but Melissa knelt by him and stroked his hair as her tears final
ly fell. He’d deteriorated on the ride back to the Gulch, finally telling her to take the reins and head west when he couldn’t concentrate any longer. His big arms had wrapped around her as his head tucked between her shoulder blades. She could hear him groaning, but she’d been terrified to let Pete go much faster than a brisk walk for fear of hurting Marcus further. The trip had taken so long that she was horrified Marcus was now beyond help.

  “Don’t die on me, Marcus! Oh, please save him, Timothy. I can’t live without him!” She bowed her head and felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Lissa, I want you to go upstairs and get yourself cleaned up. I still have a few things that were Ingrid’s before she died. You can wear one of her dresses.”

  “But--”

  “I want you to go,” Timothy insisted as he took off Marcus’s bloody bandage and looked at his back. “There’s no exit wound, which means the bullet is still inside him. I need to get it out, and I can’t have any distractions.”

  Sniffling, Melissa nodded as she kissed Marcus’s brow. “Is he going to--”

  “I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Please save him,” she implored again, still stroking Marcus’s hair. Leaning up on her knees, she placed a soft kiss on his mouth and stood.

  Timothy was already gathering the equipment he needed. “Go, Lissa. I’ll take good care of him.”

  With one last look at Marcus, Melissa trudged up the stairs with a heavy heart and fervently prayed that the man she loved wouldn’t die.

  ~ * ~

  It was quiet--too quiet. Melissa had cleaned herself of the blood, unsure of what belonged to her and what belonged to Marcus. That thought alone brought tears to her eyes.

  She’d dressed in a grey calico dress that had belonged to Timothy’s late wife Ingrid that she’d found hanging in Timothy’s bureau. It was about two sizes too big and had a musty smell, but Melissa was thankful to be wearing more than just her underthings. The dress had pleasant little flowers woven into the pattern of the fabric, but she barely noticed.

  The sun was up and inching toward noon, and Melissa hadn’t heard a word from the doctor’s office below. What was going on down there? What was taking so long?

  Pacing back and forth, she chewed on her nails, wanting desperately to fly down the stairs but afraid to interrupt the doctor if he were still operating. Her body was exhausted, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get any sleep. She needed to know that Marcus was all right for her own peace of mind.

  After another agonizing hour of waiting, Timothy finally trudged wearily up the stairs, wiping his tired brow. “It’s done.”

  “Is he… is Marcus… will he--”

  “I’ve done all I can. It’s up to Marcus if he wants to live through it. He’s lost a lot of blood, but I’ve removed the bullet and stitched him up. He’ll need to rest for a long while.”

  “Can I see him?”

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good--”

  “Timothy,” she interrupted, “please.”

  The doctor sighed heavily and took off his spectacles. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he glanced at her and murmured, “You love him.”

  Melissa nodded. “Yes.”

  “Are you going to break our engagement?”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded once more. “I’m sorry, Timothy, but I’ve always loved Marcus. He was just too stubborn to realize that he loved me too until… well, until you and I were to be married. I thought he didn’t want me. I thought I would never see him again. I wanted stability for me and for my baby, that’s why I agreed to marry you. But I’ve lost my baby, and now I don’t want to lose Marcus too.”

  Timothy pursed his lips and nodded himself. His shoulders slumped as he whispered, “He’s lying comfortably on one of the cots in my exam room.”

  “Thank you, Timothy! Thank you so much for all you’ve done. You are a wonderful man.” Melissa bent and kissed his cheek before running down the stairs.

  The cot was pushed against the wall of the exam room, and Marcus’s long form was stretched out upon it. Covered by a blanket, he appeared to simply be sleeping. Melissa walked over to him and sat on the floor, stroking his hair.

  His face was gaunt and pale, his eyes sunken with dark circles under them. Glancing under the blanket, she saw the pristine white bandage that now wrapped around his belly. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she expelled it, her relief at not seeing any more blood overwhelming her.

  Tears filled her eyes as she kissed his cheek. Taking his right hand in hers, she kissed it too and held it up to her face.

  “I love you, Marcus McCaide,” she whispered as she trembled, tracing his brow with her fingers. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

  Clutching his hand, Melissa laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

  “Don’t leave me,” she repeated before she yawned and blessed sleep overtook her.

  Twenty-two

  “Lissa?”

  Waking up by degrees, Melissa was vaguely aware of a soft hand in her hair.

  “Lissa, sugar?”

  Instantly she sat up, recognizing that gritty voice anywhere.

  “Marcus!” she exclaimed, her tired eyes wide as she gazed at him in the darkened room.

  He smiled weakly with hooded eyes. The hand that had been stroking her hair fell back to the cot.

  “Hi, baby,” he whispered, closing his eyes again.

  Sniffling, Melissa tried to scoot closer. “How are you feeling?” she asked, lightly stroking his face.

  “Like I’ve been trampled by a stampede of angry bulls.”

  Taking his hand in hers, she stroked her cheek with the back of it. He looked at her again, barely squeezing her fingers.

  “I want you to fetch the preacher.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  Marcus coughed and winced sharply, making Melissa suck in her own breath.

  “Oh, God!” she cried. “You want your last rites.”

  She knew he must be in tremendous pain, but there was humor in his eyes as he gazed back at her and shook his head.

  “No, sugar,” he whispered.

  Melissa’s relief was tremendous. “I can’t lose you, Marcus.”

  “Lissa, come here.”

  She leaned closer, and he turned his head toward hers, his face merely a breath away. “I want to marry you. Now.”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, hot tears rolled down her face as she trembled. “Marcus, you’ve been shot. Don’t you think--”

  “I’m tired of thinking, Lissa.” He groaned, wincing again as he lifted her hand to his mouth. “I’m so weak, honey, that I’m not... sure I’m going to--”

  Covering his mouth with her hand, she shook her head violently. “Don’t you dare talk like that! I won’t let you.”

  “I want you to fetch the preacher,” he said again with more force behind his words. “I want you to be completely mine and wear my name, even if I--”

  “Marcus!” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “Don’t speak of it!”

  “Marry me, Lissa. Right now.”

  Looking into his golden eyes once more, she saw them shining with tears and knew she couldn’t deny him. She wanted to be his wife too badly, to be his for however long he had left.

  Nodding, she gave him a tearful smile.

  “All right, but what about my father? Shouldn’t we wait for him to return?”

  “No need to wait on my account,” Chuck’s voice bellowed from behind them.

  Whirling with a gasp, Melissa stood and flew across the room into his arms. “Daddy! How did you get back so fast? And what about those men? What did you do with them?”

  “All in good time, honey,” he said. “Right now, seems to me you have more important things to worry about. Can he be moved, Timothy?”

  Dr. Newcomb entered the exam room from his office and sighed. “I wouldn’t advise it. He might bust his stitches.”

  “What if we carried him?
”

  “What are you thinking, Chuck?” Timothy asked, concern written on his face.

  “If I’m going to give the man my daughter today, I want them to have their own room at the inn.”

  Melissa blushed at her father’s pointed words, but, gazing back at Marcus, she could see his eyes were closed again. Kneeling next to him once more, she stroked his cheek and smiled as he cracked open his eyes.

  “You ready to have a wife?” she whispered, trying to keep the smile out of her voice. “You sure you want me?”

  “I never say anything… I… don’t mean, sweetheart,” he reminded her, wincing as he coughed again.

  She kissed his brow and grinned at him. “You rest now, Marcus. I’ll be back before you know it with the preacher.”

  “Hurry, sugar,” he implored.

  Feeling more apprehension, she stared at him with worry. “Why? Are you bleeding again?” Peeling back the blanket, she inspected his bandage and felt him chuckle and grimace at the same time.

  “No, Lissa. I’m just an… impatient man. The sooner I make you… Melissa McCaide the better.”

  She blushed but covered him back up and kissed the palm of his hand. “You two be careful with him.” She scowled as she stood and glared at her father and Dr. Newcomb with her fists on her hips. “If I find so much as one stitch busted on this man when I return, heads are going to roll.”

  She heard Marcus chuckle behind her. “Best listen to the woman. She doesn’t make… idle threats.”

  “Go on, honey,” Chuck said with a grin. “Go find the preacher. Marcus will be safe with us.”

  Smiling at Marcus once more, Melissa strode purposefully from the office and out into the late-afternoon sun.

  ~ * ~

  By the time she returned with Pastor Robinson in tow, her father and Dr. Newcomb had succeeded in moving Marcus to Maude’s Inn. She didn’t know how they’d managed it, but they’d carried him to the second floor after renting room number seven by his adamant request. Melissa couldn’t help but blush as she entered the room, glancing at everyone present.