My Sassy Settler (Willamette Wives Book 2)

by Maggie Ryan

  "I don't know why we have to haul these around," Charity grumbled as she set her gun in the bottom of the basket. "No one has spotted any tracks for weeks."

  "Well, I'm not leaving mine," Agatha said. "I'm not chancing having my butt paddled again!"

  "Ah, the perfect opening statement for our meeting," Anna said. Agatha was startled at what she'd already revealed, but by the time she and Anna picked up the basket to carry between them after assigning Charity the job of guide, she was ready to share her story. When they reached the bushes several hundred feet into the woods, the three had finished commiserating with each other about their stern husbands, and were giggling as they shared how those same men were pretty darned good at comforting as well.

  "Um, I need to go," Charity said about an hour later.

  "We're almost done." Anna said

  "No, I mean, I need the privy."

  "Oh, well, just go behind a tree," Anna said, adding another handful of leaves to the basket, which was about half full.

  "But it's cold out here!"

  "Not any colder than the privy," Agatha said, "besides, it's a long way back."

  "Okay," Charity conceded. "Don't go anywhere." She looked around, decided on a tree and walked off.

  "Hey wait," Agatha called, reaching beneath the leaves and pulling out Charity's gun.

  "Seriously? I'm only going over there and I'll hurry."

  "Take it, Charity," Anna said, "you just heard what happened to Agatha when she didn't. Of course, if you want a hairbrush applied—"

  "Okay, okay," Charity said with a huff. She took the gun and disappeared into the brush.

  Anna and Agatha had just stripped a bush of most of its leaves when they heard a sound they'd never truly expected. When the low growl was repeated, both women froze.

  "Oh my God," Anna whispered, her voice shaking, "that-that sounds exactly like the growl I heard."

  "Could you tell where it came from?" Agatha whispered back. "Oh, God, Charity!" She could feel her insides turning to water, and yet with Anna right beside her, she slowly moved towards the trees where they'd last seen Charity.

  Another growl temporarily froze them again but when the cat screamed, Agatha pulled her gun from its holster and Anna hers from her pocket and they ran, instinctively parting, each going on either side of the tree.

  Charity had her back pressed against the trunk, her face ashen, soft mewling coming from her throat. Another growl told of the cat's location. It was crouched, not on the ground, but on a thick branch above her head. When it moved, so did Agatha and Anna.

  * * * * *

  "What the hell!" Richard said, as the forest's quiet was destroyed by the sound of gunfire. It took him a split second to realize that the shooting had not come from the other men as they all turned to look behind them.

  "The girls!" Wyatt yelled, bolting through the brush, the buck they'd spotted forgotten as another volley of shots was heard, each individual bark causing his heart to skip in his chest. He screamed his wife's name as he ran, the other men doing the same.

  "Here!"

  He'd never heard a more beautiful sound. The men broke through the brush and skidded to a stop.

  "Oh my God," Wyatt said, his gaze going from the animal to the three women. "Oh my God," he repeated, stepping over the carcass and pulling his wife into his arms. "Are you okay?"

  Agatha nodded but he could feel her trembling. He held her tighter, his heart rate gradually slowing with the realization that she was fine—they were all fine.

  "Who shot it?" James asked, holding his own wife, who was unable to stand on her own. "Anna?"

  Anna shook her head. "I-I tried but I-I missed… every time. Agatha didn't miss. God, she was amazing!"

  "Thank God you taught us," Agatha said. "I-I never really thought it would be necessary but-but if you hadn't…"

  "Shh, it's okay," Wyatt said. "I'm so proud of you. Shit, I'm proud of all of you."

  "What about you, sweetheart, did you miss every shot?" James asked, after setting his wife back onto her feet.

  "I-I didn't even shoot," Charity said. "I-I was too scared. It… it was right above me. I thought it was a squirrel moving around and then-then it growled. I-I just froze. I didn't even get to aim my gun. I just wanted to go to the bathroom!" Tears begin to slide down her cheeks and James pulled her to him again.

  "Shh, sweetie, don't cry, you're safe now."

  "If you'd moved, Charity, if you'd even stood up, that cat would have pounced. If you'd shot and missed, you never would have had a second chance. By staying absolutely still, you gave the others time to get to you while the cat was trying to decide exactly what sort of prey you were."

  His words allowed her to calm and to get past the overwhelming fear. She thanked him and managed her first smile. "You should have seen, Agatha. When Anna started shooting, the cat screamed and leapt. I-I was terrified it was going to get her because none of her bullets were making it stop."

  "That's because I didn't hit it," Anna said. "I can't believe I missed. It was so close. Thank God Agatha didn't miss."

  "I knew I couldn't miss. I didn't want it to hurt anyone. I just got lucky."

  "No, you just took your lessons more seriously than I did. You-you are my lucky star," Charity said, stepping to her friend and giving her a hug. "I'm going to keep practicing, I promise!"

  The three watched as the men went to the animal, squatting down and each lifting a paw, studying. "Man, that is some cat," Robert said.

  Anna and Agatha turned to look at Charity who stood between them. As one, they said, "Meow!"

  Charity jumped and then shook her head. "Okay, I was a fool to say that. This is definitely not a cat I want in my barn."

  "Good thing," Wyatt said, standing up from his crouch, "because even if you wanted a cat, this one wouldn't do. Agatha just bagged herself a mountain lion."

  Despite their ordeal, the women finished making the candles, not complaining at all when the men helped. By the time dusk was falling, the soap molds had been filled and the candles were hardening on the line. The kettles were removed from the tripods and the men cooked steaks they'd cut when they'd dressed the mountain lion. Though Agatha felt squeamish at first about eating an animal she'd killed, she realized that she'd never been hesitant to eat any other meat that had given its life for theirs. The meat was cooked over the open flames of the fire as the men stated there was no reason to waste a perfectly good campfire.

  After sharing the meal and sipping cups of coffee, it was time for Harriet and Robert to go home. When Charity had again expressed her joy about the revival, Wyatt hadn't said a word, but had stood with his arms wrapped around his wife. It wasn't until they finally got home, had enjoyed a bath that truly served to relax her, and he had her pulled close beneath the quilts in their bed that he spoke about the subject.

  "We don't have to go to the revival," he said, stroking his hand down her back.

  She remained quiet for several minutes and then shook her head slightly. "No, it's fine. It means so much to Charity and today, in the woods with the lion, I realized how important it is to live every day. You've taught me that as well. I want to celebrate the baptisms of all the children with my friends. Someday I hope they will celebrate the same when we have a baby."

  "You're a brave woman, Agatha. I couldn't be prouder of you."

  "I couldn't do it without you by my side."

  They held each other close, skin touching skin, hearts beating together until they slid into sleep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hearing about possible danger was one thing, actually experiencing the reality of it was the impetus they all needed to take the lessons seriously. The women continued to practice until all of them could knock almost every target from the log even when Wyatt moved it several feet farther away. A new aspect was included as he'd attach a piece of rope to a log, letting it sit for a moment before yanking it forward, jerking the rope in different directions until they became proficient in aiming
at a moving target. Though they didn't hit it every time, they did improve, and Wyatt told them that most animals would turn and run at the first sound of gunfire. No further jokes were made and they became very comfortable drawing their guns from the holsters they all now wore.

  A trip into town was taken a week later. As Charity and Anna bought red flannel for their own set of warm underwear, Agatha picked up a flyer from a stack that was on the end of the counter. Her chest loosened as she read the information about the upcoming revival. Names of the traveling preachers were listed on it, and not seeing the one she had secretly feared had her relaxing. The group discussed the newest building they'd passed on the way into town. It was to serve two purposes; it was to be filled with school children during the week, and churchgoers on Sundays. Though there was no bathtub to fill the wagon bed, a large bale of chicken wire was loaded up. Wyatt had promised to turn one end of the barn into an indoor chicken coop when Agatha had voiced her concerns that her chickens would be too cold outside. He'd teased her stating that if she was so concerned, she could whip up a few tiny blankets for their comfort, but when she had started towards the dry goods counter, he'd laughed and assured her he was more than willing to make her another coop.

  The men continued to hunt and share the bounty. With candles and soap made, root cellars full, and cords of firewood stacked at the sides of each cabin, they all felt they'd done everything they could to prepare for their first winter in the Willamette Valley.

  "Are you ready?" Wyatt asked when his wife joined him.

  "Yes," Agatha said, turning her back to him so he could help her into her cloak. After it settled on her shoulders, he slipped his arms around her and she lifted her hands to place them on his arms. Touch was such a magical thing. It could be sensual when he ran his fingers, slick with water or soap over her skin when they bathed. It could be either gentle or rough when he made love to her, causing every cell of her body to crave more and more. It could be hard when he was spanking her or soft when he rubbed soothing cream onto her scorched seat. However, what she loved the most, what she would never take for granted or tire of, was when he simply held her. She instantly calmed, drawing strength from the man she loved with her very soul.

  "I'm glad it finally stopped raining," she said after he'd given her a kiss and had put on his coat and hat.

  "Me too," he concurred as he led her outside. "I know Charity was getting concerned." They were attending the revival on the next to last day, as the bad weather had postponed their trip. The men had been worried that the rain might turn into sleet, and with the wagons being open and carrying small children, they'd all agreed to wait in hopes that the skies cleared.

  They drove the wagon to the bunkhouse and picked up both Roger and Matthew. With the fence completed and the herd having been driven down from the higher pasture, they'd decided it would be okay for all of them to attend. They went on to James's to meet the rest of their group. The two carts then turned towards town, each woman holding a child who would be christened that day.

  The yard around the school was full of wagons. "Looks like we weren't the only ones to wait for a clear day," Wyatt said as he pulled to a stop next to Richard's wagon. They visited with several people, including the Stanford family.

  Anna smiled when Becca chatted happily, telling her that she was going to get sprinkled with water and announcing that she was going to ask the preacher to sprinkle her doll, which she'd named Anna, too. Her brothers, Henry and Andrew, each gave Anna a hug. The three had formed a special bond during the trip west. Harriet and Robert joined the growing group and they all walked into the school together.

  The building was full to bursting. Desks that would be used for the students had yet to be installed, which allowed enough room for additional benches to provide seating. They took their seats, glad they'd done so as latecomers began to line up along the walls. The atmosphere was light, people continuing to chat quietly. Agatha held Hope on her lap as the babies were being held by their mothers. The room was full of children who seemed to be divided by those a bit leery of being baptized, those who were excited at the thought of being sprinkled, and those too small to know what was happening.

  Charity showed her experience as the mother of a small child when she pulled a paper wrapped packet from her bag. Hope accepted the cookie offered with one hand and then opened and closed her small empty fist, demanding another.

  With two cookies, she was content and sat back against her Aunt Aggy to take a small bite from first one and then the other. Everything changed when the small girl dropped one of her treasures. It landed on the satchel that held the diapers, and Agatha bent to pick it up when Hope began to whimper.

  "Repent! Sinners are an abomination in the eyes of God!"

  The words thundered through the room and Agatha froze, her breath stopping. Heads turned towards the voice to see a man in a long black coat standing in the doorway, his finger jabbing the air.

  Wyatt stood up and, in one movement, slipped Hope from Agatha's lap, passing the child to James and scooping Agatha into his arms.

  "Fornicators! Adulterers! Satan is dancing, knowing you are his..."

  Spittle flew from Wallace's lips as the words were screamed, but all Wyatt heard was the keening coming from his wife's throat.

  Wyatt saw Wallace's eyes widen as he recognized him. "Get the hell out of my way," he roared as Wallace stood, planting his feet and lifting his arms to brace his body in the doorway.

  "Jezebel! Your whore of Eve will—"

  Wyatt heard no more as he used his body to shove Wallace out of the way. He had only one goal, and that was to get his wife away from the man who had done his best to kill her very soul. She clung to his neck but he didn't attempt to loosen her arms as he untied the reins and somehow climbed onto the seat with her still in his embrace. As echoes of the preacher's screams bled out of the building, the wagon tore out of the yard.

  He continued to make soothing noises, one arm around her, attempting to drive the team with the other. Once they had left the town behind and he realized his attempts were doing nothing to reach her, he pulled the wagon off the road and stopped next to a grove of trees. Looping the reins sloppily around the brake handle, he wrapped both his arms around Agatha. She wasn't trembling, wasn't shivering; it was as if she dared not move, her chest barely rising to allow her body to take in air.

  For the first time in his life, he really had no idea what to do. He had no words to say and knew that she was only hearing those uttered in what they'd both believed to be a safe place. Why in the hell had Wallace been there? Who in the fuck had invited that bastard to their town? Wyatt held and rocked her. "I am so sorry. God, it is my job to keep you safe and I failed. I am so, so sorry."

  Hearing a sound, he looked up as wagons and buggies approached and then pulled off the road. People piled out of them and others dismounted horses. Adults as well as children were soon gathered around them, with concern and love evident on their faces. These were their friends. No, this was their family. Everyone who had braved the trail with them all those months ago were with them again. New friends they'd made as the valley was settled also gathered around the wagon.

  "Aggy, look. Darlin', please, open your eyes, please come back to us," Wyatt said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Don't let his hatred win. You are strong. He can't beat you. I love you."

  "We all love you," Anna said, reaching up to place her hand on Agatha's leg.

  Agatha's eyes finally opened and tears slid down her cheeks as she saw the people. She turned her face up to her husband's.

  "They… all of them…"

  "They came for you, Aggy," Wyatt said, his voice breaking. "You are surrounded by love. There is no hate here, only love. There is no judgment, only acceptance. There is no pain, only healing. They all love you, darlin'. I love you." Terrified that she'd be unable to accept what he was witnessing, praying she wouldn't allow Wallace to pull her into hell again, Wyatt couldn't breathe. Not a soul moved and even t
he children were quiet, as if they understood that the best thing they could offer was their presence.

  While James spread a quilt on the ground, Richard reached up to take Agatha. Wyatt hesitated to release her. "It's okay," Richard said quietly. "We are here for you, as well." Agatha allowed herself to be transferred to Richard's arms but reached for her husband the moment he'd alighted from the wagon.

  "I've got you," Wyatt said as he sank down onto the quilt and Richard placed her on his lap before sitting as well, Anna sinking down to sit beside him with Johnny in her arms. Everyone else took a seat as well, some on quilts drawn from the backs of wagons, some on coats removed by the men, others not seeming to care that they were without protection from the cold ground.

  Dr. Williams squatted down in front of the couple. "You are going to be okay, honey. You are safe, we are all here." He slowly reached for Agatha's arm, easing it down from Wyatt's neck, placing a finger on the inside of her wrist, unobtrusively taking her pulse. When someone offered a cup of water, he placed it in her hand, pressed his fingers around hers and guided the cup to her lips. "Try to take a sip, honey." It took a few attempts, but she managed to accept some of the liquid and then a bit more until she'd drained the cup.

  "Good girl," Robert said, keeping his fingers on her pulse. As her tears subsided, he nodded. "That's right, deep breaths now." He guided her through several repetitions until she seemed to slowly focus.

  "I'm sorry," Wyatt said, his voice soft. "I didn't keep you safe—"

  "You did," Agatha whispered. "You couldn't have known. The flyer… it didn't have his name on it. It is not your fault."

  Samuel Franklin, the owner of the mercantile, shook his head. "Isiah Jorgenson was listed for today but obviously that wasn't him. Richard said his name is Wallace Thompson. God—"

  "No!" Wyatt snapped. "Do not speak of God in any sentence having to do with that bastard. That man does not know God. He knows nothing but evil. He is evil personified."