A Bride in the Bargain

by Deeanne Gist

  He didn’t so much as moan.

  She bit her lip. She was going to have to leave him and get help. Either that or sit here until he woke up. But that could be hours yet. Days, even.

  She discarded that thought as quickly as it came. Please, God. Not days.

  Surging to her feet, she ran to the lean-to and pulled a chair from the table, then dragged it out to where he lay. With great care, she positioned it over his neck and head. Rain began to puddle on the seat, but no longer hit his face underneath.

  Satisfied, she ran inside to put on her boots, then gathered some blankets. When she had Joe and the chair covered as best as she could, she grabbed the lantern and ran to the men’s sleeping quarters, splashing through the puddles, slipping on mud, and tripping over roots.

  Anna rapped her fist against the door of the bunkhouse. “Red! Thirsty! Somebody! Wake up!”

  Ronny jerked the door open. His eyes bulged. His hair stood out in discordant spikes. His faded blue union suit covered him from neck to foot.

  “Where’s Red?” she gasped, grabbing the ache in her side.

  “Here.” Red pushed the door wider, hopping on one foot as he poked the other into his trouser leg. “What’s happened?”

  “Joe got hurt felling a tree.”

  Red paused, his shoulders relaxing. “You must be having a bad dream. Joe’s a seasoned lumberjack. He’d never do any chopping at night.”

  She turned her attention back to Ronny. “Joe got hurt felling a tree. I need help moving him inside. Will you come?”

  Ronny jerked upright as if struck by a bolt of lightning, then surged forward. “Show me where.”

  Red grabbed him by the neck and flung him back inside. Anna hadn’t realized the rest of the men had crowded behind the door until they caught Ronny as he fell. All of them were mussed. All were wearing union suits. All were staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “Let us get our, um, boots on first.” Red turned to the men. “Well? You heard her. Get moving!”

  She didn’t wait but began running back home.

  “At the house,” she gasped when they caught up with her. “By the chestnut tree. Go on. Hurry.”

  “Ronny, stay with her.”

  The men rushed past.

  Ronny grasped her elbow. “No need to run anymore, Miss Ivey. The boys will take care of him.”

  She didn’t use up precious breath arguing. She simply alternated between running and jogging. Still, her body refused to cooperate. Several times, she had to stop until the stitch in her side eased. And once, she tripped over a root, sprawling facedown on the path.

  The storm worsened, the rain pelting her face with a stinging force. By the time the two of them made it back to the house, Joe was already inside.

  They had the fire roaring, the water heating, and Joe stripped of his wet clothing. Wrapped in nothing more than a blanket, he lay on the floor. The men lounged around the kitchen laughing, telling jokes, acting as if Joe’s accident was nothing but a trifle.

  “He woke up?” she asked.

  “Not that I know of.” Red glanced at Pelican. “Give him a kick, would you?”

  Pelican—a great pouch of snuff swelling his lower lip and making him look like his namesake—gave Joe a little shove with his foot.

  “Stop it! What are you doing?” She raced to his side and shooed the men back.

  “Oh, come on now, Miss Ivey. It’s not too often we get the chance to kick the boss while he’s down.” There was no malice in Pelican’s voice, and his expression was one of amused tolerance. As if he were teasing about some child who’d scraped his knee.

  The men chuckled. She could not believe they would jest at a time like this. Before she had time to say so, Fish and Milton lumbered down the stairs with a bed from the spare room.

  “Be careful!”

  But they paid her no heed, gouging the wall on one side and scraping the stair rail on the other. By the time they made it into the kitchen, they’d left a trail of destruction in their wake.

  She quickly scooted a chair to the side.

  “Hoist ’em up, boys,” Red bellowed.

  The men closest to Joe each grabbed a limb and swung him like a pendulum.

  “No!” she screamed.

  But he was already airborne. The blanket around him slipped loose, pooling at the crux of the V his body made. He landed with a thud on the mattress, his modesty barely intact. A puff of dust billowed out around him.

  “Out!” Anna pointed a finger at the door. “Out before I throttle every last one of you!”

  They looked first at her and then each other, clearly perplexed.

  “What’s the matter?” Thirsty asked.

  “What’s the matter? What’s the matter? That man has a head injury and you boys are throwing him around like some log you plan to send down the chute. That’s what’s the matter.”

  Gibbs glanced at Joe. “Oh, he’ll be all right. That little bump’s nothing compared to the one a fellow down in Tacoma got. Why, that one was so big it killed him dead. Joe’s not dead. He’s just sleeping it off.”

  Narrowing her eyes, she advanced on Gibbs. “Well, let me assure you, Mr. Gibbs, that bump you saw on the Tacoma man is nothing compared to what I’ll mete out to anybody who so much as touches Joe again with anything other than the most gentle attentions.” She jabbed her finger in his chest. “You understand me?”

  He didn’t budge.

  She shoved him. “Do you understand me?”

  Falling back a step, he raised his hands. “Yes, miss. We’ll all be very gentle from now on. Won’t we, boys?”

  They mumbled their agreement.

  Mollified for the moment, she turned back to Joe and jerked the blanket down to cover his huge, hairy legs. It didn’t stop her from noticing the sheer magnitude of them, though. Why, his thighs were twice as big as her waist.

  They were also extremely white compared to the dark golden color of his chest. Grabbing the other end of the blanket, she tucked it around his torso.

  “What happened exactly?” Ronny asked.

  “I don’t know. I was up in my room. But from the sound of it, the tree didn’t fall straight to the ground. It hit something else, I think. I’m not really sure.”

  “What in the Sam Hill was he doing chopping that thing in the middle of the night?” Red’s exasperated tone had the men nodding and grumbling their agreement.

  She lowered her chin. “It’s my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Red’s voice held more than a little surprise.

  “I’ve been pestering him to chop it down. You saw how it leaned?”

  A log in the fire shifted, causing sparks to shoot out.

  “That doesn’t explain why he decided to take it down after dark.”

  She swallowed. “I made him mad.”

  No one said a word. The water on the stove began to bubble. A crash of thunder shook the windows.

  She swiped her eyes. “Somebody needs to go for a doctor.”

  They looked at each other, shifting their weight.

  She frowned. “What?”

  Ronny cleared his throat. “Miss Ivey, I don’t mean any disrespect, but we can’t start out for a doctor until morning. Then it will take half a day to get to town, no telling how long to find the doc, then all those hours to get back. Joe’ll be awake long before that and the doc will have come for nothing.”

  Anger began to simmer inside her. She took a step forward. All but Red took a collective step back.

  Anna zeroed in on him. “I want a doctor, Red. And I do not plan to wait until tomorrow night to get one. This cannot be the first time you’ve had an emergency. What did you do the last time you needed a doctor and didn’t have time to wait?”

  He pulled at his collar. “Well, we waited until morning and then went and got the doctor.”

  “What happened to the patient after all that time?”

  “He died.”

  The blood drained from her face.

&nbs
p; “Not that Joe’s going to die!” he assured her. “He’s just got a little bump.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but Red interrupted. “Listen, if you want one of us to go get the doctor, well then, I’ll send somebody on Shakespeare at dawn and the doc will be here late tomorrow night.”

  “There has to be a quicker way.”

  He shook his head. “There is no other way.”

  “I’ll go.” Ronny swiped the curl off his forehead.

  Anna turned and they exchanged a look. A look that reminded her Ronny knew of her love for Joe. A look that told her he understood her distress.

  “You’re not going.” Red shook his head. “Not in this storm.”

  Ronny squared up. “I’m going, Red. If you want to fight me, then fight me. But after you’re done, I’m getting up and going to town. Tonight.”

  Anna sucked in her breath, realizing the danger for the first time. “No, no, Ronny. I wasn’t thinking about the storm. About the darkness. Red’s right. It’s much too dangerous to make the journey tonight.”

  His expression turned stubborn. So much like Leon’s.

  Panic filled her. “Ronny, please. Waiting until morning will be fine.”

  Red pursed his lips. “She’s right, son. If the dark weren’t enough, then the squall is. Best wait until daylight.”

  But Ronny ignored them both and strode to the door.

  “No!” she cried. “Please, Ronny. Don’t do this.”

  She started after him, but Red grabbed her arm. She struggled. Her efforts didn’t even faze him.

  Ronny paused at the door, his eyes locking with hers. “I’ll be back. And with the doctor in tow.”

  “No!”

  But it was too late. The door closed behind him. Just like Leon.

  She whirled to face Red. “Please. Please. You have to do something.”

  He looked at the door, his expression contemplative. “All the time he’s been on the crew, that boy’s never once squared off. Not to any of us.” He shook his head. “He wasn’t thinking like a boy just now, Miss Ivey. He was thinking like a man. And if he’s man enough to square off, then he’s man enough to ride to town.”

  “But that’s just it, Red. He’s not a man at all. He is, in fact, still a boy.”

  Red released her. “Good night, Miss Ivey. The fellows and I will see you at breakfast.”

  He held the door open. The men filed out past him.

  “You won’t stop Ronny?”

  He shook his head. “I’d have to give him a beating first, and truthfully, I think he’d go anyway. It’d be best if he had all his strength. He’s going to need it.” Nodding, he clicked the door shut behind him.

  Anna wrapped her arms around her stomach, then doubled over and fell to her knees. Please, God, please.

  She already had to answer to Him for her father, mother, brother, and now Joe. If something happened to Ronny because of her demands, she’d never forgive herself. Never.

  The men’s voices slowly faded. She lay curled in a ball praying. For Ronny. For Joe. For intervention.

  Something sharp poked her. Examining the floor, she discovered seashells scattered about, some intact, some crushed. What in the world?

  Her body began to shake, the chill in the room penetrating her consciousness. Pushing to her feet, she stoked the fire and added logs.

  It was then she realized Anna still wore her wet, mud-coated nightdress. Good heavens. She’d stood in front of the entire crew in nothing more than a nightdress.

  Pushing thoughts of Ronny to the background, she checked on Joe. The lump behind his ear wasn’t any bigger, but it wasn’t any smaller.

  “Hang on,” she whispered, smoothing the hair from his eyes. “Let me get out of these wet clothes; then I’ll be back, and we’ll get that nasty thing cleaned up.”

  She squeezed his arm, then raced upstairs to change.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Joe struggled to push through the fog. If he didn’t know better, he’d think he’d consumed an entire barrelful of whiskey. He tried to lift a hand to his head, but his body wouldn’t obey his commands.

  Something cool touched his forehead. He heard a woman’s quiet murmurings but couldn’t make out the words. He forced his eyes open, then immediately closed them. Too bright. And it hurt like the devil. The fog rushed in again and he let himself be pulled into its midst.

  Anna dipped her pail into the cold stream running by the house. Dawn outlined the eastern horizon with a beautiful array of pinks and yellows. She wondered if the day would bring them a doctor or if Ronny and Shakespeare had ever even made it to town.

  Please, Lord. Please let them have made it to town and bring them back safely.

  She returned to the house, wrung out a cloth, and placed it on Joe’s head. He’d been restless for most of the night. But his stirrings encouraged her. It was better than the deep sleep he’d been in those first couple of hours.

  Rinsing out a second cloth, she wiped down his cheeks and jaw. His stubble snagged on the weave. At least he didn’t have a fever. In fact, if she hadn’t known about the injury, she’d have assumed he was merely sleeping.

  She checked the lump behind his ear. Still the same.

  His arms jerked, pulling the covers off his chest.

  She ran the cloth across his shoulders. “Shhhhhh. It’s all right, Joe. Just relax.”

  He immediately obeyed. It had been like that most of the night. Whenever he tossed and turned, she’d shush him, then rub his neck, chest, and arms with a cool cloth. The tension would instantly melt away.

  “The men haven’t come for their breakfast,” she told him, glancing at the meal warming on the stove. “I’m wondering now if they’ll be coming at all. Red said they would. And they need to eat. I’d hate for all this to go to waste.”

  A slight frown tugged at his eyebrows.

  She threaded her fingers through his hair and massaged his scalp, careful to avoid his injury. “Does your head hurt? I’m sure it must. It’s time to wake up, though. You need to eat. I’ve made your favorite. Raspberry slump. Can you smell it?”

  A gold, silken curl wrapped itself around her finger. She rubbed it with her thumb. “Once you’re feeling better, I’m sure they’ll tell you how I made a ninny of myself, crying over you.” She worried her lip. “And it’s true. I did cry. I cried because . . . because I love you.”

  She’d tried to shut her feelings off where he was concerned. But she was living in his house, cooking his meals, darning his clothes, spending every free moment with him.

  Even that would have been manageable if he hadn’t been such an enigma. So kind and quick to laugh, yet so fierce. So hardheaded, yet so gentle. So beautifully packaged, yet so masculine. How could she remain unmoved under such conditions?

  She couldn’t. And with each passing day her resistance had fallen away like a flower shedding its petals.

  She loved him. She’d known it since the day she’d watched him fell the redwood. The dilemma lay in what to do about it.

  She straightened the rag on his forehead, then ran her knuckles over his prickly cheek. “My feelings don’t bode well for you, I’m afraid. Everyone I love has come to a bad end. And each time it’s been a direct result of something I did. And if you don’t believe me, just look at yourself. If it weren’t for me, you never would have chopped down that tree. And you certainly wouldn’t have done it in the dark.”

  Her throat filled. She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t be responsible for the death of another loved one.

  “Wake up, Joe, please. Please.”

  Tracing his eyebrows with her fingertip, she nudged up the cooling cloth and blinked back her tears. “If you do wake up, it would behoove you to send me packing. Though I’m not sure that will help. I managed to kill my father with my thoughtlessness while he was hundreds of miles away.”

  His eyes flew open.

  She squeaked and jumped back.

  “You killed your fa
ther?” he asked, his voice rough but laced with shock.

  Relief and horror warred within her. Horror won out. “How long have you been awake?”

  His eyes were clear. Completely, perfectly clear. “For hours.”

  She gasped. Hours? “I’ve been worried sick about you and you’ve been feigning sleep all this time?”

  “I wasn’t feigning anything. The light hurts my head. My body aches from top to bottom. I wanted to rest. So I kept my eyes closed.” He frowned. “Now, what about your father?”

  She slid her eyes closed. Her relief at Joe’s awakening was quickly replaced with panic over his question. She took a step back.

  He grabbed her wrist. His grip was firm. Strong. “Explain.”

  “No.”

  She tried to peel his fingers off her wrist.

  He grimaced but kept his grip tight. “What did you do to your father?”

  Anna lifted her gaze, moisture glazing her eyes. “I killed him,” she whispered.

  He pulled the cloth from his head. “Why? How?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  She’d never shown anyone Papa’s letter. Never confessed her sin out loud. Not even to the Lord. But God already knew, and in her heart of hearts, she acknowledged she owed Joe the truth.

  She took a deep breath. “The bullets. The rebel bullets. They hit him because of me.”

  Joe slid his hand down, then wove his fingers with hers. “Tell me.”

  “I yelled at Leon. Knocked down his soldiers. And would even have struck him, except . . . except my fist caught Mama instead.”

  He rubbed his head. “You aren’t making any sense, Anna. Slow down and start from the beginning.”

  Sighing, she told him everything, ending with Leon’s running away, Papa’s letter, and Mama’s death.

  “So you see?” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I killed them. All of them. And I almost killed you, too.”

  “Come here.” He tugged, trying to pull her closer, but she wouldn’t budge. “You didn’t do anything, Anna. None of that was your fault.”

  “It was. And it will happen again if I let you get too close.” Wrenching free, she ran from the room and up the stairs.