by Cheri Chaise
I suppose that was better than having to watch her waste away over the years, excited over being with a child only to miscarry. Time after time. When Sky had finally given birth to my son, I’d never seen her so happy.
A tear pricked at my eye.
I should’ve done more for Sky. Should’ve realized the toll was just as much emotional as physical with the loss of each baby.
And then she was gone. They were gone. Left a hole in our family that slowly Stella now filled. I never thought I’d want to try for a child again either. Only now that I knew we might never reproduce, I wanted more than anything to give Stella that which she obviously wanted most.
A baby. A child of her very own. One she could rock to sleep at night in Ma’s old rocker. A little one to sing songs to. Teach to read those numerous books she’d brought. Watch grow up into a strong, capable son. Or a lovely, headstrong daughter – just like her mother.
And I wanted us to share in that joy together.
I was ready to alter the plan. Claim her womb all for my very own. Bret would understand. Drew would eventually get his chance too, now that she’d opened the door to a myriad of options for our lovemaking.
And Evan? I’d be damned if I didn’t see my brother heal from all his hurts. If Stella could worm her way in and captivate my heart, she’d find a way to reach Evan too. In time.
But time was something we sorely lacked.
The race of hooves clattered in the distance. The almost imperceptible rattle of the floorboards gave it away. I tore from the bedroom at the same time Bret and Drew clambered down the stairs in various stages of undress, slinging their gun belts over their shoulders as they tugged on boots and buttoned shirts.
Evan’s voice rang out from the front porch. “They’re coming up the south ridge!”
Stella drew on a dressing gown as she threw open the bedroom door. “What’s happening?”
“Stay in here this time,” I demanded harshly. “In the root cellar.”
“Cole, I…”
“Please.”
Her eyes widened at the sudden change in my tone, but she nodded assent anyway. I ran out to join my brothers in the yard to help assess the situation in the pre-dawn light as the hired hands came tumbling out of the bunkhouse.
“What’d you see, Evan?” I asked.
“Looked to be about twenty back that way. They were trying to sneak along under cover of darkness, but they were doing a piss poor job of keeping their horses quiet.”
“How far back?”
“Without giving away my position? I’d say we have twenty minutes,” Evan admitted. “If they heard me? Maybe ten.”
“I doubt they heard you,” Bret said, coming from the master at sneaking up on people.
“But we can’t take any chances,” I returned then narrowed my eyes at Evan. “And you’re sure they’re Jahan’s men?”
“Who else around here would try to sneak up on us?”
“Point taken.”
As I was about to assign positions, the thunder of hooves coming from the north preceded the dust cloud that reflected in the growing dawn. My brothers and I all drew our weapons at the same time, though I urged caution. If Jahan wanted to take us unawares, racing up our trail wasn’t how he’d do it.
Our neighbor Russ and his sons Dirk and Doug came over the rise with a group of their hired hands in tow. Their horses were heaving and foaming when they pulled up in the yard, and Drew ran to draw water for the worn out men and animals.
“We came as soon as we could,” Russ called. “Got a group of about thirty men heading this way. Saw ‘em coming up the trail near the edge of our land the other day. We skirted them across the prairie and got ahead, but they’re not far behind.”
“Who’s leading them?”
“Pretty sure it’s that Jahan guy Evan told us to watch for. Dark hair. Olive-skinned. Sharply dressed.”
“That’s him alright,” Bret growled.
Russ and his men dismounted while I directed one of our hands to help Drew corral and water the horses.
“Is he really after your wife?” Russ asked.
“Looks that way.”
“Why’s he got such a hard-on for her?”
“Russ, you know as well as I the value of a woman out here, especially one as comely as our…my Stella.”
My neighbor’s dimwitted son chose that moment to show interest in the conversation and picked up on my trip of the tongue. Our lifestyle wasn’t all that much of a secret. Still, I figured it was unwise to openly confirm suspicions and risk raining down more trouble on our patch of Montana heaven.
More trouble than we already had. “Besides,” I continued, “did you even stop to look at those whores at Fort Union? They were so old and worn out, they were barely worth the money we paid for the fuck. He plans to replace them…starting with Stella.”
The words were barely out of my mouth before a gasp from the porch drew my attention. Stella stood there, dressed and put together as well as the time allotted, holding a basket of day-old biscuits we hadn’t finished last night.
The basket trembled right along with her lip as those blue eyes widened. “I…I thought you might want something in your stomachs before…”
I wasn’t sure which of my statements horrified her more – the fact that I’d just openly discussed that Jahan wanted her for his brothel, or that I’d taken a whore the night before our wedding.
“Stella…I…” I swallowed the knot that rose in my throat and gritted my teeth. “I thought I told you to stay in the house.”
This time her eyes narrowed in anger before she whirled around in a flurry of skirts and slammed the door. I couldn’t worry about that right now. I’d deal with the fallout of her overhearing about my indiscretion on the eve of our wedding after I saved our hides.
There’d be no standing around as a welcoming party this time. Jahan was coming with no intentions of bartering for my bride. Not when it was fifty men against sixteen.
Our resources divided up, and I sent everyone off to their assigned positions while Bret and I hurried into the house to set up at the tiny windows at either end of the attic to wait.
And wait.
Pink stained the sky. Streaks of red then orange before the bright yellow sun glanced into my eyes. Evan’s estimation of twenty minutes turned into thirty. Forty. And still we waited.
“Anything your way?” Bret called from across the south end of the attic.
“Nope. Yours?”
“Nothing.”
I hated waiting. It was always the worst part. Your body tense with fear and anticipation, waiting for that first gunshot to ring out. Wondering who it was aimed for. Waiting for the cry of the injured. For the battle.
And wondering if the sunrise was the last you’d ever see.
Or those long months of waiting for return letters. Responses. For word from Stella after asking for her hand. The unending wait for her arrival. The gut-wrenching turmoil wondering if she’d gotten on the train. The steamboat.
Waiting to touch her. Kiss our sweet wife. Make achingly passionate love to her. In her mouth. Her hot, wet channel. That tight ass.
To claim Estella as ours.
My cocked jerked with the train of thoughts clamoring for attention and relief. My gut churned as the myriad stupid trunks of hers came into focus. That enormous loom I shoved away in the barn, unable to break it up into firewood.
I couldn’t believe I’d wanted to leave all of these things behind. Each trunk – each precious silk, every dish, book, and whatever the hell else they contained – they all were pieces of our wife. Of her soul. And I’d shoved it to the side. The only one who’d even tried to make room for any of it was Bret.
No more. As soon as this was all over, we’d find a place for it all. We’d find a place for it even if we had to add onto the house. This was her home too, after all.
And Carstons took care of their own.
I fought to focus on one thing – keeping Stella h
ere where she belonged. Loved and protected. Keeping my brothers safe from harm so we could grow together as we should. As a family.
“Anything?” I asked gruffly.
“Not over here,” Bret responded. “Their timing is shit though. Maybe they’re gonna regroup and wait for dusk, now that they’ve lost the cover of darkness. You know what Evan always says.”
“Yeah. But I doubt Jahan is much of a strategist. Seems he has a one-track mind.”
Not that I didn’t too, as evidenced by the hardness present in my trousers.
A faint bird cry echoed through the yard and drew my thoughts out of my pants. A familiar call. One of warning. The cock of pistols reverberated across the attic right before a single rifle shot rang out from the direction of the stable.
Then the air filled with the chatter of all-out war.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Estella
Instead of barring myself in the root cellar like Cole had demanded, I barricaded myself in my bedroom with several trunks shoved against the door. Not that they’d stop anyone for long. I had delusions of pushing the bed against it too but quickly discarded that idea when I couldn’t even budge the thing. The side table barely moved either, but I kept at it and soon joined the table next to the trunks, for what little good it’d do if someone made it into the house.
But I simply couldn’t abide the cellar in the dark. The lantern would only emphasize the shadows and things lurking in dark corners and behind bushels. Besides, the bedroom window was small enough that no one could get inside.
However, I soon realized there were greater concerns than an uninvited guest entering through the window when a hail of bullets rained down around us. When the glass shattered, I covered the distance between the bed and the cast iron stove in seconds, hunkering down to protect my ears from the seemingly unending assault. I hadn’t realized my screams had joined in until a momentary pause in the shooting revealed it.
“Stella!” Cole’s faint voice called down from somewhere above.
“I’m alright,” I called.
“Get in the…”
The continued cacophony drown him out, but it wasn’t difficult to ascertain he still expected me to make my way to the cellar. At the next break in the shooting, I’d make the attempt, even if I had to crawl along the floor to get there. It’d been unwise of me to not heed my husband’s direction.
But having never been in the middle of a firefight, how was I supposed to know? It wasn’t as if crime was absent in the city. I’d just never been exposed to it. I’d always been protected.
Just like Cole and his brothers were trying to do now. My strong virile men who offered me such pleasure. Offered me their hearts. But after this, would the bedroom where we’d shared so much ever feel safe again?
Cries of the injured rang out, but thankfully none from above. Fear for Bret and Cole plagued my mind and overwhelmed my senses as I stared at the bed when a puff of down spit into the air from a stray bullet striking a pillow.
I thought of Drew, with whom I’d shared so little thus far. And Evan – would he ever touch me the way his brothers had? Would he survive this attack on the ranch? Would any of us?
In all my ponderings of leaving home and family back east and making a new start with the Carstons in Montana, I never imagined facing such a scenario. Men fighting to claim me for their own purposes. Never once had I considered I’d end up in a struggle for not only my heart – my body even – but for my very survival.
And the survival of others.
This all started with me, and I couldn’t just cower in here while the men I loved stared down death on my behalf. Not when I had the power to do something about it.
Not when I had nothing left to give them.
The warmth of tears streamed down my face as I made my decision. The moment the gunfire lessened again, I crawled from my hiding place to push the trunks aside and topple the side table to open the bedroom door.
Tears dripped straight from my eyes onto my hands as I struggled on all fours along the wood floors I’d done such a poor job of keeping clean. Though my cooking had vastly improved, I still wasn’t able to fully keep up my end of the bargain when I’d agreed to become Cole’s wife. I hadn’t even finished the shirt I’d started on the train for him.
They deserved someone better suited to this rugged life. Someone better than me. Someone who could fill this house with the laughter of children to carry on the Carston family legacy.
I edged to the front door and shoved it open, hiding to the side as I called out, “Mr. Jahan!” Shouts across the yard and the gunfire that had resumed stilled. “I’m coming out!”
“Estella, no!” Drew’s voice echoed across the homestead outside while matching cries came from above, accompanied by the thunder of tramping boots racing two at a time down the stairs.
Before I thought too hard and anyone could stop me, I inched out onto the porch with my hands held away from my sides then walked forward and down the steps. “I’ll come with you, Mr. Jahan.”
Several bodies lay in the yard, unfamiliar faces I avoided as I made my way toward the barn. Blood and feathers coated the area around the chicken coop. Several milk cows and sheep caught grazing nearby lay in bloodied heaps in their grassy pens. I choked back sobs along with the bile at what had happened to those poor, innocent animals.
“I’ll come with you if you promise not to hurt anyone else and leave Carston Ranch.”
“Stella!” Cole called from the edge of the open doorway, his voice dripping with fear. “Get back here now.”
The only thing that stopped Cole from racing into the yard after me was Bret’s arm as a bullet whizzed by and into the doorframe. A warning.
“I’ve got a shot lined up on her, Carston.” Mr. Jahan’s disembodied voice carried out from near the back of the barn. “Stand down and let her come to me, or I’ll shoot.”
I stopped in the center of the yard, my knees nearly giving out on me at the thought someone might still go ahead and shoot me. Movement near the stables caught my attention, and I took a few steps that direction.
The click of a cocking pistol stopped me. “Toward my voice, Miss Estella,” Mr. Jahan said. “Nice and easy now.”
The edges of my vision darkened, but I took a deep breath and another step. I almost laughed to realize that because of Cole, I could actually take deep breaths. I no longer had to don a restrictive corset. I could walk and run freely. Love deeply and without restraint.
How could I tell him it was because of love that I continued forward, defying my husband one last time?
“Please don’t go with him, Stella.” Cole’s voice sounded so close, as if he bent near my ear to whisper. Inhabited my body. My mind. My very soul.
But I knew it was a trick of the sound carrying along the breeze from the safety of the house. I knew it right before Mr. Jahan lunged out to clutch me to him as a shield then stepped out from the shadows.
“Tell your men to stand down, Carston,” he yelled. “And drop your weapons. Then I’ll do what she asked and let you live.”
It was Bret’s voice that carried from the house with the command to acquiesce. The yard filled with the clatter of weapons falling to the ground. The moment it stopped, Mr. Jahan pushed us further forward, and a handful of his men joined us as they bled from the shadows.
Surrounded by his armed men, Mr. Jahan holstered his gun then tied my hands roughly behind my back. The rope bit into my wrists just as he ripped open my shirtwaist to fondle my breasts in full view of my husband and his brothers. Nausea rushed up as he twisted a nipple, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying for mercy.
He trailed his warm tongue from my shoulder, along my neck and up to my ear. “I’ve been waiting to do that since you first boarded the boat in St. Louis.”
I jerked away to no avail. Instead of thrilling and filling me with fire like Cole and Bret had done, Mr. Jahan’s touch left violation in its wake. With his other hand, he tugged at my
skirts. My heart beat wildly at the realization of what this odious man was about to do.
“You have her now, Jahan,” Bret growled. “Take her and leave now…while you still can.”
Warm tears began anew. They were going to let me go. Willingly release me as they had every right to do. As I’d wanted them to do when I’d made the choice to walk out that door.
I glanced at the house that had been my home these precious few months. Where I’d known a love I’d never find again.
“I’ll leave, Carston…but only after I’ve had the pleasure of fucking your wife right before your eyes.” He fumbled with his trousers. “That way you don’t have to imagine what I’m doing with her after she’s gone. You’ll be able to remember every detail of this moment for the rest of your life.”
My breath rushed out in a single cry as he bent me over and shoved my skirts up onto my back, exposing my seam for his torment.
A torment that mercifully didn’t come.
A single shot reverberated in the air. A crushing weight slammed into me and sent me headfirst straight into the dust.
Blackness washed away the world.
Epilogue
Estella
The firsthand experience of a long and cold Montana winter was something I was ill-prepared for that initial year. Christmases were rarely white back east where I’d grown up, so I’d hoped to usher in the season in true Montana style.
But as I’d finally come to accept, I still had a lot to learn about life out here on the prairie.
The heavy snowfall of last evening had given way to lazy flakes drifting down from the steely gray heavens. I could’ve watched out the window for hours, mesmerized by the drifting, heavy flakes – but I wanted to finish the letter to Mrs. Barker while opportunity allowed.
My first Christmas dinner opened the door for the initial use of my china, and it appears to have been a success. I have you to thank for it, my dear friend. The recipe you sent along for those candied yams turned out surprisingly well. The bread was yeasty and warm, though perhaps a bit doughy by the middle. I’ll have to adjust the baking time or temperature when next I attempt loaves, as my husband said sometimes the higher altitude here affects baked goods.
