by Tess LeSue
“Get back to bed and let me deal with this,” Matt snapped at Deathrider. “You’ll only rip your stitches and bleed all over the place.”
“Get off me,” Wendell said.
Matt felt something hard press into his gut. He knew it was the muzzle of a gun before he looked. So Wendell wasn’t that stupid, then.
“See what you’ve done,” Matt complained to Deathrider as he backed away from the pistol.
“I wasn’t the one who let him in.”
“If you’d left your damn sheets alone, he wouldn’t have seen your wound and got all excited. You’da just been a sick man in bed.”
“Shut up,” Wendell ordered, waving the pistol to get Matt to back up. He looked more triumphant than he had when he’d shown up, if such a thing was possible. There was even more of a weasel gleam in his eye than before. “I got you,” he said. “I got you now.”
“I don’t know what you think you’ve ‘got,’” Matt sighed, “but it probably ain’t something you want.”
“Sit down.” Wendell gestured at the bed.
“I’d rather not.”
“Put your gun away,” Deathrider ordered.
Wendell laughed. “How dumb do you think I am?”
“Pretty dumb.”
“See, this is why people shoot at you,” Matt complained. “You go around provoking everyone.”
“I got a deal for you, Slater,” Wendell announced. He had his gun trained on Deathrider now. Matt didn’t fancy his chances, even with Deathrider unarmed. “Sit down, the both of you, and I’ll tell you about it.”
“How about I stand here and you tell me about it?”
“How about you act like a man and take that gun off him?” Deathrider snapped at Matt. He was looking off-color. Getting out of bed clearly wasn’t agreeing with him.
“You should probably sit down,” Matt told him.
“I will shoot you!” Wendell sounded plenty frustrated.
Deathrider held up his arms, exposing the swollen flesh above and below his bandage. “Go ahead. Put me out of my misery.”
“He crazy?” Wendell asked Matt.
“No more than usual. He’s sick. So hurry the hell up and tell us about your deal so I can get him back to bed.” Matt put a restraining hand on Deathrider’s arm. “Go on, we ain’t going to attack you. Say your piece.”
“I might attack you,” Deathrider said sourly.
“I ain’t scared! I’m the one with the gun.”
“For now.”
“Hurry up and get this done before you don’t have it anymore,” Matt told him shortly.
Wendell was looking nervous. Matt didn’t like it. Nervous men got itchy trigger fingers.
“You were saying that I ain’t married,” Matt prompted.
“No, you ain’t!”
“No,” Matt agreed, “I ain’t.”
Wendell seemed surprised he admitted it so readily. “So why’d you say you were?”
Matt felt Deathrider’s curious inspection. “It seemed rude to call the lady a liar,” he said gruffly. “And you were terrorizing her.”
“Hold on a minute,” Deathrider interrupted. “What lady are we talking about?”
“What does it matter to you? You ain’t left your bed since we got here,” Matt said tersely, “so you ain’t even met her.”
“So you didn’t answer her advertisement?” Wendell asked, ignoring their bickering.
“Hell, no.”
“Well, what were you doing, then, getting involved today?”
“He can’t help it,” Deathrider said. “Getting involved is what he does.”
“Would you keep out of this? It’s got nothing to do with you,” Matt complained.
“Since he’s pointing a gun at me, I think it has everything to do with me.”
“Shut up!” Wendell ordered. “You tell me how well you know the lady and how long you’ve been involved! What do you know?”
“I don’t even know which lady we’re talking about,” Deathrider said.
“Not you! Him.”
“I only met her yesterday,” Matt told him calmly. “I stepped in because you were bullying her.”
“What business was it of yours?”
“None,” Deathrider said, at the exact same moment Matt said: “Anyone would have stepped in. You can’t go around harassing women like that.”
They gave each other disgruntled looks.
“You woulda stepped in too,” Matt told his friend grumpily. Then he turned back to Wendell. “Look,” he said, “I didn’t know the woman until recently. I did the gentlemanly thing, that’s all. And boy, do I regret it now. I escorted her back to the hotel, and I was only keeping an eye on her in the parlor so you wouldn’t threaten her. She was clearly intimidated.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Deathrider said, glancing at the gun.
“So even though she said you were married, you ain’t?” Wendell frowned.
“I already told you we ain’t.”
“And what are your intentions?”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Wendell growled. “Are you planning on marrying her tomorrow? Or the day after?”
“Of course not!”
Wendell looked perplexed.
“You got married?” Deathrider seemed perplexed too.
“No!” Matt took a deep breath to steady his temper. “No. I didn’t get married. How many times do I have to say it? The fool woman told a lie, that’s all.”
“What woman?” Deathrider shook his head. “You never talk to women.”
“And this is why!” Matt snapped.
Deathrider snorted. “This is why? Because if you talk to them, you’ll end up married?”
“I ain’t married!”
“Stop!” Wendell shouted. “You two are giving me a headache.”
“That’s all him,” Matt said. “He could give a saint a headache. You should try being out on the trail with him.”
“Shut up! Just shut the hell up, the both of you!”
They fell silent.
“So the lady was lying?” Wendell asked, trying to get clarity.
“Yeah.”
“Why’d you go along with it if it ain’t true?”
Matt shrugged. “I told you why.”
“How long were you planning on keeping it up?”
He sighed. “I wasn’t.”
Wendell was thinking hard. “Was she? Was she wanting to keep it up?”
“Yeah,” Matt admitted, “she was.” He felt a rush of sympathy for the woman. It seemed like she’d be dealing with Wendell again mighty soon.
An odd look came over Wendell’s face. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “She . . . she, uh, said it because she didn’t want to marry me, didn’t she?”
Matt and Deathrider exchanged looks. Was the man upset? He looked upset. He sounded it too. His voice had got all thick and shaky sounding.
“It’s just . . . ” Wendell cleared his throat again. “I thought she wanted a husband.”
“She seems to,” Matt said carefully, “judging by the fact she placed an ad for one.”
“She what?” Deathrider butted in.
“She advertised for a husband,” Matt told him.
“Why’d she do that?”
“Because she wanted one?” Matt shrugged at his friend. Who could explain women?
“The woman who runs the hotel said she hadn’t found one yet,” Wendell said, still sounding hurt. “She said dozens of men had come through, and Mrs. Blunt didn’t like any of them. Too citified, she said. Well, I ain’t citified.” Wendell was as down in the mouth as a kid who’d dropped his candy in the mud. “So I don’t see why she don’t want to marry me.”
“Women generally don’t want to marry men who t
hreaten them,” Matt said.
“What do you know about that?” The gun was back on Matt.
“Nothin’,” he said quickly. “Only that you and the lady have a past. I don’t know the details.”
“After you left the parlor, what did she say to you? You were up here a long time.”
Matt sighed. “Listen, pal, I don’t really want to be mixed up in all this.”
“Bit late for that,” Deathrider said under his breath.
“What did she tell you?” Wendell snarled.
“Nothing!” Matt half shouted back. “She didn’t tell me anything! And I don’t want to know anything! You hear me? I don’t care. I just want to go about my business.”
Wendell gave him a sullen look. Then his gaze slid to Deathrider. “You know what’s interesting about seeing you here, fella?” he said softly.
Matt had a bad feeling.
“What’s interesting is I heard you was dead.”
“Would you just kill him and get this over with?” Deathrider asked Matt.
“I’ve got a deal for you,” Wendell said.
“If you don’t kill him, I will.”
“We ain’t killing anyone,” Matt snapped at Deathrider. “Get on with your deal, you mule-faced idiot,” he told Wendell, “before he loses his patience.”
Wendell flushed.
“You said you had a deal?” Matt prodded. “Well, out with it. Tom here ain’t as nice as me; he’s already done with you, but I’ll give you one more chance to put your deal to me, and then I’m done with you too.”
“I want you to keep pretending you’re married to her,” Wendell blurted.
“What?” He’d misheard. He must have misheard.
“I want you to do what she wants: pretend you’re married.” He scowled suddenly. “But don’t actually marry her.”
Matt was speechless.
“That’s insane,” Deathrider said.
“If you don’t do it, I’ll squeal about this one.” Wendell waved the gun at Deathrider. “I’m sure a lot of people would like to know where the Plague of the West is, if he ain’t dead.”
“Is it me or is everyone in this town crazy?” Matt asked his friend.
“Maybe there’s something in the water,” Deathrider said.
“If you go along with the pretend marriage,” Wendell said, continuing as though neither of them had spoken, “I’ll keep quiet about the Indian.”
Matt pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This can’t be happening.”
“If you keep pretending, then she ain’t going to marry anyone else,” Wendell said. “We can come along with your wagon party, and it’ll give me time to woo her.”
Matt groaned. “That’s the worst plan I ever heard.”
“No, it ain’t.” Wendell sounded offended.
“It is,” Deathrider told him.
“You ain’t heard it all yet.”
“There’s more?” Matt asked in horror.
“Listen,” Wendell said angrily, “I like her.”
Matt groaned again.
“She’s a damn fine woman. Finer than any I seen from here to California.”
“That wouldn’t be difficult,” Deathrider said dryly. “There aren’t many women between here and California.”
“You ain’t got any idea what I’m talking about,” Wendell scoffed. “You haven’t met her.”
Deathrider gave Matt an inquisitive look.
“She is a fine-looking woman,” Matt admitted.
Deathrider’s eyebrows rose. Matt wasn’t usually one to notice women.
“She needs a husband, and I can be that husband,” Wendell insisted. “She just don’t realize it yet.”
“I don’t see why you need me,” Matt said tiredly. “Just court her, like a regular person.”
“This ain’t a regular situation! If she ain’t pretending to be married to you, she’ll marry someone else. Someone not me.”
“Seems like she has every right to do that.”
“If you stay married,” Wendell talked right over the top of Matt, “she won’t be marrying anyone else. We can travel together, and she can get to know me. I can show her what a good husband I’d make, see?”
The idiot had no idea. Matt took in Wendell’s scraggy beard and baggy travel-worn clothes, his hollow cheeks and hungry eyes. Even aside from his constant threats of violence, he was hardly a woman’s dream husband. Especially for a woman like Mrs. Blunt, who glittered and shone and had skin as smooth and pale as cream; who spoke with a voice like crystal chiming, in an accent so clear and proper she might as well be the queen of England.
“I hate to ruin your grand plan, but I ain’t going to California,” Matt told him. That should settle it. “So you cain’t be coming along with me.”
Wendell got that weasel gleam again. “No. But I looked into your travel plans. You travel along with that Sampson fella, and he goes to California. We can travel with you till he splits off. By then, I’ll have wooed Mrs. Blunt, and you can go on your way.”
The idiot was serious. Worse than serious, he was convinced his stupid plan would actually work. He was savoring his triumph already.
“Or we can just kill him now,” Deathrider told Matt conversationally.
“You really do think I’m dumb.” Wendell shook his head in astonishment.
“We really do,” Deathrider agreed.
“Let me get this straight,” Matt said tersely, cutting through their bickering. “You want me to pretend to be married to Mrs. Blunt until we get to Fort Hall, which should take us a good few months. You want me to lie to her children, deceive a whole party of emigrants, mislead my employees, and then at Fort Hall to just say, ‘Sorry, folks, none of that was true, we ain’t actually married’?” He couldn’t contain how stupid he thought the whole idea was. “And what do you think that will do to her reputation?”
“It won’t matter, because then she’ll marry me.”
“Oh, it’ll matter,” Matt snorted. “It’ll matter plenty. You got any idea what small communities are like? How the other women will treat her for being with a man out of wedlock?”
“I expect you’ll want Matt to keep out of her bed on the journey to Fort Hall as well?” Deathrider drawled. “Even if you aren’t concerned with her reputation, that don’t seem fair. If he has to suffer a pretend marriage, it seems to me the least reward he could have is getting to lay with her.”
Matt could have thumped him. He was just stirring up trouble for the sake of stirring up trouble. Knowing him, he was half hoping Wendell would do something stupid, just so he could have an excuse to smack him.
“People will get suspicious if they don’t share a tent,” Deathrider goaded. “They’d expect a man to sleep with his wife. Especially when they’re only just married. Newlyweds generally go at it like rabbits.”
“You’re not to touch her!” Wendell was looking trigger-happy again.
“Look, it just won’t work,” Matt said, stepping slightly in front of Deathrider. “I said the same thing to Mrs. Blunt today. There are too many holes. No one’s going to believe a word of it, and it will do more harm than good.”
Wendell was frowning so hard he looked like he might pop an eyeball. “Wait!” he said abruptly. “What if . . . ” he paused. Thinking looked painful for him. “What if you don’t marry her?”
Matt was about ready to start throwing furniture. He’d had about all he could take of dumb folks today. If the idiot didn’t get out of here soon, Matt was of half a mind to let Deathrider kill him after all.
“Yeah,” the idiot continued, still painfully thinking his idiot plan through, “you could not marry her.”
“Good plan.” Matt rolled his eyes at Deathrider, who seemed captivated by Wendell’s thought contortions.
“It’s a great plan
!” Wendell insisted.
“For me to not marry her?”
“Yeah!” Wendell beamed at him.
“Fine,” Matt sighed. “It’s a great plan. I heartily agree to not marry the woman. Now, if that’s settled, can you get out of here and let us go on about our lives?”
“Shake on it?” Wendell thrust his hand out.
Matt stared at it. Something wasn’t quite right here. “You want me to shake on not marrying Mrs. Blunt?”
“Yeah!”
Matt couldn’t see a problem with that, no matter how he turned it over. “Fine. I promise not to marry Mrs. Blunt.” He shook the idiot’s hand. “And,” he added, still shaking, “you promise not to tell anyone you mistook my brother for a certain Indian.”
“Agreed. But only so long as you keep your side of the bargain.”
“Of not marrying her?”
“Of not marrying her all the way to Fort Hall!”
Matt stopped shaking. He felt there was a catch here somewhere. “Not marrying her all the way to Fort Hall?”
“Yeah!” Wendell was so proud of himself he was practically hopping from foot to foot. “You can break off your engagement when you get there!”
“My . . . engagement?” Matt’s stomach sank. He dropped Wendell’s sweaty hand like it was a hot coal. “What in hell are you talking about?”
“I can still kill him if you want,” Deathrider said, but he was sounding bored now. He sat down on the edge of his bed. “Just yell out if you need me.”
“I mean you can be engaged to be married!” Wendell beamed at him.
“I can . . . ”
“You can! You and Mrs. Blunt can say you’re waiting to be married until you get to the end of the trail. Because Mrs. Blunt’s a lady and wants to be married proper-like.”
“And why can’t she be married proper-like here in Independence?” Matt felt like he was going mad. He had half a mind to walk out of here and just keep going. He could saddle Pablo and just ride off on his own, and keep riding all the way home to Oregon. Away from all these crazy people.
“Maybe she wants time to get to know you!” Wendell crowed. “Any way you look at it, it works!”
“You hear that?” Deathrider tapped Matt on the leg. “It works.”
Matt resisted the urge to kick him.
