The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3)

by Lena Goldfinch

  Mae. Mae was inside, still sleeping. Gabe lay resting upstairs.

  Please let the bullet have bounced off the porch roof. Please.

  Could it go through a whole house?

  Could it?

  She heard Jem then, his voice cold, breaking through her screaming thoughts.

  “You don’t want this, Creed. You can’t brush my death under some rug. You can’t hurt Annie. I won’t let you.”

  Creed stilled. His eyes closed. Cheeks mottled red. Veins pulsing in his throat.

  “Creed,” Jem said, his tone soft but deadly, demanding he listen closely. “I’m not going to be forgotten. Everyone will know. You prepared to kill us all? Ben and Ray and everyone? Maybe you are. But even if you could do such a thing... Think.”

  He loosened his hold and let Creed gulp in a breath.

  “You’re going to get up. Get on your horse and go home. And you’re never coming back here. Understand?”

  Creed glared at him, eyes full of hate. Frustration. Determination.

  It made Annie sick to see him. A beast awake. He wasn’t going to give in. He still grasped his six-shooter.

  Jem pressed down on his throat. Creed fought for control of the gun.

  “Think,” Jem repeated more forcefully. “Drop it and I’ll let you go. I just want you gone. And I don’t ever want to see you again. Don’t you want to go home? See your wife? Your boys? That big spread of yours?”

  Creed stilled.

  From inside the house, Sugar let out a series of high-pitched yips.

  That’s when Annie saw them: Ben and all the ranch hands gathering around. Forming a half circle and advancing cautiously. Ray on the porch with a shotgun braced on his shoulder. They must’ve heard the gunshot and come.

  Maybe Creed saw them too. His eyes certainly widened for a second.

  “Drop the gun,” Jem repeated.

  Annie clenched her teeth, certain Creed was going to fight until one of them was dead. She tasted the bitter acid of bile in her mouth.

  Drop it, she silently urged.

  Finally, Creed caved. His grip loosened, and Jem slid the gun out of his grasp. In a surprisingly agile fashion, Jem climbed to his feet and unloaded the gun into his fist. He pocketed the bullets and helped Annie scramble to her feet.

  “Did he hurt you?” Jem asked, concerned. When she didn’t respond right away, too dazed with shock to do anything other than stand there, he added in a more urgent tone, “Annie? If he even touched you, I swear—”

  She shook her head quickly, brushing off her skirt without even fully realizing what she was doing. The whole time she kept her gaze trained on Creed. He was still lying there unarmed. Guilty. Jem could have choked him. He had the strength. He could’ve done it just like that. Or he could’ve shot him. Might’ve wanted to, but that wasn’t the kind of man Jem was. His was a controlled strength.

  “I want my gun,” Creed rasped, his hand easing the red marks on his throat as he came to his feet. Annie was once more reminded how tall Creed was. What a large man he was. That he was a trained soldier. His eyes were as mean as ever.

  “One of the men will stop by with it tomorrow.” Jem jerked his head in the direction of their audience.

  “How do I know you’ll do that?” he asked.

  Jem shrugged. “Only way you’re getting it back.”

  Creed straightened.

  “And I better not see it or you again.” Jem held the gun off to one side, out of reach. She heard him mutter two words to himself, “Gun smoke.” Evidently that meant something to him, as if he’d drawn some connection. What, she didn’t know. His face looked like it had been carved from rock. If Annie had once thought Jem dangerous, she now realized she’d only seen a glimpse of what he was capable of.

  As Creed mounted his horse and rode down the driveway, Ray, Ben, and all the hands gathered around to watch him go.

  “Are you all right?” Jem gathered Annie close, absorbing the last of her trembles.

  She nodded against his shirt, a jerky motion.

  “Mae?” he asked, looking at Ray over Annie’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” Ray said. “Still upstairs in her room, I suspect.”

  Jem released Annie and sprinted for the house. She followed him inside. They found Mae still safely sleeping. Gabe was fine.

  From that moment forward, the wheels of their escape spun faster and faster. They needed to leave. Now.

  FORTY-THREE

  “Gabe, we’re going to need to move you sooner than we thought.” Jem sat in Annie’s old room beside Gabe’s bed, propped his forearms on his thighs, and laced his fingers together loosely. He kept his manner gentle but practical, not wanting to alarm the boy but needing to prepare him.

  “He’s been here.” Gabe’s voice was flat. He was stretched out in the center of Annie’s old bed, quilts piled under him, a sheet covering his lower half. His back exposed to the air. The salve glistened over the burned patches. Jem was amazed as always that Gabe was ever awake. Seems like he should’ve been senseless from the moment of the branding, but somehow he’d gotten on his horse and ridden here. Somehow he kept going.

  It wasn’t unusual for him to stare at the wall for hours, as he was doing now, his head turned sideways, his face pale.

  Jem hesitated a beat and glanced at Ben, who’d joined them, standing just inside the bedroom door.

  “Yes, he was here,” Jem answered truthfully. There was no sense pretending otherwise.

  “How? When?”

  “Early this morning. Through a break in the fence, we’re guessing.”

  “Did I hear a gun?”

  “He got off one shot. No one was hurt.” Jem saw Gabe’s features tighten. “Just the porch roof,” he added, attempting a lightness he didn’t feel.

  “Annie?” Gabe didn’t smile. Not that Jem expected him to.

  “He spoke to Annie,” Jem admitted. “Scared her. But she’s fine. Everyone’s fine. He’s gone.”

  Gabe let out a pained sigh. His face contorted briefly. “He’ll be back.”

  “I suspect you’re right. He knows you’re here. Somehow.” Creed had probably been alerted by them posting a constant guard by the front gate. It had been a necessary precaution, but one that had likely given Gabe’s location away.

  “I can get him to his uncle’s,” Ben offered, stepping forward.

  “I’ll go,” Jem said. “I’m better able to tend to his wounds. And...I want to get Annie and Mae off the property. I just don’t trust him.”

  “He wants Annie,” Gabe mumbled into the mattress. He sounded tired. Good. Maybe he’d sleep.

  “We’ll take the train.”

  “The train?” Ben protested. “Won’t Creed be watching the depot?”

  “Be that as it may, we can’t move Gabe all the way to Denver in a wagon. It would take far too long and the ground is too uneven. The train’s faster and he won’t be jostled all around. I’ll get us seats in the sleeper car. We can pull the curtains around us. No one will see. And he can lie there on his stomach the whole way.”

  “But getting on and off...”

  “I have some ideas about that, some disguises. I think it will work.”

  “What about the horses?”

  Jem winced inwardly. “We’ll have to travel without them. They’ll just slow us down getting on and off the train. And Creed would recognize Gabe’s horse.”

  “I’m not leaving without Denali.” Gabe lifted his head and tried to push himself up.

  “Hey, hey. Easy.” Jem placed a staying hand on Gabe’s arm.

  “I’ll bring Denali to Denver,” Ben offered. “I could ride him the whole way, if need be. Take the train back.”

  “You’d do that?” Jem asked, surprised. He was seeing a new Ben. Or, more like, he was seeing a glimpse of the old Ben.

  “Of course I’d do that. For Gabe.”

  Gabe rested back against the mattress, his face gray and spent. His eyes drifted shut.

  “Why don’
t you just send Annie away?” Ben asked. Spoiling all Jem’s good feelings toward him.

  “What?” Jem glowered at Ben in disbelief. He couldn’t have said what Jem thought he’d said. Surely.

  “Well, it’s not like she’s really your wife—is she?” Ben spread his hands.

  And it just got worse.

  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” Jem’s hands clenched into fists.

  “She’s a liability. If Creed wants her, he’ll keep coming back. This’ll never end.”

  Jem glanced at Gabe. A single line had formed between the boy’s brows. He was likely still listening, even though it looked like he’d finally slipped into sleep.

  “Outside,” Jem ground out. He ushered Ben into the hall and all the way down to the back porch, without saying another word. He grabbed his hat on the way out, fully prepared to drag Ben all the way to the barn if he needed to.

  “What are you doing? Trying to stir Gabe up?” Jem demanded once they were safely out of earshot.

  “No, of course not. It just seems like Annie’s a liability.”

  “I thought you liked her?”

  “I like her just fine, I guess,” Ben admitted reluctantly. “It’s just... I know what happened. I know you bought her out from under Creed. Bought her, Jem. I know. I also know you and Mae won’t be free of Creed until you send her away.”

  “Send her away? Are you serious?” Jem tapped his hat against his thigh, agitated.

  “Be safer for her too,” Ben said, as if he actually thought that was reasonable.

  “Where’s she going to go?” Jem didn’t even wait for an answer to that meaningless question. “She’s my wife, Ben,” he said through gritted teeth, “and that’s all you need to know.”

  Ben’s eyes lit with understanding. Finally.

  Jem saw Annie then, just inside the kitchen door. She’d heard him. From the widening of her eyes he knew he’d revealed quite a lot. Exposed his heart.

  He swallowed back the urge to say something dismissive and let his words hang raw in the air.

  “Do you love her?” Ben asked, clearly perplexed. He had the worst timing, Jem decided, resisting the urge to smack Ben on the head with his hat.

  He inclined his head in Annie’s direction.

  Ben turned to look at her. When he looked back, his brows were raised in question.

  “What do you think?” Jem said quietly, not much of a question since it was pretty plain he was smitten. How had he ever thought what he felt for Annie was a “quiet love”?

  He slammed on his hat and strode for the stables, expecting Ben to follow. They had to discuss that pregnant mare of his before he left with Gabe. At Jem’s best guess, the mare had a good nine or ten weeks to go, but he knew Ben would worry about her.

  Jem didn’t have to look back to know that Annie was watching him, or to see that pondering look on her face. He supposed he’d need to talk her some time about his feelings. He’d sooner grab a live rattler, of course, but women needed to hear those kinds of things. But not now—not when they had so much to do. And not when Creed was on the hunt for Gabe. Definitely not now.

  * * *

  Annie stood frozen inside the screen door, watching as Jem beat a hot trail for the stable. She didn’t know quite what to think about the things he’d said, or how he’d looked when he’d said them.

  Did he love her or not?

  She didn’t know.

  Did he like her? Did he want her as a husband wanted a wife? Yes. That was an easy answer on both counts. She only had to look back to yesterday to know that for certain. But did he love her? Did he want her as his wife?

  Those were slightly different questions, weren’t they?

  She traced the roughened edge of the doorframe, wondering if he ever regretted stepping in and getting involved in the mess with Danny and Major Creed. What a mess it had been too. She could see Creed in her mind’s eye as he was at the dance, smug and powerful. She often had nightmares about that night. Only, in her dreams Creed was a wolf in the woods, watching her, moonlight glittering off his eyes. Jem was there in her dream too, watching out for her. Strong. A wall between her and Creed, looking handsome in his tailored evening suit, his beard neatly trimmed and combed. Still dangerous. Controlled power. Suit or no suit. He was her protector. He wouldn’t let Creed anywhere near her. She trusted that.

  She’d protect him too, she decided, if he ever needed it. However she could. She wasn’t much of a fighter—wasn’t big enough or strong enough to frighten anyone. She couldn’t speak up for him if he needed that kind of defense. She could barely write her name to a document. So what could she do?

  I’ll stick by him.

  I’ll believe him, always, no matter what.

  I’ll follow wherever he goes.

  What was that scripture about Ruth and her mother-in-law?

  “Where you go, I will go. Where you stay, I will stay. Your God will be my God.”

  His people, her people.

  She’d be his wife.

  He might not feel the melting emotion for her that young lovers felt, but they could have devotion, commitment, loyalty—all very good things. Things she’d always yearned for.

  She yearned for the softer melting emotions too, if she were being honest. Would those ever come someday?

  Could Jem ever love her as she loved him?

  FORTY-FOUR

  On the day of the escape—as they’d come to call it—Annie woke well before dawn. Jem had gotten up even earlier, evidently. His side of the bed was empty. His pillow still bore the impression of his head.

  Annie leapt up and quickly lit the lamp on her bedside table. Last night, she’d laid out her traveling suit. Everything else she needed was ready, within easy reach. She’d just finished dressing when she heard the sound of the bedroom door creaking open. She froze in place, then blinked as a dark-haired stranger strode in.

  “Don’t you look pretty?” Jem’s voice said. He came to a halt a few paces away from her and gave her an appreciative glance that made her cheeks grow warm.

  He was dressed as she’d never seen him. Her first impression was that of a professional businessman off for the city in a dove gray tailored suit, pressed white shirt, black silk tie, and polished black leather shoes.

  His hair, as midnight black as ever, neatly trimmed to the top of his collar.

  Cleanly shaved, bespectacled, with a dashing black bowler hat dangling from one finger.

  He dropped a shiny black physician’s bag to the floor. The brown leather handles fell to one side.

  He was a complete picture.

  The doctor.

  He pushed up the bridge of his glasses.

  “I don’t really need these,” he said, by way of explanation. “And I’ve got another bag just like this one for the money, whatever we might need. I don’t know how long we’ll need to be gone.”

  Annie’s shock faded quickly. Part of her had known it was him almost immediately, as if she’d seen him this way once, long ago. Now that her eyes had adjusted better, he wasn’t a stranger at all. But he wasn’t quite Jem either.

  “So, what do you think? Will Creed recognize me?”

  She shook her head once and stepped closer, not wanting to sign anything.

  His face. How had she not known this was what he looked like?

  So handsome.

  Only...she didn’t much care for the way the gray-tinted lenses hid his eyes. He’d said he didn’t need the glasses. They were meant as a disguise, so Creed wouldn’t recognize him. And there was no chance Creed would recognize this man as Jem. None. She hoped. His transformation was more than simply a pair of glasses, after all.

  “What are you do—” Jem began, as she lifted the springy gold stems that looped over his ears and removed them, “—ing?”

  There. There were his eyes, as smoky blue and amazing as always. The eyes she’d fallen in love with. The eyes that had told her what kind of man she was truly dealing with, especially in
those early days.

  And his face.

  “Annie?” He raised his brows.

  She shook her head in wonder. His was such a handsome face. His skin bare, with just a shadow of darkness where his full thick beard had been before. His skin was paler there, inviting the touch. After setting his glasses on the bedside table, she trailed her fingers over the smooth planes of his cheeks. She slowed over the slight roughness of his jaw, a manly texture that stirred up a rather intimate awareness of him. One she hadn’t known she would like.

  How different a man was from a woman.

  Her fingers glanced over the hint of stubble again.

  She wanted to lean her cheek up against his, feel the sensation of roughness there too.

  She wanted to touch his face: his chin, his cheekbones, his brows. Everywhere. She wanted to know him, store the feeling of his skin in her mind. In her fingertips, which were now gladly skimming over every little surface that she wanted to touch. When his eyes closed, she skimmed there too, lightly touching the more delicate skin of his eyelids.

  He didn’t wince. In fact, it seemed he liked her touch quite a lot, if his expression was anything to go by. Like he was savoring something that tasted good. Like his favorite blackberry pie.

  She smiled at the fanciful thought.

  He’d also leaned down to grant her access, as if she were a blind woman and not just one who couldn’t speak. She tugged downward on his neck and brought him closer so she could place her cheek against his. For a moment, she could think of nothing else. Who could have guessed how lovely a man’s cheek could be? She kissed him there. Boldly moving her lips across his jaw, tasting his lips, marveling at her own actions. He let out an appreciative sound and eagerly kissed her back, almost an instinctive response.

  She liked that.

  But she’d probably been too forward.

  Annie pulled back reluctantly. She needed to see him again. How had she not known this was Jem? This wasn’t the face of a man who needed to hide behind some beard. This was the face of a man who knew he was handsome.

  He had to have known.

  She’d never sensed any shyness in him, ever. Didn’t sense any shyness in him now.