“Some things can’t be ended that easily, baby.”
The endearment was much softer this time, but heavy with the love it carried. Love that would make her normally indulgent uncle do what he saw as his duty by her, leaving her caught in the trap of her own making. The bait had been her freedom. The price paid was Brad’s. “It can’t be this complicated.”
“Trust me,” Brad growled. “It hasn’t even begun to be complicated.”
“Now see here, Reverend,” her uncle huffed. “When questions were asked, you didn’t defend yourself.”
“If I remember correctly, at the time two men were holding my arms while you pounded your fists into my stomach. I couldn’t seem to catch my breath to answer.”
Evie hadn’t known that. “Uncle Paul, you didn’t!”
She didn’t need to hear Brad’s snort to know it was the truth. That was written in her uncle’s frown. She took a step back, bumping into Brad’s side.
“You know I don’t hold with violence.”
“Quite frankly, when I found out you had been cavorting with a naked man, I didn’t find myself caring that much for your idiotic suffragette preachings. Free—” His rant came to a sudden halt.
Evie didn’t need him to finish. She’d heard it more times than she could count.
She yanked her arm out of Brad’s hold and slapped the bouquet against her thigh. “I believe free love is the term you were searching for.”
Uncle Paul scowled. “I’ll not have you spouting such filth in the church.”
“It’s not filth. It’s a development that’s long overdue. Women should have the same freedom as men, including the right to fornicate, if they want to.”
Uncle Paul’s face turned florid, as it did every time she mentioned choice. He always got stuck on the right rather than on the desire. Truth was, it was a rare man who attracted her. And since the Reverend had come to town, he’d been the only one who’d tempted her. And maybe if he hadn’t been a minister she might have explored the possibility of that attraction and the depth of her belief in the right to explore it, but he was a minister and the very symbol of all things proper, so she’d kept her fascination in check. She didn’t do well with proper.
“It’s filth and rubbish, and I regret the day your mother let you take up correspondence with that woman.”
That woman was a famed suffragist. “Anna Dickinson is a very intelligent woman who makes excellent points regarding the inequities in our society, particularly when it comes to women.”
Her uncle’s jaw knotted. His hands clenched into fists. For the first time in her life, Evie actually feared he might hit her. Brad’s arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her into his side. With a warning squeeze that she assumed translated into “shut up,” he shoved her behind him.
“Aren’t you glad her ideas are now mine to deal with?”
Though she couldn’t see him any more, her uncle’s shaky breath clearly indicated the level of his struggle to hold his temper. “You still intend to marry her?”
As if she were some sort of unpleasant burden to be unloaded, not a woman with a perfectly good brain and ideas of her own. Why did that attitude continue to hurt her? “Uncle Paul—”
Brad cut her off. “We both know there’s no choice. Not if I want to continue living here.”
She poked him in the back. “Thanks.”
His eyes glittered at her over his shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
Her uncle sighed. “She’s a little spoiled.”
“I’d say more than a little.”
“It’s possible Pearl and I were too lenient once my brother died. It didn’t seem right to be too harsh with her once she’d lost her father.”
This was ridiculous. Evie ducked under Brad’s arm in time to see her uncle’s shrug.
“I’m afraid we indulged her.”
It sounded a lot like her uncle was apologizing to Brad for the parts of her personality she happened to like. “I’m not ashamed of who I am.”
“Perhaps you should be.” Uncle Paul sighed again.
“Why?” she snapped, guilt that she couldn’t be what he wanted melding with frustration, giving birth to anger. “Because I don’t see why I should pretend that I don’t have an opinion and should spend my life as some man’s chattel?”
Brad’s response was a shake of his head as he pushed her through the door. She stumbled and spun around. She only had a glimpse of his face through the crack. His expression did not warm the cockles of her heart. It merely solidified her conviction that the Reverend was a hard man. Just before he closed it, he said, “Because you don’t know when to be quiet.”
Two
MAY BE SHE DIDN’T know when to be quiet. Ten minutes later, Evie stood with the Reverend by her side, listening to the judge saying the words that bound them together and debating the point. If she’d spoken up earlier, this might have been prevented. If she’d shut up sooner, rather than espousing her beliefs, her uncle and her mother might not have come to the decision that a good, solid husband like the Reverend was the solution to their problems. That was a whole lot of mights. There was no doubt, from a physical standpoint, that her fiancé was perfect. She was a tall woman and used to looking men in the eye with little effort, but the Reverend stood a good head taller than her five foot seven inches, and from the set of his shoulders and the square of his jaw it was easy to believe the story that he’d almost beaten a man to death.
Not that anyone had seen anything wrong with that at the time. Mark had to have been crazy to whip Jenna McKinnely, but many had still doubted the Reverend’s ability to be so violent, even when morally outraged. Everyone except Evie.
Evie hadn’t been surprised that the Reverend Brad was capable of such violence. There was something about the man that just seemed more outlaw than God-fearing. He was fascinating, masculine, and compelling, but he was also more than he appeared, deeper than he let on. He was a mystery, and over the last year he’d come to fascinate her. To the point that she had sketchbooks full of his portraits. And when that hadn’t gotten her the answers she sought, she’d painted him. In church, out of church, and eventually, out of his clothes. And then she’d put it on display. Because she’d thought it would prove a point. She sighed. Fat lot of good that had done.
Judge Carlson interrupted her musings. “Do you, Evie Washington, take the Reverend Brad Swanson as your lawfully wedded husband?”
Did she? An illogical thrill of excitement went through her when common sense said all she should be feeling was dread. Not that she was surprised. Nothing about how she reacted to Brad made sense. She didn’t like it and she didn’t know what to do with any of it—the good feelings or the bad.
“That’s your signal to either speak up or walk away,” Asa murmured from behind the judge.
The creaking of the pews indicated the interest of everyone else. They were all waiting for her. Well, they could wait a little longer. Evie hadn’t made up her mind yet.
“Shut up, MacIntyre,” Brad snapped.
There it was again. That flash of unconventionality. She glanced up at Brad. Nothing in his profile gave a clue to what he wanted. Did he want her to speak up or walk away?
“There’s no need to be rude at a wedding.”
He turned in her direction. “I thought the shotguns were setting the rules.”
“I prefer to think of them as ornamentation.”
For a second there was no change in his expression. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. “You have an unconventional way of looking at things.”
“It’s probably from being on the shelf so long.”
“You are a bit long in the tooth.”
Twenty-five was not that old! “You can always throw me back.”
He shrugged. “It’s time I married. Might as well be you as anyone else.”
That was a deliberate goad. She bared her teeth in a smile. “I’ll try to live up to your low expectations.”
“I think everyone’s ta
king bets on that.”
They were betting on her success as a wife?
“Who holds the bet that I brain you with the frying pan before breakfast?”
Clint leaned back and said behind Cougar’s back, “That’d be me.”
Clint was a handsome man, but not handsome enough for her to forgive him for the chuckle that rippled through the church. “Then I’ll be sure to lambast him before dessert.”
“I’d sure appreciate it if you would,” a man with sun-streaked blond hair called from the first pew.
Brad muttered something under his breath. “Shut up, Jackson.”
“If we’re going to be influencing the outcome, I’d be grateful if you could see your way to belting him before the wedding cake,” Doc called.
“You bet on a wedding?” Dorothy exclaimed.
“Heck no! I’m betting on the demise.”
The truth hit Evie. They expected her to fail as a wife. No one in the town thought much of her ways, she knew that, but she’d never thought they’d actually wish her ill.
“After only a few hours?” she asked, burying the hurt.
“The Reverend is the provoking sort.”
“He’s a man of God!”
“With a provoking side,” Doc argued.
There was no disputing that. Shifting her bouquet in her grip, Evie glanced up at her soon-to-be husband. He was staring straight ahead. Laugh lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes, as if this was all a big joke. As if maybe she was a joke.
“People don’t think a whole lot of you,” she told him with a great deal of satisfaction.
He cut her a glance. “You sure it’s me they’re doubting?”
No. “Of course.”
The laugh lines deepened. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, do you?”
She sighed. Being different did come with a price. Often the respect of others, but that was a small amount to pay for the pleasure of respecting herself. “Some days not as much as I should.”
That got his attention. His eyes were very blue in the afternoon light. Very observant. “Why?”
“Lack of moral fortitude.”
“The one thing you don’t lack is fortitude.”
But maybe he thought she lacked morals? She couldn’t find an answer in his expression.
The judge, apparently feeling she’d debated enough, rapped out in that aggravatingly officious way of his, “Young lady, I’m waiting on an answer.”
The man clearly didn’t approve of her. She didn’t care. “You can wait a minute more.” Turning back to Brad, she asked, “Did you place any bets?”
“A man of God doesn’t gamble.”
If the laugh lines weren’t still there, she might have taken him seriously. “A man of God doesn’t land front and center at a shotgun wedding either.”
“True enough.”
“So?”
“I already answered.”
“That was an evasion.”
“Yup.”
“That’s all? Just ‘yup’?”
“The time for discussion, young lady, was before you disrobed with this man,” the judge intoned pompously.
Who was this fat prig to lecture her? She rounded on him. “Land of Goshen! If you’re going to vilify me, get your facts right.” She pointed to Brad. “He was the one naked!”
“Evie!” her mother gasped over a bark of laughter. From the guffaws that filled the shocked silence, everyone in the church had heard her gaffe. Evie wanted to scream at them to shut up, instead she glared at Brad.
“Now see what you did?”
His left eyebrow cocked up. “You’re the one announcing to the world that you had your way with me.”
“I did not.”
“Sure sounded like it to me,” the judge interrupted.
“That’s because you look for the bad in people.”
The judge drew himself to his full height, jowls jiggling. “I don’t have to look far to know the shame of this situation.”
She gasped. How dare he? Brad’s hand circled her upper arm, holding her back.
“You want to repeat that, Carlson?”
“The girl is—”
The judge stumbled forward under the force of Asa’s cuff to the back of his head. “The girl is the Reverend’s affianced.”
Evie had the satisfaction of seeing Carlson’s face turn white as he realized the McKinnelys, along with Asa, were frowning at him. It didn’t pay to annoy that bunch.
“I was just saying—”
“You weren’t saying anything except ‘will you take this man.’ ”
Brad was still talking in that quiet voice, but Evie knew she wasn’t the only one who heard the threat in it. There was a murmur of approval from the guests. And a sputter of belated concern from the judge, followed by the most horrific advice.
“A woman like Miss Washington needs a strong hand applied on a daily basis.”
“Bull feathers.” She glared up at Brad. “You try to beat me and I’ll kill you in your sleep.”
“If I feel the need to beat you, your butt will be too sore to be doing any sneaking while I sleep.”
She should have been shocked, scared. Maybe even intimidated. She wasn’t. Mainly because those crinkles were still at the corners of his eyes. He was amused by something. “You underestimate me.”
The lines deepened ever so slightly. “Not hardly.”
“Young lady, I strongly suggest you listen to your husband rather than provoke him.”
The suggestor was wearing on her nerves. “I suggest you hush.”
He looked over her head as if she didn’t exist and blessed Brad with his wisdom. “A daily reminder of her place would assuredly go a long way to smoothing the road of your marriage. It’s my experience that ‘spare the rod, spoil the child’ is not a philosophy reserved just for children.”
A beating. He was telling Brad to beat her. Fury flared. Evie kicked him in the shin. “You pompous ass, how dare you tell anyone to beat me?”
Retaliation was swift. Carlson lunged for her, his anger mottling his face in florid patches. “You bitch!”
She jumped back. Before her feet hit the ground, Brad had the judge facedown over the altar, his arm ratcheted up between his shoulder blades. “You crooked son of a bitch. Don’t you ever touch my wife.”
“She’s not your wife yet!” the man howled as Brad jerked his arm higher.
“She will be in a minute.”
“You were right about one thing,” Cougar said as he came up beside Evie and folded his arms across his powerful chest. “The judge is a pompous ass.”
Evie just blinked at the scene, the violence both horrifying and thrilling her. No one had ever stood up for her before.
“Aren’t you going to do something?” she asked Cougar.
“Why? Looks like the Rev has it under control.”
Because ministers were peace-loving men, or so she’d always thought.
The judge screamed as Brad wrenched his arm higher and whispered something in his ear. There was a potent pause. The judge nodded. Brad straightened and let the man go. The judge stumbled back, his face white and sweating. He glanced at Brad as he returned to her side, then at Cougar, Clint, and Asa. Residual red spots stood out on his face in vivid contrast to the pasty wash of fear.
“I’m sorry, Miss Washington.”
His gaze flicked over the attendees behind her. She couldn’t see, but from the angry murmur, she was reasonably sure they weren’t looking at him any more kindly than she was. The community around Cattle Crossing was a small one, and as Cattle Crossing had grown from hellhole to town, the people had become very protective of their own. She nodded. It was all the grace she could work up for a man who’d suggested to her fiancé that he beat her daily.
“If you’ll allow, I’d like to finish the ceremony.”
Here was her chance. She could say no, and let the chips fall where they may. She could let the Reverend move on, away from his home and the life he’d
built. Away from the contentment in his eyes that had only recently replaced the torment he’d come to town bearing. There’d be embarrassment, but she’d eventually be forgiven by those who loved her. After all, women were the weaker sex, unable to be trusted with life’s decisions, incapable of comprehending a sense of honor as a man did.
For Brad, it would be different though. The stain would haunt him forever. Could she do that to him? With every heartbeat that passed, she felt the almost invisible tension within him increase. He expected her to repudiate him, probably had expected it all along, yet he hadn’t hesitated to come to her defense. Rats. Why did he have to make her go and like him? Wasn’t being fascinating enough? She sighed. He stiffened, and she knew what she was going to do.
Reaching out, she tucked her fingers into the callused roughness of Brad’s palm. Though he didn’t look down, she felt his twitch of surprise. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t exactly have a reputation for doing the right thing, but then again, she owed him. Rather than reprimanding her for her disrespect toward the judge, he’d stood up for her, defending her when she wasn’t even sure her own mother would have. She owed him better than betrayal. Heart in her throat, nerves jangling like a dinner bell, she made a decision. “Finish the ceremony.”
Behind her, her mother broke into sobs. Beside her, Brad’s fingers curled around hers. And squeezed.
“SO HOW DOES it feel to be a married man?”
Brad flicked his smoke into the dirt and glared at Cougar and Clint as they joined him outside the livery, which had been cleaned and decorated for the event. Evie’s family had spared no expense celebrating Evie’s return to respectability.
“Like the posse just caught up with me.”
Strains of fiddle music drifted on the warm June air.
“Hell, Brad,” Cougar grunted, “it’s not that bad a match. The woman might be a little wild, but you’re not exactly tame.”
“Can’t get much tamer than a preacher.” He offered Cougar a smoke. The big man looked at it longingly, but shook his head.
“Mara still snapping at your heels about your habit?”
Promises Reveal Page 3
