If he was right, someone even landed on top of him, but he managed to get away. He was sure he made it out of the bar. He remembered something about the cool night air hitting his face. But then he was wet, and right after that, he was being thrown into the back of a wagon.
He groaned, and his throat ached in protest. Bringing his hand to his sore throat, he remembered something else. A preacher. The blur of a woman who wasn’t too far away. There was something about a wedding and having to say, “I do,” in order to get another man who was trying to strangle him to release him.
Gasping, he sat straight up in the bed, his eyes flying open. He didn’t recognize the small room. Worse, when he looked down at his body, he wasn’t in his own clothes. He was wearing someone else’s shirt and pants. Where was he? How did he get here?
“You’ll be just fine,” came a man’s voice from another room.
Brandon went still and listened, hoping something in the conversation would let him know what was going on.
“I know this isn’t what you wanted,” the man continued from the other room. “But I think this could be a good thing. I prayed long and hard last night, and I have a feeling of peace about it. I don’t get that feeling unless God’s telling me it’ll be alright. Now, you stay here. I’m going to check and see if your husband is awake yet.”
Husband? Who was the husband? He leaned in his bed so he could look out the doorway. How many other men were in this place? Please let there be some other man who’s the husband. Don’t let it be me.
Footsteps approached, and Brandon felt the cold wave of terror wash over him. It sounded like those footsteps were heading for this bedroom.
He got up from the bed. Pulling up the large pants that were much too short for him, he ran to the small window, and, despite his tall frame, managed to squeeze out of it. The sunlight struck his eyes, and pain shot through his temples. Ignoring the hangover, he stumbled along the side of the cabin.
No. There was no way he could be married. Not again. After his divorce, he vowed he would never attach himself to another woman for as long as he lived. Marriage was fine for any other man, but it wasn’t fine for him.
From the room he’d just escaped, he heard the man calling for him. He glanced back at the window. The man hadn’t stuck his head out the window yet. There was still time to get away without the man seeing him. He quickly made his way to the edge of the cabin then turned the corner, only to come to an abrupt stop when he saw a woman sitting on the porch. She hadn’t seen him yet. There was still time to drop out of sight. Except he couldn’t because he noticed how round her belly was. From the looks of it, she could very well give birth today.
Was that the woman he’d married last night? It was so dark that he didn’t get a good look at her. He glanced over his shoulder. No one was behind him. The man who’d been looking for him seemed to have given up. For the moment, anyway.
He turned his attention back to the woman. She was young. Eighteen. Maybe Nineteen. He doubted she was twenty. And she had such a sad look about her. He recognized the look of someone who’d given up when he saw it, and she had given up. She had nothing to live for. Nothing except the child she carried. That child might be the only thing that kept her going.
With a sigh, he rested his head on the side of the cabin. He closed his eyes and tried to remember if she was really the one those men had forced him to marry. But no matter how hard he tried, the whole night was a blur. He thought he remembered throwing up shortly before a man nearly choked him to death.
Opening his eyes, he peered around the corner of the cabin again and took another look at her. She stared straight ahead at the grassy fields that spanned for miles. She didn’t blink. She didn’t rock in the chair. She just rubbed her belly.
His head hung low. Why him? Why did he have to be the one who was forced to marry her? Why couldn’t it have been someone else? He was twenty-nine for goodness’ sakes. He was a divorced man. He had no business being with someone so young. Never mind the fact that he didn’t want to be married.
“I don’t want you to worry about a thing,” came the familiar voice of the man who’d been searching for him.
Brandon took a good look at the old man as he stepped onto the porch.
The man set a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Your husband isn’t awake yet. You both had a long night, and he was drunk. I’m sure he’ll be up before long. In the meantime, I’m going to make some coffee. Would you like any?”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
“Everything will work out,” the man assured her before he went back into the cabin.
Brandon glanced at the fields that would take him away from this cabin—and away from a marriage he didn’t want. But how could he leave her and the child? The old man was in no shape to take care of them. Not long-term, anyway.
Feeling as if the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders, he returned to the window and climbed back into the room. Exhausted, he fell back on the bed and covered his eyes with his arm. He took a deep breath. He was making a mistake. He was sure he was. He would have been better off running away. But then, what would become of the woman and the child she carried?
After a few minutes, he heard the same footsteps heading toward the bedroom.
“I see you reappeared,” came the man’s voice.
Brandon lowered his arm from his eyes so he could see the old man.
The man chuckled. “You vanished there for a few minutes.” He sat on the edge of the bed and lowered his voice. “I know you got cold feet. You didn’t ask to get married last night. But that poor girl out there needs someone who’ll protect her. Those men who dragged you out here were a sorry bunch. They’ve been using her for their pleasure for the last year, and no matter how much I complained to the sheriff, he didn’t do anything about it. No one else would help, either.” He sighed. “The poor girl doesn’t even know who the father is.”
Brandon cringed. He couldn’t recall exactly how many men had dragged him out here, but to think she’d been raped by even one of them made his stomach roil in protest.
“This town is not good to women, especially if they’re Indian,” the preacher continued. “She’s had a rough time of it. All I know is that some army men came by and dropped her off. Orson and his men took her, and now that she’s ready to have the baby, they don’t want to deal with her anymore. You’re a man. I don’t need to explain to you how men think.”
Brandon wasn’t sure how he should respond to that, so he decided to keep quiet. The truth was, he didn’t want to think about it. He was sick enough as it was.
“I told you all of this,” the man added, “because I want you to be good to her. Don’t drop her off somewhere and leave her alone with that innocent child. Neither her nor the child had any control over what happened.”
“I know,” Brandon said since he suspected the man was going to keep telling him the horrible things that had happened to her. If memory served, he’d already thrown up last night. He really didn’t want to do so again.
“I realize you were tempted to run away from this. I saw you after you climbed out the window.” He patted his arm. “I’m glad you chose to come back. Look, the best thing you can do is get her out of this place. She needs a new start. The poor thing has so many bad memories here. Give her a future that will be better than her past.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t have much to my name. I only have a horse and camping gear.”
“I can give you a few things to help you out. I believe God will provide the rest.”
Brandon started to argue that God hadn’t been good to him up to this point so why would He start now, but he kept his mouth shut. The man was a preacher. He had to believe the best.
The man stood up. “Come. You need something to eat and drink.”
Well, he was committed to the marriage now, so there was no reason why he shouldn’t meet the bride. Pushing aside the urge to panic, he got up from the bed and fo
llowed the preacher into the small kitchen where three full cups of coffee were set out with three plates. In the center of the table were scrambled eggs and a stack of toast.
“Go on and sit,” the preacher said. “I’ll get Lokni.”
Lokni. So that was his new wife’s name. At least it wasn’t Hesther. That had been his first wife’s name. He pulled out the chair and sat down. He looked down at the cup in front of him. He didn’t think all the caffeine in the world was going to help him think straight. This whole mess of getting married again made him dizzy.
Putting his head in his hands, he closed his eyes and struggled to get a grip on reality. He was married again, and the sooner he got used to it, the better off he’d be.
“Lokni, you can sit here.” The preacher pulled out the chair next to Brandon. After she sat down, the preacher pushed it in for her and glanced at Brandon. “What’s your name, son?”
“Brandon.” He cleared his throat. “Brandon Herman.”
“Lokni, that’s Brandon.” With a smile, he went to his chair and sat down.
Brandon dared a glance at her. She didn’t seem any happier about the marriage than he was. That was actually comforting to a point. He’d hate to think he was the only one who had been unwilling to go through with the wedding.
“Help yourself,” the preacher told them, gesturing to the food.
After a moment, Brandon took some eggs and put them on his plate. Then he took several slices of toast and a good helping of butter.
Lokni, in turn, took her portion of the meal, hers being considerably smaller than his. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest she eat more, what with the child and all, but then he noted the tears she was blinking back and decided against it. She’d been through so much. Maybe that was all she could manage to eat. Being forced to marry a white man couldn’t be all that reassuring since she’d suffered at the hand of other white men.
The preacher was the only one who had any joy in him this morning, and he spent the entire breakfast rambling on about his childhood and how he made his way out West when he was young. He’d only recently settled into the Wyoming Territory in an effort to bring a sense of morality to the area.
“There’s a long ways to go yet,” he said as he spread butter on his slice of toast. “I won’t act like there isn’t. This is wild country out here. People think they can do whatever they want. It’s unfortunate, but my goal is to change that. Change takes time, though. Given how things are out there, I’m glad I never took a wife.”
Brandon almost told him he wasn’t missing anything by not having one but didn’t for Lokni’s sake. He just kept eating his food and drinking the coffee in silence. He doubted he could add anything that would help lift Lokni’s spirits, let alone his.
They spent most of the meal in silence. Once in a while, the preacher would say something about the weather or the meals he had learned to make over the years. He probably spoke in an attempt to ease the tension in the room, but Brandon didn’t see what good it did. The situation was going to be awkward no matter what.
From time to time, he glanced at his new wife. Just the thought of being married made him queasy. Had he not been so hungry, he didn’t think he would be able to eat at all.
When they finished their breakfast, the preacher gathered the plates and took them to the bucket to wash them. This was a good time to say something, he supposed. Sitting here in silence wasn’t accomplishing anything. He and Lokni were stuck together, regardless of how they felt about it. They might as well get along together.
He cleared his throat and asked her, “Do you speak English?”
She hesitated but then nodded. “Yes.”
“What tribe are you from?”
“My people are Crow,” she replied.
Well, so far so good. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
Nineteen? He was afraid of that. He ran his hand over his face. He was surprised, but he had been holding onto the hope that she was twenty.
“How old are you?” she asked.
Looking back at her, he said, “Twenty-nine.” Just saying it made him feel old, considering she was ten years younger than him. If he was thirty-nine and she was twenty-nine, the difference wouldn’t seem like such a huge gap, but she was only nineteen. He hadn’t even married his first wife until she was twenty-one, and that was after he had courted her for two years.
“It could be worse,” the preacher called out from where he was washing the dishes.
Unaware the man had been listening to them, Brandon looked in his direction.
“Some of the Indians get married when they’re fourteen or fifteen,” the preacher said. “At least she’s not that young.”
Yes, that was true. That would be much worse.
The preacher put the clean dishes aside and walked over to them, his gaze going directly to Brandon. “The poor girl has been through a terrible time of it. A terrible time. Please take her away from here.”
Brandon had no intention of sticking around this town. He was only here because Joe Otto had dumped him off and then continued on his way to California with the rest of the wagon train. He still wanted to get to California. Getting there was the only thing that gave him a sense of purpose these days.
“I’m going to pack you two a few things to take with you,” the preacher said. “It’s not a lot, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Before I head on out, I need to get my horse and belongings, and both are in town.” Or at least, they should be. God willing, the men didn’t steal his steed and supplies while they were abducting him. “How do I get back there?”
“You really think your horse is still waiting for you?”
“I don’t know, but I have to find out. That animal and my things are all I got.” He looked at Lokni. “Do you know how to get to town from here?”
She nodded.
“You can’t take her back there,” the preacher said. “Not after all she’s been through with Orson and his friends.”
“I have to,” Brandon insisted. “If I don’t have that horse and the supplies, we’ll be as good as dead if we leave. I know how to survive in the wilderness, and I need my supplies in order to do that.”
The preacher glanced at her, a concerned frown on his face.
“I’m going,” Brandon said. “If you want her to stay while I do that, fine. Just tell me how to get back to town, and I’ll go by myself.”
“No,” she spoke up, probably surprising the preacher as much as she surprised him. “I will go with you. The town is not far.”
“I don’t know about this,” the preacher said.
“It doesn’t matter how you feel about it,” Brandon replied. “She agreed to do it, so we’ll be going.” He rose from the chair, and because of his upbringing, he pulled her chair back and helped her to her feet. “If those men didn’t steal my things, then I’ll have a little money we can use to buy more supplies before we head out.”
The preacher groaned. “Very well. If you insist on doing this, then I’m going to come along and make sure nothing bad happens.”
It seemed to Brandon, things couldn’t get any worse than being forced into marriage, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t fair to her and her baby to say such a thing in front of them.
“All right, let’s go,” the preacher said. “But Lokni’s staying here. I won’t put her in harm’s way.”
Since Lokni didn’t argue, Brandon figured the matter was settled. With a nod, he and the preacher got ready to head to town.
Chapter Three
Lokni waited until the men left before she started gathering food in one of the preacher’s blankets. Yes, she knew stealing was wrong. But so was raiding a peaceful tribal village and massacring all of the men before raping women and then hauling them and the children off to different towns. She would never see her sisters or friends again.
After the army cleared them out so they could get their land, Lokni was sent to this miserable town and forc
ed to serve Orson, Hank, Zane, and Barney.
The last thing she wanted was to be tied to another white man. She couldn’t escape with the preacher hovering over her. He honestly believed that her being forced to marry Brandon was going to be the best thing that ever happened to her. He meant well, she supposed. He had attempted to rescue her from Orson and his friends on several occasions, but each time, they stopped him. The preacher was probably in his late seventies, and that made him too old and too weak to stand up against them.
But she had to get away from this town, and she had to do it on her own. She needed a fresh start. For once in her life, she was going to decide her own fate instead of having others decide it for her.
She finished gathering all the food she could carry and wound the blanket around the items. Lifting it, she judged how heavy it was. Not too bad. Plus, the preacher had left one of his horses behind. Again, she hated to steal something, but if she was going to get away from here—and never be found—she needed to be quick.
She searched the cabin, looking for anything else she might take with her. The only thing she could think of was a container to carry water. She wasn’t going to make it far if she didn’t have water on hand.
She found a canteen and carried it to the well. Glancing around to make sure the two hadn’t come back yet, she dropped the bucket into the well. The preacher and Brandon shouldn’t be back for a good hour if they really did go to town to get Brandon’s horse. She didn’t think Orson or his friends would be back for her. Not right away. They might want her back after she had the baby. If she got out of here right now, she should be safe.
Once she filled the canteen, she secured it with the lid and went to the barn. Just as she made it to the stall, she felt a stab of pain in her lower abdomen. Startled, she stopped and brought her free hand to her stomach. That hadn’t happened before.
Once the pain subsided, she set the canteen on the barrel and went to the horse. She led him out of the stall then found a rope and tied the blanket to it. Afterwards, she wrapped it around the horse to secure it. Then, just as she picked up the canteen from the barrel, another wave of pain shot through her abdomen.
Forced into Marriage Page 2
