The Bride's Prerogative

by Davis, Susan Page

  Ethan said nothing. The words hung heavy in the air. Only the wind and the horses’ movements rooted him in the present as he imagined Cyrus on the run with a young outlaw woman. The Mrs. Fennel he’d known had been quiet and … well, nice. Almost genteel, as far as miners’ wives went. He considered whether Cyrus might have made up the story.

  “We got away.” Fennel’s flat voice grated on Ethan’s ears. “She agreed to go west with me because she knew the alternative would mean prison. Maybe hanging. We took a strongbox full of gold they’d accumulated. Loot from their robberies. And to keep people from recognizing her, she traveled as my wife. I called her Mary. Mary Fennel.” He sighed. “Those first few weeks, I was happy, strange as that may seem. I had the woman I loved with me, even though she wasn’t really my wife. Everyone thought she was.” Cyrus glanced at Hiram and back to Ethan. “I treated her like royalty. Showed her that I would give her a better life than Kenton had. I wanted to make sure she didn’t regret going with me.”

  “So … you just ran off together.”

  Cyrus sat taller in the saddle and glared at Ethan. “Even though she was wanted by the law and we had to live a lie, I was happy, you hear me?”

  Ethan winced. “Yes sir. And that was a long time ago. More’n thirty years, I reckon.”

  “Yes.” Cyrus held his reins loosely, and the big gelding put his head down, sniffing for grass. “Then everything changed.”

  “How’s that?” Ethan asked.

  “Mary told me she was pregnant.”

  Ethan didn’t dare look at Trudy and Hiram, but his face heated up. Folks just didn’t talk about those things in front of ladies. “You mean …”

  “I mean she was expecting Kenton’s child.” Cyrus looked out toward the mountains, blinking rapidly. “I told her everything was all right. That the baby would be mine, no matter what. We stopped in St. Louis for three months, and she gave birth to Isabel there. We put my name on the birth certificate. Later we moved on to Nebraska, and I farmed for a while, but we lived hand to mouth. Didn’t want to use up all the gold she’d brought, but we had to use some of it. I wanted to give Mary a better life. Her and my daughter. But we were always going behind and having to dip into that stash. After a few years, I heard about the gold strikes up here in Idaho territory. We sold the farm. I came up here ahead of Mary and Isabel and started mining.”

  Trudy moved Crinkles up beside Ethan and Scout. “Mr. Fennel, does Isabel know that you’re not her real father?”

  Cyrus jerked his head toward her. “I am her father. Legally, no one can prove otherwise. I’ve always considered her my daughter and treated her as such.”

  “So … she doesn’t know.”

  After a long moment of silence, Cyrus shook his head. “I know we were wrong to lie to her, but at the time, I couldn’t think of another way to save Abigail. We made the story become the truth. Abigail was Mary, my wife. Isabel was my child.”

  Trudy looked at Ethan, but he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t dare to bring up the matter of Cyrus and Mary Fennel not being legally married. That was way beyond where he wanted to go right now.

  Trudy cocked her head to one side. “Mr. Fennel, it seems to me that Abigail should have turned herself in.”

  “If she’d done that, she would have been imprisoned. I couldn’t bear the thought of her wasting away in jail and giving birth to her baby there.”

  “But you didn’t know about Isabel until weeks after you’d run away.”

  Cyrus just shook his head. He pulled the roan’s head up. “Can I go now? I have work to do.”

  “Is the gold that’s in the buried tin stolen money?” Ethan asked.

  “Probably. It’s all we had left. I never asked Abigail for particulars, but we left Waterford with more than thirty thousand dollars. We used a little on the journey. Some went for the farm in Nebraska, more for our living expenses there. We had a couple of bad crops…. But we made out all right when we sold that. We spent most of what we had left here in Idaho, buying land and livestock.”

  “I thought you made your fortune mining,” Trudy said.

  “Not that much. I did come out ahead, and we lived off what I earned. But I used some of Abigail’s money to buy up land after the boom was over. For Isabel. And … I always hoped we’d have a son. But that didn’t happen, so I built up my holdings for her. When I got the contract for the stagecoach line to Boise and Silver City, we had a few thousand left in the can. I used it to buy livestock and coaches. That five hundred that’s left in there is the last of it. Sort of an emergency stockpile. Cash if I really needed it.”

  “But now you need it, and it’s not enough,” Ethan said. “Kenton’s out of prison, and he tracked you down.”

  Cyrus’s lips twisted in a grimace. “He didn’t seem to care what had happened to Abigail. He just wanted his share of the gold. I had fifteen hundred in that tin you found at that point. I dug it up after he came that first night and took out a thousand. I gave it to him the next day. I told him that was all I had. It was a lie, but I figured if things turned out badly, I ought not to leave Isabel with nothing. As long as there was a little money in that tin and no one else knew about it, she’d have enough to get away from here—or away from Kenton—if she needed to.”

  “Has he got her out to the Martin ranch?” Ethan asked.

  Cyrus nodded. “I need to take him the other fourteen thousand by sundown. He’s got half a dozen armed cowboys—’friends’ he connected with in prison. They’re ready to defend the place. He said if I brought you in on this, he’d kill her.”

  “What are we going to do?” Trudy asked. Her eyes were gray today, no blue tints of hope.

  Ethan considered several options, none of them good. “Go back to town.” She opened her mouth, but he said quickly, “Hear me out. I want you to raise a posse. Get every gun you can to come out to the Martin ranch. Hiram and I will head out there now with Mr. Fennel. We’ll hang back where they can’t see us and wait for more men.” He reached out and touched her chin with his knuckles. “Raise the whole town if you can, sweetheart. But warn them to be cautious. I don’t want anyone barging into trouble. One of us will meet them a mile down the road from the ranch and tell them what we’ve decided to do.”

  She nodded slowly. “What about the noon stagecoach?”

  Cyrus inhaled sharply. “Perhaps you could ask Griff Bane to meet the coach.”

  “We need Griffin out here,” Ethan said.

  “Terry Thistle, then. And tell the driver he’ll have to change the team himself. Bane will have the mules waiting in his paddock.”

  Trudy nodded. “What if someone wants to buy a ticket?”

  Cyrus hesitated. “Tell Mr. Thistle to deal with it. I can’t think about that right now.”

  “All right, sir. We’ll handle it.”

  Hiram edged Hoss up even with their mounts. “You might ask Libby to bring some extra ammunition, and bring the two boxes on my bedroom shelf.”

  “All right.” Trudy looked gravely at him and Ethan then turned Crinkles homeward and put her heels to his sides.

  CHAPTER 33

  Trudy galloped Crinkles into town, straight to the livery stable. “Griffin!”

  The burly blacksmith came to the doorway, scratching his chin through his beard. “Hey, Gert. I mean, Trudy. Wha—”

  “You’ve got to help me raise a posse. Men and women who can shoot. Ethan and Hi are out at the Martin ranch, where that no-good Kenton Smith is staying. They’re holding Isabel Fennel for ransom. Ethan told Cyrus we’d raise the town. He wants anyone who can shoot to get out there. Can you help me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I’ll get someone to change the stagecoach team for you. Start spreading the word.”

  She slapped Crinkles with the end of her reins and galloped over to the boardinghouse, where she dismounted and ran to the kitchen door. It stood open, and she called out as she ran up the steps, “Mrs. Thistle!”

  The stout lady turned t
oward her, placing a hand over her heart. “You startled me, Miss Dooley. What’s all the fuss?”

  “Mr. Fennel asked me to get Mr. Thistle to meet the stagecoach today, in case he can’t be there.”

  “Oh? Is he ill?”

  Terrence Thistle entered from the dining room, and Trudy quickly gave him Cyrus’s instructions about the stagecoach team and tickets. With his one good arm, Mr. Thistle pulled on a jacket. “I’d better go over to the livery and make sure I can find the right harnesses for the mule team.”

  “But isn’t Mr. Bane there?” Mrs. Thistle’s forehead wrinkled like a washboard. “Is something going on?”

  “He’s going to help the sheriff. I can’t stay long enough to explain it all, but there’s trouble out at the Martin ranch.”

  “Oh, those no-good cowpokes.” Mrs. Thistle shook her head and went back to stirring her bowl of cake batter. “The night your brother came for the doctor, I knew no good would come out of that bunch.”

  “I really must go. Thank you both! Oh, and tell Dr. Kincaid if you see him.” Trudy dashed out the door and scooped up Crinkles’s reins. She was close to the Bentons’ house, so she turned her mare down Gold Lane. Apphia was in the front yard, bent over her tiny flower bed.

  “Trudy! What brings you out on horseback?” She stood and brushed at the stains on her skirt.

  “The sheriff needs help. Is your husband home?”

  “Yes. He’s studying.”

  “Tell him I’m raising all the men and women I can. Isabel Fennel’s been kidnapped by that awful man who calls himself her uncle. Ethan and Hiram are with Mr. Fennel out at the Martin ranch. Anyone who can help is to bring a weapon and meet them a mile down the road from the ranch house.”

  “We’ll both come.” Apphia hurried toward the house and called over her shoulder, “Don’t wait! Go tell the Moores. Augie will get the word out.”

  Trudy turned Crinkles and cantered back to Main Street. She stopped at her own house only long enough to run inside and snatch the extra ammunition. Rose jumped up from her chair in the parlor and stared at her.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The sheriff needs everyone who can shoot out at the Martin ranch.” She ran back out to her horse and stuffed the cartridge boxes into the saddlebag before she mounted. Already, word had spread up the street, and men were saddling their horses. She caught a glimpse of Griffin hurrying out of the feed store with Mr. Walker.

  At the Spur & Saddle, she jumped down, threw the ends of the reins over the long hitching rail, and pounded up the steps.

  “Augie! Bitsy!”

  Bitsy and Goldie were working together in the dining room, setting the tables. They set down the dishes and napkins they held and came toward her. Augie popped out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a linen towel.

  “What is it, girl?” Bitsy asked.

  “The sheriff needs you. All of you. Anyone who can shoot. Kenton Smith and his men have kidnapped Isabel and are demanding a ransom from her father. Ethan wants anyone who can help to ride out to the Martin ranch.”

  Goldie tore off her apron. “I’ll run across the street and tell the Nashes, the Harpers, and anyone at the emporium. Miss Bitsy, bring my pistol, would you? And tell Vashti!”

  Before Bitsy could reply, the girl was out the door. “I’ll go down this side of the street and tell Dostie and—”

  “I’ve been to the boardinghouse and the Bentons’. Anyone else you can reach …”

  Augie grabbed his shotgun from behind the bar they now used as a serving counter. Bitsy ran to the bottom of the ornate staircase and shouted, “Vashti!”

  “Yes’m?” came a muffled reply.

  “Come down and bring your pistol and Goldie’s. It’s shooting club business.”

  Augie turned in the doorway. “You best be letting men into the club, then.”

  “The sheriff needs all of us,” Trudy assured him. Augie nodded and went out.

  “Wait and ride back with us, Trudy. Do I have time to change into my bloomers?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Right.” Bitsy planted her right foot on the seat of a chair and hiked her skirt up. Strapped to her garter was the tiny pistol she cherished. She drew it and checked the load then slipped it back into its diminutive holster. “That’s good. Gotta get the rifle, too, though.” She disappeared through the kitchen door.

  Vashti scurried down the stairs, carrying her revolver and Goldie’s, her long, dark hair floating about her shoulders.

  “Do you ladies have horses?” Trudy asked.

  “Augie’s is over to the livery,” Vashti said. “Maybe we can get a wagon.” She peered out the front door. “Say, that looks like the Harpers. And Goldie’s with them. We can catch a ride with them.”

  “Go,” Trudy said. “Ask them to wait for Bitsy.”

  When Bitsy returned carrying the rifle, Trudy told her, “Hurry. Zach Harper’s out there, and his wagon’s nearly full.”

  They dashed outside. Down the street, Oscar Runnels and his son, Josiah, came from behind the feed store driving freight wagons. Each was pulled by a team of six sturdy mules.

  “You shooting club ladies, pile in,” Oscar yelled. Charles Walker, Pastor Benton, and a couple of other men climbed into the wagons, as well. Libby and Florence ran from the emporium carrying their weapons and hopped onto the back of Josiah’s wagon.

  Trudy mounted Crinkles and tore for the livery. Terrence Thistle bustled about, helping men find mounts and bridles. Doc Kincaid and Ted Hire quickly saddled their own horses.

  “Just don’t take the stagecoach mules,” Thistle shouted to one of the freighters who ducked between the rails of the corral fence.

  Kincaid mounted and rode over to Trudy. “I’m ready. Do you know the way, Miss Dooley?”

  “I sure do. Let’s go.”

  An hour later, Hiram lay on his stomach, looking over a knoll toward the ranch house. Ethan had given orders to the townspeople as they arrived, and now he ducked low and joined Hiram, sliding in next to him on his belly.

  “If all goes well, we’ll have the house surrounded in about fifteen minutes. Can you believe how many folks came?”

  “Nope. It’s almost like the day of the picnic.” Hiram glanced over his shoulder. Rose sat on the tailgate of Josiah’s wagon handing out cookies. “What’d she come for, anyhow?”

  Ethan shook his head. “The entertainment?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Maybe she cares about Smith. Kenton, that is.”

  “I don’t think so. Trudy told me she said some mean things about him this morning—like how his teeth are all brown and how bad his grammar is.”

  “Well, why’d she go out to dinner with him last night?” Hiram shrugged. “Bored?”

  Ethan shook his head and slid up to where he could see the ranch house, barn, and corrals. “I guess the next thing is to try to talk to Kenton and demand that he release Isabel.”

  “I wondered.”

  Ethan sighed. “I’m not very good at this, Hiram.”

  “Been praying.”

  “Thanks.” Ethan lifted his hat, wiped his brow with his sleeve, and settled it again. “It gives me the shivers to think one of our ladies could get shot. But I think we need numbers to make this fellow back down.”

  “He’s been in prison before. Won’t want to go back.”

  “That’s the way I look at it. All right, I’ll get Cyrus to go down with me. Maybe Griffin, too. Do you want to go?”

  “What good would I do?”

  “Some of those cowboys saw you lay Eli Button out. They probably think you’re as tough as nails.”

  Hiram barked out a little laugh. “Likely.” He slid back until he could stand without being seen over the mound. “Let’s go.”

  He and Ethan rounded up Griffin. The three walked over to where Cyrus stood near his horse. Libby was talking to him, her back to them as they approached.

  “We’re all praying, Cyrus. The Lord can get her ou
t of this.”

  Cyrus’s face was gray as he looked down at her. “She got involved in that trouble last summer, and I vowed I’d see she had a good life. But … but lately I haven’t been able to get along with her. Somehow we can’t see eye to eye anymore. She started going to the shooting club—”

  “No, Cyrus. Don’t blame this on the shooting club. Things have been tense between you and Isabel since Mary died.”

  He hung his head. “I suppose you’re right.” He looked up as the others stepped forward. “Sheriff, when are you going to do something? We been here over an hour, just standing around waiting.”

  “We’re going down there now,” Ethan said. “You, me, Griffin, and Hiram. I want you to call out to Kenton and see if he’ll parley.”

  “What if they shoot at us?”

  Ethan scratched his chin. “Think we’d ought to carry a flag?”

  “He told me not to bring you.” Cyrus stood tall. “I think I should go down alone.”

  “Alone? No, come on, Mr. Fennel. We can’t let you walk into a trap.”

  “All right, I’ll take Dooley.”

  Hiram gulped.

  “You’ll what?” Ethan scowled at him.

  “Kenton told me he’ll kill Isabel if I bring in the law. All right, so I go down with a friend instead. I’ll tell him Dooley’s staking me the money.”

  Ethan frowned.

  “I’ll do it.” Hiram was so startled at his own words that he jumped. He looked at the other three men to see if they’d heard him. Maybe he hadn’t actually said the words aloud.

  “Hiram, you must be cautious,” Libby said, and he knew he’d blurted it out, all right.

  “I will. We will. Won’t we, Mr. Fennel?”

  Cyrus nodded.