The Bride's Prerogative

by Davis, Susan Page

“We’ll ask them to let us see Isabel,” Hiram said.

  “That’s good.” Ethan looked keenly into his eyes for a moment. “All right. But you’ve got to stall him. Tell him you’re trying to raise the money but you don’t think you can come up with the cash that fast.”

  “What’s the point in that?” Cyrus asked.

  “Get him talking and ask to see that Isabel’s alive and well. If he’s cooperative, maybe you can get a count of his men and see how their defenses look. Tell him you can’t get the full amount, but maybe you can come up with less. See what he says—if he’s willing to deal or not.”

  “And if he’s not?”

  Ethan’s dark eyes narrowed to slits. “That’s when you back off, and we show our hand. Forty guns trained on them.”

  Cyrus grabbed his hat from his head and threw it on the ground. “I knew I shouldn’t have waited for you. They’ll kill my daughter.”

  CHAPTER 34

  Here’s your white flag.” Trudy placed a long stick in her brother’s hand. Fluttering from the top end was a white petticoat. He didn’t want to know whose.

  “Mr. Fennel, there’s one more thing.” Ethan looked around at Hiram, Trudy, and Cyrus. Griff Bane stood a few yards away, checking his saddle. The rest of the townsfolk had dispersed in a large cordon around the ranch. Libby had set up an ammunition station on the back of Josiah’s wagon. Even Rose had stationed herself with the Harper ladies several yards away.

  “What do you want?” Cyrus stood by his roan with the reins in his hands.

  Ethan dropped his voice. “You said Isabel doesn’t know Kenton is her father. Does Kenton know that she is his daughter?”

  “No. So far as he knows, Isabel is mine and Abigail’s.”

  Ethan let out his breath. “So he’s not apt to spill the beans to her in there.”

  “No. I suppose he could tell her he was married to her mother.” Cyrus’s face twisted, and he looked away, toward the mountains.

  Trudy touched his arm. “I’m sorry this is happening, Mr. Fennel. Do you think it would help the situation if Kenton did know that?” She looked at Ethan. “I mean, he might be less likely to hurt Isabel if he knew she was truly his kin.”

  “It’s too risky,” Ethan said. “If Isabel learns it from him, she might be overwrought. There’s no telling what she would do.”

  Cyrus clenched his fists. “Besides, if Kenton knew, he might try to take Isabel away with him and force her to do things she shouldn’t. That’s what he did with her mother thirty-five years ago. Why would he do any differently now?”

  Ethan nodded reluctantly. “All right. We won’t tell him. Just go in to where he can hear you and see if you can get him to release her.”

  Griffin walked over, leading his big gray gelding. “I’m going, too.”

  Cyrus hesitated then nodded. “All right then. The three of us.”

  Ethan looked at him, Hiram, and Griff. “Godspeed.”

  Hiram walked to Hoss. His stomach churned, but the docile bay gelding stood still for him while he mounted and shifted the flag to his other hand. He thought about taking his rifle from the scabbard and using it as a flag holder, but he might need his Sharps. And he couldn’t ride in there with it drawn. Kenton might not think that was neighborly. He pried a spot for the end of the flag stick between his right boot and the stirrup.

  Cyrus led the way, and Hiram followed, with Griff trotting along behind. The sun neared its zenith, and Hiram’s cotton shirt stuck to his back. The breeze had died down. He could feel perspiration forming on his forehead along the sweatband of his hat.

  The ranch house lay quiet, baking in the heat. The walls were built of logs, with only one small window on the front. Beyond the house lay the barn, corral, and the old soddy they used for a bunkhouse. Hiram remembered the Martins who had built the spread—two brothers. One of them had a skinny wife and two young’uns. They must have sold out to Cyrus and moved on five or six years ago. The isolated location was too far away from civilization for most women.

  Cyrus’s horse slowed to a walk, and Hoss broke stride as well. Hiram urged him up beside the roan. A magpie flew from under the barn eaves and swooped toward the corral. Griff closed in on Cyrus’s other side, and they continued slowly toward the house, with the petticoat flag hanging limply over Hiram’s head. A glint of metal caught his eye. Someone crouched behind the farm wagon near the corral fence.

  He started to speak, but the door to the house opened.

  “Don’t come any closer.”

  They halted and stared at the door. It stood open only a couple of inches, and Hiram couldn’t tell who had spoken. He saw a flicker of movement at the window to the left of the door frame as well.

  “Tell Kenton I want to talk,” Cyrus yelled.

  The door opened wider, and Kenton Smith—or John Kenton—stood in the shadowed opening with a rifle in his hands.

  “Why are those men with you? I told you to keep your trap shut. This is between you and me.”

  “Oh yeah?” Cyrus stood in the stirrups. “Then why have you got all your men guarding the house? Don’t tell me you threw that rock through my office window personally.”

  Kenton shifted his gun so that the barrel pointed straight at them. “Have you got my money?”

  “Not all of it. I told you—I can’t raise that kind of cash that fast.”

  “Then go away until you’ve got it.”

  “Even if I had the resources, there’s not that much hard money in Fergus. I’ll have to send to Boise City. It’ll take at least a couple of days.”

  “No deal. I’ve been waiting a long time, Fennel. I want my money now.”

  Cyrus’s hard gray eyes narrowed. “Let Isabel go, and give me a few days. I promise I’ll get the money.”

  “Why should I believe you? I told you not to tell anyone, and you’ve brought two men with you. Next thing I know, the sheriff will ride up.”

  “That’s your own fault,” Cyrus shouted. “I wasn’t alone when the rock came through the window. Mighty hard to keep something like that secret when you’ve got folks in the room with you.”

  Another man appeared in the doorway behind Kenton, and they spoke in low tones.

  “How much you got on you now?” Kenton yelled.

  Cyrus hesitated. He looked askance at Hiram. “What do I say?”

  “Ask to see Isabel.”

  Cyrus leaned over and unhooked a canteen from his saddle. He took his time uncorking it and tipping it up for a drink. Hiram could almost taste the water running down his dry throat, and he looked away. The second man had come out where he could be seen. Eli Button.

  Cyrus cleared his throat. “Kenton, I’m not going anywhere until I see my daughter.”

  Kenton stared at him, his bushy eyebrows low. “What for?”

  “To prove you’ve got her, for starters. And to see that she’s all right.”

  Kenton turned his head and spoke to Button. The cowboy lumbered into the house, and they waited in tense silence.

  After half a minute, Griffin said, “You think it’s possible they don’t have her?”

  “It entered my mind.” Cyrus started to put his canteen back and paused. “You boys want a drink?”

  “Thanks. I was wishing I’d brought something.” Griffin took the canteen and tipped it up for a swig. He passed it back to Cyrus, who relayed it to Hiram.

  Hiram shook it. Half full. He took a mouthful and handed it back to Cyrus. “Thank you kindly. She wasn’t in your house when we went there, sir. Your men said they hadn’t seen her.”

  “Well, you just never know. She could still be over at Libby Adams’s place. I’d hate to be doing this for nothing.”

  “No sir, Mrs. Adams came along with the other folks from town,” Griffin pointed out. “She told us Miss Fennel left for home just before she opened the store this morning.”

  Near the corral, a cowboy stood up behind the wagon, showing himself openly. He rested a shotgun on the side of the wagon and stared insolentl
y at them. Hiram caught a suggestion of movement again at the window of the house.

  Isabel burst through the door of the ranch house in a flurry of gray skirts. Hiram caught his breath. Button held her around the waist with a revolver pointed at her right ear. Hair fluttered about her face in disarray. Her frantic, pale eyes focused on her father, and her mouth opened in a silent plea.

  Kenton looked her over and turned toward the horsemen.

  “All right, you seen her. How much you got on you?”

  The creases at the corners of Cyrus’s eyes deepened as he squinted. “About three dollars.”

  “What?” Kenton limped toward them, brandishing the rifle. “You get outta here right now and get me the money. You’re a-wasting time! Be back by sundown, or Miss Isabel is a bye-bye. You get me?”

  Hiram’s heart pounded in his throat.

  Cyrus’s face went beet red. He stiffened in the saddle, and his horse pawed the ground.

  “We’d best be going,” Griffin said softly. “Boss,” yelled the cowboy near the corral. Kenton turned his way. “Yeah?”

  “They’s men out there.” The cowboy swept his arm in an arc, indicating the terrain toward the road and on each side.

  “You double-crosser!” Kenton swung his rifle toward the horses and let off a charge.

  CHAPTER 35

  We could pick off some of the men.” Trudy jerked her bonnet back and let it slide down her back. She itched to do something. Studying the scene before them, she made a few mental calculations. “Dr. Kincaid and Libby and me. Bitsy, too. I’m sure we could get that one behind the wagon, and maybe the one peeking around the side of the house. There’s got to be two or three more men in the house, though.”

  “Patience.” Ethan kept his eyes on the three horsemen and the people standing before the ranch house below. From the length of the lane, he could make out the figures near the house but couldn’t hear what was said.

  Kenton whirled around, spoke to one of his men, then faced Cyrus and his friends and fired a bullet. Dust plumed near the horses’ feet. All three horses jumped. Griffin’s bucked and dumped the big blacksmith in a heap on the ground. Hiram’s bay turned completely around and lunged a few steps away from Kenton, but Hiram quickly got him under control and brought him around to approach Griffin. Fennel’s roan, meanwhile, turned and tore away from the gunman, straight toward where Ethan, Trudy, and Libby watched.

  Cyrus never looked back until he reached them. He pulled the roan in and glared at Ethan. “He wants the money now. And he knows you’re up here. The men saw you.”

  “If they know I’m here, I guess it won’t matter if I go help Hiram.” Ethan ran to his paint gelding and mounted.

  Cyrus turned his horse and looked back, down the slight decline toward the ranch house. Griffin slowly rose with Hiram supporting him and limped to where his horse stood, grabbing a mouthful of pale grass.

  “What happened?” Cyrus asked.

  Trudy scowled at him. Trust Cyrus to think of himself first and everyone else last. “Griff’s horse dumped him when Kenton fired.”

  “He’s not shot, is he?”

  “How should we know? At least he’s alive.”

  Dr. Kincaid came running from his post along the fence row.

  “Is Mr. Bane hurt?”

  “Don’t know,” Trudy said. “Hiram’s helping him get on his horse. Just wait here, and we’ll see.”

  Ethan had reached the other two now and dismounted to help boost the huge blacksmith onto his horse. The gelding was skittish, but Hiram held his head firmly while Ethan loaned his shoulder and a shove. Griffin rose in the stirrup and swung his right leg gingerly over the saddle.

  “Looks like his arm’s hurt,” Libby noted.

  “Yes.” Dr. Kincaid gritted his teeth. “Maybe I should go and meet them.”

  “No, wait here,” Trudy said. “Let them come to you, out of range of those roughnecks.”

  Griffin’s horse came toward them at a choppy walk, lifting each hoof high and fighting the bit. Griff held the reins in his right hand and let his left arm dangle at his side. His dark beard was coated in dust, and he held his mouth in a grimace as the horse’s steps jostled him.

  Hiram and Ethan mounted and trotted up on either side of the gray horse. After a moment, Ethan left Hiram and Griff behind and cantered toward the watchers.

  He pulled his pinto in when he reached them and hopped to the ground. “Doc, Griff thinks his arm’s broken.”

  Trudy exhaled heavily. “Didn’t think Kenton shot him, but it was hard to tell from here.”

  “Hiram says Kenton fired to scare them, but it worked too well, and Griff’s horse threw him.”

  “I’ll tend to him.” Doc looked around. “I’ll have him lie down in the shade of that tree.”

  “Maybe you should take him back to town in one of the wagons,” Ethan said.

  Trudy shook her head. “Griff won’t want to go.”

  Rose came running from her observation post, her pink and white skirts swaying. “Doctor, is there anything I can do to help?” She fluttered her lashes at him, but the gesture was lost on Dr. Kincaid as he strode toward his horse.

  “Perhaps so, Mrs. Caplinger. I may be able to use an assistant.”

  Rose smiled triumphantly at Trudy and Libby before scurrying off after him.

  Hiram and Griffin topped the rise, and Ethan and Cyrus went to help Griffin dismount.

  “I’m sorry, Bane,” Cyrus said as the big man slid from the saddle with a moan. “Didn’t realize you’d gone down.”

  Trudy went to her brother’s side. “You all right, Hi?”

  He nodded.

  Ethan stood close to Griffin so the bigger man could lean on him. “Where you want to sit, Griff?”

  “Doc says to put him in the shade over there.” Trudy pointed.

  The men hobbled off together toward one of the few scrubby trees in the fencerow.

  Libby stepped closer and eyed Hiram. She said nothing, but a glance passed between them that almost made Trudy blush. Her curiosity drew her gaze to Hiram’s face.

  He lifted his hat, wiped his brow with his cuff, and put his hat back. “I’m fine, ladies. Wish I could say the same about Griff and Miss Isabel. But I’m just fine.”

  “Is Isabel hurt?” Libby asked.

  “Don’t think so. But she looked like death.”

  Trudy reached for his elbow. “Maybe you should sit in the shade, too.” She flicked a glance at Libby. “I’m sure Libby could find something for you to drink. I saw Annie passing a jug of water.”

  “No time,” Hiram said. “We got to help Cy raise some cash. That or put some pressure on Kenton and his men.”

  Libby cleared her throat. “I wasn’t in on the discussion when Cyrus told you about Mr. Smith’s demands, but … I could lend him some money.”

  “Before sundown?” Trudy stared at her friend. “He needs fourteen thousand dollars.”

  Libby cleared her throat and shot a glance at Hiram. “Well, I don’t have that much, of course, but I have”—she leaned toward them and dropped her voice—“about two thousand in my safe. I was planning to send most of it to the bank in Boise City by this afternoon’s stagecoach.”

  Trudy tried not to let her eyes bug out. She’d always known Libby had a good income from the Paragon Emporium, but she would never have guessed she had that much cash on hand at any given time. How would this knowledge affect Hiram’s feelings toward her?

  Hiram cleared his throat. “If you want to offer that as a loan to Cyrus, it might help him some. And I’d be willing to escort you in to town to fetch it if you decide to do that.”

  Libby’s sweet smile beamed for Hiram. “Thank you. That’s kind of you. I would certainly want an escort I could count on.”

  Trudy saw that ardent look in Hiram’s eyes—almost the same intent look Ethan had for her when he moved in to kiss her. She gulped.

  “Why don’t I fetch Cyrus so you can ask him if he thinks that would help?”
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  Isabel cowered against the wall farthest from the four men in the kitchen and rubbed her sore wrist. Eli Button had bruised her when he took her outside. Now he slouched against the front window frame, watching the lane. Kenton and two of the cowboys lolled at the table, playing cards.

  “What if he don’t bring you your money by suppertime?” asked the one they called Buck.

  “He’d better.” Kenton glanced her way. “Get on with the cooking, girl. We’re powerful hungry.”

  “Yeah,” said Eli. “We ain’t had no woman’s cooking for weeks and weeks.”

  She moved along the wall, keeping her distance, until she reached the work area. It consisted of a rough bench at waist height and a small heating stove with a flat top. No oven. No dry sink—just a dishpan and a bucket of water with a tin dipper floating in it. Dirty dishes lay strewn on every flat surface.

  She rolled up her sleeves. This is just like at home. Fixing dinner for Papa.

  Even as she thought it, she knew it was a lie. This was nothing like home, and these men had nothing in common with her father. She blinked back tears and looked about in vain for an apron. If only she could go back to the big, airy kitchen at home and clean up the dirty dishes she’d left last night. Could Papa ever forgive her for her outburst? His face had been like stone today as he’d gazed at her across the yard.

  He’d come this morning and then gone away for an hour or two. Why hadn’t he returned with the money Uncle Kenton wanted? Had he truly tried to raise it without success? Or didn’t he intend to pay? Didn’t he care about her?

  And Griffin Bane had been with him, of all the odd things. He and Hiram Dooley had accompanied her father. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. One of the ruffians had said they observed more men at a distance. So Griffin’s appearance didn’t necessarily mean he cared about her. She suspected the ladies of the shooting club harbored stronger feelings for her than the blacksmith did. For once, she didn’t care.

  She opened a crock that sat on the floor beneath the bench. Wheat flour. Another held rolled oats. Methodically, she surveyed the jars and tins on the bench. Nothing fancy, but she could make a bean soup and biscuits. She set a pan of dry beans to soak. Lifting the heavy kettle made her wrist ache.