Short-Straw Bride

by Karen Witemeyer

  Clearing his throat, he readjusted his rifle. “We don’t cotton to trespassers around here, lady. You best skedaddle back the way you came.”

  “I will. But not until I say my piece.” She pivoted to face him fully, her lashes lowering for just a moment before she aimed her gaze directly at him again.

  Even knowing what was coming didn’t stop the jolt from ricocheting through his chest when those piercing eyes latched onto him.

  “I came to warn you, Travis.”

  Travis? She knew who he was? Most folks meeting the Archers all at once had no way of knowing him from Crockett or Jim. Yet she said his name with the confidence of recognition.

  He squinted at her. “Look, lady. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want no part of it.”

  “This is no game. Please, Travis. Just listen.”

  “You know this gal, Trav?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his youngest brother start to lower his rifle. “Hush up, Neill, and hold your line.” The kid obeyed without question, firming up his grip.

  “The man who wants to buy your land is sending men out here tonight to persuade you to change your mind. They plan to set fire to the place while you sleep and force you to accept the next offer in order to recoup your losses.”

  Her announcement closed around Travis’s heart like a vise that slowly began to tighten. Why wouldn’t people just let them alone? Whether it was the do-gooders fourteen years ago who thought they knew best and attempted to take his brothers off to some orphanage, or the string of men who came after, trying to take advantage of a green kid with prime land, he was sick to death of people interfering in his affairs.

  There was plenty of other land to be had, after all—although none of the available acreage had a house and outbuildings already built or a creek that didn’t run dry in the summer. The more honorable vultures had sought to buy him out at a price far below market value, assuming he was too inexperienced to know the difference. The less honorable ones tried to take the land by force.

  He still shuddered every time he thought of that bullet in Jim’s shoulder—the one Crockett dug out, holed up in the cellar, while Travis drove the rest of the attackers from their land. Jim had been a pup at fifteen. Crockett, seventeen. And nine-year-old Neill had been the only one left to stand guard. They’d almost lost Jim to the fever afterward, but in the end, God had spared his life.

  And now, according to this woman, another round was about to begin.

  Travis glanced at each of his brothers. Being well trained, none had dropped his guard, but he could sense their wariness, hear the questions hanging unspoken in the air.

  “Please, Travis. You have to believe me,” the woman pled. “You and your brothers are in danger.”

  “Look, lady,” Travis ground out between clenched teeth, “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do know that if someone was planning to attack us, they sure as shootin’ wouldn’t go around announcing that fact to the general public. That tells me that if what you’re saying is true, you’re a part of it somehow, and I can’t trust you.”

  Pain flashed in the woman’s eyes, but she quickly blinked it away before jutting out her chin. “The man my aunt and uncle want me to marry is the one who wants to buy your land. While in his company earlier today, I chanced to overhear a private conversation between him and one of his subordinates. I was horrified by what I heard and knew I had to warn you. After your kindness to me, I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

  Travis drew back. “What kindness? I’ve never even seen you before.” Yet the familiarity that continued to stir at the edge of his consciousness made him question the accuracy of that statement.

  “But you have.” The crazy woman actually took a step closer to him, completely ignoring the rifle he was still pointing at her chest. “I was a trespasser then, too, only a much younger one.”

  She reached for something in her skirts, and he cocked his weapon. “Don’t move, lady. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I know.”

  Instead of shrinking away from him, her eyes held his, filled to the brim with . . . trust? That made no sense. Maybe the woman was crazy.

  “You told me it was all an act on the day you helped me. Do you remember? After you freed me from that trap and splinted my leg, you made me promise not to tell anyone about how you were helping me. Said it would be safer for your brothers if everyone continued to believe you a mean-hearted, trigger-happy fiend. I kept that promise. And now I’m back to return the kindness you extended to me twelve years ago.”

  She reached for her skirts again, and heaven help him, all he did was lower his rifle barrel so he could watch her better. He remembered that girl and those abominable traps. How brave she’d been. How trusting. But this couldn’t be her, could it? Surely time hadn’t passed so quickly. She’d been just a child. This woman couldn’t be the same person.

  Travis fought his reaction to her and regained his stance. “This is some kind of trick—some way for you to worm into my good graces so your fiancé can step in and steal my land.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “This is no trick, and that man will never be my fiancé.” She tugged on her skirts again. “I can prove who I am, Travis, if you’ll just give me the chance.” She lowered her gaze to somewhere near the ground. “Look at my leg.”

  He might be a recluse, but even he knew what she asked wasn’t proper. But apparently Neill was too young to have any qualms.

  “Ah, that little scar ain’t nothin’. Jim’s is better.”

  A quiet growl rumbled out of Jim, but Crockett actually laughed. Travis turned a glare on the man to his left. Crockett swallowed his mirth.

  Fed up with this girl’s shenanigans, Travis finally glanced down at her ankle, at the small amount of skin exposed above the top of her shoe and below her hem. Sure enough, a thin scar marred the pale flesh there.

  In a flash, he was seventeen again, tending her wound, and carrying the little girl in his arms all the way to her home. He’d thought of her often—wondering what became of her. Travis examined her face again. Her hair was a little darker now, but a few golden streaks remained, evidence of the tow-headed girl he’d met so long ago. Her vivid blue eyes cut through him just as they had back then, when they’d been full of tears. The curves she sported now were definitely new, but the determination and bravery he remembered clung to her bearing like a grass burr to a pant leg.

  That scrawny little kid had grown into a right handsome woman.

  Travis lowered his weapon. “Good to see you again, Meredith.”

  4

  He did remember. Even her name. Meredith couldn’t hold back the grin that begged for release.

  “So, brother . . . how come you never told us about your little friend, here?” The teasing drawl from the man at Travis’s left drew Meredith’s attention. He deliberately looked from her to Travis and back again. Then he winked. She couldn’t believe it. Biting her lip to keep her embarrassment in check as well as to keep from smiling too wide, she dropped her gaze to the ground.

  “Shut up, Crockett,” Travis grumbled as he stalked forward to take her arm. “It was a long time ago.” His grip was gentle but exerted enough force to propel her toward the clearing. “She wandered off the road and stepped into one of those traps we used to have set up. I freed her, splinted up her leg, and took her home. End of story.”

  As they rounded the last stand of trees, the house came into view off to the right. The snug cabin with its trail of smoke curling up from the stone chimney beckoned Meredith with an earnest welcome completely at odds with the rifle-wielding foursome who had met her on the path.

  “Wait a minute.” Crockett jogged around them and planted himself in front of her.

  Travis tried to maneuver around his brother, but the quick change of direction gave Meredith no time to compensate for her weaker leg. She stumbled a bit, her limp becoming more pronounced. Travis frowned down at her leg as he drew her to a halt.
/>   “Did you say you took her home? You actually left our land?”

  “Her leg was broken. What did you expect me to do?” Travis demanded. “Leave her for the coyotes?”

  “Of course not. It’s just . . .” Crockett stood there staring at him, the incredulous look on his face almost comical. “I never thought you’d cross that line.”

  “It was one time. Don’t make more of it than it is.”

  Good advice for her, too, Meredith realized as Travis shouldered past Crockett and continued escorting her across the clearing. The fact that Travis had kept their meeting a secret from his brothers didn’t mean something private and personal existed between them. Most likely, all it meant was that he didn’t want to give them an excuse to follow his example and venture too far from home. Allowing the warmth expanding all too rapidly inside her to cloud her judgment would indeed be foolish.

  Too bad his hand felt so good on her arm and his solid presence at her side confirmed all those heroic imaginings she’d indulged in as a young girl. It made sensibility far less attractive.

  A horse whinnied somewhere behind the house, though, and reason returned as she recalled Ginger tied up at the gate. Coupling that with Travis’s comment about the coyotes, Meredith knew her errand had taken too long already.

  Before he could haul her up to the covered porch that stretched the length of the log house, Meredith tugged her elbow free and stepped a couple of paces away from the steps. “Thank you for offering the hospitality of your home, but I really should be on my way. I left my horse tied at your gate, and she tends to get restless if left alone too long.”

  Travis’s gaze bore into her. Gone was the compassion she’d experienced as a child. And the gratitude she’d expected to see was nowhere in evidence, either. The only thing glimmering in those greenish-brown eyes of his was steely determination.

  “I’m not bringing you to the house to offer you hospitality, Meredith.” Travis closed the distance between them with one long stride. “I’m bringing you here so that you can tell us everything you know about this former fiancé of yours and his plans for our ranch.”

  “But . . .” Meredith looked from brother to brother. Even the teasing Crockett looked implacable. “I’ve already told you all I know,” she insisted.

  The Archers surrounded her once again and started herding her like a stray cow. Before she knew it, she was up the porch steps and through the front door.

  This was not how things were supposed to go. The heroic Travis of her dreams would never dictate to her in such a way.

  “It’s nearly dark. I really have to go. It’s not proper for me to be here.” Her protests fell on deaf ears as they drove her toward the kitchen. Warmth from the stove permeated the air along with the smell of some kind of roasted meat.

  Travis pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and glared at her until she sat down. He set his gun against the wall and leaned close to her face, one hand on the table, one on the back of her chair. “I’m sorry, Meredith, but I can’t take any chances. Protecting my brothers and my land always comes first with me. Always.” His words rang with righteous conviction, leaving little room for argument. “You’ll stay here and answer my questions until I’m satisfied that I’ve gotten all I can from you.”

  Meredith’s temper flared, although she didn’t know if she was more upset about being coerced to stay or about her hero acting in such an unchivalrous manner. “So it’s to be an inquisition.”

  “A friendly one. I promise.” He smiled, and for a moment, the hardness in his face relaxed and a touch of kindness leaked through. But all too quickly, he shut it off. “I wouldn’t worry about propriety if I were you. I’m guessing no one knows you’re here, so your reputation is in no danger.”

  “My cousin knows.” The argument was weak, even to her own ears, and probably accomplished as much good in changing his mind as sticking her tongue out at him would have, but she couldn’t stand to leave his smug assumption unchallenged.

  “Your cousin, huh? Well, I doubt a family member would risk tarnishing your good name.”

  Heavy footsteps clomped around behind her as the other brothers made their way to the table. She didn’t feel threatened by them, but having four men tower over her in a confined space didn’t exactly boost her confidence, either. Travis must have noticed her unease, for he lowered himself into a nearby chair and gently touched her shoulder.

  “You have nothing to fear from us, Meredith. You have my word.” Her gaze locked with his, and something passed between them. A remembered bond from that childhood encounter? She wasn’t sure, but she was certain she could trust him.

  She sat a little straighter and lifted her chin. “What about my horse?”

  Travis smiled and turned to the youngest Archer. “Fetch the lady’s horse, Neill.”

  The boy was standing by the stove and had a spoonful of beans halfway to his mouth. Undeterred, he jabbed the spoon between his lips and talked around the mouthful as he dropped the spoon back into the pot. Meredith cringed.

  “I don’t want to miss all the discussin’, Trav. The horse’ll keep.”

  “If you hurry, you might make it back before we eat all the vittles.”

  “Eat the . . . ? You wouldn’t dare!” Neill scowled, then shot an anxious look toward the stove. Meredith ducked her head to hide her smile. Amazing how much sway food could hold over a young man’s decisions.

  Travis shrugged. “We have a guest, which means less to go around. Might be slim pickin’s if you dally.”

  Neill growled low in his throat, like a cornered animal, and after aiming a final glare at Travis, he snatched up his gun from where it stood propped against the wall and stomped out of the room.

  Travis shook his head and smiled at the kid’s back, his affection obvious despite his firmness in dealing with him. But as he turned his attention to Meredith, his smile faded, leaving nothing but stoic resolve lingering in his gaze.

  As if by silent cue, Crockett and the other brother who had yet to speak lowered themselves into chairs across from where she and Travis sat and stared her down. Meredith instinctively shrank away from them and edged closer to Travis.

  “What do they plan to target?” Travis hardened himself against the surge of protectiveness that rose in his chest as Meredith leaned toward him, her cloak brushing his arm. He hated being so brusque, but it was imperative that he learn everything possible about his attackers. And quickly. The woman might be privy to valuable insight or a clue to his enemy’s scheme without even being aware of its significance. Such knowledge could prove vital when it came to defending his home. This was no time to go soft.

  “Meredith?”

  She looked past him to the doorway, and for a moment, he thought she might bolt, but then the level-headedness he remembered from twelve years ago reasserted itself. She folded her hands together atop the table in a serene prayerlike pose and kept her attention riveted on them while she spoke.

  “The barn.”

  It made sense. They’d already put up most of their winter stores. The hayloft and corncrib were full, and with the nights getting so cold lately, a lot of their stock was sheltered there. Losing the barn would cripple them during the winter. Not that it would convince him to sell. Nothing could do that.

  “How many men are coming?” Crockett probed.

  “I don’t know.”

  Travis tried coming at the question from the back door. “How many men does this fiancé of yours have working for him?”

  Meredith’s head swiveled around, her blue eyes shooting sparks. “He is not my fiancé—never was. And I’d appreciate it if you’d quit referring to him as such.”

  Travis held up his hands in apology. “All right.”

  She inhaled slowly and refocused on her hands. “The man’s name is Roy Mitchell, and I have no idea how many men work for him. He owns a logging company, so I imagine there are a good number in his employ.”

  And they’d be physical men, too. Comfortable in
the woods. Not a bunch of city-bred dandies. Travis tapped his thumb against the pine tabletop as his mind spun.

  Crockett cleared his throat. “We’ll have to move the stock out.”

  Travis nodded his agreement. “But we can’t just leave them all in the paddock. If Mitchell’s men get close enough to see that the stock are safe, they might suspect we’re on to them and burn the house instead.”

  “We could tether the draft horses down by the creek.”

  “Good idea, Jim. Being near the water will help calm them if fire does break out.” Travis tipped his head up to stare at a rafter in the ceiling, the ordinary view helping him concentrate. “Each of us can keep a saddled mount near our position when we set up a perimeter. That will help spare the tack, the horses, and give us a way to chase the vermin off.”

  “What about the mule?” Crockett asked. “You know how cranky Samson gets at night. If we try to take him down to the creek bed, he’ll bray his fool head off and give away his position.”

  Travis nodded. Old Samson was as cantankerous as they came. If he wasn’t in his stall come dark, he’d pull a tantrum worse than Neill used to at bath time. “I guess we better leave him in the paddock. Maybe if we keep Jochebed tied out there, too, it’ll keep him calm.” The milk cow occupied the stall next to Samson, so having her close might soothe him. Then again, it might just endanger their milk supply. But he didn’t see as he had much choice. “Two animals outside the barn shouldn’t draw much suspicion.”

  “And the fodder?” Crockett asked. “I was thinking we could store the contents of the corncrib in the shed.” He turned to Jim. “If that’s all right with you.”

  The shed was Jim’s domain, a workshop for the furniture he made from the walnut, pine, and oak that grew on their land. He was as protective of that space as a squirrel was with a cache of nuts. But he nodded acquiescence, as Travis knew he would. Family needs came first.

  “I’ll clear out a space.”

  “Good.” With each solution they generated, Travis regained a piece of the control he’d lost when he’d learned of the pending attack. His confidence growing, he posed the last issue. “What about the hay? Any ideas of where to store it?”