Mike unbuckled his gun belt and dropped it to the ground. He waited.
“All right. Hands up and walk slowly.”
To get to Megan, he’d crawl on his hands and knees. He approached the door with slow, cautious steps. When he reached the door, a man stepped out and patted his body and checked his boots for weapons. Mike evaluated his wife’s captor. He was shorter than himself by a good two inches, but his shoulders were broad and well-muscled. If it came down to a fight, they would be evenly matched. Anyway, his men said there were four of them. Even with one injured, it would be three against one.
Mike stepped through the door and gathered Megan into his arms. Running his hands down her back, over her arms, up her legs, he hunted for injury. “You’re not hurt? They didn’t touch you?”
“No, of course not. William wouldn’t hurt me,” she said.
“William?” He gazed at the other man.
“Yes, Michael, this is William Taylor.” She waved her hand toward the shorter man. “His brothers are Nick, Frank, and Ted. Ted, the youngest, is the one who is injured. Now, don’t his big brothers feel guilty letting their baby brother walk into danger. Their ma, God rest her soul, would be angry. Angry and disappointed, but she’d know the boys were doing their best.”
“Doing their best?” He felt a fool, but all he could do was repeat her words like a demented parrot.
He pulled her into his arms again and whispered into her ear. “Where’s your gun?”
“Upstairs. Lupe and I were just sharing a wee cup of tea when William and his brothers arrived.” Megan’s whisper caused his manhood to jolt. “William has it now.”
“I told you to have it with you at all times.” His voice trembled. He tightened his hold on her arms.
“Yes, I know. I forgot.” She twisted her arms in his grip.
“Damn it, woman. We’re going to have a remembering session if we get out of this alive.” Half his heart sang at the sight of her, unharmed, chin turned defiantly into the air. The other half smoldered.
Megan looked up into her husband’s glaring, grateful eyes. “Lupe and I made coffee and sandwiches. You must be near starved, Michael.” She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and continued. “Please sit down and talk to William. He’s not exactly a rustler. He doesn’t take cattle from anyone but you.” She patted his chest with her tiny hand and motioned toward the table.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? He only steals from me?” Both eyebrows headed north.
“Please, Michael.”
Two more pats on his chest, and he turned to the table. William, already seated, waited. He appeared calm, but Mike saw the blood pulsing in a vein near his jaw. Pulling out a chair, Mike sat and placed both hands on the table, forefingers perched together in a little steeple. “William?” He tipped the steeple in the other man’s direction.
“Call me Bill. Your wife has a liking for full names.” The man managed the tiniest curl of his lip.
“She does,” Mike answered. By God, he wasn’t here to chat up a rustler. “Lay your gun on the table. Then go upstairs and get any weapons your brothers have and bring them here.” He watched the other man’s face. “You’re caught. You can try to hold us hostage, but that will bring the sheriff and a posse. Best you try to reason with me. My wife seems to think you have a story to tell.”
The rustler rolled this around for a minute. “All right.” He clomped up the stairs and low, male voices rumbled.
Bill returned carrying four guns. “These three belong to us.” He pointed at the fourth, smaller gun. “That one belongs to your wife.”
Megan and Lupe appeared with the promised food and cups of coffee, steam curling over the rims.
“Thank you. Now you ladies wait in the kitchen.” Mike tipped his head in the direction from which they had come.
“But, Michael,” Megan said, and held her hands in front of her chest, palms up, “I know the story and maybe I could help.”
For a big man, he moved like liquid lightning. Taking possession of Megan’s arm again he turned her to the side and landed three hearty swats on her backside. “Kitchen. Now.”
“We’re going, jefe.” Lupe took Megan’s free arm and pulled her away. “Come on, Megan. What are you thinking, girl? Your husband wants you safe.” The door to the kitchen closed, and Michael rolled his shoulders and gave his head a shake before returning to the table.
Taking a sandwich from the plate, he motioned for the rustler to do the same. They ate in silence while staring at each other, aggression palpable in every bite.
“Where are your brothers?” He wanted to know where the danger lurked.
“Megan put Ted in a bed upstairs. She called it Skip’s room. My brothers are with him.” Bill gestured towards the stairs and waited.
“Rustling is a hanging offense,” Michael said.
“I know, but we didn’t see it as rustling, exactly.”
Bill’s reply caused Mike’s eyebrows to ascend one more. “Not exactly rustling? You stole my cattle. What would you call it?” Mike’s jaw paused in mid-chew.
“Reclaiming. Taking back what’s ours. Listen. At first, we didn’t know that Ray Manning was dead. We thought he was still the owner, and he is the one we have the beef with. When we found out you were owner now, we had already begun our reclaiming.” He looked at the sandwich in his hand and shrugged. “We just want what’s ours.”
“And how, exactly, are my cattle yours?” His voice rose along with his eyebrows this time. Stealing was stealing. You couldn’t fancy it up. Reclaiming? He’d never heard anything so daft. Blarney. Megan’s word for this was perfect. It was all blarney.
“My ma and pa had a ranch on the northwest section of what is now part of the Circle M. Pa got his one hundred sixty acres through the Homestead Act same as most folks around here.” He sipped his coffee and swished it around in his cup before continuing. “They were doing right well until the range wars.” He took another deep look into his coffee cup. “Was Ray Manning your pa?”
“My uncle.”
“Well, your uncle threw barbed wire up where it didn’t belong. Public land, other men’s land, he didn’t seem to care. He hired guns to stop ranchers from cutting the wire to get their stock to water. If that didn’t drive them away, he burned down barns and threatened their lives.” The man had clenched his fists and his jaw.
“I know it, and I’m sorry for it. Uncle Ray wanted the biggest ranch in the county, but I didn’t know how he went about getting more land until it was over. By then he held the deeds to those ranches and the families were gone,” Mike explained.
“Men came in the night and set fire to our barn. Pa saved most of the horses, but the tools, wagon, and hay were all destroyed. My ma was frantic. We were young then, and she begged my pa to sell out and leave.” He stopped and unclenched his fist. “He did what she wanted, but he was a broken man after that. Never got a good start again, and we lived catch as catch can. They both died a few years ago. Pa first and Ma not far behind. That’s when we made our plan.”
“Your plan?” Mike prompted.
“To get our cattle back,” he answered.
“Your cattle.” Once again Mike felt like a parrot blindly repeating, but with little understanding.
“Pa said besides the house he lost one hundred and sixty-two cattle. We have reclaimed one hundred twenty-nine so far,” he paused and waited.
“I remember a family name named Taylor. The house still stands although it’s in mighty rough shape. That was your house? Where did you plan to take the cattle?” Mike wanted the facts.
Bill nodded. “It was our house. We thought to drive them over the border. Once in Mexico we could set up a little ranch. The law wouldn’t chase us across the Rio Grande.”
A knock on the door brought both tense men to their feet.
“Mike,” the doc called, “you in there?”
Mike hurried to the living room. “How are the men?”
“I got ’em patched
up. They just need rest and good food.” The doc glanced at the rustler.
“Doc.” Mike motioned at the other man. “This is Bill Taylor. His family had a ranch north of here.”
“Bill Taylor. My word. You were just a young ‘un when you left.” He held out his hand. “How are your folks?” His mouth dropped open. “Well, for land sakes, have you been rustling cattle off Mike’s land?”
“It’s a long story, doc.” Mike sighed. “Ted is upstairs and needs your attention. Bill, go with him. I need to think this thing through.”
“Jefe, should I go for the sheriff?” Manuel stood, hands on hips, and waited for orders.
“Not yet. Let me tell you the story. I don’t want these men hung. They’ve made a mistake, but they aren’t criminals,” Mike said.
“They’re not?” Manuel quizzed.
“Well, not in their eyes anyway. I’m sure the law would take a different view. Let me explain.”
Mike and Manuel took seats on the porch swing. A bottle of whiskey passed back and forth as Mike retold the story of the Taylors.
“I remember that family, jefe. Your uncle was crazy for land, and he didn’t care how he got it. They’re not the only family he hurt.” Manuel cringed. “I tried to talk to him. I never went with his hired guns, but I knew. He was wrong. Your uncle. He was wrong.”
“Which is why I don’t want to see these men hang. I can understand their anger.” Mike leaned in close and spoke only loud enough for Manuel to hear.
“What do you think? Is it fair?” Mike asked when he finished explaining his plan.
“Yes, jefe. It is fair and more than fair. The Taylors are lucky you’re the boss now.”
Megan and Lupe joined them under the wide Texas sky. The men sipped their whisky and held their women close.
“You know you have a spanking coming,” Mike whispered into the shell of her ear. He kissed his wife’s neck and nuzzled her shoulder. “If you had done what I told you to, you might not have been taken hostage.”
“Maybe. But then we wouldn’t know the story,” Megan said, trying to reason with her husband.
“True, but that’s still no excuse to disobey me and put yourself in danger. You’ve earned a spanking, and I aim to deliver.” Megan gave a wiggle laden with displeasure, accompanied by a small huff. Mike patted her thigh, and she settled.
He leaned back, tucked her under his arm, and waited for their rustler-reclaimers to join them.
Chapter 9
Megan
Megan snuggled into the inferno of her husband’s body. He was a torch in pants. She loved it.
The door swung open, and Bill emerged from the house. He was followed by three men, little more than boys really.
Michael rose from the swing still holding her in his arms. He swiveled his body around and placed her gently on the seat. Megan gave a little snort. The man was a mix of bossy and sweet. One minute he promised a spanking and the next he won’t bruise her bottom on the seat of a swing.
The four so-called reclaimers held their hats in their hands and waited. They were well and truly caught, but their fate still swung like Texas stars in the deep dark of night.
“Introduce me.” The words sounded like nails pounded into a board.
Bill nodded and pointed at the man next to him. “This is Nick, next to him’s Frank. The one with the bandage wrapped around his head is Ted.”
“How badly are you hurt, Ted?” Mike’s eyes focused on the white cloth wrapped around the man’s head.
“Not bad. The bullet only grazed me, but I bled like a stuck pig.” He looked sheepishly at his inquisitor. “Doc cleaned it up. He said that was the way of head wounds. They bleed and bleed. I might have a head ache, but I’m fine.” Ted stumbled to a stop.
Mike gave a quick nod. “Both of my men were injured far worse. It’s the devil’s own luck nobody died.” His mouth was a grim slash. “How old are you?”
Bill took charge. He clearly led the little band of law-breakers. “I’m twenty; Nick is nineteen; Frank is seventeen, and Ted is sixteen.”
“So, during the range war Ted was three and you were seven.” Mike looked at Bill.
“Yes, that would be right.”
“Well, I can see why your ma was frightened. My Uncle Ray could be ruthless, and I ain’t proud of it.” Mike grimaced. “But fair is fair. You and your brothers have been stealing my cattle. If I turn you in, you’ll hang.” Three of the men looked at Bill who nodded.
“I suppose you’re right.” Bill admitted.
“I know the story. It’s why I didn’t send Manuel for the sheriff. Your family was done wrong. Done wrong by my family, and I’d like to make amends if I can.” Mike waited for another nod from Bill before he continued.
“Of course, we have to talk to the hands. Two of them are laid up because of you, but I think they’ll see the justice in my plan. If not, we’ll have to come up with a different idea. I won’t have fighting or bad feeling on my ranch.” Mike took a breath and Megan scooted forward on the seat.
“You return my one hundred twenty-nine steers. You work for me for two years at half-pay. At the end of that time, I will give you a legal bill of sale for one hundred sixty-two head of cattle. Now, with the other half of your pay, you can go to town and get drunk or take a lady to the second floor of the saloon, or you can repair the Taylor house and build a barn.” Megan saw hope flare in Bill’s eyes. She was so proud of her husband her heart squeezed as if in a vise.
“If you do that, rebuild the Taylor spread, I mean, I will give you the deed to the one hundred sixty acres that belonged to your pa. You boys are pretty green.” He took a moment to look each of them in the eye. “I figure in two years you’ll be able to run a ranch and take proper care of stock.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or you return my cattle and ride away. I won’t see you hang, so go wherever the wind blows, but my offer is only good right now. If you leave, I don’t want to see your sorry faces again, and I won’t stand for any more nonsense of reclaiming what’s yours.” He drummed his fingers against the side of his muscular thigh. “What’s it going to be?”
The brothers held a conference, speaking so no one could hear. “Thank you, Mike. Your bargain is generous, and we thank you.”
“All right. You four sleep in the barn tonight. Manuel will explain the deal to the men. If they can live with it, you older three ride out tomorrow and go to work. You do whatever Manuel says without question. Ted works in the barn until doc says he’s fit to work the range.” Mike motioned toward the barn, and the brothers moved as one toward its safety.
Megan sprang from her seat and planted a loud kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Thank you, Michael. I was so hoping you could find a way to help. They are not bad boys. I just know it in my heart.”
“I think you’re right, or I wouldn’t risk keeping them on the ranch. If I thought they were a danger, I’d call in the sheriff.” He held Megan at arm’s length. “But, that doesn’t excuse your choices. You ignored me, Megan. You didn’t trust me to keep you safe.” He ran a hand over his face. “You needed your gun for protection, for your safety, and for my peace of mind. If something happened to you, I would be a… a sad empty sack of a man. For my sake, if not your own, you must do what you’re told.”
“I’m sorry, Michael. Truly.” She stopped. Her husband’s jaw was a block of marble.
“I sent the brothers to the barn, so we would have the house to ourselves.” He gave her bottom a hearty swat. “Up to our room. Now. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Megan bolted from the porch. Another spanking. She hated the embarrassment as much as the pain. She reached their room and sat on the bed trembling, and waited and waited and waited. Why didn’t he come?
Finally, the familiar sound of his heavy boots on the stairs could be heard. She stared at the door with eyes wide. Before he arrived, she fled to her corner and nestled her bottom into the adjoining walls.
Mike entered the room and his eyes swept the space until h
e found her huddled in the corner. He gave a strangled chuckle. “Oh, Megan. Hiding again? Well, maybe a little extra corner time would be helpful.” He advanced on her. “Take your bloomers off.”
“Michael, please. Can’t we talk this out?” She held one small hand toward the large cowboy.
“We’ll talk after the spanking. You know I won’t injure you. Your bottom will sting for a while, but I would never really hurt you. Do you trust me?” His question a mix of hurt and curiosity.
“Yes. Yes, of course I do.” Megan’s voice wobbled.
“Then take off your bloomers.” He waited with arms crossed.
Her hands crept under her dress and the bloomers fell to the ground.
“Step out.” He took her hand and held her steady. “Turn back to the corner.”
Megan put her nose into the corner, aware, painfully aware, of her husband standing close behind her. She could feel his moist breath on her neck. His hands took hold of the hem of her skirt and lifted it until her little bottom presented itself. He tucked the fabric into her belt. She heard his receding footsteps and the squeak of the bed as he lowered his weight to the mattress.
“Michael?”
“You will stand there for ten minutes and think about your actions. Bill and his brothers could have been real rustlers, dangerous and mean. They could have raped you. You and Lupe both. They could have killed you. Did you think of any of that while you were ignoring my orders?”
“No, I guess not.” Megan’s voice was choked with tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Ten minutes. Think about my pain if any of those things had happened. Think about why I give you orders.” He glanced at his watch.
Megan’s tears streaked her freckled cheeks, and her shoulders shook. She would listen to her husband. She would obey. She would be truthful. Megan wailed. Michael was so good, so honest, and he trusted her. But she hadn’t told him everything about Boston or about that man and the night she fled. She didn’t deserve his trust. But, could she tell him now after choosing to lie on the day they were married? The corner time was having its effect. Buried, hidden worry came rushing to haunt her as she stood, reflecting, bare-bottomed in the corner.
Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One Page 7
