Troubled Water: Lone Star Love Book One

by Phelps, Victoria

  “You’re welcome, Bill. Stay out of trouble and work hard. You’ll be fine.” Mike smiled at the pack of brothers who traveled together like a school of fish. Well, he hoped when he and Megan had children, they would be that close. He wanted more than one or two. Four looked like a nice number. His glance rested on his wife’s flat stomach. Maybe the first one was already on the way. Lord knows he’d been working hard on his part of the deal.

  He nuzzled Megan’s ear. “I can’t wait to get you home. You drive me crazy, woman. You surely do.” He waited and was rewarded with the blush he loved.

  He was feeling mighty warm and generous. “Bill, I need to go outside for a minute. Would you care to dance with the missus?”

  Bill’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed his surprise. “Yes, sir, boss. I’d surely love to.” Bill held out his hand and after a little nod from her husband, she placed her hand in his.

  “I’ll be right back. Stay with Bill,” Mike whispered in her ear.

  He left the barn and followed the path to the rear of the building. There was an outhouse for the women on the other side, but the men preferred the side of an old out-building. Mike strolled back toward the barn thinking about his wife and what he might teach her tonight after he pulled all the pins from that avalanche of curls.

  He was nearly to the door when Megan’s scream split the night and propelled him full speed through the door. Two strangers held her captive between them and Bill had his arm pulled back ready to strike a blow for Megan’s freedom.

  “Take your hands off my wife,” Mike bellowed from the door.

  The sheriff and Mike moved toward the scene in unison. “I said, take your hands off my wife.” Megan’s face was blanched white and her large, frightened eyes were fixed on his face as she struggled. Bill dropped his arm but stood ready to help.

  “You heard the man. Let the lady go.” The sheriff spoke his authority, “I’m Sheriff Ford. Let her go.”

  The two men released Megan’s arms, and she fled to her husband’s side.

  “This doesn’t concern you, sheriff. It’s a family matter,” the larger man stated.

  “Do you know these men, Megan?” the sheriff asked.

  Her voice quivered and quaked. “I do. That one,” she pointed at the speaker, “is my uncle. The other one is Mr. O’Reilly. Jaysus, Mary and Joseph, I thought he was…”

  “Dead. You thought I was dead because you left me bleeding and unconscious on the floor.” O’Reilly gave a loud snort. “Well, I’m not dead, but I’ve come for what was promised me.”

  “And what might that be?” The sheriff’s mild enquiry concealed his alert attention.

  “Megan, of course. Her uncle said I could have her. We had a deal,” the man stated.

  Sheriff Ford glanced at the room, everyone frozen in silent curiosity. “Come on. We’re moving this discussion to the jail.”

  “Good. Because if I can’t have her, I want her charged with assault.” O’Reilly snarled.

  Mike put a protective arm around his wife’s shoulder. He leaned down to speak so only she would hear. “Is this true, Megan? Did you try to kill the man?”

  “Yes. No. It was an accident.” She clung to the front of his shirt.

  Once inside the jail, the sheriff lit a lantern and lowered his long body into a chair behind his desk. He motioned for Megan to take the chair across from him while the three men stood, alert and angry.

  “You’re the uncle?” The sheriff motioned at the bigger man.

  “Yes. And I paid for Megan and her family to emigrate from Ireland. They owe me. She was part of a deal with O’Reilly to get my money back. It’s only fair.” The uncle’s face was tomato red and his breathing labored and hard.

  “Well, as far as that goes, sir. You cannot sell people or use them to settle a debt. I believe the war settled that issue once and for all.” He frowned at the two men. “Is this true, Megan? Do you owe your uncle money?” The sheriff’s voice was calm, but his fingers drummed against his thigh.

  “He did send Da some money.” Megan nodded. “My mam died on the journey over, and Da died in the first year we were in America. My brother, Brian, and I worked without pay for five years. Brian in Uncle’s store, and I cleaned house and cooked. But Uncle kept saying we owed more and more. He kept us locked in our rooms most of the time with barely enough clothes, or food to keep a body together. When Brian turned eighteen, he ran away to find a way to make money. He said Uncle would never set us free.” Her voice shook as she continued, “Brian said he would come back for me, but I had to get away fast.”

  The sheriff looked at O’Reilly. “Tell me about this assault.”

  “She hit me with a poker. Swung it at my head and knocked me out. I was bleeding like a stuck pig when O’Shanahan here found me.”

  Her uncle nodded agreement.

  “Is this true, Megan?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t know what else to do. Uncle told me I had to marry the man, and I didn’t want to. He’s mean to the people who work for him, and I was afraid. I told Uncle no, no, no. Every time he said I had to do it, I told him no.” Mike placed a hand on her shoulder, and Megan grabbed it and held on tight. “One night uncle went out, but then I heard the door open. Uncle had given the key to O’Reilly, I guess. He came to my room and said I had no choice. He’d come to claim me, and after that no decent man would want me.” Her knuckles turned white from the fierce grip she had on her husband’s hand.

  The sheriff looked at Mike who nodded his head. “Go on.”

  “He grabbed me and threw me down and began tearing at my clothes. He ripped my shirt down the front. He tried to get his hand under my skirt.” Color fled from Megan’s face leaving her skin the color of parchment. “I fought and kicked. I managed to break free and get off the bed, but he grabbed my ankles and brought me to the ground. Well, sheriff, my hand found the poker, and I swung it hard.” Megan sobbed and shivered. “I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t mean to kill him, but he lay still and bleeding.”

  The sheriff’s questioning continued. “What did you do then?”

  “I had Lupe’s letter and the money she sent for a trip west. I wasn’t sure I would ever come west, but I was so frightened. I had answered Lupe’s letter as a,” she paused in thought, “getaway dream, I suppose, but I hoped Brian would return before I had to use it. If Brian came in time, I planned to send Lupe’s ticket and money back to her.” She looked over her shoulder at Mike. “I would not have kept that money, Mike.”

  He gave a short nod.

  “I was so scared. I thought I’d killed him.” She pointed at O’Reilly. “I gathered a few things and ran. You know the rest. I took the train and the stage to San Miguel and found Michael.” She slumped forward and sobbed.

  Mike’s heart hurt to hear her. He bent down and gathered her into his arms. He picked her up and sat with her cocooned in his lap.

  “Well, gentlemen, that sounds like self-defense to me.” Sheriff Ford pierced the two men with a deadly glare. “You arrive in our peaceful town and lay violent hands on the wife of one of our citizens. Then you reveal your plan to sell her to settle a debt that by my calculations had been more than paid by five years of free labor by Mrs. Manning and her brother. You have no warrant for arrest or proof of this assault which, according to the lady, was actually attempted rape.” He rose to full height. “Have I missed anything?”

  Her uncle blustered, “Now, she’s my niece. I have some rights.”

  “No, you don’t. She is a free woman who is of age,” the sheriff replied.

  “The two of you will be on tomorrow’s stage out of town. Do you understand me?” He waited. “Do not come back. Do not bother Mrs. Manning again. She is the legal wife of Mike Manning and a respected member of our community. Am I clear?”

  The two men stomped to the door. “Don’t come back to me, niece, when this man has had enough of you. I won’t help you a second time.”

  Megan lifted her head from Mike’s s
houlder. “How did you find me?” Her voice was small, shaky.

  Her uncle curled his lip into an ugly sneer. “You thought you were so smart, niece. Disappearing into the night like a little thief.” He leaned toward her, and Megan shrank into her husband’s body. “I didn’t expect the courtesy of a letter, but I figured you wouldn’t let your friend worry over you.”

  “Charlotte told you?” she asked.

  “Well, not at first. She denied knowing, but her father said she had received a letter. She changed her tune, then. She said she knew where you were, but she wouldn’t tell.” Her uncle snorted.

  “What happened?” Megan clutched the front of Mike’s shirt. Her fingers trembled.

  “Well, now, didn’t her da have a big paddle. And when he laid her over the table and bared her lovely white bottom, he knew how to use it.” He paused and glared at Megan. “Maybe if I’d had a paddle of my own you wouldn’t have been so disobedient. Well, pretty soon that white bottom was flaming red and moving on to scarlet, but she still wouldn’t tell. Another ten minutes, though, had her blubbering and begging for him to stop. She told, and here we are.” He smirked. “I quite enjoyed the sight. The man spanked the truth out of her.”

  Mike rose and placed his wife on the chair. “Now I’ve sat here and listened to a tale of slavery, attempted rape, and abuse. That was no spanking. That was a beating pure and simple.” Mike clenched his fists at his sides. “I’ve let the law do its work. But if I ever see either of you again, I’ll take justice into my own hands. Get out before I do it anyway.” He moved with menace toward the pair.

  The door slammed, and they were gone. The silence was broken only by Megan’s shaking sobs.

  “Ethan, would you tell John and Marcie I took Megan home.” He glanced at Megan’s tear stained face. “Come on, darlin’. We’ll walk to the Waynes’ and get our wagon.”

  He extended his hand to his wife and helped her to her feet. Once in the cool night air he filled his lungs with clean air and breathed deep. What a tale. What a miserable, terrible tale.

  Why hadn’t Megan shared it with him before? He had asked for her trust, and he hoped he’d earned it. She thought she had killed a man. Surely that deserved a mention.

  “Did you ever plan to tell me this story, Megan?” His question was delivered with deadly quiet.

  “Oh, Michael, I’m so sorry.” More tears rolled down her face and were absorbed in the dry, Texas dirt. “I know I should have. The longer I waited the harder it became. I was afraid you would think less of me. I let this big piece of blarney grow between us, but I planned to tell you. Truly. I did.”

  “When?”

  “Tomorrow. I planned to tell you tomorrow.” She looked at him with her tear stained face and red eyes. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

  “Tomorrow,” he repeated.

  Megan nodded so hard her hair swung free from its pins.

  Well, maybe that was true, but how was he to know. She didn’t trust him. The thought was a jolt of ice straight to his heart. She lied to him. She said there were no secrets.

  Damn.

  Chapter 12

  Megan

  They walked through the warm night in silence. Silence so brittle Megan thought the sky could shatter and fall around their feet in sharp, jagged pieces. She scrubbed at her face with the large handkerchief clutched in her small hand and looked up through lowered lashes at her husband’s stern jaw.

  She had grown accustomed to his arm thrown over her shoulder, his hand at her waist pulling her close, his hand seeking hers, his taps and pats on her bottom. She loved all those small attentions. This husband strode along like a stranger, face set firmly forward, arms swinging at his side, not touching, not seeking, not embracing. Megan’s sigh emerged as a low moan.

  When he cleared his throat, Megan’s eyes flew to his face.

  “I want you to write to your friend in Boston.” He glanced down at her.

  “Charlotte? You want me to write Charlotte?” Surprise vibrated through her question.

  “Yes. She probably feels guilty for telling your uncle where you are.”

  “But it wasn’t her fault. Her father is strict. And mean. He punishes her for something nearly every day. We were both scared. Trapped.” Megan’s stomach clenched at the memory.

  “You can tell her you don’t blame her.” He paused. “I want you to send her the money to come to Texas, to San Miguel. She’s welcome at the Circle M. She doesn’t have to come or even use the money for the trip, but I can’t be at peace with myself knowing her father beats her, and I didn’t do anything to help.”

  “You are such a kind man. It will ease my mind as well. Giving her a choice, a way out, will give her hope. I know Lupe’s money saved me.” She wiped tears from her face with the back of her hand. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and silence once more dominated the journey.

  Mike hitched their horses to the wagon. He helped her onto the seat. Once home, he lifted her down.

  His courtesy pained her. She longed for the husband who touched and laughed and bathed her in his care.

  “Go on in the house. I’ll be in after I’ve seen to the horses.” He turned to his task without watching to see if she followed his orders.

  Shoulders slumped, feet dragging through the dirt, Megan did as she had been told. She prepared for bed, leaving her hair down the way Michael liked and slipped under the quilt. Megan waited and waited for her husband to join her. Her heart pounded. The noise beat a painful drum in her ears. She wrapped her arms around her middle and held her body in a tight embrace. Megan waited in the dark: shattered and scared. Sure she had done damage to this life and this man with her fear and her blarney.

  His boots sounded on the stairs. She was comforted by the every-day sounds of his disrobing: boots hitting the floor, belt jangling as his pants slid off his legs, shirt whisking up his muscled torso and over his head.

  The bed dipped as he sat on the edge. He lay down and pulled the cover over his chest. She held her breath and waited for him to reach for her, teach her, tame her, ride her. But Michael lay still, one arm bent at the elbow and placed across his eyes.

  “Go to sleep, Megan.” He turned on his side, back facing her firmly, and after a while she heard his steady, even breathing and knew he slept.

  “Jaysus, Mary and Joseph,” she whispered into the dark. “I’ve made a holy mess.” Tears leaked from her eyes and trailed into her hair as she lay still and sad beside her sleeping husband. She watched the night fade into dawn before she finally followed him into slumber.

  When she woke, he was gone. The work of a ranch didn’t stop just because your wife turned out to be a keeper of secrets. Cattle needed to be fed, fences mended, and horses cared for day in and day out.

  Megan rose, washed her face and dressed in a skirt and blouse that Michael had chosen for her on that first day of marriage when they went to the Mercantile. That day had heralded new beginnings. She didn’t know what this day would bring.

  “Good morning, Lupe.” Megan entered the kitchen to find Lupe busy kneading bread on the large wooded table. “How can I help?”

  “What’s the matter with you two?” Lupe planted flour covered hands on her hips. “Jefe looked like he lost his best dog, and you don’t look any better.” She shook her head. “Who were those two men last night? They looked mighty ornery.”

  Fresh tears filled her eyes, and she turned her head away before they spilled down her pale cheeks.

  “Oh dear.” Lupe pointed at the stove. “You get your breakfast and a cup of coffee. Then you sit down and tell Lupe all about it.”

  So Megan did. She told her how Michael had asked her more than once if she had troubles or secrets she needed to share. She told her how Michael explained that he set great store by honesty. She told her how she had rewarded him by withholding her secret—that she thought she had killed a man. That she ran from Boston believing herself a criminal.

  Lupe gasped. “Killed a man?”


  “But I didn’t.” She looked over the rim of her coffee cup at the other woman. “He was at the dance last night. He and my uncle came thinking to make me return to Boston with them.” She sipped and swallowed. “That man snuck into my room in Boston and tried to force me, but I hit him with a poker. He was only knocked out, but I didn’t know. I took the ticket you sent and ran away.”

  “Ay, Dios mio.” Lupe’s words were a prayer.

  “Sheriff Ford sent them back to Boston. They are sorted out, but Michael is angry. Angry and disappointed in me.” More tears fell.

  Lupe covered the dough and washed her hands. She joined Megan at the table and took both her hands in her own. “Now, jefe is a good man. You know that.” Megan nodded her head. “He needs a little time to think this over. I know he loves you.”

  “You think he loves me?” Megan squeaked.

  “The way that man looks at you, cares for you, worries for your safety? Yes, that man loves you.” Lupe nodded in agreement with her proclamation.

  “Last night he couldn’t even talk to me. He didn’t touch…” Her words disappeared in a sobbing choke.

  “Patience. Don’t nag. Let him work it out in his own mind. You just go about your business the best you can.” Lupe patted her hands. “Patience,” she repeated. “It will work itself out.”

  Megan pondered her friend’s advice. She would do her best to follow it. If her ma were alive, she would say the same. Never fish in troubled water, daughter. Don’t go looking for trouble; it will find you soon enough. That’s what Ma would say, for certain sure. Let time do its magic. Megan wiped her face on her apron and carried her dish to the sink.

  “Thank you, Lupe.” She mustered a watery smile. “I’ll go feed the chickens and work in the garden. Call me if you want help with dinner.” Megan straightened her shoulders and walked with purpose out of the house.