The Clayborne Brides(2-4): One Pink Rose, One White Rose, One Red Rose

by Julie Garwood

  Millie scoffed at the notion. “No man’s the marrying kind until the ceremony’s over. Don’t you go believing that nonsense, girl. I saw how close he sat next to you at the table. Why, he had you squeezed up nice and tight against his side. I saw him take hold of your hand too, but I didn’t see you pull away. You didn’t mind one little bit, did you?”

  Emily’s shoulders sagged when she said, “No, I didn’t mind. I don’t know what’s come over me. Mr. O’Toole’s letters were very nice, and when he suggested—”

  “Hogwash,” Millie muttered. “Are you going to ruin your life because of some letters?”

  “It wasn’t supposed to get complicated,” Emily said. “I made up my mind to take charge of my destiny, and now I think that maybe Travis was right. He told me it was my pride being wounded that made me act so rashly. Millie, I don’t know what to do. I like Travis, but I’m certainly not in love with him. Why, I’ve only known the man for a couple of days, and we’ve spent most of our time together arguing about this and that.”

  “Love can happen quick,” Millie told her. “I took one look at my man, and I knew I was going to nab him.”

  Emily didn’t want to “nab” anyone. The conversation was making her agitated, for Millie was forcing her to think about things she would rather ignore. Emily wanted to convince herself that she was simply getting cold feet again, but she quickly recognized the lie. Dear God, what was happening to her? She didn’t know her own mind anymore.

  “You’re very fortunate to have found John,” she said. “How did you meet him?” She added the question in hopes of turning Millie’s attention away from her conflicting feelings about Travis.

  Millie was just about to answer her question when the back door flew open and slammed against the kitchen counter, causing both women to jump in reaction. Two of the scruffiest looking creatures Emily had ever seen came sauntering inside. Millie let out a very unladylike blasphemy that so surprised Emily she turned to look at her.

  The creatures quickly recaptured her full attention, however.

  “No one’s keeping us out,” one of the men said. He let out a loud belch before he added, “Ain’t that right, Carter?”

  The other creature was too busy staring at Emily to answer his friend. “Look at what we got here, standing in front of the cabinet John hides his liquor in, Smiley.”

  Emily was trying hard to blend into the wall. The men reeked of foul whiskey and were swaying on their feet as they gawked at her, and she knew it would only be a matter of minutes before they both passed out. She decided to humor them until then, or until Travis and John came into the kitchen and tossed them out.

  She tucked the frying pan behind her while she stared back at them. She couldn’t make up her mind which one was uglier. Smiley’s teeth were so rotten they’d turned black in spots, which made his smile all the more repulsive. He drooled too.

  Carter wasn’t any prize either. His head appeared to be too big for his squat body, and there was a stench about him that was so horrid, Emily actually gagged.

  Compared to these two, One-Eyed Jack was a ladies’ man.

  Millie’s profanity hadn’t made much of an impression on them. Neither one even bothered to glance her way.

  “I’m wanting at that whiskey,” Smiley muttered.

  “Me too,” Carter agreed. He licked his thick lips in anticipation, then made a smacking noise that Smiley found so comical he started chuckling, and if the raucous noise the two of them were making wasn’t bad enough, watching the spittle from Smiley’s mouth dribble down his chin was simply more than Emily could stomach.

  Lord, they were vile.

  Emily was simmering with anger. She wasn’t going to let her temper get the upper hand though. Caution was prudent now, she decided. It would be foolhardy to provoke them, for even though she had never seen a drunken man up close, she had heard that they were all unpredictable, and Millie had just told her it wasn’t possible to reason with a drunk.

  She really wished she had a weapon close-by, then realized she was gripping one in her hand. The frying pan could do enough damage to send them running, and she wouldn’t have the slightest qualm about using it if either one of them tried to steal so much as a speck of dust.

  “Please leave. You’re frightening Millie.”

  “We ain’t going nowhere until we’re good and ready,” Carter muttered.

  Smiley snorted agreement.

  “I’m wanting at that liquor,” he whispered to Carter loud enough for both women to hear. “If I got to toss the woman out of my way, I will. No one comes between me and my whiskey.”

  Carter vigorously nodded agreement. The movement must have made him dizzy, because he started swaying in a circle.

  “I’m wanting the money tucked inside the cookie jar,” he told his cohort. His gaze searched the room before he added, “Millie went and hid it on us.”

  “Guess we got to tear the place apart to find it then.”

  Carter snickered. Millie straightened her shoulders but continued to give away her fear by twisting her apron. “You get on out of here, both of you, or I’ll shout for John.”

  Carter pulled his bowie knife from his waistband and waved it at her. The stupid man was so drunk Emily was amazed he could hold on to the weapon.

  “You keep your trap shut, or this here knife is going in your belly,” he hissed.

  Millie’s complexion turned as white as the dishcloth. Seeing her fear fueled Emily’s anger. How dare they come into this dear woman’s home and threaten her?

  Emily took a deep breath. Oh, what she would have given to have John’s shotgun now. She’d shoot both of them for upsetting poor Millie. She wouldn’t kill them though; she’d just make it painful for them to walk for a long time.

  “Let’s get the pretty little heifer out of our way,” Smiley suggested to his friend.

  Emily blinked. In the space of Millie’s loud indrawn breath, she went from anger to fury.

  “What did you just call me?” she asked, her voice a strained whisper.

  Her eyelid began to twitch while she waited for him to repeat the insult.

  “A pretty little heifer,” Smiley told her.

  She drew herself up to her full height and glared at the men. Caution be damned.

  “Millie? I can’t seem to make up my mind. Which one do you think is uglier? The one with the black teeth or the one with the fat head?”

  Millie let out another gasp. Her eyes looked as though they were about to pop out of her face. “Are you trying to get them mad, girl?”

  Smiley took a step toward Emily. “She’s Travis Clayborne’s woman,” Millie cried out. “If you touch her, he’ll kill you.”

  “We ain’t got no quarrel with Clayborne,” Smiley muttered. “He won’t know what happened until it’s too late. He’s busy with the others out front, and we’ll be long gone with our whiskey and money before he comes inside. Ain’t that right, Carter?”

  “We can ride fast when we got to,” his friend boasted. “Go and push the little heifer clear into the dining room. I’ll back you up.”

  Millie started to slowly edge her way to the table, hoping she could duck underneath to protect herself from Carter’s knife while she screamed for her husband. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Emily wasn’t trying to back away from the man stalking her.

  “Run,” Millie cried out.

  Emily shook her head. “Not until I help you take the garbage out.”

  The remark made Smiley stop. He swayed on his feet, staggered backward, then turned to Carter. “Is she talking about us?”

  “What’s come over you?” Millie whispered.

  “Anger. I don’t appreciate being called a cow; I don’t like being threatened, and I hate the way they’re scaring you,” Emily answered. She kept her gaze on the drunks. “Millie has asked you to leave. Please do as she says.”

  Smiley snorted. He put his arms out at his sides and tried to rush her. He was so drunk, he bounced against the
counter twice and lost more distance than he’d gained.

  “Get behind my back,” Millie shouted.

  Emily was too busy at the moment to explain she wasn’t about to do such a cowardly thing. Timing, after all, was everything. She nervously waited until Smiley was just about two feet away from her, then swung her arm in a wide arc and slammed the frying pan up against the side of his head.

  Spittle went flying every which way as Smiley staggered backward, screeching like a wounded rooster, before he finally collapsed in a heap on the floor.

  Carter was so taken aback by her attack he dropped his knife. “You knocked him stupid,” he bellowed.

  “No,” Emily corrected in what she believed was a reasonable tone of voice. “He was already stupid. I knocked him out.”

  Her heart was frantically pounding, and her hand shook as she lifted the hem of her skirt, stepped over the prone man, and continued on toward his cohort. She had to get to him before he remembered he’d dropped the knife, or both Millie and she were going to be in real trouble.

  Carter wasn’t as drunk as she thought he was. Quick as a pistol shot, he squatted down, scooped up his knife, and snarled at her like a mad dog.

  Emily took a hasty step back. Millie tried to help her by throwing everything she could get her hands on at Carter. He ducked the cup and saucer she hurled at him, but the copper kettle clipped him on his shoulder.

  He let out a howl of pain, his gaze shifting back and forth between his two adversaries. Emily thought he was trying to decide which one to go after first. Millie drew his attention when she started screaming her husband’s name over and over again. Emily seized the opportunity and slammed the frying pan into his elbow. She let out a yelp of dismay, for she’d tried to knock the knife out of his hand and had missed by an arm’s length.

  Carter shouted with rage, and from the look in his eyes, she knew his intentions had just turned deadly.

  Seven

  He never touched her. One second she was staring at his ugly expression and the next she was looking at Travis’s broad back. He seemed to have appeared out of thin air, and though she didn’t have the faintest idea how he’d managed to get in front of her without making a sound, she was so happy to see him she patted his back.

  The odds, after all, had just improved considerably. Emily moved to his side just in time to see his fist strike Carter below his chin. The force behind the blow was so powerful it sent him flying out the doorway through the screen. He landed on his back in the grass with his legs draped over Millie’s butter churn.

  Travis wanted to hit him again. He was so furious he was shaking. When Jack told him there were two men in the kitchen threatening Emily, Travis became enraged. He got scared too, and that enraged him all the more. His heart felt as if it was going to jump out of his chest as he raced toward the house. When he saw the son-of-a-bitch waving a knife in Emily’s face, something snapped inside of him, and he suddenly wanted to tear her attacker apart limb by limb.

  The idea still appealed to him. For a full minute he kept his attention on the man he’d knocked senseless, willing him to get up so he could hit him again, but the drunk didn’t cooperate. He was out cold, and Travis finally accepted the fact that he wasn’t going to be able to beat the hell out of him.

  He turned around, put his hands on Emily’s shoulders, and asked her to look up at him.

  “Are you all right?” His voice was a rough whisper. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “No, he didn’t hurt me,” she answered, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

  He noticed the iron pan in her hand then, took it away from her, and put it on the counter.

  Emily suddenly needed to sit down. Now that the danger had passed, the reaction hit with a vengeance. Her knees went weak and she was suddenly shivering with cold. She turned away from Travis, pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, and plunked herself down on the seat.

  John came running into the kitchen. He looked at his wife first, saw that she was all right, and turned to survey the damage. His gaze shifted back and forth between the remnants of the screen door and the man sleeping spread-eagle on his floor.

  Emily watched him shake his head as he pulled his wife into his arms and hugged her. Emily wished Travis would put his arms around her, hold her tight, and comfort her in much the same way John was comforting his wife. Did the Perkinses know how fortunate they were to have found each other?

  John placed a kiss on Millie’s forehead before once again turning to the unconscious man littering his floor.

  “What happened to him?”

  Millie joined Emily at the table before she answered him. She sat down with a loud, weary sigh, and then said, “She’s what happened to him.” She pointed at Emily to emphasize the fact. “John, I don’t know what came over her. One minute she was trying to squeeze herself into the wall, and the next minute she was banging my best frying pan up against his head. It was something he said that set her off.”

  Travis leaned against the counter, folded his arms across his chest, and stared down at Emily. He watched her lower her gaze to her lap and noticed a faint blush cover her cheeks.

  He couldn’t understand her timidity now. “Emily, are you embarrassed about something?”

  She answered with a dainty shrug of her shoulders. He didn’t have the faintest idea what that gesture was supposed to mean. She’d acted like a wild mountain cat moments before, ready and willing to do as much damage as she could with her frying pan, and though Travis had kept his attention on the drunk threatening her with a knife, he had noticed the determined glint in Emily’s eyes when he’d moved to stand in front of her.

  Now she was acting like a woman who could swoon at the drop of a hat.

  John put his hand on Millie’s shoulder and gave her an affectionate squeeze. “I’m going to put a strong bolt on that door before I go to bed. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

  “I’m not embarrassed. I’m ashamed. I deliberately provoked them.”

  Travis was the only one who heard Emily’s whisper. “How did you provoke them?”

  “I lost my temper. I shouldn’t have though, because I put Millie in danger.”

  “How’d you do that?” John asked.

  “She did no such thing, John,” Millie said.

  “Yes, I did. I incited them,” Emily argued. “I deliberately made them angry by telling them how ugly I thought they were.”

  Travis squatted down beside her and took hold of her hands. “Look at me,” he ordered.

  She lifted her gaze to his. “I should have tried to placate them, but they made me so angry. One of them called me a heifer.”

  A hint of a smile crossed his face. “A heifer?”

  “That’s what did it, all right,” Millie interjected. “She got that mean look in her eyes right after that one named Carter called her a ‘pretty little heifer.’ ”

  Emily straightened her shoulders. “No woman likes to be called a cow,” she announced in her haughtiest voice.

  Travis and John both tried to hide their grins. Millie shook her head. “I think he was complimenting you in his own vile way. He didn’t call you a cow, Emily. He called you a pretty heifer,” she reminded her.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t they the same thing? Travis, I don’t believe I’ve said anything amusing. Why are you smiling?”

  “Your indignation,” he replied.

  John insisted on hearing every detail, and Millie was happy to oblige. Travis listened as he dragged Smiley out of the kitchen and shoved him into the grass next to his friend. His attention kept returning to Emily, and after he’d finished his chore, he leaned against the doorframe and blatantly stared at her.

  She had been shivering a few minutes before, but under his close scrutiny, she was feeling uncomfortably warm in no time at all. She was also having difficulty drawing a deep breath.

  John drew her attention when he pulled out a chair and sat down next to his wi
fe. Emily watched him put his hand on top of Millie’s, and it was that simple, little gesture of affection that proved to be her own undoing. She was suddenly so consumed with such hot, painful longings for Travis, she wanted to weep. She couldn’t understand what was happening to her. She had never had lustful, carnal thoughts before, but she was certainly having them now, and how was that possible? Why was she yearning for something she had never experienced?

  Emily made the mistake of looking at the man who was responsible for her misery. The sight of him only intensified her erotic thoughts, and she hurried to look away.

  She wasn’t quick enough though. Wanting him was bad enough. What made it worse was that she was certain he knew it. The dark look in his eyes told her so.

  She jumped to her feet, nearly overturning her chair in her haste. She needed to get busy, she told herself, to take her mind off her outrageous daydreams. She decided to clean up the mess around her, but Millie paused in her story to insist that Emily sit back down.

  She was simply too agitated to sit anywhere, and so she stood by the entrance to the dining room instead. She was deliberately trying to put as much distance between herself and Travis as possible. She didn’t dare look at him again, so she pretended grave interest in Millie’s every word.

  And, Lord, it was hot in the kitchen.

  “John, what took you and Travis so long to get in here?” Millie asked.

  “We had our hands full; that’s what took us so long,” he replied. “Corrigan told me five men were heading this way, but he was wrong about the number. There were eight of them out front trying to get inside, and all but two were stinking drunk. We didn’t know a couple of others were sneaking up on the back door. I sure did itch to shoot them, Millie.”

  “What held you back?” she asked.

  “Four of them decided to take Travis on, and all at the same time. They came at him from every direction, putting him right in the thick of it.”

  Emily’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at Travis. “You were in the thick of it? You don’t have a mark on you.”