The Most Unsuitable Wife

by Caroline Clemmons

  Drake was not prepared for the sight that met him. Grandpa sat tied in his chair. Blood matted his white mane on one side. Above his left ear, the bloody trail led to a cut on a huge lump.

  Abe lay motionless on the floor. He’d bled buckets, but was still alive. Drake didn’t know who to take care of first, but figured he’d better take care of his grandfather.

  “What happened?” he asked as he cut the ropes on Grandpa.

  “That crazy Walker fella came bargin’ in her this morning with Storm and Sarah. The kids were tied up and gagged, and he soon tied me up, too.”

  “Didn’t anyone call out to see why you hadn’t come out of your study all day?”

  “Aw, the sonofabitch had me call out the door and give everyone the day off to get ready for the big celebration tomorrow. Didn’t take them long to clear out, I can tell you. Then we sat and waited for Pearl to show up.”

  The bottom fell out of Drake’s stomach and he thought he might have to sit down. He forced himself to calm and checked on Abe. The man’s breathing was shallow but steady.

  Drake grabbed the water pitcher from Grandpa’s desk. He filled a glass for Grandpa, and then poured a thin trickle on Abe’s mouth and forehead. Abe moved his head.

  Drake poured again and this time Abe opened his eyes. He grabbed Drake’s hand.

  Abe’s voice was so soft Drake could barely hear him. “Line shack. Your ranch. Waitin’ til you get there to kill all of you.”

  “Has he hurt any of them?” Drake prayed the answer would be no.

  “Hit Pearl hard ‘cause she checked on the Judge.”

  He’d kill the bastard for that alone. Drake reined in his temper to handle his present situation.

  “Grandpa, how’re you feeling? Think you can get help for Abe here and tell the sheriff what’s happened?”

  “I can fetch Doc Percival and find Ben. Before I do anything else, though, I gotta go to the privy.”

  Abe raised his hand in farewell as if the effort took all his strength, but he whispered, “Careful. Man’s crazy. Be watching for you.”

  ***

  There were three line cabins on the ranch, but Drake figured the best bet was the one without brush or trees for cover. The storm moved closer. A few drops of rain hit his face. He reached behind him and untied his slicker without slowing Midnight. When he turned off toward the line shack, he saw ribbon tracks of buggy wheels. He’d chosen right this time.

  The rain started in full force, lashing at his back. The cabin was a half hour’s ride. He slowed Midnight to pace him. No use killing his favorite horse and winding up afoot. Being on a horse across open prairie with lightning around was danger enough.

  Inside the cabin, Pearl panicked. Just when it looked as if her life was working out better than her wildest dreams, Quin had to show up. Things had gone to hell in a hand basket from then on. She shuddered when she thought of the lives lost because of Quin. Poor Grandpa, she hoped he was all right and Abe was at least alive.

  Forcing herself to concentrate on the immediate situation, she wondered what she could do to save Storm, Sarah, and herself? And her baby? She had to save Drake’s baby.

  At least Quin had removed their gags. The rain would have erased all their tracks by now. She hoped Abe was able to tell Drake where they’d been taken. Not for an instant did she doubt Drake would find her, but a little guidance to save time might mean their lives.

  She spotted Storm work at his ropes. Unless his were looser than hers, he wasted his time. She nodded at her thigh, then twisted to hide her hands from Quin while she made a gun with her fingers behind her back. If only Storm understood she had her derringer in the little thigh holster. Not that it would be any use unless one of them escaped from the ropes to help the other two. She turned back to look at Storm. He nodded he’d understood.

  They had to be careful Quin didn’t see their motions. There was no telling what he’d do if he thought they were untying each other. As if they could. Quin had tightened the knots so it would take hours to undo them.

  Storm turned to Sarah and nodded toward his boot. She was so upset it took her a while to grasp what he meant. Storm twisted so his boot was near Sarah’s hands. He nudged her with his foot. Pearl scooted in front of Storm and Sarah to shield them from Quin’s view.

  Quin asked, “Hey, what are you two doin’ over there?”

  He looked as if he would come over, but didn’t move from his chair at the table. Lucky for them Quin Walker was lazy as the day was long.

  “Just trying to get more comfortable,” Storm said.

  “Try all you want. You’re not gonna be anything for very long.”

  Dark had fallen and rain and wind battered the small cabin. A single lantern on the table shed the only light except for the occasional streaks of lightning outside. Quin played solitaire with a deck of cards he had carried in his pocket. His gun lay beside him on the tabletop. Nearby stood a liquor bottle, and he took frequent swigs from it.

  When he spoke again, it seemed to Pearl he mumbled to himself rather than to anyone in the room. “Before long, I’l be living high on the hog.”

  “Seems to me you always lived pretty high,” Pearl said. She hoped her talking kept him from looking at Storm and Sarah.

  “Higher than trash like you three, but not high enough. When my daddy dies, I’ll inherit the whole thing with you three worthless shits out of the way.”

  “I didn’t know your daddy was sick. Is something wrong with him?” Pearl couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. He might be a bad father, but he was her father too.

  Quin gave a horrific laugh. “Not yet. He’s going to meet with a tragic accident when I get back. I’ll be grief stricken, o’ course. In fact, I reckon I’ll be so broke up I’ll sell out and move down to New Orleans to get away from the sad reminders of living there. A man with money can live real good in New Orleans.”

  Pearl heard Storm whisper to Sarah, “Keep your hands behind you until I give you the signal.” So, Sarah must have used Storm’s knife to cut him free and he had done the same for her.

  Quin frowned. “Say, you stop that whispering. You want to talk, then talk loud enough for me to hear.”

  Storm spoke, “We were just remembering things about Tennessee. We hear your mama was a real pretty lady.”

  Her unbound hands still behind her, Sarah scooted beside Pearl.

  Quin relaxed. “Well, now, right nice of you to say so. She was pretty, and a real lady. Not like those sluts who bred you.”

  Storm moved behind Pearl and sawed through the binding at her wrists. Now they were all three able to move freely—if they could distract Quin so he didn’t shoot them before they overpowered him.

  Pearl asked, “What kind of card game is that you’re playing?”

  Quin stared at her incredulously. “You mean you don’t know how to play solitaire?”

  “Granny didn’t hold with playing cards,” she answered.

  “Mind if I sit across from you and watch?” Storm asked. “I ain’t never seen a deck of cards up close.”

  Quin pushed the chair out with his foot. “Might’s well. Won’t do you no good after tonight, but might pass the time ‘til Kincaid gets here.”

  Storm eased himself into the chair, knife still in his hands. He started asking questions about the game.

  Quin took to the role of showing how smart he was at cards and dealt a hand of gin rummy. “I’ll play your hand and you can watch.”

  Pearl moved so Sarah hid a porton of her body. She eased her skirt up and slowly worked the gun from its holster. With the gun in her hand, she inched her hand back to her side. Using her other hand, she tried to slide her skirt back to her feet, but Quin looked up before she finished.

  “Well, lookee here, injun. Your hand lost.” Quin gave another high-pitched laugh and looked at her and Sarah.

  He frowned. “Hey, what are you doin’ with your skirt hiked up like that? Giving me a little peep show? Damned if your legs aren’t better l
ookin’ than I would of thought.”

  He threw down the cards and grabbed his gun. “Now that I think about it, you’ve prettied up a lot since you left Piper’s Hollow. Let’s see what the rest of you looks like. I might like a little fun ‘fore your high and mighty husband gets here. I’d planned to let him watch while I used you and Sarah, but I can always have another go at you when he gets here.” He walked with his arm at his side and the gun dangling from his hand.

  Pearl brought her arm up and aimed the derringer at Quin. “Stop right there. Drop your gun.”

  “Against a one-shot toy like that? Not likely to happen, bitch.”

  “I also have a weapon, and it will pierce your heart as you say your arrow went through Beau’s.” Storm stood, revealing the knife he held in throwing position.

  Without taking her eyes from Quin, Pearl said, “Sarah get the ropes and tie them together until you get a piece long enough to tie up this sorry excuse for a human. Make sure the knots are tight. Quin, I told you to drop your gun.”

  Quin let the gun slide from his grasp and hit the floor. He stood facing Pearl and she recognized the anger in his eyes. More than anger sparked there. Quin was truly insane and far beyond reason.

  “Well, well. So you had a hidden gun and the bastard injun had a knife. Didn’t think of that. Reckon you can use that toy?”

  Pearl assured him, “I can and I will.” Though she devoted her life to healing and saving lives, she knew she could shoot this man. Too many lives depended on her ability for her to fail.

  He lunged for her. She fired, saw him jerk against the bullet’s jolt and red spread across his shoulder. He bent to retirieve his gun and she kicked it away.

  “I’ll teach you to cross me, bitch.” Quin backhanded her. “You saw what I did to Belle. That’s nothing to what you’re gonna get.”

  The force of his blow near knocked her head from her shoulders. She fell against the wall with a jarring thud thought Quin held her arm firmly.

  Storm asked, “Have you forgotten about me? Do not touch my sister again or I will kill you. Pearl, step away from him and stand by Sarah.”

  “Not likely,” Quin said and yanked Pearl in front of him. “All right, Sarah. Pick that gun up and give it to me. You hold it by the barrel real easy like.” He backed away, pulling Pearl closer in front of him.

  Outside, the storm’s intensity grew. Lightning struck nearby. Deafening thunder rattled window glass panes and shook the room. An eerie glow lit the cabin.

  Sarah picked up the gun. She chewed her lip in indecision.

  Pearl shouted, “Don’t give it to him. He’ll use it to kill all of us.” She elbowed Quin hard in the stomach.

  He let out an “Oof” and eased his grip.

  She kicked backward at his shins and he released her. The sudden release caught her off balance and she fell at his feet.

  Quin grabbed the gun from Sarah. His shove sent Sarah stumbling to the floor halfway across the room. He aimed the gun at Pearl. Before he could fire, the door slammed open.

  Drenched and dripping pools of water onto the floor, Drake stood in the doorway, gun in his hand. “You took my family. I’m taking them back.”

  Quin fired at Drake. Drake’s body twitched when the bullet hit his left arm near his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice he’d been hit, but returned Quin’s fire. His shot caught Quin in the heart a half second before Storm’s knife found it’s mark.

  Pearl noted surprise spread across Quin’s face, astonishment when he looked at his chest and saw the red stain spread, the knife protruding. He raised his hand as if to tug at the knife, but his fingers only clawed air. He opened his mouth and his lips moved, but no sound came. His eyes rolled back in his head and he slowly dropped to the floor.

  Storm rushed forward to check him. “He’s dead.”

  Drake embraced Pearl in his arms. He buried his head in her hair. “I thought I’d lost you. I swear I couldn’t live without you.” He raised his head. “Good throw, son. I knew I could count on you to protect your sisters if you had half a chance.”

  Pearl tugged at his slicker. “You’ve been hurt. Let me see.”

  Drake shook his head. “I’m fine. I can wait until we get home.”

  She pushed the slicker from his shoulder and it fell to the floor. Her trembling fingers pulled his shirt buttons undone until she saw the bullet had passed through the flesh. Apparently resigned to her care, he ripped the sleeve from his shirt and sat on the nearest bunk.

  Using the bandanas which had been their gags, Pearl made a pad and tied it around Drake’s arm. As she worked, the realization hit her again that he might have been killed, they all might have been. She hated the fact that her own half-brother had been responsible for all the terror of the past few months.

  Even more, she hated that he now lay dead only a few feet away. The baby moved inside her and she thanked God for her own safety and that of her family. Safety came at a terrible price, but there would be no more guards around the clock and no more jumping at sudden noises.

  Pearl slid her arms around Drake’s neck. She never wanted to be separated from him again. “I knew you’d come for us. I was just afraid the weather would make you too late.”

  Drake kissed her tenderly. “Knowing he was crazy and had already killed, I was half crazy from worry myself.” Without easing his hold on Pearl, he asked Sarah and Storm, “You two all right? Get over here and let me see you.”

  “I’m not hurt,” Storm said. “Are you, Sarah?”

  “Not really.” She looked at Quin’s body then quickly looked away. “I wanted to shoot him, but I was afraid I would shoot sister instead.”

  “You did fine.” Storm put his arm around her shoulders and led her to Drake and Pearl, to be engulfed in a family embrace.

  Tears slid down Sarah’s cheeks, and Pearl brushed them away before she asked Drake, “How did you find us?”

  “Lucky for me, Abe heard Quin talking about where he would take you. Otherwise it would have taken me longer. Rain wiped out your trail.”

  “Abe’s all right, then?” Pearl asked.

  “I wouldn’t say all right. He’s lost a lot of blood, but he’s alive.”

  Sarah asked, “How’s Grandpa? Quin hit him awfully hard.”

  “Grandpa’s mad as a hornet.” Drake smiled reassuringly. “Seemed pretty fit considering the lump on his head.”

  “You know Quin killed Beau and Jeff?” Storm asked. “He shot Beau with an arrow.”

  Drake nodded. “The good news is, Jeff’s alive. Last I saw him he was riding to town with Beau’s body. That Quin was some shot with a bow.”

  “My grandfather taught Quin the Cherokee ways when the Walkers lived with my people,” said Storm. “Guess Quin forgot the lessons about using those skills for good.”

  Sarah glanced over her shoulder at Quin’s body. “He was just plain evil, but I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

  “Me, too, Sarah,” Drake agreed. “But he chose his path some time back.”

  As the storm’s noise abated, they heard the thunder of horses. Drake stepped to the open door. “Howdy, Ben. Sure glad to see you.”

  The sheriff and two of his deputies strode into the cabin holstering their guns. “Had a hard time keeping half the town and all your hands from coming with me.”

  He stepped over and used the toe of his boot to nudge Quin’s lifeless body. “We could have stayed home and kept dry. That man’s as dead as they come. Looks to me like he’s been killed twice.”

  “Still glad you’re here,” Drake assured him.

  “Judge and Granger both came to see me, told me what happened. Kline was still at the Doc’s when we left town. Sure sorry you folks had to go through all this, but it ought to put an end to your troubles.”

  Sheriff Liles pulled the knife from Quin’s chest and cleaned it on Quin’s clothes before he offered it to Drake. Drake handed it to Storm, who stared at the blade a few seconds before he slid it back into his boot.

&
nbsp; The sheriff signaled his deputies. “Boys, load this fella across a horse. We’ll take his body back to town.”

  “Rain’s letting up some.” Drake sought Pearl’s gaze. “You want to wait here til the rain stops or go home?”

  Pearl, Storm, and Sarah spoke in unison, “Go home.”

  He smiled. “Right. I can’t think of anything nicer than taking my family home. Let’s go.”

  ****

  A Peek at THE MOST UNSUITABLE HUSBAND

  Kincaid Book Two

  By

  Caroline Clemmons

  Chapter One

  January 15, 1885

  Lone Pine, Arkansas

  Sonofabitch! The bastards are burying me!

  Nate Bartholomew braced against the coffin sides and grappled the terror that pumped through him. The wooden box dropped for long, heart-stopping seconds, then bounced hard. Supreme willpower prevented his outcry. Dirt thunked onto the pine a few inches above his head while dust sifted inside the case. He bit back a cough.

  Total darkness enshrouded him. The complete absence of light accelerated his panic. Stifling heat pressed in on him despite the bitter wind he'd heard above ground.

  What had happened to Monk? His friend had promised to get the coffin on the next train to anywhere. Out of this crazy town. Away from the angry mob before anyone discovered he hadn't died from his gun shots at the saloon.

  All sounds ceased. Senses sharpened. He smelled copper.

  Good God Almighty, help me!

  His wounds had reopened, and his life seeped from him. Would he bleed to death before he suffocated? He tasted dust on his tongue, felt grains of dirt on his face. Each breath choked him.

  Mustn't cough, uses too much air.

  Terror surged again. How much time had passed? Had the gravediggers left? He bent his legs a few inches, then shoved hard against the flimsy pine. Again. Again.

  Watch out, you bastards. Hell hasn't got me yet.

  ***

  February 1, 1885

  St. Louis, Missouri

  "Sarah Rochelle Kincaid! As if it's not bad enough, a Kincaid inheriting a bordello. You stop acting like one of the trollops right now. Quit gawking at the other mourners and try to look like the respectable lady you are."