A Highwayman's Mail Order Bride

by Blythe Carver

  “This is her. Don’t you see?” Travis’s eyes shifted away from Melissa to a spot over her right shoulder. “First Tom gets shot, then Zeke gets bit. And now he’s dead, I was standin’ outside and heard everything. He’s gone now, and this is all because of her.”

  “She didn’t do anything,” Jed reminded him in a tone not unlike the one she’d used when she was speaking to Zeke in his final minutes. Cool, calm, soothing. “And if she did, it’s my fault. It was my idea to bring her along. So if you’re gonna blame anybody for what’s happenin’ to us, blame me. Take it out on me. Not on her.”

  Jed moved her aside and stepped forward, standing straight in front of the pistol. “Go on, then. Shoot, if you’re gonna.”

  She couldn’t breathe. Was this truly happening? Would the horrors of this day ever end?

  Travis licked his lips, holding the pistol steady. “I don’t wanna do this to you.”

  “And I don’t want you to,” Jed admitted, “but you’re the one who seems all hell-bent on makin’ somebody pay. If you’re gonna, then do it. I understand what it’s like to want justice done, believe me. If this is what’s gonna make it right for you, by all means.”

  The two of them stared at each other while Melissa debated running. The desire to protect herself and her baby was most pressing, but if she ran, Travis might shoot. Besides, she was not entirely sure she could move if she tried.

  Finally, the gun began to lower. “I want outta here,” Travis announced. “I don’t wanna wait around until it’s my turn to have somethin’ happen.”

  “That’s your right. You’re a free man.” Jed stood still, watching as Travis released the hammer and slid the pistol into its holster.

  “If you’re smart, you’ll get rid of her.” Travis cast a hateful eye her way. He could look at her any way he wanted, so long as he did not shoot.

  They watched as he mounted his horse—he’d already packed his things, Melissa noted—and took off north.

  “That was unfortunate, and I am sorry he did it.” Jed did not look at her, but rather continued to watch as his former partner rode away, growing smaller by the second.

  She wanted to ask if he believed her to be a curse but didn’t dare. What if he said yes?

  Jed sighed, looked at the ground. There was a defeated slope to his shoulders as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. “I suppose I ought to start shoveling. He might have waited until we got the hole dug, at least.”

  By the time they were to bury Zeke, the sun had begun its descent, and the air had cooled somewhat, a breeze stirring up dust but also refreshing Melissa’s weary soul as she watched Jed carry the body she had wrapped in a sheet to the hole he’d labored over for so long.

  How did he manage? After all he’d done, the man had to be on the verge of collapse. Yet there he was, dragging the body across the ground by the sheet Melissa had tied closed in small, even knots.

  She’d heard Jed talking to himself about how to best move Zeke. Carrying him would mean dropping him into the grave, which seemed disrespectful, but so did dragging him by the feet and sliding him into the hole.

  That he cared at all spoke to his character. Imagine, a man like him having character. Wonders would never cease.

  Once the body was in the hole, she joined Jed. He looked ten years older than the man she’d met only a week or so earlier, haggard and unshaven and sweat-soaked. He stank horribly and swayed on his feet—slightly, but enough for her to notice the occasional brushing together of their arms.

  “I don’t know what to say,” he muttered, scratching the back of his gritty, sunburned neck. “Zeke had his faults, as all men do, but he was loyal. He had his reasons for being who he was—as all men do. I hope I was a good friend to him and I hope he didn’t hurt too much there near the end.”

  “I believe he was truly sorry in his last moments,” she murmured, her hands folded. “And that he could have been a good man if things had turned out differently for him.”

  Jed said nothing. He merely made the sign of the cross over his chest, took the shovel in his dirty hands and began to fill the hole he’d just dug. If she were not with child, she might have offered to help, but she’d put her body through enough while nursing the dying man.

  He would not have accepted the offer, anyway.

  Instead, there was the matter of food to consider. Travis had tended the fire and heated their meals. Someone would have to take up the task in his stead.

  She fed the fire with a handful of sticks and looked around for something to heat up. A can of beans would have to do. She opened it, poured it into the only pot the four men had possessed among themselves and set the lid on top.

  She then went to the river for water to drink with and filled the bucket that she might wash the dishes before using them. Travis had never been one for cleanliness, though she hadn’t dared raise her voice in complaint.

  It appeared as though she was the lady of the camp now, and as such things would be done her way.

  The sky was dark and spangled with stars by the time Jed finished, thrusting the shovel into the mound of earth once the last bit of dirt had been tossed on top.

  “I heated you up some food,” she offered, motioning to the pot she’d moved from the fire. “There’s fresh water in your canteen, and I shook out your bedroll.”

  He stopped short, frowning—though whether the frown was for her or for what he’d been through, she couldn’t say. It was easier to believe the latter.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” He had never called her that before.

  She’d already eaten, which meant there was little else to do but sit and look at the stars. Not that she would ever complain, as she’d never seen anything so wondrous in all her life. There was nothing like it in Boston, that much was certain.

  Jed cleared his throat in the midst of eating, and she turned her face his way. “I hate to interrupt you, since you seem so interested in the sky.”

  “What is it?” she murmured, unwilling to break the peace of the moment. It had been days and days since she’d enjoyed quiet—she’d known nothing but trains, stagecoaches, and the squawking of men for too long.

  “I believe there is something we ought to discuss, now that it’s just the two of us.”

  “Which is?” He was stalling, and she knew it, but she still pitied him for the struggle of the last few days, and this made her hold her tongue more than she would have otherwise.

  He finished his plate of beans and rested his elbows on his knees. “The way I see it is this; the whole scheme was a mistake from the beginning.”

  She sat up, now giving him her full attention. “You don’t believe what Travis believed, do you? That I’ve brought you bad luck?”

  He snorted, waving his hands. “No, nothing like that. But I do think it was a mistake to bring you along. I thought it would work, but mayhaps this is the Good Lord’s way of telling me I reached a bit too far this time. Takin’ a woman and all—I never did anything like that before. And here we are, three men down. I’m not fool enough to ignore such a sign as this.”

  “What are you driving at? Do you plan on abandoning me now?”

  He winced. “I wouldn’t have put it that way.”

  “How would you have put it, then?”

  “I would’ve offered to see you to the next town or village and let you go on your way from there.”

  She bit her lip, considering this. “No. That won’t work.”

  His eyes opened wide. “You can’t mean it.”

  “Why can’t I? You’ve left me with nothing. I have no money, no tickets, nothing. I would have no way to get to Carson City than by horse—and the notion of riding all that way alone seems the height of foolishness.”

  His mouth worked for a while without sound—then, “Lemme get this straight. You tried to run away from us before. You kicked me in the—in my private parts,” he growled. “You called us everything you could think of and told us your husband would have the law on us in no time. I lost t
rack of the number of times you said you hate me. Is this right? Have I told a lie?”

  “You’re right,” she admitted.

  “I just wanted to be sure, because now it sounds like you’re telling me you wanna stay with me. Am I imagining this? Because I am tuckered out, so I might be imagining it.”

  “You are not imagining a thing.” She stood with all the dignity she could muster and stared him down. “You kidnapped me. It’s too late to leave me on my own—it would be the height of cruelty, and if there’s anything I learned about you these last few days, it’s that you are not by nature a cruel person.”

  “You might be wrong about that,” he muttered, brows lowered over his narrowed eyes.

  “I do not think so. I’ve seen cruelty up close, and it doesn’t appear to be in your nature.”

  “What are you saying, then?”

  She smiled. “I’m saying I’m your responsibility now, and you need to see me safely to Carson City, Nevada. As quickly as possible.”

  12

  If she didn’t beat all, he didn’t know what did.

  There he was, thinking she’d thank him for letting her go. Any sane woman would have, after the hardship he’d treated her to ever since the night he took her from that coach. Watching a man die from a snakebite, camping in the middle of nothing and nowhere. Water from the river, heat from the cooking fire.

  Yes, a reasonable woman would have run and not looked back.

  Why in the name of hell could he not have taken a reasonable woman?

  There she was, standing there with her head high, like she was the queen. She wore a dress he would’ve wagered had seen a few years of use, one she had worn and washed out in the river for days on end and hung on her like a rag. Her face was nut brown after days in the sun, her hair around as smooth and shining as a tumbleweed.

  He had never seen anything so beautiful—or so infuriating, so impossible to understand.

  When he offered no response, for there was truly nothing to be said, she continued. “Now that we’re alone, just you and me, I think there are a few things we need to get straight. I’ve done a lot of thinking these last few days. There was little else to do while nursing… him.” Her eyes drifted to the pile of dirt covering what used to be his friend.

  She sat down, arranging her skirts around her as carefully as a woman might do at a picnic. He supposed they were sort of picnicking, eating under a starry sky instead of in the sunshine. He’d never had a picnic, so he was only guessing.

  “What do you wanna get straight?” He finished eating, put the bowl aside. Beans had never tasted so good, but a starving man had little room to be choosy. “I’ve been pretty upfront with you all this time.”

  “But I have not been with you, and now, I feel you ought to know a few things.” She grimaced, going quiet for a minute.

  He guessed she fought with herself over whether she ought to continue. What could a woman like her have to hide? He wouldn’t have guessed she had any secrets.

  She looked down at her hands. “You see, it is very important that we get to the Furnish ranch quickly. We’ve lost time already, too much time. I would have been there by now, had it not been for the stage robbery. Or perhaps not. I’ve lost track of the days.”

  “It’s been about two weeks,” he confirmed.

  “I feared as much.”

  Feared? “What are you so worked up about? You keep talkin’ about being in a hurry, but you won’t say why.”

  “That’s why I wanted to speak with you now. Just be patient and let me speak.”

  “I’m a little too tired for patience at the moment, thank you.” And filthy, and sore, and more than a little sad.

  “Fine, then. I’m on my way to Carson City to marry Mark Furnish. I am not yet Mrs. Furnish. He’s waiting for me, so we can marry there.”

  His jaw fell open. Never would he have expected that.

  “So, now you see. He sent for me, paid for my tickets. He’ll be waiting, which means he’ll be even more likely to send out the law when I don’t arrive.”

  He’d been rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Completely speechless. After what he’d been through not just on that day but the few leading up to it, this was what would break him. He was sure of it.

  She took advantage of his stunned silence. “I traveled under his name for the sake of—how can I say it plainly—deference from the menfolk. You must be aware that men treat a woman better when they know she’s married. Like a brand has been placed on her rump.” She sneered, still looking at her hands.

  He’d touched her hands, hadn’t he? They were small, warm, the fingertips callused. He’d held them when she whimpered in the tent, the day of the big storm.

  “So, I asked Mr. Furnish to purchase the tickets as though he was doing so for his wife. After all, I was to become his wife upon reaching Carson City.” She twisted her fingers together. “Everyone aboard the coach called me Mrs. Furnish, and I never corrected them. Just as I never corrected you. I thought you would be gentler with me, knowing I was the man’s wife.”

  His exhausted brain scrambled to keep up with her. All this time, he’d been hoping for a ransom on a fiancée. Not a wife.

  Though he still could not make heads or tails of how this changed things, he could only grasp at the notion that it did change them. Quite a bit.

  Jed closed his eyes, counting to five before speaking. If he spoke too soon, he might explode.

  “You’re telling me you’re a bride arranged through mail?” he whispered.

  Lord, but his chest was tight. Blood rushed hot and fast in his ears, creating a dull roar. What had it all been for? Why had he risked all of their necks?

  She sniffed. “What’s so wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, nothing.” He pressed his lips together, blowing a breath out of his nose. He sounded like a steer on the ranch that slowly faded from view. His dream, disappearing into a mist.

  “This doesn’t change anything.”

  “Like hell, it doesn’t!” He picked up the tin bowl he’d only just discarded and threw it as hard as he could.

  She shrank away from the sound of it clattering against a rock.

  “Do you see what you did? You led me out here all this way, let me think you were somebody you weren’t! You don’t mean a damn thing to the man! And here I was, thinking I could get the money I need!” It came out as a yell, almost a sob, wrenched from the depths of his heart. Frustrated, dismayed, bitter.

  “I do mean something to him! He needs a wife, and I’m to be that wife! He’s waiting for me, and the longer he waits, the more likely he’ll be to give you whatever you want when I arrive!” She stood, facing him in spite of the drawn, frightened look in her eyes. “If you would have let me finish what I had to say before throwing a fit, you would see how this can work out for both of us!”

  They glared at each other, both of them breathing heavy. He would gladly have broken her neck just then; his hands twitched as though they longed to do so. He shoved them into his pockets.

  “What?” he snarled. “What else is there?”

  She pressed one hand to her throat, one to her stomach. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she breathed in short, shallow bursts. “I think I’m a little more worn out than I thought.”

  He took her by the arms, stricken with the way she looked and sounded. In all this time, she hadn’t shown a bit of weakness or fatigue. “Here. Sit. Drink some water. Breathe slow.”

  She nodded as she took the canteen from him, drinking deeply of the water within. Damn it, she had overworked herself. He might have slaved away over a grave, but she had been washing the bedding and airing out the tent, fixing the food and seeing to his comfort. And she’d gotten just about as much sleep as he had when Zeke was ill, too.

  When she caught her breath, and her face got back some of its color, she whispered, “I thought if you were my escort instead of the man who kidnapped me, Mr. Furnish would be in a more generous mood when we arrive
d.”

  He considered this as she rested with her eyes closed. She was willing to pretend he had helped her, rather than tell the truth of who he was? Why would she do that? She didn’t owe him anything. Could he trust her?

  He’d trusted her up to that point, ever since Zeke was sick. She could have easily taken one of the horses and fled. In his distress over Zeke’s condition, he would’ve let her go. Travis would have, too, seeing as how he thought she was a curse.

  Instead, she had not only stayed, but she’d helped him. He never could’ve done it all on his own.

  “How would we work it out?” he asked, already half sold on the idea.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “I would tell him I escaped the bandits and you found me, lost and exhausted and afraid. I might have starved to death if it weren’t for you, or been picked up by a band of Indians. Something like that. And you saw to my safety and protected me the rest of the way.”

  It might work. It might certainly work. If she could be convincing, Furnish might be even more likely to hand over a hefty sum for delivering his bride-to-be. A man did not need to go so far out of his way, to protect a strange woman. To save her life, even.

  And there was no one to contradict their story.

  “I’ll need to think this over,” he said, putting an abrupt end to the discussion. “It’s late, I’m just about falling asleep with my eyes open. I need a bath somethin’ terrible. And you need to rest, too. We have a long way to go.”

  For once, she didn’t argue.

  He woke well after dawn the next morning, fresh with determination.

  As was usually the case, a good night’s sleep had helped clear his head. What seemed like a decent idea the night before was now the only course of action they could rightly take. It would be another few days of travel straight through Utah Territory if the weather held, then maybe another week until they crossed Nevada.

  If they dawdled any longer, Furnish might wonder what had taken so long. Jed wanted the man in good spirits when they arrived, wanted to be lauded as a hero for having brought Melissa safely to him.