A Highwayman's Mail Order Bride Page 4
“So you do speak? I thought you’d forgotten how.”
“Yeah. I speak.”
She could see nothing of his face while he tilted his head down as he did just then.
“Why are you doing this? What reason is there to take me as you have?” Desperation crept into her voice, and she did not like the sound of it, not one bit, but this was a desperate situation. Exceptions could be made.
He glanced up, but she could still see nothing of his eyes. “What do you think the reason is? You talk like a smart Yankee gal. You tell me.”
She blushed. No one had ever called her smart. “You want to take me along with you and… keep me for your group.”
His laughter echoed off the boulders, carrying away into the night sky. “Lord, you Yankees have some high-toned ideas, don’t you?”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“Do you think I need to kidnap women and ravish them against their will? Is that what you think?”
In spite of his chuckling and the burning, tingling sensation all through her face and neck, she scoffed. “No. I would never think such a thing of a man who was able to kill another man as you did. Why would I make such a guess? How silly of me.”
Though she still could not see his eyes, she could feel them as he glared at her. A sliver of moonlight touched the side of his face, revealing a lean cheek covered in dark stubble and a sharp jaw.
“Enough talk, Yankee gal.”
“I have a name.”
He finished hitching the horse and swept a low, formal bow. “Forgive me. Mrs. Furnish.”
She merely turned her face away, as this was not her name and the using of it made her uncomfortable. “You know him? Mr. Furnish?”
“I know of him, like I said. And I wonder why he would let his wife travel all alone, but that’s not for me to say.” He snorted. “And I thought I said no more talking.”
That was all right with her, for she had more than enough to think over.
There were four of them—and from what she’d seen, the leader was the smart one. The other three seemed more the muscle, the ones who threatened violence while the man waiting for their return was the thinker, the planner.
He would be a challenge to slip past, if she could slip past him at all. Every man had to sleep at some time, did he not? She would have to rely on that, then.
He thought she was the lady of Furnish Ranch. Would this influence his treatment? Would he be kinder, gentler, more tolerant? It was clear from his tone of voice that he cared little for her intended—was that personal, or simply an attitude he held regarding all wealthy men?
She would wager on the latter. He was a thief, after all, and a violent one. He would think little of wealthy, self-made men who had achieved such success that his name was recognizable as far out as north Texas.
If that was where they were.
“Where are we?” She shifted on her backside, her arms useless—they were beginning to numb as her hands already had, but she managed to work her way across the wooden boards of the wagon to where the robber waited on the bench, holding onto the horse’s reins.
“What does it matter?” His gaze remained fixed on the horizon. He was waiting for his partners.
“Because I have to get to Carson City. It’s of the greatest urgency.” Every day that passed meant another day closer to delivery and less chance of Mark believing her child to be his own.
“We’ll get there.”
“When?”
“When we get there.”
“That isn’t good enough!”
“It’ll have to be!” He threw a look over his shoulder, hard and cold and uncaring, his face still half-hidden beneath the brim of his hat. She imagined his mouth would be thin, lips drawn together in a thin line as he scowled.
“My husband is waiting for me. He will send the law looking for me.”
“He’ll get you back when we’re good and ready to deliver you. And by then, he’ll be ready to pay what we say he’ll pay.”
Her breath released in a long, gusty sigh. So that was it. They would ransom her. They believed she was his wife—as she’d wanted them to—and assumed this meant he would pay a great deal of money to reclaim her.
What would they think if they knew she was not married—at least, not to the rancher?
Would they even care?
Likely not, as a man might still be willing to pay for his fiancée. They’d already gone through the trouble of kidnapping her, and they might as well go through with the plan.
At least, that is how she would have proceeded if she were in their place.
Which she would never be, as they were beyond reproach. While she had grown up poor, all but spat on by “proper” society, she would never have stooped to the depths this man stooped to. Not even if it meant warding off starvation.
The question then became whether Mark Furnish would be willing to pay for her. He was a good man, she’d known it from his letter. But how easy would it be for a man to merely feign kindness? Who in his right mind would convey cruelty in a letter to a prospective wife?
Melissa knew all too well how quickly a man could change. As though he’d only been wearing a mask of civility, concealing the monster beneath. Lulling the woman he’d married into a false sense of security, like a snake just waiting to strike.
And strike he had.
The robber raised his head when two figures appeared on the horizon. Only two, silhouetted by moonlight as they raced across the flat, open land.
Melissa watched them while glancing his way from time to time. This did not bode well for him.
“What are they doin’?” he muttered.
“Do you think it’s the law?” she asked, hoping against hope.
“Be quiet,” he snarled. “Don’t forget I have a six shooter here. I can shut you up pretty quick.”
She held her tongue. If it had been just her, she would not have practiced such caution. What did it matter if he killed her? She’d never cared much for her own life. In fact, he would be doing her a favor.
Only it was not a matter of her alone, and she needed to keep this in mind.
“What happened?” The robber stood, reins in hand, while his partners came to a stop in a cloud of dust.
The very large one, the one who’d held the rifle on the men, shook his head as he dismounted. “A ruckus. One of ‘em took it in his head to put up a fight, punched Tom. Two of ‘em jumped him, and they tussled, managed to get the gun from him.”
Melissa did not know whether to cheer or weep, for she knew this could not have ended well.
“What then?”
“Shot ‘im,” the other replied as he dismounted, clutching his arm. “He’s gone.”
The leader sat with a thud that shook the wagon.
“Don’t worry,” the wounded man replied. “We paid ‘em back.”
Melissa bit her tongue against the impulse to demand to know what they’d done. Besides, she knew, didn’t she? Two of the men from the coach were dead, along with the driver.
Why had they fought? They might have gone on, reported the robbery at the next stage. Why were men so stupid? Was it their pride? Could they not live with themselves knowing they’d allowed a group of armed bandits to get the better of them?
They would not have to live with themselves now.
She sank into the wagon, lying on her side with her knees drawn up and tears in her eyes, mourning men she’d never known while cursing their foolishness.
And reminding herself all the while of the viciousness around her. This could serve as a lesson, she realized. These were not men to be trifled with.
Once a second horse was hitched, the large man with the rifle joined the leader at the front of the wagon while the third man rode horseback in spite of his injured arm.
Melissa peered at him over the side of the wagon, noting the way he favored his shoulder. This did not stop him from moving on any more than the loss of one of their partners did.
6
Jed could hardly see straight for the rage buzzing around in his head.
He ought to have known better than to leave the three of them alone. Why had he done it? What possessed him? All they needed to do was mount up and ride away.
Now, Tom was dead. The stupid, hotheaded fool. Jed had always known he’d get himself killed, but like this? In such a useless manner? Overtaken by a pair of men he’d already picked clean?
He peered at Zeke, sitting to his right with the rifle across his legs. What had they not told him? For truly, it was their word alone, which he had to go on.
There had to be more to the story. One of them started a fight or hit one of their victims just for the hell of it. Something. They tended to get out of hand when there was no one near to keep them in line.
He’d allowed men to die—including one of his own. He ought to have been there with them to prevent such a thing from happening, but he’d run off with the Yankee, instead.
He was just as much a fool as any of them.
“You all right?” Zeke asked as the wagon bumped and bounced, their horses working as a team to carry them onward.
“No. I am truly not.” He glanced over his shoulder to be sure the woman wasn’t listening in. “That went to hell, and you know it.”
“This is the way it goes sometimes.”
“Not for us,” Jed snarled. “Never for us. You all shoulda been outta there no more than a minute after I was. Why did you linger?”
“So it’s our fault? Is that what you mean to say?”
Jed counted to five, forced himself to take a deep breath. While he and Zeke had always seen eye-to-eye, nothing such as this had ever tested their bond before. Though his partner was a jovial fellow, always looking to have a good time, he also bore a nasty streak as wide as the plains.
It would do no good to have him as an enemy.
He took another tack. “I only wish I understood what went wrong this time that never went wrong before.”
Zeke’s face brightened some, like clouds had parted to let the sun shine through. “Aw, shoot. That’s easy. We never had anybody fight back before.”
Jed mulled this over and saw the truth of it. Whereas they’d been called just about every dirty name in the book and more than a few he’d never heard before, even though they’d been spat at and on and shot nasty looks that could freeze boiling water, nobody had ever fought back.
Hell, he’d seen men make water in their trousers, but he’d never met a man or woman who didn’t clam up real fast at the sight of a pistol.
Suddenly, he understood, and the knowing of it all but made him slam on the brake and kick the Yankee gal clear out of the wagon. “It was her.”
“Huh?”
“The woman. We never took a woman before, either, did we? That was why they fought. For her.”
Zeke scratched his stubble-covered chin, then chuckled. “I guess you’re right. Thought they were bein’ gallant or somethin’, I guess.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Ignorant fools. Thought they could rescue the woman from the evil bandits. They’d bought into too many fairy stories, he reckoned. Brave knights and their ladies fair and all that nonsense.
And Tom was dead over it, as were a pair of men whose names he’d never learned. Somehow, this stung his conscience far worse than the life of the man he’d shot, the one who’d tried to run him down.
While he would never celebrate the man’s death, Jed knew it had been a matter of shooting him or letting himself get trampled. Although he’d never much enjoyed the act of killing, it was in his nature to put his life above others.
He supposed, at the heart of things, that was in everyone’s nature. Whether they cared to admit it or not.
The woman. Mrs. Furnish. It was because of her that this happened, her and the infernal code of chivalry some men refused to release even when those days were long over. It was a new world, especially once one stepped foot into Texas, and when one was dealing with armed bandits, one had best keep to themselves.
He cast a look over his shoulder and caught sight of Travis’s slowing horse. “What happened to him?” Jed called out to Zeke.
“Him? Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think he got shot, but he hurt himself while fighting.”
“He was fighting, too?” That was enough to make Jed pull the team to a stop and set the brake. “Did you look at it?”
“Didn’t have time, did I?”
Jed scowled as he handed Zeke the reins and jumped from the wagon, going to where Travis had stopped the horse. “What happened to you? Can you ride?”
“I…” Travis winced, holding his arm with the other hand. “Might have dislocated the shoulder.”
Jed swore a blue streak. Could any of them take care of themselves? While he’d more than understood the need to hasten from the area they’d committed the robbery, he wouldn’t have forced his friend to ride for miles with a dislocated shoulder.
“Come on. Better let me set it back into place. I reckon this is as good a spot as any to set up camp for the night.” He helped Travis from the horse and hobbled it before taking him to the wagon, where Mrs. Furnish glared at him from her place among their belongings.
It was a wonder she hadn’t thrown or kicked them off while they rode. He’d have to thank his lucky stars for that and not give her chance to do so again.
“You gonna pop it in place?” Travis grimaced.
“Got to. You can’t ride with that thing hanging useless. You need somethin’ to bite down on?”
“Naw. Just get it over with.” Travis turned his head away, leaning his bottom half against the wagon while Jed took his shoulder in one hand and his wrist in the other. He straightened Travis’s arm slowly, regretting his friend’s grunts of pain but knowing there was little to be done about it.
“One… two… three.” On three, Jed jerked the arm upward in a quick, sharp thrust and felt the ball of the shoulder slide into the socket. Travis let out a single, anguished cry before going silent.
For some reason, rather than looking at his friend’s face, he looked at the woman. Maybe he expected her to look green or even faint. Instead, she stared back at him with the calmest pair of eyes he’d ever seen.
So much so that for a split second, he thought she was dead—until she blinked.
“You’ve seen a man have his shoulder set before?” he asked.
“No.”
“You’ve a strong constitution, then. That’ll serve you well on the road.”
She still appeared completely unmoved. What an unsettling woman. He turned his attention back to Travis, crafting a sling for him and tying it about his neck.
When that was done, he turned again to the blond-haired woman in the wagon. “All right, then, Mrs. Furnish. We’ll be spending quite a lot of time together over these next weeks, so we might as well be friendly.”
She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Friendly.” It was not a question.
“Just like I said. There ain’t no reason for you to get all uppity and shout and scream—if anything, it’s only gonna make us mad, and that’ll make things harder on you.”
“While you’re trying to be friendly.”
He scowled. “What’s so godawfully hard to understand about that?”
“You told me you had no such thing in mind, that’s what’s so hard to understand.”
He blinked—then, he laughed when he caught her meaning. “For the sake of all that’s holy, woman, you have a mighty high opinion of yourself.”
“Or a low opinion of you,” she hissed.
He brushed it off. This was to be expected. She wasn’t going to offer to bake them a cake after getting kidnapped. “Either way, I didn’t mean it the way you think I did. I meant real friendly, like people are when they’re neighbors or just, you know, friends. Pleasant. Easy to get along with. Not fightin’ like a cat in a washtub. Get my meaning now?”
Sh
e blinked slowly. “So you expect me to be your friend. Like we were neighbors. And not fight you after you stole me away from my coach.” She spoke deliberately, like she was talking to a child.
“If you want this trip to go smooth, yeah. I do. At least, I hope you will. And we’ll be nice, too. We’re not a bad sort, really. We might look that way now, but you’ll see.”
“I doubt it.” She turned her face away, the little, upturned nose that he would’ve found right cute on any other woman suddenly inspiring fury in him.
“Well, that’s just fine, then. Acting like you’re the Queen of England when you’re dressed like a farmer’s wife and travelin’ on a stagecoach with almost a dozen people in all. Very fancy.”
“At least I don’t—” She didn’t finish, cutting off so fast she might likely have bitten her tongue, but he got the idea. At least she didn’t steal from people.
They were all alike, women such as her. Thinking they owned the world, that everybody who wasn’t them was beneath them. Her husband might have dressed her like a poor little nobody to hide her in plain sight, but she was a stuck-up woman just the same.
A look over his shoulder told him Zeke had set up a fire for the night, as a chill had touched the air. The Yankee shivered but did not complain of the cold.
Even so, he couldn’t have her freezing in the back of a wagon when he needed her healthy when he delivered her to Carson City.
“Come on, then. You might as well sleep near the fire.” He leaned in, reaching for her.
She shimmied away.
He clenched his teeth against the flood of filth ready to pour out of his mouth. “Ma’am, I’m gonna give you til the count of three before I climb in there and fetch you myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she spat as she crawled to the rear corner, furthest from him.
“Leave ‘er alone, Jed,” Zeke called out with a laugh in his voice. “Let ‘er freeze her hide off.”
This somehow managed to infuriate him further. Not only had Zeke used his name in front of the woman, he made a joke of what was a serious situation. If the woman wouldn’t listen or obey orders, what were they going to do with her the entire long ride to Nevada?