A Contract Bride's Triple Surprise (35 page)

Gillis set his coffee down deliberately. “Nae, lad. There’s many a MacDougal who weren’t born that way. Were ye nae listenin’ to what we told ye?”

“I thought them were just made-up stories, like Mrs. MacDougal reads.”

Ross shook his head and leaned forward. “Remember about the landless men who helped Somerled build and defend the keep when they were attacked?”

Daniel nodded. “Somerled said they could stay ’cause they were brave.”

“Right,” said Nevin. “They knelt to the Chief and pledged their lives and those of their children’s children. When he touched his great sword to their shoulders, they became part of the Clan.”

Daniel looked at the three big men sitting around the table. “If I do something real brave, could I get touched with a sword like that and have a family?”

Nevin and Ross looked to Gillis. He stood up, revealing the intricate pattern of his kilt, green, white, blue, and red.

“Someday, lad, ye may kneel to me, and I’ll proudly make ye a MacDougal with my grandsire’s
claidheamh mór
.”

He pointed above the fireplace. All eyes turned to the MacDougal claymore, thirty-six inches of double-bladed iron plus another thirteen of the hilt. Gillis walked over and lifted it down with both hands. He held it for a moment before sliding it from its wooden scabbard. He held the silver hilt point down and inhaled, his eyes alight. He placed the scabbard on the table as he walked past, oblivious to all but the sword.

Daniel got a quick nod of dismissal from Amelia and dashed to follow. Gillis stopped in the yard. He looked around, nodded, then paced off an area. After checking for obstacles, he stopped and held the claymore point up. He closed his eyes for a moment as Daniel held his breath. Then he started moving.

Slowly at first, then gathering speed, Gillis swung the two-handed sword in an intricate series of movements. The kitchen emptied as the others stood behind the boy, watching. Kilt swinging wildly, he attacked invisible foes, sending them to a Gaelic hell.

“
Buaidh no bas
!”

The yell echoed off the rocks as Gillis stood straight, sword high in one mighty fist. Rain and sweat dripped off his beard, and his chest heaved, but he looked alive.

“The MacDougal’s back,” laughed Nevin. He clapped Ross on the shoulder. Gillis turned his head toward them.

“What are ye doin’ standin’ there, gawkin’? Do ye nae have work to do?”

Ross twisted his lips in a wry parody of a smile. “Yep. He’s back.” He kissed Amelia on the cheek and strode to the barn. Nevin did the same to her other cheek.

“Come on, Daniel, dinner’s over.”

* * * *

Amelia returned to the kitchen to tidy up. Every now and then, she glanced out the window at Gillis, not sure about his sudden change in behavior. When she arrived, he was a shell of a man, drowning in grief. After he’d vowed to spank her in town, which still made her blush, he developed a spark. That night, when he held her, had changed him into a thoughtful, loving partner. He treated her as if she wasn’t strong enough physically to stand hard thrusts, She loved it when Ross or Nevin pounded deep.

Gillis was a gentle lover, but she’d not want to cross the wild man who’d wielded a sword longer than Daniel was tall. She dipped hot water from the reservoir on the stove to wash up. A glance outside showed Gillis moving with the sword again, this time slowly and deliberately. It was as if he followed a pattern, like a slow, deadly dance.

If someone were to come after her, like that ghastly man who’d held her by the throat, Gillis could slice him in half with one stroke.

“That’s the stuff of old stories and legends, suitable for boys,” she told herself.

She didn’t need a man to protect her. Patsy had come through with the knife and scabbard Amelia wanted. Two, in fact. One to strap on her leg and one to keep in a special pocket. Since she had to make new dresses anyway, she’d add that pocket to each.

She rested her hand on her belly. The few minutes of absolute misery each morning were minor compared to having a baby of her own to love. Nothing would harm this child. She would protect it with her life, no matter what.

Not that she’d have to, of course. Considering the strong, tough men she lived with, who would ever go against them?

Chapter Thirty-Three

Friday mid-morning, Ross and his brothers met up with Trace at the Big Hole River trail. A pair of ravens soared overhead in the sun, chuckling as they chased each other. They seemed at ease, but the four men glanced around, their senses alert.

Daniel had his instructions to take care of Amelia. No one could approach the ranch from the road without being seen. There was no reason to think anyone had followed Ross and Daniel over the higher trail, known to few. If someone came near, the dogs would howl a warning.

“
Smythe
says he’s interested in buying up railroad land,” said Ross. “He wants our opinion of the best land. I expect he also wants us to contribute to the pot along with Jennett.”

“Why are we going to him if he’s the one that wants something?”

Nevin snorted a laugh at Trace’s question. “He’s afraid of horses. He either has wheels under him, or he walks. He’s such a big bug no one calls him a coward to his face.”

They rode for a while in comfortable silence.

“You saw him lose the Double Diamond.” Trace’s voice resembled that of the ravens above.

“Yep,” said Jack. “Damn fool thought he could bulldoze Ace and his partners, but he’s just a chiseler.”

“He’ll nae bulldoze a MacDougal!”

“Contacts in Virginia City say the man wields power from back East,” said Ross after Gillis settled. “We’ll listen to what he says, but commit to nothing. Keep your eye on Jennet. I think Smythe’s serious about wanting advice, but I don’t trust his lapdog.”

“There’s four of us and two of them. Every one of us could take both with an arm behind our back. We’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Trace’s words faded as they travelled east toward town. Ross looked back once more, fighting against the tingle in his back. Amelia had been alone with Gillis coming and going for two weeks. Why would she be in danger just because he knew she was with child and was nearby to worry?

“The babe’s not showing, and you’re already fretting?” Trace laughed. The harsh sound caught the attention of the ravens, who swooped low to comment.

“You were the same?” Ross glanced sideways at the man he thought of as another older brother.

“Worse. I would barely let Beth out of my sight for weeks. Finally, she got Doc out for a visit. He told me there was nothing I could do that would hurt either of them.”

Ross and Nevin perked up. “Nothing?”

Trace nodded. “Doc said all three of us could enjoy her every which way to Sunday, as long as she’s happy.”

“And did you?” Ever the pestering younger brother, Nevin had to ask. Trace gave a quelling look, which rarely worked on Jack, either.

“She’ll be more tired the first three months, so treat her well. Enjoy the middle three when she’s eager. At the end, she’ll be so big you have to take her from behind, gently.”

Trace croaked a laugh when all three men adjusted their pants. Gillis grimaced the worst, being used to the freedom of a kilt. He wasn’t stupid enough to wear the rough wool garment on a long ride, however.

“Don’t laugh too soon, my friend,” said Ross. “I saw a certain glow on Beth’s face the last time she visited.”

Trace smiled wide. “I know, but don’t tell Simon. Once he finds out he put a baby in her, he’ll be insufferable.”

* * * *

As soon as the men disappeared from view, Amelia took her new knives from their hiding place. She put one in her skirt pocket. She strapped the other one on her thigh then realized it had to go on the outside of her leg. It felt awkward, but she had all day to get used to it.

Daniel worked on Auntie’s home, wanting to get it finished before she returned. Before they left for Tanner’s Ford and the meeting with Frederick Smythe, Gillis had filled the big pot and started a fire for the wash. She’d already rinsed the worst of the dirt out of the clothes in the creek. She dumped the damp clothes in the pot and added soap. Humming to herself, she took up her stick and poked them to get the soap all the way through.

The smell, rather than improving, got worse. She wrinkled her nose, realizing she needed more soap. She was about to turn around when she heard the click of a gun being cocked behind her. The wind blew against her back. The pot was in front of her.

The smell had nothing to do with the clothes and everything to do with the man carrying the gun.

“If’n I’d known you was gonna warsh today, I’da brought my old pants.”

She shuddered. The voice belonged to the man at the hotel privy.

“Turn around nice and easy, Miz MacDougal. And no screamin’ or I’ll have to shut yer mouth.”

She did as he asked though every part of her screamed, “‘Run!’” If she made a noise, it would alert Daniel. He’d try to save her and get killed in the process. Her men would not be back until late, and she had a boy and a baby to protect.

But she had two knives they knew nothing about. Now was not the time to attack as he was expecting it. Later, she would kill him.

His scraggly, blond moustache couldn’t hide the fact his nose had been almost sliced off from underneath. The gap between his upper lip and nostrils made him look even more menacing than she’d imagined, if that was possible. He held the huge pistol steady with an ease that showed years of familiarity. Once he saw she wasn’t going to fight, he twirled his pistol and set it into his holster. She noted the mother-of-pearl in the handle and scrolled engraving on a silver plate. Likely stolen.

“I hear yer taking two Injuns in yer bed.” He wiped spittle from his lower lip. “You’ll take my pardner and me jist the same. Only we’ll show ya somethin’ more.”

“Don’t hurt me,” she said. She let him see her fear without letting it conquer her.

“Do what we say, and we won’t hurt ya,” he said with a leer. “For now.”

Another man, just as filthy but with the lower part of his face dark with powder burns, came around the corner of her home.

“Thweet, ain’t ya,” he lisped in a voice so high it was almost girlish.

He cupped his crotch and thrust it toward her. She gagged and turned away. The man with the cut nose grabbed her arm and hauled her toward the house. His fingers bit deep into her flesh. Was he going to rape her here, where Daniel might see?

“Please, no!”

“I don’t trust the bitch. Gag her and tie her hands.”

He pushed her toward Powderface. He laughed and caught her. He tied her hands in front of her with a strip of hide before she could go for her knife. He pawed her breasts. She gagged at his stench and intentions.

“Use this.” Cutnose pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket. He held it up, pointing to a rusty spot. “Lucky I cut my cheek shavin’ this mornin’.” He tossed it to Powderface, who stuffed it in her mouth. At least it was relatively clean.

They hauled her behind the house, where two wretched horses waited. Cutnose mounted and held out his arms, leering. She fought automatically until a hard slap on the face stunned her. She gagged at the stench when he hauled her back against his chest. He grabbed her breast and cruelly squeezed.

“Jist relax, missy. We’ll git ye to a safe place where ya kin rest a bit.” He kicked the horse, which reluctantly moved forward.

The other man passed them, leading toward a faint trail. She realized it was the one Daniel and Ross had followed home, a path she hadn’t known existed. She had to hold on to the pommel so it wouldn’t jam into her belly. She’d never been up here and couldn’t find a way to see a trail back. The land all looked the same—sage, sand, rock, and scrub. She concentrated on holding on, protecting her baby.

After what seemed like hours, they came upon a low, sod-roofed hovel tucked into the slope. She fell to her knees when they hauled her off the horse. She bent over, praying the jolting hadn’t hurt her baby.

A cruel hand hauled her to her feet by the same arm as before.

“See. I came for ya, jist like I said. Ya didn’t listen, and now, ya’ll pay.”

He pushed her forward. She stumbled but caught herself before falling. Powderface pulled open a cage-type door. Two small windows framed it, each covered with bars. The gaps were so small she’d never fit through.

They pushed her inside. In the far corner to her right was a box bed. The lumpy mattress was covered in stains. She hoped they were black and not a rusty red. Whatever the case, she didn’t want to think about it. A rusty stove with a pot on it squatted in the middle of the dirt floor. An iron bar with a thick chain attached protruded from the floor by the stove. At the end of the chain was a shackle.

She backed toward the table. As she passed the stove, she noticed the smell of burned coffee. The stove was still warm. Cutnose picked up the pot with both hands. He lifted it to his lips and gulped. After wiping his mouth, he strutted around the bare room. A rickety table and benches sat in the corner opposite the bed. He kicked a pile of rags. Satisfied that nothing of value was in them, he turned back to her.