The Reluctant Bridegroom (29 page)

A shocked silence fell, and Lloyd stood with his head lowered and anger shining in his eyes. “Tell him as soon as he’s able to get up that I’ll put him down again!”

Ingerson glanced at Poole, who nodded slightly. “I’ll have to arrest you, Lloyd,” the sheriff said.

“On what charge?” Clay Hill demanded.

“Disturbing the peace.”

Hill laughed. “It won’t wash, Ingerson.”

“He’s going to jail.”

Lloyd wasn’t about to play his game. “I can see it now. You’ll get me in jail, shoot me, and then claim I was tryin’ to escape. No soap. I’m not goin’.”

Ingerson retorted, “You’re just making it worse on yourself, Lloyd. Resisting arrest is a crime. I’m taking you in. Dead or alive, that’s up to you.”

Every man in the room knew that the sheriff was making an example of Lloyd; if he shot Lloyd, no questions would be asked later. Ingerson would never be penalized for it.

“Go along with him, Dave,” Hill said. “I’ll have you out by tomorrow.”

“I reckon not,” Lloyd replied, and stood there alone, eyeing the sheriff.

“You heard him,” Ingerson stated. He moved away from the bar and planted his feet, his hand near his gun. “I’m giving you one last chance.

There was no surrender in Lloyd’s face, and Lake, who had taken no part in the action, pleaded, “Dave, don’t be a fool—he’ll gun you down!”

“I won’t be arrested.”

Ingerson heard this exchange with a gleam of satisfaction. Moving his right arm, he said, “All right, if you’ve got to have it—!”

“Hold it, Ingerson!”

The huge bulk of Ingerson turned quickly to find that Sky
Winslow was standing on his left. “Stay out of this, Winslow, or you’ll be sorry!”

Winslow had taken his coat off, looking dangerous in the light of the chandeliers. He wore a well-worn gun at his side, and a laughing light in his blue eyes. “Get this straight now, Sheriff,” he said easily. “You’re not going to arrest Lloyd and that’s the end of it.”

A gasp went around the saloon, and Ingerson’s face grew crimson. “Winslow, I’m warning you—!”

“No, I’m warning you, Ingerson. You try to arrest Lloyd, and I’ll nail your hide to the wall.”

The stark simplicity of the challenge struck Ingerson like a blow, and left him caught in a no-win situation. If he let Winslow buffalo him, he was finished. On the other hand, Ingerson had heard, as had the whole town, tales of how tough the blue-eyed man was, and was unwilling to risk a fight with an unknown factor. Ingerson had used his gun more than once, and in most cases would have met the challenge head-on, but this time he was uneasy. And so, as pressure built, Ingerson decided to hedge his bets.

Poole said, “Winslow, you’ll have to stand aside or take the consequences. The sheriff has to keep order in this place.”

“Del,” Ingerson barked, and the tall man came to stand beside him. “We got to take this man in.”

“You need your mamma to help, Sheriff?” Winslow taunted. “Why don’t you collect a posse? I’m only one man. You afraid to take me by yourself?”

Ingerson ignored the taunt and began to move away. As if by signal, there was a wild scramble as men ducked to move from behind Winslow and from the two men who were moving apart to make a harder target.

Del Laughton was enjoying it. He was a known gunman, and there was a predatory expression on his lean face. “I’ve got to take your gun, Winslow,” he said.

“Come and take it, Del,” Sky challenged. Looking at him,
Rita saw that there was a slight smile on his face as if the scene amused him.

There was one moment’s stillness, then Laughton’s hands slapped the butts of his guns. Sky let him pull both guns almost clear of the holsters, then drew his own gun and fired with one fluid motion. He aimed low and the first bullet caught Laughton in the kneecap. Laughton dropped one gun, grabbing his shattered knee with one hand, his face contorted with agony, and lifted his other gun. Sky’s second shot caught him in the shoulder, sending the other gun to the floor. The draw was so fast, and the explosion that rocked the room was so abrupt, that it stopped the sheriff’s draw. He found himself staring into the muzzle of Winslow’s gun and threw his hands up, calling out in panic, “No! I’m not drawing, Winslow!”

Sky lowered his gun and glanced back at Laughton, then ignored him and turned to face Ingerson. Dropping his gun into his holster, Winslow said wickedly, “Come on, Rolfe. Take my gun.”

Ingerson shook his head and folded his arms in a gesture of surrender. His face was pale as old ivory. He looked at Poole and the two of them stepped back.

“Dandy, you want to take a hand?” Winslow moved to face Raimez, who had not moved from where he sat. Dandy’s hand had dropped to the butt of his gun, but he seemed to reconsider and brought it back on the table.

“Not my game, Sky,” he answered evenly.

“I’d keep it that way, Dandy,” Winslow suggested. “You’ll live longer.”

Poole spoke up. “Winslow, you may be tough, but you’d better know that if it takes half a dozen men to handle you, that can be arranged.”

“You make it hard for a man to leave town, Poole,” Winslow said. “Here I was all ready to sell out, but now I’ve got to stick around.” He saw Mike Stevens over by the wall. “Deal’s off,
Mike. I’ve got to stick around and see if Poole and his pack of yellow dogs can run me off.”

He left without a word, followed by the other three men.

“He’ll pay for that,” Raimez whispered to Rita. Then he shouted, “Get that loser off my floor before he bleeds all over it!” He got up and walked over to where Poole and Ingerson stood. “You made your brag, Poole. Now you’d better do it.”

“Get some tough boys lined up, Dandy,” Poole said quietly. “He’s only one man.”

“It only takes one bullet,” Ingerson gritted.

“It only takes one for you, too, Rolfe—or me.” Dandy shook his head. “I’ve seen one man change the whole deal. Get Winslow.”

Hill caught up with Sky outside, and said, “They won’t let that stand, Sky. They’ll put you down.”

“I’ve got some business, Clay—but I’ll be around.”

Dave ran to catch up with the other two. “Thanks, Sky. I was a dead duck in there.”

Lake said, “You’re the one for sheriff, Sky, not me.”

Winslow shook his head, “I’ll be around, and if a man strikes at me, I’ll go get him. But I’m not much for politics.” He walked off quickly, leaving the three men staring after him.

The incident had dropped out of nowhere on Sky, but it had been characteristic of the man to change his plan at once to meet the new situation. He had been reluctant to leave to begin with, but the raw attempt to run him off caused him to change his mind. He knew that he could not leave the country now.

With an urgent restlessness, he made one fifteen-minute stop at the courthouse, then headed back for Lake’s office. He pushed through the door to find Lake talking with Karen and Rebekah. From the way they glanced at him, he guessed that Lake had been telling them about the incident at the saloon.

Karen came up to him, her eyes wide. “Sky, I’ve had bad thoughts about you ever since your run-in with Dave. I—I was wrong. Thank you for helping him!”

Winslow’s face was set and a little paler than usual. “He’s a good man, Karen.” Then he said with an effort, “Rebekah, I’ve got something to say to you.”

She looked puzzled, for he was obviously uneasy. “What is it?”

He shrugged. “I’m glad Lake and Karen are here because this is going to be hard.” He was aware that they were all staring at him. “No way to say this right—but here it is: I’m going to stay here and raise my boy. But I’ve made a mess out of it by myself. He needs a mother.”

Rebekah’s heart beat faster, but she could not say a word. Lake and Karen were staring at Winslow, who was watching Rebekah intently. “You don’t want to go back East, do you?”

“No,” she whispered.

“You’ve got two children and no way to live. I’ve got a boy who needs a mother.” He paused, his eyes enigmatic. “Looks like we need each other.”

“Sky—!” she protested.

“Wait, Rebekah,” he cut in. “I’m not wanting a wife—not in the usual way. I’ll give you my name, and I’ll see that you and the kids never want—but that’s
all
I mean.” His composure broke slightly, and he rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand. “We’ll be legally married—but that’s all. You’ll have separate quarters and keep the house.”

He stood there, his back straight. It had taken a lot for him to come, for he fully expected her to laugh at his offer. If she had, he would not complain; he had to play the cards he had.

Rebekah’s face was pale, her eyes intent. His offer had dropped on her with a suddenness that took her breath away, but it offered her a gleam of hope.
I won’t have to go back East.

It was one of those moments that brings life to a crossroad, and for one fleeting moment Rebekah was swept with fear. With one brief prayer, she put out her hand with tremendous sobriety.

“I’ll marry you—on those terms,” she replied simply.

Winslow let out the breath he had been holding. “Can you leave today?”

“Yes.”

“Get your things. I’ll rent a buggy. Tom Mosley, the J.P., does most of the legal business, so he can marry people. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

“All right, Sky.”

When he had gone, she turned to the other two. “I guess it sounds crazy to you two.”

“I hate to see you do it, Rebekah,” Tom told her, shaking his head. “It’s not the kind of marriage you deserve.”

“People won’t understand,” Karen said slowly. “
I
don’t understand, Rebekah. If you don’t love him . . . ?”

Rebekah gave a small smile as she moved to the door, “He’s a reluctant bridegroom—but it’s the door God’s opened!”

Meanwhile Sky went to get Joe, and for the next fifteen minutes he carefully pointed out what he was going to do, stressing that Rebekah would be more of a housekeeper than a wife.

Joe had stared at him in consternation, but at least he agreed, saying, “It’ll be better than leaving!”

Sky reached out and tousled the boy’s head; he had expected no more than the response Joe gave him. Winslow rented the buggy, and the two of them went to pick up Rebekah. She was waiting with her few things packed. “Joe, drive the wagon down to the J.P.’s,” Sky said, throwing her belongings in the rear floorboard. He picked up Timmy, and with Rebekah carrying Mary, they walked along the street. Several people stared at them curiously, but Sky kept his eyes straight ahead.

When they got to the two-story building that served for a courthouse, he broke the silence. “You can still change your mind, Rebekah.”

“Do you want me to?”

“No,” he replied. “But you’re not getting much.” He looked
into her eyes. “It’s not a marriage, Rebekah. You’ve got to know that.”

She nodded and said, “I’ll not complain.”

A few minutes later they stood before Tom Mosley and he married them. He was a tall, thin man, the most avid gossip in town, and it was all he could do to keep from asking them about what they were doing, but something in Winslow’s face warned him.

He read the usual legal marriage formula, but at the end he improvised a bit and included a phrase he’d heard used in the Episcopal church when he was back East.

“You are now married to each other,” he said; “until death do you part—as long as you both shall live!”

He didn’t ask for a response, but as Rebekah stood there, Sky heard her whisper faintly:

“As long as we both shall live!”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

A WARNING FOR WINSLOW

“Sam, you think it’s all right to barge in like this, with no warning?”

“Don’t know if it’s right or not—but blast it, I’ve got to know what’s going on here!” Sam shook the reins, and the matched set of sorrels picked up their pace. A heavy layer of snow carpeted the road, and the only sound except for their muffled hoofbeats was the hissing of the sled runners. It had been fully two weeks since Sky had taken Rebekah out of Oregon City after the hasty wedding, and the whole town had buzzed with the affair, while Sam fumed with impatience.

“It ain’t all that far to town, Edith,” he said moodily. “It wouldn’t have killed Sky to come and see us—just to let us know they ain’t all dead.”

Edith moved closer to Birdwell, then took his arm and smiled. They had been married only a week, and she was happier than she ever dreamed she could be. Two days after their wedding she had said to him, “Sam—I feel so
married!
” It had seemed silly to talk so, but his quick kiss had assured her that he felt the same way. In the few days since, she had learned to know him better than she had thought possible. “You’re worried about Sky and Rebekah, aren’t you?”

“Sure I am. This nutty idea of Sky’s about ‘hiring’ a wife won’t ever work.” He shook his head, then added, “He said all along he was going to do it, so it didn’t surprise me much—but I can’t figure out why Rebekah would agree to such a thing!”

Edith studied the snowy tops of the evergreens lining the road. They wore conical caps of snow that glistened in the sun now peering over the mountains. “I think she’s in love with him, Sam,” she finally said. “We talked a lot on the trail. Sky was different then—or seemed to be. I didn’t know about his former wife at that time, but I thought I saw something between him and Becky.”

“Maybe so—but you don’t know how stubborn that man is! Hangs on to his ideas like a snapping turtle! Guess he’s had to be that way. Mountain men can’t have a lot of sentiment, I reckon—but I’m thinkin’ the whole thing is somehow
wrong.
Why, he’s tried to
buy
a wife, Edith; that’s what it comes to!”

“I’ve thought the same thing, Sam.” Edith peered down the road. “There’s smoke rising. Is that the house?”

“Yes.” He shifted nervously and gave her a worried look, saying ruefully, “Now that we’re here, I sort of wish we hadn’t come. Seemed like a good idea to drive out and see about them—but Sky’s mighty touchy sometimes.”

“Well, we’ve got a good excuse. You don’t get married every day, do you?” Edith smiled and squeezed his arm, then sobered. “But I’m worried, too, Sam. Rebekah’s had a hard time. She’s a very sensitive woman, and I’m afraid this ‘marriage’ is going to hurt her—if it hasn’t already.” The sleigh glided around a curve, and just off the road beneath a grove of towering firs sat a log cabin with smoke curling out of the chimney. “Let’s not stay long,” Edith suggested quickly. “But you get Sky and Joe out of the house so I can talk to Rebekah alone.”