A Most Inconvenient Marriage (37 page)

Free? Hope rose like a bubble in her throat. What was he saying? “I warn you . . .”

He dropped the bucket to the ground with a clang. The horse hiccupped. Abigail took a step backwards. He stepped forward.

“Laurel and I have expressed our mutual disinterest for each other.” His suspenders strained over his chest as he straightened his shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s engaged before dinner.”

“She’s chosen Hopkins?”

“She has, and I’m the happiest man in the world.”

Was it possible? Abigail clutched a handful of her skirt. “But it’s too late. I’m leaving.”

“I don’t believe you are.” His ornery grin made her itch to smack him—whether with her fist or her lips was still to be determined. “You can’t go to the train station alone, and why would I help you run away?”

“But you were so happy this morning—”

“I want you, Abigail.” He held her gaze as he closed the distance between them. “When I wake up in the morning, my day doesn’t begin until I see your face. While I’m out working, I’m thinking about things I want to talk to you about, how I think you’ll respond, how beautiful you’ll look as you argue with me.” Running out of room for a retreat, Abigail bounced into the rock wall. Jeremiah took her hand. “I want you to visit your family, but not until I can go with you. I don’t want you to ever be alone again.” His thumb trailed over her knuckles. “Please stay with me.”

Somewhere among the warm scents of the hay and horses, she caught the scent of his clean shaving soap. Whatever was going on with her heart, Abigail was sure it wasn’t healthy. Her head spun in a delightful dizziness, thinking of what he might do, what she hoped he would do next. He was a fine-looking man, and he was hers. Two facts she could ignore no longer.

“Marry me,” she said.

His satisfied groan turned into a chuckle. “I knew it. That dream
was
a premonition.” He pushed back her loose coiffure to trace her ear. “Just for the record, I was going to ask you all proper like.”

When he tugged her earlobe, he jangled some nerve all the way to her toes. To steady herself, Abigail gripped his arm and didn’t even try to hide her assessment—no, appreciation—of his bicep. Definitely healthy.

“When?” he rasped.

“Today. Now.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I suppose we could, but we’d have to boot someone out of a bed. Surely Hiram would move back home if we explained what we needed the room for.”

“I guess I didn’t think that through.” She followed his gaze to her white-knuckled grip on his arm. With effort she loosened her hold. “I just meant to settle it before the sun goes down again. I’m tired of being Abigail Calhoun, married to a man who never consented. No matter what happens in the future, I want to face it as your wife and with proof no one can dispute.”

“Not a bad idea. Besides, then I wouldn’t feel guilty about the daydreams I’m going to have until we’re hitched.” Her fingers tightened again. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a lingering kiss on her forehead. His mouth moved against her hair. “Once Calbert and Hopkins are here to guard the house, we’ll go hunt down a parson and have it done by the end of the day . . . if you can wait that long.”

Maybe the parson better just come to the barn, because it could take a full regiment to pry her out of Jeremiah’s arms.

Or someone crashing into the barn door.

Abigail tried to look over Jeremiah’s shoulder as he thrust her behind him and prepared to face the interloper. But it was only Josiah, heaving and gasping as he stumbled toward them.

“They took Pa.”

C
HAPTER 25

“You gotta come, Mr. Jeremiah.” Josiah’s words chopped short as he tried to catch his breath. “They jumped Pa on the ridge. Betsy’s hiding in the hollow, but I got away.”

Before he recognized a thought, Jeremiah had opened Lancaster’s stall. “What’d they do to him?”

“Nothing yet. They said they was cold, and since he got them run out of their hidey hole, it was only fitting that he let them stay with us. Pa said Ma wouldn’t allow it. That’s when they pulled out their guns and said if she was a woman with smarts, she wouldn’t mind company.”

Those filthy dogs with Calbert’s family? Jeremiah’s neck throbbed. “Josiah, bring me my guns and my coat. And tell Hiram to meet me at your cabin. Tell him to come up quiet from the spring where he’s not seen. You understand?”

Josiah took off, dirt flipping up at his heels with every stride. Across the barn, Abigail tugged the mare’s bridle over her head.

“What are you doing?” Jeremiah had finished bridling Lancaster and climbed on bareback.

“I’m going to get Betsy. She must be scared to death.”

He didn’t like it. His Abigail should sit safely by the fire and wait for him to return, not ride against outlaws. “You find her and come back home, you hear?” Lancaster pranced toward her, itching to gallop.

“I’ll hurry back,” she said. “I don’t want to leave everyone here unprotected.”

His partner, taking care of his family. “You’re a good woman. Come here.”

She tugged the strap through the buckle before coming to his side. Leaning down, Jeremiah clasped the back of her head, pulled her against his knee, and imparted a kiss on her that should keep her warm on her mission. “Such a good woman.”

Her hand rested on his thigh, the one that had so benefited from her touch. “Be careful, Jeremiah. I know you’ll be brave. I know you’ll be strong. But be careful and come home to me.”

His throat tightened. In his heart, before every battle, he’d imagined Laurel saying those words. Now he realized how much better it was hearing them from Abigail. “Don’t you worry. I’m coming back.”

He pinched her cheek to merit a smile before he galloped out of the barn.

Hiram met him at the gate with his firearms. “Give me a minute to saddle up and I’ll be there.”

“I hope to get close to the cabin without them seeing us. After that, I have no idea. We can’t blaze away with Mrs. Huckabee and the little ones inside.” Jeremiah tucked his gun beneath his belt and rested the rifle across Lancaster’s bare withers.

“Maybe we wait them out. Come to think of it, I’ll bring some vittles. We could be there awhile.”

Jeremiah glanced to the barn. “I pray we won’t.” But God often had bigger plans than his own.

Sensing his impatience, Lancaster pawed the ground. Jer
emiah clicked and the horse surged onward, not even slowing when the trail narrowed. Curving his body forward, Jeremiah hugged the horse close as it left the trail and darted through the trees. Down to the spring that flowed from Calbert’s house they raced. Splashes of icy water dashed against his hat and coat as he rattled the branches. Streams of smoke billowed from Lancaster’s nostrils, but they reached the spring just as the horse was finding his full stride.

“Whoa.” Jeremiah slid off Lancaster and tethered him out of sight. Taking his rifle, he silently followed the spring to the log cabin. From where Jeremiah crouched behind a brush pile, the cabin looked safe enough. The chimney puffed. The dogs cuddled beneath the porch. The burlap curtains were pulled to. Could this be another of Josiah’s monkeyshines? But in the growing morning light, Jeremiah saw something that made his blood run cold.

Three horses were tied at the porch, one of them Ladymare. Even with Hiram, they were outnumbered.

He surveyed his cover. The branches would shield him from sight, but they wouldn’t stay any bullets. Still, it offered the best view of the house. He’d have to stay hidden until time to act. He burrowed against the brush pile, making a hollow for protection from the wind, but stopped at a rustling. Some animal had already claimed the location. He hoped the critter didn’t mind sharing.

Breaking a dry branch, Jeremiah situated a brace to hold the barrel of his rifle toward the only door in Calbert’s house. One door made it easy enough to guard, but it didn’t give the Huckabees any possibility of sneaking away. The rustling beneath the tangle of limbs started up again. A high-pitched squawking fired off. Several critters, a nest of some kind.

He hoped they didn’t give away his position, but he couldn’t
leave Calbert and his family at the mercy of these men for long. They’d hunted down Hiram and followed Calbert back to his place. No one was safe in their hands.

But how to get them out? If he heard a gunshot, he’d charge immediately, no matter the consequences. Otherwise, he’d need to get them separated. But how? If he raised a ruckus outside, they’d leave someone behind to guard the family. He needed to get inside.

Get inside. Get inside. Quickly Jeremiah considered every possibility—the windows, the one door, the chimney. No trap door that he knew of, but if the dogs wouldn’t bark, he’d go beneath to look around.

A crazed birdcall from behind alerted him that help had arrived. Hiram hid behind the smokehouse a full twenty yards away. With the hand that didn’t have a gun in it, he motioned Jeremiah closer, but at that moment the cabin door opened. A stranger stepped out, one of those who’d taken Ladymare. The man scanned the area, pulled his hat down, bundled into his coat, and scurried to the outhouse. One quick look told Jeremiah that Hiram was ready. Was this his chance to get inside? If they took this man out, maybe Jeremiah could go in as a substitute. Wearing the man’s coat and hat might buy him time to get between the outlaws and the Huckabees.

When would they get a better chance?

The demented bird whistled again. Jeremiah looked at Hiram. Why couldn’t he just make like a hoot owl? Hiram’s eyes bulged as he pointed to Jeremiah’s left.

A polecat looking just like Betsy’s pet only older and more cantankerous waddled through the wet grass, wanting its den after a night out. The chirping from the brush pile picked up. Jeremiah’s stomach dropped. Her kits—that’s who he was sharing a den with.

Mama polecat spotted him. Her nose twitched. Her babies cried.

Not since the Battle of Westport had Jeremiah been in such a dangerous position. While he could wish for a time when he wasn’t sitting within firing range of a polecat marksman, this might still be his best shot.

Hiram chirped again. Jeremiah had to make a decision. He nodded toward the outhouse. Yes. They needed to capture the man before he got back inside.

The skunk eased forward. If she could make it to her furrow, she’d feel safe, but judging from her upraised tail, she didn’t trust him, and the feeling was mutual.

Hiram crept toward the privy. Jeremiah was out of time.

Jeremiah held his breath as he jumped out of the brush. The skunk stomped her front feet as he rushed toward her. The outhouse door pushed open. No time to swing a wide circle around her. He just hoped she wasn’t a quick trigger.

He’d never been a lucky man.

She spun and her backside burst forth with the foulest concoction an all-powerful God could create. The spray splattered just below his knee. He gagged but kept running until he tackled the outlaw. Hiram quickly crammed a rag into the man’s mouth, then sprang away, his hand covering his nose.

“Help me,” Jeremiah hissed as he lay atop the man’s back, pressing him into the ground. “We have to get him out of sight without him making any noise.”

Face crumpled, Hiram pulled out his pistol and held his fingers to his lips.

The outlaw’s eyes watered and he turned his face from Jeremiah in disgust.

Hiram tossed a rope to Jeremiah, but the man didn’t seem to be in a fighting mood. Jeremiah understood. Skunk spray
washed the fight plumb out of him, too, but he’d have to do it anyway. There were two more men to deal with inside. If this one didn’t return, they’d come looking for him.

They dragged the man into the woods and checked him for weapons. Taking handfuls of wet leaves, Jeremiah scrubbed on his pant leg, which only kicked up more stink. Could his plan still work? Would skunk stink ruin it?

“Take off your coat.” Jeremiah bent over double until the wave of nausea left him. He only hoped the smell would make everyone feel just as bad.

“It’s cold out here,” the tough guy complained, but with the aim of Hiram’s pistol he complied.

Jeremiah pulled his own coat off and tossed it to the man. “Wear this.”

“No thanks. I’d rather freeze.”

“Suit yourself.” Jeremiah slid on the outlaw’s coat and exchanged hats. Ducking his head and pulling the coat around his clothes he faced Hiram. “How do I look?”

“Better than you smell.”

“Let’s hope the smell keeps them away.” No more talking. Every time he opened his mouth he tasted polecat brew.

He took the rope and helped Hiram tie the man to a tree. With one out of the way, they had even odds. He wouldn’t mind the fight, if it weren’t for the hostages.

“Get as close to the house as you can,” Jeremiah said.

“Where are you going to be?” Hiram asked.

“Inside.”

He buttoned what buttons weren’t missing from the shabby coat and covered his face. No acting required to convince them he was sick. He stumbled to the cabin and busted in.

“What in the blazes?” The ring leader jumped out of his seat and covered his face. “Get out of here.”

Calbert. He’d been roughed up a bit, but there he was, sitting on the bed with his arm around Mrs. Huckabee, who sheltered two wide-eyed toddlers.

“Skunk.” Jeremiah kept his face covered and his voice muffled. “Help me.”

The Huckabees didn’t move. Both outlaws had pistols but didn’t seem to be of a mind to use them. Jeremiah angled where the family wouldn’t draw any fire when the time came.

One of the outlaws wheezed. “I ain’t staying in here with him, I don’t care how cold it is.” He strolled out the door with a laugh, but it was cut short by a scuffle.

Before ringleader had time to respond, Jeremiah drew on him. He froze. Slowly he lifted his hands. “What do we have here?”

“Take his gun, Calbert.” But Calbert didn’t need the instruction. He tossed the gun aside and hogtied the man in record time.

“Been waiting all morning to do that. Where’s Josiah and Betsy?”

“They should be safe at the house by now. Abigail is looking after them. I see they have her horse.”

“I heard them tell of a nice herd of animals stashed away, just waiting to be taken to market and sold.”