Bandit's Hope (24 page)

His bottom lip hung looser than usual, and fury blazed in his eyes. "I can see you didn’t." He pointed a murderous finger at Tiller. "Why’s he half naked and pawing at you?"

Mariah had a moment to consider the absurdity of the charge. How preposterous for a man with a dozen untamed hands to accuse decent, respectful Tiller. She drew herself up. "I assure you he did no such thing."

Gabe took three steps closer, his hulking size a tad frightening. "Don’t you lie, Mariah Bell. Maybe I ain’t real smart, but I ain’t stupid."

His bulk shifted to Tiller. "Mister, you trying to steal my girl?"

Tiller held his ground as Gabe approached. "Can a man steal a girl who wants to be taken?"

"Huh?" Gabe balled his fist. "Don’t think you can get out of a thrashing by fast talk and riddles."

Easing into a swaggering stance, Tiller clenched his hands at his sides. "I’m saying Mariah’s free to choose. If she wants you, I’ll step out of your way. But if she wants me, I’m staying right here." He jutted his jaw. "And you’ll have to kill me to keep me away from her."

Tiller’s brows raised to question marks as his eyes sought hers past Gabe’s shoulder. "Mariah?"

The last ounce of resistance slid from around her heart. Tiller McRae had braved starvation, twisters, giant oak trees, collapsed barns, and now the ugly, big fists of Gabe Tabor. He’d more than proved himself worthy of her trust.

With a teasing smile, she lifted her head higher to see over Gabe’s broad back. She didn’t need words for the message her eyes sent Tiller.

Gabe stiffened and swung around to blink at her. "Well?"

She lifted her chin. "Gabe, I think it’s time for you to go."

"What?" He frowned and jabbed himself in the chest. "You’re giving me the boot? After you done kissed me and everything?"

Blushing to the roots of her hair, Mariah lowered her lashes. "Your memory fails you, Mr. Tabor. You kissed me, and without an invitation." She glanced at Tiller. "And only on the cheek."

Gabe shuffled toward her. His meaty, meddling hand snaked around her waist and slid to the small of her back, lingering too long to be respectable. "But you liked it, didn’t you?"

Tiller blustered and lunged, but Mariah held up her hand. "Say good-bye, Tiller. Gabe was just leaving."

"You really want me to go?" Gabe hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I could go on and kill him like he said."

Mariah couldn’t hold back a grin. "Killing Tiller won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer." She caught his sleeve and led him to the threshold. "Say hello to your father for me, won’t you?"

"Well, sure, but I—"

"Watch your step past those loose boards. You might trip and take a nasty fall."

His droopy eyes bugged. "Mariah!"

"Good-bye, Gabe." Reaching for the barn door, she nodded before pulling it closed.

Leaning her head against the rough wood, she tried to still her thudding heart. Where would she find the courage to face Tiller after she’d just declared her love? Turning slowly, she stood across the barn from him, one hand over her mouth.

He slouched with both hands on his hips, giving her a sideways look and a teasing smile.

A dusty beam of light filtered through the open rooftop, the bright ray anointing his red head with fire. The unearthly glow seemed like the warm kiss of God’s approval.

Tiller crooked his finger.

Mariah’s stomach flipped. She crossed the barn into the sunbeam and the warmth of his embrace.

Sliding his hand up her neck, he tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her to his chest. "It’s high time you came to your senses, woman."

Breathless, she laughed against his shirt. "I’m inclined to agree."

His arms tightened. "I love you, Mariah Bell."

"I love you, Tiller McRae."

"Enough to skip all that silly courtship business and marry me?"

A thrill shot through her. "I don’t see why not." She leaned to frown up at him. "You’ve taken quite a leap from courting me a little to a proposal. What changed?"

He kissed her forehead and snuggled her close again. "I wanted to marry you from the first. I thought if I told you, it might spook you."

Her joy boundless, she tightened her fingers on the front of his shirt and smiled to herself. "And you really plan to stay on here at Bell’s Inn? What about your carefree coattails? Those roots you find so binding?"

Tiller chuckled, the sound a rumble in his throat. "You believed the words of a shiftless drifter?"

She laughed aloud. "A point well taken."

He held her, swaying as if rocking a cherished child.

Mariah swayed too, dizzy with loving him.

Abruptly, Tiller stilled, dragging them to a stop. "What about your father? We need his blessing, don’t we? He’ll want to be here for the wedding, too." He patted her back. "I understand that you’ll want to put things off until he returns."

Her heart surged and fluttered in her chest. "Father will be gone a very long time."

A groan escaped his lips. "How long do we have to wait?"

She shook her head. "I don’t think we can. It wouldn’t be practical."

He brightened. "So we’ll be married right away?"

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder. "The sooner the better."

Mariah braced for another squabble with Miss Vee. The poor woman would never understand, and Mariah couldn’t imagine how to convince her. Most likely, the time had come to tell her the truth.

Tiller sighed in her ear. "You’re taking a gamble, aren’t you? You don’t know much about me." His heartbeat thudded against her cheek. "About my past, I mean."

Caught in her own guilty thoughts, hot tears stung her throat. "You don’t know everything about me either."

He cradled her head in his hands and raised her face to his. Determination, heart-stirring affection, and a touch of fear swirled in his eyes. "You won’t like some of what I’ve done."

She bunched her brows. "It can’t be that bad."

"I’m afraid it is," he said firmly then drew a deep breath. "But I swear to make it up to you." His throat rose and fell. "To everyone."

He looked so grim. What dastardly deeds could sweet-faced Tiller McRae possibly be guilty of? Mariah shuddered and lowered her lashes. Whatever he’d done, she didn’t want to know. Not with their love just confessed.

Besides, she wasn’t ready to lay her secrets on the table. There’d be plenty of time later for baring their souls. "Don’t say anything else, Tiller. We’ll discuss it later." She pushed out of his arms and backed away, despising herself for the pain that flashed in his eyes.

Skirting past him, she picked up the tray. "Miss Vee will be wondering where I am."

He caught her arm as she passed and held her, searching her face.

She summoned a weak smile. "Don’t fret. Nothing’s changed."

Gnawing his bottom lip, he nodded. "Let me walk you to the house then. I’ll get cleaned up and go for supplies."

Crossing the yard, he cleared his throat. "Can we tell the others? Miss Vee, Dicey, and Rainy?"

She grinned. "I suppose so."

A delighted smile lit his face. "Miss Vee first. As soon as we reach the house."

She touched his arm. "Don’t mention how soon we plan to marry, Tiller. I’ll break that news to her myself."

Nearing the porch, she halted, clutching Tiller’s sleeve.

A horse lumbered up the rise bearing a lone Indian. The big man slouched in the saddle with a broad, battered hat tugged low over his face.

Mariah strained to see what the dread in her heart had already confirmed. The worst problem imaginable rode toward her on the sundappled Trace. She groaned. "Oh, no. It’s really him."

Tiller stared with her. "You know that man?"

"He’s my uncle, Joe Brashears. But please don’t call him Joe. It enrages him. He prefers Nukowa."

"Nu-who?"

"It’s pronounced Nook-o-ah. It means ‘angry’ in our tongue. He took the name when my mother died." She sighed. "It fits him well, I’m afraid."

"I like Joe better."

Ignoring him, she danced with frustration. "I adore my uncle, but I dread his visits. These days, they’re never pleasant."

"I suppose not, if he’s angry all the time. What made him mad?"

"He wants something, and he can be very stubborn about it."

"What does he want?" Tiller asked, shading his eyes.

She shrugged. "Me."

"You?" He shot her a glance. "What for?"

"To take me back to the Indian Territory."

Tiller’s head whipped around. "What? No!"

"He’s chosen a husband for me there."

He growled low in his throat. "I can see I’m going to love Uncle Joe."

Mariah pasted a welcome smile on her face. "Hush. He’s almost here."

Tiller slung his arm around her shoulders. "Just in time to share our happy news."

"No!" Mariah whispered harshly, shrugging off his arm. She moved a few paces away. "You mustn’t breathe a word of our engagement, Tiller. Not a word, do you understand?"

"Why not?"

She narrowed her eyes. "If you do, I’ll be on my way to marry the son of a chief, and you’ll be left here scratching your head."

He gaped at her. "I can handle Uncle Joe, Mariah."

"Nukowa," she hissed. "And please leave him to me." She frowned. "Maybe you should go on back to the barn."

"No." Scowling, he closed the distance between them. "If it’s all the same to you, I’m staying right here."

TWENTY-FIVE

J
oe squinted against the afternoon sun. Surely his tired eyes deceived him. The nahullo beside Mariah had drawn her beneath his arm as if he’d bartered for her and won.

His stomach tightened. Who was the red-haired man at his niece’s side, his welcoming smile as forced as hers?

Slant-eyed glances fired between the two. The feud of a couple in love. What mischief was afoot in John Coffee’s house, right under his nose?

Joe snorted. He’d arrived just in time to help Blazing Hair find the road.

Mariah strode to meet him. Pink tinged her cheeks, but the warmth of her greeting seemed more fitting. "Halito,
amoshi!”

"Halito,
sabitek.
" He swung his aching body from the saddle.
"Chim achukma?"

"I’m fine, Uncle. And you?"

"I need water." Joe swiped his hand across his dry mouth. "I have miles of dusty road in my throat."

"Of course you do," Mariah said. "After such a long ride. Come up to the house, and we’ll do even better than water."

Joe dragged his pack off the horse. "You have whiskey?"

Mariah’s laugh was as false as her smile. "No, and you have no business drinking strong spirits." She handed the reins to the nahullo without a second glance in his direction. "I’m sure Miss Vee has a fresh pitcher of lemonade."

Joe wasn’t fooled by the girl’s deliberate shun. She could go on treating the tall young man as if he didn’t matter, but Joe had spotted a fox in the henhouse. A lanky red fox.

Over his shoulder, Joe watched the man lead the horse to the barn at an angry stride. He smiled. It wouldn’t be the last time he walked away mad, if Joe had his way.

He turned his attention to Mariah. "Your father is well?"

She stumbled a bit and lost her footing.

Joe’s quick hand caught and steadied her. "Now I see why you have no more whiskey. Have you been sipping firewater this morning?"

She wound her arm through his and continued walking, but her strained smile didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m drunk with happiness to see you, I guess."

He patted her hand. "Is something wrong, sabitek?"

Staring at the ground, she bit her bottom lip. "Father’s not here, Uncle."

Joe peered at her. "John’s in town today?"

"Not in town. He’s … gone away."

Joe stopped so fast he pulled her off balance again. "What do you mean ‘away’? Where did he go?"

Mariah angled her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. "I’m not sure. Not exactly. He left so suddenly." She looked everywhere but at Joe. "He became very ill and had to leave."

"To the white man’s hospital?"

"Not a hospital."

"Then where? Don’t talk riddles, Mariah. I’ve come a long way. When will he return?"

She raised her chin. "He’ll be gone for a very long time."

Joe narrowed one eye and tried to read her. The girl’s tight mouth and sulky eyes were a black-watered pool.

To what lengths would John Coffee go to outwit him? What trick had he put his daughter up to? Mariah wanted to stay in Mississippi—she’d made this no secret—but it wasn’t like her to deceive.

Impatient, he stalked ahead of her. "No matter. I can wait. For as long as it takes." His bold words were a lie. He’d left Myrtle to pull corn and work crops, to grow a son for him, alone and frightened. John Coffee had the upper hand before the battle had ever begun. Furious, Joe reached the porch and spun to scowl at her. "Who is the red-haired nahullo?"

The truth flickered in her eyes but skirted her mouth. "Tiller? He’s a drifter we hired to make a few repairs. He works for room and board."

Peering past the haze of anger that had him blinded, Joe gazed around the inn’s backyard, seeing it for the first time.

A careless giant had strolled through the familiar grounds. He’d plundered the garden, used the fence posts for toothpicks, and ripped up the oak for a parasol.

Joe’s wandering gaze stopped at the half-finished barn. "What happened here?"

"A twister." Mariah closed her eyes and shuddered. "It was awful. We hid in the root cellar."

He whistled. "All this damage and the house still stands?"

Mariah nodded. "The inn shook above our heads like a wet dog, but it held together."

Smiling, Joe took in the old house from the eaves to the foundation. "She’s faced down worse in her time."

He patted the railing on the new porch. "Nice job." He glanced at Red Hair scaling the barn like a nimble goat. "His doing?"

Mariah nodded. "Tiller made all the improvements to the inn." She slid her fingers along the smooth wood with the pride of a mother caressing her child. "He built this porch in two days."

Joe stuck out his jaw. "I thought you planned to quench my thirst."