Short-Straw Bride (32 page)

“I can go with Jim,” Meredith volunteered. “I know the property. I can show him the best way to get close to the cabin without being seen.”

Jim seemed to be considering her offer until Travis glared the consideration right out of him.

“Not a chance.” He turned his glare on her. “If Mitchell got his hands on you, there's no telling what he would do. At the very least he'd use you to get to me. We can't afford that.”

“Because it would put your precious land in jeopardy, wouldn't it?” Hot tears threatened to fall, but she forced them back. Any affection he felt for her ran a distant second to his loyalty to the ranch. She'd been a fool to think there could ever be more. “The land always comes first. Doesn't it, Travis?”

Unable to hold the tears at bay any longer, she sprinted past him, her only thought to escape. She headed for the house, but before she reached the porch, strong arms latched onto her from behind and spun her around.

Meredith tried to pull away, but when she saw the pained look in his eyes, she ceased. Even with his callous, overly rational behavior, she loved him too much to hurt him.

“Meri, honey. I know you're worried about Cassie. I am, too.” Travis's face hovered above hers, his dark eyes sincere. “But I'm also worried about Jim and Crockett and Neill. We have to take precautions.”

She said nothing.

He sighed and loosened his hold on her arms in order to cup her face. His thumbs stroked her cheeks, rubbing away the moisture there with such tenderness it almost set her to weeping again.

“I can't let you go with Jim. It's too dangerous. If something happened to you, I . . .” He glanced up to the sky. His fingers trembled slightly against her face.

Meredith trembled, too. Waiting.
I couldn't bear it
, she imagined him saying. Or . . .
I would be devastated
. How she longed to hear words that would prove her wrong, to prove that his heart was truly engaged.

Travis's eyes lowered to meet hers. She held her breath.

“If something happened to you, Meri, I'd never forgive myself.”

Meredith exhaled, and her hopes leaked out with the used air. He still saw her as a responsibility, a duty. Perhaps a pleasant one, but a duty nonetheless.

“I need to know you're safe,” he continued, passion firing his words. “I'd give my life to keep you safe.”

“I know you would,” she said, a sad smile turning her lips upward. Her warrior. So protective. So honorable. He'd no doubt feel the same ardor for anyone under his care.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she lifted up and touched her lips to his. Just for a moment. A sweet, achingly wistful moment.

Then she stepped away. “I'll be in the house.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

As Meredith climbed the porch steps, she knew what she had to do. Travis wasn't the only warrior in the family. No, she had her own protective agenda. Cassie was more a sister to her than a cousin, and though she couldn't explain how she knew, Meredith was certain that Roy had not been bluffing about the wedding.

Cassie needed her. And right now that need outweighed everything else.

M
eredith watched at the kitchen window until Travis disappeared into the depths of the barn to continue plotting with his brothers. When she could no longer see him, she snuck out the back door and crept down to the corral. Clicking her tongue, she called to Ginger and eased the corral gate open just enough to squeeze the horse through. Darting glances back toward the barn entrance every few seconds, Meredith led her paint around the house and into the woods.

A saddle was out of the question. Too many Archer men around the tack room. She used to love to ride bareback around the homestead as a kid. Surely she could still manage the feat. Meredith found a stump and used it as a mounting block, then urged Ginger toward the road at a fast clip, keeping to the trees.

She didn't have much time. She had to get back to the house before Travis did. If he discovered her missing, the men would divert their attention from defending the ranch to finding her—which could mean Jim would be delayed in going after Cassie. No, it was essential that she be back at the house when Travis came in from the barn. Then, once he and the boys took up positions around the property, she could duck out the back, wind her way down to the creek, and follow it up to the road. She'd have to climb through the barbed-wire fence, but an extra blanket tossed over the barbs to keep her skirts from snagging should help her squeeze between the wires.

It was a sketchy plan, but it was the best she had at the moment.

Meredith steered Ginger out of the trees in order to pass through the newly ungated ranch entrance, then cantered a few strides down the road before dismounting. She led the mare back into the trees and tied her lead to one of the fence posts marking the property line. An observant rider would be able to spot Ginger's white patches through the sparse cover, but she imagined Jim would be too focused on his destination to look back toward the ranch.

Grateful that the house was only a quarter mile from the road, Meredith picked up her skirts and retraced her steps at a jog. A stitch in her side slowed her down about fifty yards from the house. Pressing a hand to her waist to battle the ache radiating there, she walked the remaining distance, stretching her stride as wide as possible.

If Travis was his usual, incredibly thorough self, she might be fortunate enough to return to the house before the men emerged from the barn. She doubted he would release them until they'd considered every eventuality and gone over their respective duties at least twice. However, Jim would be hard to corral for long, so she couldn't count on more than fifteen minutes. And she was pretty sure she'd already used at least ten.

The house finally came into view—along with the men. They all stood gathered around a mounted Jim. Their hats were off and their heads were bowed. Her conscience twinged at the sight of the Archer brothers taking the time to pray over their brother's safety and the situation at large, but she ignored it for the moment and took advantage of their inward focus and closed eyes to dash around the rear of the house unseen.

Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief, or would have if her corset-laced lungs hadn't already been panting from her brief trot through the woods. Meredith strode through the bathing room and immediately grabbed the half loaf of bread left from lunch and began slicing it into thick pieces. The easiest way to disguise her intentions was to have Travis find her where he expected—in the kitchen. The vegetable soup she'd originally thought to prepare for supper would have to wait for another day, but she could throw together some scrambled egg sandwiches for the men to take with them on guard duty.

She had just cracked the seventh egg into the skillet when the front door opened. Heavy footfalls echoed in the hall. Meredith whisked the eggs frantically with her fork, then moved the skillet directly over the firebox to speed the cooking, hoping that Travis would attribute the perspiration on her forehead to the stove's heat and not comment upon it.

“Jim's on his way, Meri.” Travis's quiet voice carried over the sizzle of the frying pan.

Meredith kept her back to him as she stirred the eggs, afraid Travis might somehow discern her subterfuge in the lines of her face. “I'll have these done in just a minute. You and the boys can take sandwiches with you.”

He made no comment, but she could sense him nearing.

“I'm sorry I didn't have these ready before Jim left. He's going to be hungry.”

Strong hands cupped her shoulders. “He'll be fine.”

His touch felt good. Too good. Meredith stepped out of his loose hold and started heaping eggs onto the bread slices she'd set out. Head down, she built the sandwiches, trying to ignore her husband's presence. Which, of course, was impossible. She'd never been more attuned to another human being in her life.

“Meri, stop.”

Her hands stilled as she wrapped a napkin around the third and final sandwich.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Slowly she turned. His light brown eyes shone with a depth of emotion that made her heart pound.

“I swear to you, Meri—the minute Jim confirms that Cassie is at the homestead, we'll all ride out like the devil himself is on our heels. We won't leave her to face Mitchell alone.”

He meant every word. She could see it in his face, hear it in his voice. But another voice echoed in her mind, as well—one asking what would happen to Cassie if Jim failed to return. How long would Travis wait before leading the charge?

Tears burned at the back of her eyes. She didn't want to defy her husband. Truly she didn't. It could destroy the trust between them, destroy the chance of love ever taking root in his heart. But she had no choice. She couldn't sit uselessly in the house under Travis's protection when her knowledge of the homestead could mean the difference between success and failure for both Jim and Cassie.

And with Jim's head start, the longer Travis stayed in the kitchen, the less time she'd have to make that difference.

In a desperate grab at the happiness that seemed to be slipping from her grasp, Meredith seized her husband's face between both her hands and kissed him with all the love she'd stored up for him since she was ten years old. It only took a moment for Travis to recover from his shock and respond with equal fervor. Yet when she felt his arms wrap around her back and start to draw her close, she forced herself to tear away.

“Here,” she said, shoving the sandwiches at him as much to hurry him along as to keep herself from walking back into his arms. “Make sure your brothers eat.”

Then, before he could say anything else, she dodged around him and dashed down the hall to her room. Thumping the door closed behind her, she sagged against the wall and brushed a stray tear from her cheek while she waited for the telltale sound of Travis's boots against the floorboards.

They came down the hall and paused. Meredith squeezed her eyes closed.
Just go, Travis. Please.

After a long moment, the sound began again, this time fading as Travis crossed to the front door and finally exited onto the porch. His deep voice carried through the walls as he called to Crockett and Neill.

Regret ate at Meredith, and second thoughts flashed through her mind. Then a picture of Jim crystallized behind her closed lids—a picture of him falling to the ground, as still as death. Her eyes jerked open, and her throat closed on a gasp. He was in as much danger as Cassie, heading alone into what was sure to be a den of vipers. She might not be able to bring the cavalry, but she could at least supply him with enough inside information to help even the odds a bit.

And she could watch his back.

Meredith grabbed her cape from the wardrobe and moved to the window.
Lord, keep him safe until I can catch up. Direct my steps and give me the courage to do what must be done. Guard Cassie and . . .
She paused and shifted the curtain just enough to peer out into the yard, where her husband and his brothers were dispersing to their assigned positions.
Help Travis forgive me.

She released the curtain and turned to leave the room, but when she passed the bureau, she remembered the small tablet of paper Travis kept in the top drawer along with his watch and other odds and ends. After digging out a stubby pencil, she scribbled the few words her raw heart demanded she say, then grabbed an old blanket from the chest and hurried through the house to the back door.

Once outside, she made for the creek without a single backward glance. Regrets were a luxury she could no longer afford.

T
he old game trail was still where she remembered it being. Meredith urged Ginger off the road a couple hundred yards short of the main entrance. The path was almost imperceptible, completely overgrown with brush, but Ginger obediently followed her mistress's silent instruction and plowed through the oak saplings.

Meredith followed the landmarks she recognized more than the path itself, and when she reached the pine she'd long ago dubbed
The Survivor
, she drew Ginger to a halt. Not long after her accident with the trap, lightning had struck the tall, elegant tree. Half of the tree turned brown and brittle, too damaged to support life, but the other half remained green and healthy, flourishing with a will to overcome the adversity thrust upon it. Meredith stared up into the glorious green boughs on the east side and absorbed the hope they had always offered.

As a young girl, the tree had encouraged her to persevere and not let her own injured limb hold her back. Today, though, it inspired strength and fortitude. Meredith breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the pine and allowing it to solidify her purpose. Time to find Jim.

If Jim had followed the usual Archer strategy of shadowing the road, he should be somewhere in the pines to her right. She'd made up some time by taking the game trail, but there was still no way to guess his precise location. If only there were a way to signal . . . The birdcalls! Neill had been teaching her the distinctive Archer call before the last storm hit. She'd not yet perfected the warble, but she could match the swooping pitch fairly well.

Meredith licked her lips, then cupped her hands around her mouth and threw her cooing voice as deep into the surrounding woods as she could. She waited a moment and repeated the signal, aiming her call more directly toward the cabin.

The silence stretched out for long minutes. Either Jim hadn't heard her call or he'd been unable to answer. Had he been captured? She prayed not. As she tried to determine her next strategy, a rustling to the south of her hailed a man's approach. Only then did she realize that she might have given her position away to one of Roy's men instead of Jim. The crunch of dead leaves grew louder, and Meredith's pulse throbbed harder.

Gripping Ginger's reins tightly between her fingers, she prepared to flee. The muscles in her thighs grew taut. Her heels twitched. Every instinct screamed at her to race away. But just as she began turning Ginger's head toward home, an answering call floated to her ear, one with a beautiful, well-practiced warble.

“Thank heaven,” she whispered, releasing her hold on the reins as Jim emerged on foot between a pair of scrubby post oaks.

Her brother-in-law didn't appear nearly as relieved to see her as she was to see him. The hardheaded man was actually scowling at her.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

Meredith dismounted and squared her shoulders. Jim wasn't one to dance around a subject, so she got straight to the point. “I can help you get to the cabin unseen.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Travis know what you're doing?”

“I left a note.” She glared back at him in challenge.

The man let out a breath and rubbed the back of his neck, but in the end, his desire to help Cassie trumped his reluctance to defy his brother.

“I've scouted the perimeter. No obvious guards are posted at the cabin, but I saw evidence of at least four men at the edge of the woods near the house. I think they're patrolling, so it'd be hard to know their exact position at any one time. I imagine Mitchell's got even more inside.”

Meredith grimaced. It was a good thing the game trail lay deeper into the woods than Roy's men had penetrated. “So Travis was right. It
is
an ambush.”

Jim shrugged. “A trap at least. Hard to know if they plan to pick us off or just ensure our cooperation.”

Which would mean either loss of life or loss of land—both options equally heinous to an Archer.

“Have you seen Cassie?”

“No. Haven't been able to get close enough.” Jim's gaze shifted, targeting the rooftop of the old homestead barely visible through the trees. “Heard the shrill voice of that mother of hers, though.” He twisted his head to face her again, his dark eyes tortured. “She's here, Meri. I'm sure of it.”

Meredith touched his arm, a similar dread flowing through her own heart. “Travis needs proof before he'll come, and you can't take on all of Roy's men by yourself.” She squeezed his forearm and lifted her chin. “I'll get you to the house.”

He didn't ask how or pester her for details. He simply nodded and pointed down the trail. “Show me.”

Thankful, for once, for Jim's taciturn ways, Meredith looped Ginger's reins over a low branch and trudged ahead. Lifting her skirts and folding them close to her body to eliminate excess rustling, she kept her eyes to the ground and avoided as many twigs and pinecones as possible.

The trail wound closer to the cabin before forking. The main path led to a watering hole deeper in the woods, but a narrow shoot darted toward the left rear corner of the homestead—the corner that housed her childhood bedroom.

Meredith halted and peered into the thinning cover that separated them from the house. She looked to the right, then to the left. No one. At least, none that she could see.

“Have you spotted any of Roy's men?” she whispered to the man behind her. “I can take you closer, but I don't want to draw the attention of one of the guards.” She stared at the foot of her weak leg and winced. “I cannot walk as quietly as you.”

“Just tell me what I need to know.” Jim came abreast of her, his rifle at the ready.

“If you stay to the left, the pines will give way to a stand of broad oaks. They shade the house in the summer, and since no one's trimmed their branches the last few years, a few limbs stretch all the way to the roof.” She watched as understanding dawned in his eyes. His jaw hardened, and he strode forward, but Meredith stopped him with a hand to his arm.

“There is not as much cover near the house, so you'll have to be careful. You might be able to peer through one of the back windows from within the branches of the tree, but if you need to see into the main room, you'll have to crawl over the roof to the front of the house. It's risky, but hopefully none of the men will expect trouble from above.”

Jim slid his arm from her grasp and took her hand in his. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Be careful.” The earlier vision of his lying upon the ground came back to her, raking a shiver over her skin.

“Stay out of sight,” her brother-in-law ordered. “Travis will kill me if anything happens to you.” He released her hand and soundlessly moved past.

Meredith prayed over every step Jim took, her throat seeming to constrict at each sound that echoed in the trees. When he rounded the first oak and disappeared from her view, her breathing nearly ceased altogether. This wasn't right. She was supposed to be watching his back. She couldn't do that from this distance.

Taking extra care with her uneven gait, she crept forward, staying in the shadows of the trees until she stood behind the largest oak. Meredith spied Jim between the branches of the tree nearest the cabin and finally breathed easier. His rifle slung over his shoulder, he climbed higher, his footholds secure. The only trouble was the way the brittle winter leaves rattled with his movements.

Jim stretched himself across one of the thicker limbs that reached toward the roof, and began scooting along its length on his belly. Then all at once, he froze.

A twig snapped. But it wasn't from Jim's tree. It echoed lower. Closer.

Meredith silently gathered her cloak more tightly around her and drew the hood over her hair as she tucked her face against the coarse bark of the oak at her side. If she could have climbed beneath the bark itself, she would have.

A rough-looking logger emerged between the trees that she and Jim occupied. His heavy brows scrunched against his eyes as he scanned the area, his ear cocked in Jim's direction. Instead of a gun, the burly fellow carried an ax.

A gust of wind blew across the tree limbs. Meredith's gaze darted to Jim. The branch swayed. Jim's face contorted as he struggled to keep his back perfectly flat so his rifle wouldn't shift and knock into the leaves surrounding him.

The logger jerked his face toward the cabin, as if he sensed the intruder. He slapped the wooden handle of his ax against his left palm and stalked closer to the tree. All he had to do was glance up. . . .

Meredith scoured the ground near her for something she could use as a weapon, but all she found were decayed branches and pinecones. Nothing that would even slow the man down. But maybe she could draw the man away somehow. If she were to dart back toward the Survivor tree, he'd hear and follow, giving Jim time to lay eyes on Cassie and leave. All she had to do was outrun a bear-sized man for the short distance to Ginger. Shouldn't be too hard, right? She'd have a head start and was more familiar with the land.

She inhaled a deep breath and grabbed a handful of skirt. Then, just as she prepared to take flight, a saner idea took shape. Meredith released the fabric of her cape and scooped up a large pinecone. Taking careful aim, she hurled it behind the oaks, back into the forest. It cracked against the trunk of a small pine, and the sound brought Mr. Bushy Brow's head around. The man set off with a determined stride, and Meredith sagged against the trunk of her oak.

Thank the Lord for timely inspiration.

Once the logger disappeared into the woods, Meredith waved Jim toward the roof. The ungrateful man glared at her and jabbed his finger as if ordering her to retreat, but there was no time for a pantomime skirmish. If Jim didn't go now, he might not get another chance. Fortunately, the Archers were an intelligent lot. After a final jab in her direction, Jim resumed his belly crawl and soon lowered himself silently onto the cabin roof.

Shrinking into a crouch, he crossed to the peak. There, he laid flat and peered over the edge. Meredith fisted her hands in the fabric of her cape as he slid out of her view to the front side of the cabin. He seemed to be gone for an eternity. The roof's slope wasn't too steep, but even then, Jim would have to hang upside down from the eaves to see in the front window. What if someone saw him? What if he fell? He would have never been on that roof if she hadn't suggested such an idiotic scheme.

What have I done?
Her soul cried out to the only one who could rescue them.
Protect him from my folly, Lord.
I should have trusted my husband. I should have trusted you.

All her big talk to Travis about trusting God to protect his family, about not letting fear dictate his actions, and here she was doing exactly that which she had so adamantly preached against. She should have sought the Lord's will from the very beginning. Instead she'd proceeded with her own plans and only once she was in the midst of them did she think to ask for God's blessing. And even then her mind was set on her own course of action. What if the Lord had inspired that vision of Jim as a warning to her that she not go, but because of her own willfulness, she chose to use it as justification for her actions?

Meredith bowed her head.
I surrender.
A tear trickled down her cheek.
I surrender. Only you can make this right. Show me what to do. Whatever sacrifice is required, I'll make it. Just, please . . . spare Jim and Cassie.

When she lifted her head, there was Jim, slinking back over the peak of the roof and scrambling toward the tree. Her heart surged in gratitude.
Thank you!

He had made it as far as the main trunk when the logger charged out of the shallow woods. The bushy-browed henchman ran full out as if he planned to leap into the tree like a cougar after its prey. Jim was too high to drop to the ground without breaking a leg. He struggled to find a defensible position among the branches. He needed his rifle, but his hands were too busy keeping him in the tree to reach for the weapon.

Meredith sprinted toward the logger, her eyes locked on the arm that wielded the ax.

Roy's man latched onto a branch, the soles of his shoes bracing his weight against the trunk. With a roar, he swung the ax in an upward arc, the blade aimed at Jim's flesh.

Meredith vaulted off her good leg midstride and caught the logger's beefy arm as it circled behind him. The logger tried to shove her aside, but she held fast to his right arm and threw what little weight she had to sway him. She had to give Jim time to escape.

She twisted and writhed, kicked out with her legs, anything she could think of to slow him down. The shouts of other men echoed behind her. Reinforcements were coming.

A rifle cocked nearby, and for a split second, both Meredith and the logger froze. Meredith spotted Jim from the corner of her eye. He was on the ground with his rifle aimed at the logger!

He jerked his head to the side, urging her to move away so he would have a clean shot, but a beefy arm locked around her waist, holding her in place.

“Run, Jim!” she shouted between grunts as the logger renewed his efforts to wrench his right arm free of her grasp, no doubt hoping to hurl his ax at his foe. “Get Travis!”

For once Jim didn't scowl at her. His eyes had a desperate look to them, as if he were the one trapped. She knew he didn't want to leave her, that his protective nature demanded he stay and fight. But when the others arrived, he'd be finished.

“For Cassie, Jim,” she pleaded. “Go for Cassie.”

A yell from the other side of the cabin made his decision for him. He spun and ran.

The instant Jim's rifle was no longer pointed at him, the logger shifted to free his arm. But she hung on—all of her energy focused on keeping him from using his weapon.

“Blasted female!” The logger raised his ax. “Let”—he slammed his arm and hers into the tree—“go!”