Shotgun Bride (15 page)
The sheriff had a brow raised.
"Have a drifter out at my place, wondering if you've heard of him." Kid swallowed the shot of whiskey. Hot fire streamed down his throat, exploding in his stomach like a stick of dynamite. A fleeting thought left him hoping the potent brew might kill the nasty little worm who'd taken up residence deep in his guts. He smacked his lips as he set the glass down.
"What's his name?" George asked as he refilled his glass and Kid's.
"Russell Johnson."
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by Lauri Robinson
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Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
by Lauri Robinson
Hinkle stopped the glass near his mouth. Eyebrows arched as he set his drink down. "Yeah, I've heard of him. Send him on his way."
Kid ran a finger over the rim of his glass. "Is there a warrant out on him?"
"Not officially, but there should be." Hinkle tossed the bronze liquid into his mouth, gritting his teeth as he swallowed.
He took a sip out of his glass, letting the strong taste roll across his tongue for a moment. "Tell me about it."
"Well, there's not much to tell. The man and his younger sister lived in a tent on the south side. I never saw the sister, or Johnson, actually, but I had plenty of reports on the little scheme going on. Johnson made the rounds, talking up his virgin little sister."
His stomach began to roll. He'd felt this way once before—
when Aunt Bonnie told him his mother was gone. Not dead, just gone. It was later he learned they meant the same thing. An empty, indescribable sensation had twisted his guts, filling the area with tiny, sharp pinches. Just like the ones plucking at him now. Bile rose into the back of his throat. He took a breath, not a cleansing one, but one like a drowning man would take before slipping back beneath the water. One needed for survival.
Russell was trouble; he had no doubt about that, but not Jessie. She was an innocent bystander. That little worm from 141
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his stomach must have made its way to his brain where it nudged him to wonder.
Wasn't she?
Kid pulled his hand away from his glass and waved for Hinkle to continue. The sheriff twirled his glass on the table. "He promised her body to many, got 'em liquored up, then took them back to their tent where he'd knock 'em in the head and roll them for their money. Most of them were cattle boys, in town with a drive. They'd complain to me, but they'd been so drunk they couldn't remember what he looked like, or where the tent was. Part of the problem was Johnson wasn't the only one doing it. Plenty of the vagrants pull the same scheme. It's nothing new." He lifted the glass to his lips. "You've seen the south side, the hundreds of tents out there?" Kid nodded. Below the table, his hands balled into fists so tight his wrists throbbed. His temples pulsed with each beat of his heart. Were the men knocked in the head before or after they slept with Jessie? How had he been so stupid?
Believing her act of innocence, thinking the way she responded to his kiss that night back at the ranch had been instinct, not learned from years of practice at seduction. Hinkle shook his head. "Well, they finally got caught. Rolled the wrong man."
He clenched his back teeth. His family always claimed his anger would kill someone. Maybe they were right. But who would it be? Russell? The men Jessie had been with? Hinkle for being the messenger? Jessie?
The pressure on his molars made his jaw begin to hurt. He opened his mouth and threw the liquid in his glass against his burning throat. An invisible, heavy weight pushed on his 142
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shoulders. Keeping his voice as even as possible, he asked,
"What happened?"
"Jed Montgomery happened. He's a gunslinger from New Mexico, works for Ted Hughes. He's a mean one, but hasn't done anything I can arrest him for. Even checks his guns at the rail line. Johnson laid Montgomery's head wide open then hauled him to the edge of the tent city. I thought Jed would kill the man for sure." Hinkle shrugged. "Actually, I hoped he would—kill two birds with one stone, make my job easier. But Johnson was a slick one, kept a few steps ahead of Montgomery for a week or so, then after Jed cornered the sister one day, Johnson and the gal left town. Jed's still screeching about it."
Kid tried to keep his nostrils from flaring. "What did Montgomery do to the sister, when he cornered her?"
"Poor thing." George shook his head. Kid's heart stopped dead.
Hinkle continued, "An old wash nag claims the girl didn't know anything about what her brother was doing. Said the sister worked all day, every day, trying to earn a touch of coin by washing clothes for the drivers and such. I guess a couple others at the camp stopped Montgomery from hurting the girl too bad. No one would admit much, but my guess is they found a wagon heading west for her to catch a ride on, and since Russell disappeared at the same time, I assumed he'd gone with her." He swallowed another shot of whiskey then asked, "Is the sister with him at your place?" She didn't have anything to do with Russell's scam. He hadn't been duped. Isn't that what he just heard? His breath 143
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caught. Or had Jessie duped the others at the tent city as well? He looked at Hinkle. The man stared at him expectantly. Kid's mind was too befuddled to do anything but nod.
"Is it true?"
Kid frowned, blinked. Tried to clear his mind. "Is what true?"
"Jed, as well as the men at the tent city, say she's the prettiest thing they'd ever laid eyes on." Hinkle's voice held a touch of skepticism. "Is she?" Visions filled his head—Jessie, strolling down the wide staircase, sauntering across the kitchen with long, silky waves of golden-brown hair swaying in her wake. Pale blue eyes, sparkling with delight, and pert, pink lips smiling as she greeted his entrance. A shimmering light flickered inside him. He couldn't see it, but felt it nonetheless. Her soft giggles echoed somewhere in the back of his mind. His nose twitched, recalling the clean, fresh scent of her skin. He ran his tongue over his lips, against the itch. They seemed to long for the smooth warmth of her forehead. The spot he kissed each night before she went to bed—the one self indulgence he'd allowed. He took a breath as his body heat rose-from the inside out. Like the sun rising in the east, light filled his soul. He couldn't describe the feeling settling in his chest. Happiness at knowing Jessie was innocent? Perhaps. If so, why did his mind still feel heavy with dread?
"Is she?" Hinkle asked again.
Kid downed the bronze liquid in his glass. The little worm had slithered back into his gut, but it had matured into a full grown snake, coiled and ready to strike. He took a moment to 144
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ponder it. Jessie was innocent, he had no doubt. She was too pure, too untainted to have been with other men. Then why did he still want to kill someone? Why did he feel more jealous of her than he had of anything in his life? He reached for the bottle of whiskey. "Yeah. She's the prettiest thing I've ever seen."
Hinkle sighed as if he'd just opened his canteen and found it empty. He sat back in his chair, folded his arms. "She work for you too?"
"No."
"But you've seen her?"
Kid filled both of their glasses, swallowed his in one gulp. Snake or no snake, a smile tugged at his lips. The dim room grew brighter. He shrugged the imagined weight of his shoulder and slapped the glass onto the table.
"I married her."
Wide-eyed with shock, George stared across the table. "No shit?"
* * * *
Jessie listened carefully as Snake explained, "The weeping willow tree is very remarkable. It has more nutrients and natural fertilizer than any other plant known to man. The juices of the branches mingle with the water, producing nourishment that stimulates growth in anything you pour it on. And, if we continue to plant the left over mush, within a few years you'll have enough trees to have a garden twice this size, besides the cooling shade the trees will provide. 145
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Kid's lucky to have such good ground water. Willows need lots of water."
With a small axe Snake cut the long, limber branches into small chunks. The pieces fluttered off the chopping block to the ground near his boots. He and Hog weren't tall and gangly like Skeeter. They were taller than she, but stocky. With light brown hair and happy green eyes, the brothers were nice looking, and she'd come to depend on each of them immensely. Even Skeeter had proven invaluable when it came to keeping her wood box full. He stopped by every few days with another load of dried wood he'd found here or there. When the chopping stopped she said, "I can't believe how much the plants have grown since you made that first tub of water for me."
"Yes, it is amazing, isn't it?" His eyes went to the vegetable plants behind them. "With these additional four barrels, you'll have enough juice to fertilize every other day." He separated the chopped branches and leaves then began to place them in the bottom of the large rain barrels he'd made. Jessie dumped water on top of the branches out of the buckets Bug carried from the well. She smiled her thanks at the youngest brother then turned to Snake and asked, "When can I use the water from these barrels?"
"The clippings have to sit in the water for at least twentyfour hours, and make sure you never use all the water from any of the tubs. Just a couple buckets full and make sure you refill the tubs afterwards. They'll last a couple of weeks, then we'll plant the clippings and you'll have another tree." Snake turned to Bug and asked, "Have you dug the holes?" 146
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Snake had an incredible knowledge of gardening. Each day, after Hog gave her a cooking lesson, she spent hours with Snake, tending the small garden Kid had planted. The first day he'd shown her how to crush old buffalo bones and sprinkle it amongst the plants, after that he had her start watering the plants with the mixture he created from willow branches. Now, she not only had vegetables to cook, but also enough to put up for winter, and Snake said he'd plant the used clippings, swearing willow trees would grow from the mulch.
"Yup, four of them just like you said, two behind the house and one on each side," Bug said, his smile growing wide as he turned to her. "Kid's gonna be happy about the trees. Don't you think so, Jessie?"
She patted his arm. "Yes, Bug. I'm sure Kid will like the trees." The boys never ceased to amaze her at how they all wanted to please their older brother.
"When's he coming home, Jessie?" Bug asked. A little sigh escaped and she shrugged.
"He's only been gone three days, Joe said it would be five or so," she answered, feeling as sad as Bug looked. She could relate closest with the youngest brother, they both felt as if Kid had hung the sun in the sky himself. For her, he truly had, he'd rescued her from darkness and provided light. If only she could find a way to stay here with him forever. If only Kid would fall in love with her like the men in the wonderful, romantic stories she read in the
Waverly Library
newspapers. Each addition held a lengthy novel, full of tales of men and women falling helplessly in 147
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love, and living happily ever after. After reading the first story, Jessie made a couple more choices, one: to read the rest of the stack, and two: to find love like the heroines. She just had to figure out a way to make Kid love her like the heroes loved the heroines.
"Bug and I will plant the trees, Jessie. You can go on into the house, get out of the sun for awhile," Snake said. Snapped out of her wondering thoughts, she waved a hand over her heated cheeks.
"Thanks, Snake, it is awfully warm out here. Come in for some cookies I made before you two leave for home." The boys agreed and she left them to walk to the house. Sammy, as usual, ambled beside her knee, stopping now and again when an interesting smell caught the attention of his long snout. She'd pause and wait for him to catch up before moving forward again, happy to have him for a constant companion.
The sun had fallen low in the sky; signaling the day would soon end. It was of little consequence, without Kid home to eat she hadn't bothered planning a meal. A piece of bread would be plenty for her and Sammy had already eaten the left over beans from last night. She reached down and patted his round stomach as they walked up the stairs. The dog leaped in front of her and let out a low growl as she opened the back door. She scanned the room, her gaze stopping when her heart flew into her throat. Jessie squared her shoulders, patted the dog on the head then stepped into the room.
"What do you want?"
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His mouth gapped open. "Is that anyway to treat your brother? You've barely acknowledged I'm alive the past two weeks," Russell whined.
Sammy snarled, showing long teeth as Russell rose from Kid's chair at the end of the table. She ran a hand over the dog's head, but didn't quiet him.
"Perhaps I don't care if you're alive or not." Russell glanced from the dog to her. "Tell him to shut up. We need to talk."
She let out a sigh, folded her arms across her chest and thought about his request for a moment. The dog's low growls and ornery yaps made thinking hard.
"Sammy, shush. Sit." The dog kept his eyes on Russell, but stopped snarling. His wide, black rump landed on both of her feet.
"I don't have anything to say to you." Thankful for the dog's protection, she was able to focus on her choice, the one where Russell would never interfere with her life again. Russell gave a look of disbelief. "What? Nothing to say to me? Don't you want to thank me? Don't you think my plan is working out well? I had this all planned, Jessie. I knew you'd never survive a winter in that crumbling soddy. I knew I had to find you a fine house to live in, and I did, didn't I? This is just about the finest house I've ever seen. I've always taken care of you, haven't I Jessie? I've never let any real harm come to you. Did you think it would be any different this time?"
