The Barefoot Bride (24 page)

“You might want to stop what you're doing for a minute,” Pike said, “and think about meetin’ your maker.”

When the Marauder started to drop the ax from his right hand, Pike said, “Don't make a move. I'm going to shoot you anyway, but if you're real careful, I might let you live a little longer.”

“Well, well, Pike. I always thought this day would come,” the Marauder said.

“How do you know my name?”

“Everybody knows you, Pike. You make a habit of shooting unarmed men. Only, I guess this'll spoil your record, seeing as how I'm wearing a gun—two guns.”

Pike lifted the rifle and sighted along the barrel. “You're gonna die.”

“Everybody's gotta die sometime.”

Pike was getting nervous. He had the rifle aimed right at that Marauder, had the drop on him plain as red paint, but the masked devil wasn't showing scared. What kind of man was he? More to the point, who was he? “Take off that mask,” Pike ordered.

“Can't do that, Pike.”

“I'll shoot if you don't.”

“You'll shoot if I do.”

Pike knew he ought to just shoot the Marauder and get it over with, but he wanted the man to grovel before he killed him. “I figure you're all gurgle and no guts,” Pike said. “So I tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna start shooting at parts of you, and when you decide to take off that mask, you just tell me and I'll stop.”

“I expected as much from you, Pike. Your kind—”

Pike was listening, watching the Marauder's mouth move as he spoke, so he was startled when a gun magically appeared in the man's left hand. Pike pulled the trigger on his rifle as soon as he saw it, and he knew his bullet hit the man. But the Marauder shot at the same time.

Pike saw the yellow flash before he heard the six-gun roar. He stumbled backward—his jaw dropping in surprise—as a bullet smashed into his rifle, splintering it and driving the weapon out of his grasp.

The Marauder dropped the ax and pulled his other gun faster than Pike had ever seen anyone move in his life. But the masked man didn't shoot. He just stood there with both guns aimed at Pike.

Pike felt the sweat break out on his brow. His stomach curled up and forced bile into his throat.

“I ought to kill you,” the Marauder said. “But I'll give you a warning instead. Get out of town, Pike. Get out of Montana. Because if I ever see you again, I'm going to put a bullet through your black heart.”

Pike watched impotently as the Marauder backed away into the darkness. A moment later, he heard the thunder of hoof beats as the Marauder made his escape. Pike grabbed the Colt in his holster and shot into the darkness, hoping he would get lucky, but knowing he was just wasting bullets.

Pike ranted and raved for several minutes after the Marauder was long gone. Not only had he failed to kill the masked man, he'd been made to look a fool in front of the whiskey-seller, who was bound to spread the story in Fort Benton. Drake Bassett wasn't going to be happy when he heard what had happened here tonight. Hell, he wasn't too damn delighted himself!

First the defeat at the hands of that yellow-bellied doctor, and now this! Pike was in a mean mood by the time he hit the outskirts of Fort Benton. He headed for the Medicine Bow Saloon and stomped over to the table in
the corner he considered his own private property, bullied the men sitting there out of their seats, and proceeded to drink three glasses of rye in brooding silence.

What he needed was a woman, Pike decided at last. And only one woman would do. He searched the smoky saloon for Dora Deveraux, and when he didn't see her, he headed up the stairs to her room, knowing full well she was probably with another customer. It was going to mean a fight, but he was itching for one.

He twisted the doorknob planning to walk right in, but the damn thing was locked. “Open up, Dora, and let me in!” Pike yelled.

Dora came to the door, but instead of opening it she spoke through the wood. “I've got a customer, Pike. Come back later.”

“Send him on his way, Dora. Or I'll do it for you.”

“Wait your turn. I'll make it worth your while.”

“I don't wanta wait. Now open this damn door before I kick it in!” he shouted at the top of his voice.

When Dora opened the door, Pike shoved past her, wanting to get his hands on the man he knew would be in her bed. He stopped, gape-mouthed at what he found. A slow red
flush worked its way up his neck. For there in Dora's bed, with pillows plumped up behind his back and covered only in a sheet, sat his nemesis—Doc Kendrick.

“Evening, Pike,” Seth said. “Sorry to inconvenience you, but I got here first.”

Pike took one step toward the bed before he heard the snick of a gun being cocked. He stopped dead. The doc held both hands up and wiggled his fingers to show he was unarmed. Pike turned and saw Dora standing with a small derringer. It wasn't much as guns go, but she couldn't miss at this range, and even a small slug was enough to kill a man if it landed in the right spot. Dora was holding the gun aimed right between his eyes.

“Get out, Pike. And don't come back tonight,” Dora said.

Pike looked from the gun in Dora's hand to the amused expression on Doc Kendrick's face. “Hiding behind petticoats this time, Doc?”

Seth shrugged.

“Bet that new wife of yours'd sure be interested to know where you are right now.”

The doc didn't bat an eyelash, but his face paled, so Pike realized he'd hit a nerve.
“Yeah,” he said. “Next time I see her, I ‘spect I'll just have to have a little talk with her.”

“Stay away from my wife,” Seth said in a deadly voice.

“Whatever you say, Doc,” Pike said. He looked from the unwavering gun in Dora's hand to the doc and back again. It wasn't worth dying just to get laid by Dora. He'd use one of the other girls.

But he'd make Dora sorry. And Doc Ken-drick would pay as well.

Pike tipped his hat and said, “Be seein’ you, Doc.” Both his eyes and his voice hardened when he added, “And you, too, Dora.”

Seth returned in the early hours of the morning. Molly awoke immediately when she heard him moving around in their bedroom.

“Seth?”

“Go back to sleep,” he said.

She turned over and sat up in bed, watching as he undressed. His movements were weary. “You must be exhausted,” she said.

“I am.” He stripped down to his white long-john shirt and drawers and eased into the bed beside her, releasing a hissing breath as he did.

Molly waited for him to reach out for her, to pull her into his arms. When he didn't, she wondered whether he might still be angry from the incident in the loft. “How is Mrs. Gulliver?” she asked.

“What? Oh, fine.”

Molly turned over and inched closer to him. She tentatively put a hand on his side.

He grabbed her wrist and held it away from him.

“Seth, you're hurting me.”

Abruptly, he released her. “Leave me be,” he said. “I'm whipped, Molly. It's been a long day.”

Molly knew she shouldn't take his rejection to heart. After all, he was used to coming back to this room and being alone. Even though he had known she would be there, it still must be an adjustment. Besides, the man had been up all night nursing a woman with troubled bowels. That was bound to make anyone grouchy and brusque.

Molly made all the excuses for Seth she needed to feel better, then made up her mind to turn over and go to sleep. She flipped the covers up over her shoulder—and distinctly smelled perfume.

At first she thought she must be mistaken. She lay there and inhaled slowly and deeply. There was something in the air, all right. She inched over to face Seth again, leaned a little closer, and sniffed the shoulder of his long Johns. Just honest male sweat there. But as she lifted her face, her nose brushed against the back of his head. His hair reeked of the pungent female scent.

Blood thrummed in Molly's veins as she
absorbed the implications of what she had discovered. Was it possible that the reason he had wanted nothing to do with her tonight was that he had already lain with another woman? Had he really been with Mrs. Gulliver, as he had claimed? Or had he been with Dora Deveraux?

Molly hated herself for being so suspicious. Probably Mrs. Gulliver was one of those eccentric old ladies who smothered herself in expensive colognes. So why not just ask him why he'd come home from nursing an old lady smelling like a French doxy?

Molly had opened her mouth to confront Seth when she heard a loud snore. He was asleep. Was it the sleep of the guiltless? Or the sexually sated? For certain, it was the sleep of an absolutely exhausted man. If he wasn't guilty, she would feel like a fool for waking him up.

Maybe now was the time for some of that patience she had learned over the years. All she had to do was wait and watch to see how Seth acted in the morning. She would know if he had been with another woman. Surely the truth would be written all over his face.

Besides, the mysterious Mrs. Gulliver had been invited to the christening party tomorrow for Iris Marsh's new baby. If Mrs. Gulliver
showed up, all Molly's questions might be answered.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Gulliver sent her regrets through her niece, Mrs. Biddle, who came and brought her five-year-old daughter to play with Nessie. Molly had also invited Red Dupree and Jacob Schmidt to the party. Everyone else present had been suggested by Iris, including members of the Methodist congregation in Fort Benton where Iris and Henry attended. Among them were the saddler and his wife, the proprietor of I. G. Baker & Co., the tinsmith and his wife, and three freightmen.

That many people wouldn't have fit in the house comfortably, and Molly was glad the day had turned out sunny and warm, because she could hold the party outside. She had talked Seth into making a table out of a few split logs and two sawhorses and covered it with a piece of the same checked gingham material she had used to make Whit's curtains. Everyone had been asked to bring a covered dish and dessert for the table and a blanket to spread out in the shade of the cot-tonwoods near the house. Besides her own covered dish and dessert, she was providing iced tea and lemonade for everyone.

Molly noticed that the wives liked Seth and
spoke cordially to him. The men nodded politely, but they didn't willingly include him in their circles of conversation. Doc Kendrick was a necessary man to have around when they were ailing, but otherwise, they knew little about him. In the west, one didn't ask questions; information had to be volunteered. Over the past two years Seth had remained aloof from them. Molly saw the strain around her husband's mouth and eyes as he smiled and pretended their indifferent treatment of him didn't matter.

But there was no reason why Seth's relationships with his neighbors couldn't be improved. Molly walked right up to the tinsmith and said, “Your wife tells me you're thinking of adding another room to your home, Mr. Grimbald. I'm sure Seth would be willing to lend a hand if you need it.”

Mr. Grimbald tugged at the neck of his collar and said, “Why, I wouldn't want to impose.”

Molly looped her arm through Mr. Grimbald's and walked him over to where Seth was talking with Ethan.

“I was just telling Mr. Grimbald that you'd be glad to help him build the extra bedroom on his house,” Molly said with a bright smile on her face.

Seth's face looked ominous, and for a moment Molly thought Mr. Grimbald was going to pull her arm out of the socket trying to escape. But she held on as a slow smile spread across Seth's face. He took off his hat, forked a hand through his black hair, and settled the hat again.

“Look, Doc,” Grimbald began in a effort to ease the tension, “I never said I wanted you-”

“I'd be glad to help you, Isaiah,” Seth said. “Matter of fact, I just added a bedroom on here.”

“You did?” Grimbald said. “How'd you cut the door through to the rest of the house?”

“If you want to come with me, I can show

you.”

Molly smiled as Grimbald wandered off with Seth.

When she turned to join the rest of the party, Ethan blocked her way.

“Neatest thing I ever saw,” he said with a grin.

“What's that?”

“Don't play dumb with me, missy. I saw you grab Grimbald. And I saw him nearly jumping out of his drawers to escape your clutches. That's as smooth a manipulation of two men as I've ever seen.”

Molly lifted her chin. “If these people knew Seth, they wouldn't ignore him like they do.”

“I couldn't agree with you more. I just never thought I'd see the day when Seth would rejoin the human race.”

“I didn't know he'd ever left it!” Molly responded tartly.

“Maybe not in body, but in spirit he resigned himself to being alone a long time ago. You're good for him, Molly. He won't thank you for dragging him back among the living, but I will.”

Molly relaxed. “You're a good friend, Ethan. How did Seth ever find you?”

He smiled sardonically. “I found him. Come on over and sit down with me out of the sun, and I'll tell you about it.”

Once they were settled on a quilt under a shady cottonwood, Ethan said, “I was fifteen and on the run from the law when I met Seth for the first time.”

Molly's eyes widened. Was Ethan an outlaw?