The Independent Bride (2 page)

“I wonder who buys lobster?” Moriah said, holding up a can.

“At seventy-five cents each, not many people.”

“How can you tell?”

“It’s marked on the bottom,” Abby said, turning the can upside down.

“I suppose we’ll have to learn how much everything costs. I’ll see what’s through that door,” Moriah said, indicating a sagging door beyond a counter and the potbellied stove that was likely their only source of heat during the winter. “Maybe the clerk is having his noon meal.”

“No matter what he’s doing, I’ll want to know why he isn’t watching the store. Anyone could drive away with a loaded wagon and he’d be none the wiser.”

The sound of footsteps behind them caused both women to turn. Three men had entered the store, men unlike any of Abby and Moriah’s acquaintance. Two were tall and thin, one shorter and broad with muscle. All three wore sturdy boots caked with mud, dirty pants, and heavy coats. Three very dissimilar hats covered heads of unkempt hair and shaded faces obscured by shaggy beards.

Abby’s first impulse was to escape through the back door. These men looked wild and dangerous. And drunk. But she told herself not to be foolish, that most westerners would probably look wild and dangerous compared to men in St. Louis.

The men moved slowly, apparently letting their eyes gradually become accustomed to the dark interior. Instinctively Abby and Moriah moved closer together behind a counter that displayed stacks of men’s checked shirts and heavy wool pants. Abby started to offer to help them, but these men had no reason to know she owned the store or that she had the authority to accept money for purchases. Furthermore, she didn’t know anything about the stock, and probably wouldn’t know the price of what they wanted or where to find it. Any attempt to help them would probably just create confusion.

“I’ll see if there’s someone in the back who can help you,” she said.

“No need,” the broad-shouldered man said. “You’ll do just fine.”

“I’ve only just arrived and don’t know the stock,” Abby said.

As the man approached, Abby’s first impression was confirmed. He was big and frightening. Her instincts told her to be wary; her brain said he was a customer who needed help.

“You can do everything I want,” the man said.

Since Abby felt incapable of doing anything, that was not a comforting thought.

“I’ll do the best I can,” Abby said. “Do you need supplies?”

“Yeah, we need grub,” one of the tall men said. They had come up behind their friend, standing a little to each side of him. They looked even bigger and more fearsome up close.

“That ain’t all we need,” the big man said.

“I imagine you would appreciate a bam and a shave,” Abby said, “along with new clothes. We can help you with the clothes, but you’ll have to seek out a hotel for the rest.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to strangers in such a familiar manner,” Moriah whispered to her sister.

“I like it when gals is friendly,” the man said. “All three of us likes it a lot.”

The men grinned at Abby, but she was sure their interpretation of friendly behavior differed from hers by a considerable degree.

“It’s my intention to be as friendly as possibly to all customers,” Abby said. “It’s good business.”

The grins grew even broader. “Sure is,” the man said. “I wish more ladies felt that way.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to take a bath and have your dinner before you do your shopping?” Moriah asked.

“We done our shopping,” the big man said. “Now we’re ready to buy.”

Abby said, “Just tell us what you want. We’ll try to find it, but you’ll have to carry it out to the wagon yourselves.”

One of the tall men stepped forward and swept Moriah up into his arms. ‘This is what I want. I’ll carry her out to the wagon.”

“Put me down,” Moriah cried. She underlined the urgency of her request by beating the man about the face. She might as well have saved her energy. The man appeared completely unaffected by her blows.

Abby realized these men had misinterpreted everything she’d said. “Put my sister down immediately,” she ordered. “We’re the owners of this store, not doxies selling our virtue for a few dollars. If you wish to buy supplies, we’ll try to help you. Otherwise, I must ask you to leave. Not before you release my sister, however,” she said, when the one man started to turn.

He acted as though she hadn’t spoken. Having captured his prize, he seemed determined to hold on to it.

“You can’t have one to yourself,” the other tall man said. “There’s not enough to go around.”

“You can share with Larson.”

“I ain’t sharing with nobody.” The barrel-chested man pointed straight at Abby. “She’s my woman.”

“I’m nobody’s woman,” Abby declared. “Neither is my sister. Tell your friend to put her down immediately.”

Larson just laughed. “Orman ain’t had a woman in more than six months. Now he’s caught himself one, you can’t expect him to let her go.”

Moriah continued her futile struggle.

“That’s exactly what I expect,” Abby stated as she walked past Larson. “Put her down this instant,” she ordered Orman. She pulled ineffectively on his arm. “If you don’t, I’ll summon the police.”

“Do I have to?” Orman said, turning to Larson.

“Yeah, you do,” the third man said. “There’s not enough for you to have no woman to yourself.”

“Shut up, Hobie,” Larson said. “You got another female around here?” he asked Abby.

“I thought you were here to buy supplies. It never occurred to me that you’d… well, it never occurred to me. Tell that man to put my sister down.”

Abby didn’t like the way Larson eyed her, like she was a piece of meat he was checking for excess fat. Neither did she like it that Orman didn’t set Moriah down. She was unused to such men, and she was becoming afraid.

Larson turned to Orman. “You and Hobie share that one. I’m taking the mouthy one for myself.”

Before Abby could utter the outraged protest on the tip of her tongue, Hobie pulled a knife from his belt.

“Put her down, Orman. You’re going to have to cut me to keep her.”

Moriah hit the floor with a thud as Orman pulled his own knife. She was up in an instant and clutching Abby with both arms. Abby gaped at the two men. Their knives had twelve-inch blades and looked as sharp as razors.

“We could share like Larson said,” Orman said.

“I ain’t sharing.”

“This is absurd,” Abby said. “Leave my store immediately.”

Larson turned his drunken, leering gaze on her. “You two stay still while Orman and Hobie settle who gets the quiet one.”

Abby couldn’t have moved if she’d wanted to. There were only two routes of escape. Orman and Hobie filled one. Larson blocked the other.

Abby watched in fearful fascination while Orman and Hobie circled one another, feinting, lunging forward, backing away from a flashing blade that could easily have severed a finger, maybe even a hand. As they maneuvered, trying to find an opening, they backed Abby and Moriah closer to the side of the store that had neither door nor windows. Larson’s attention was focused on the combatants. Taking what she feared might be her only chance, Abby grabbed Moriah’s hand, and the two of them made a run to get round him.

Larson took a quick step forward and his huge arm swung up and out, trapping them against the wall. “Stay put.”

“They mean to rape us,” Moriah whispered after they’d retreated beyond Larson’s reach.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Much to her surprise, Abby was so mad, she almost forgot to be afraid. “This place is full of weapons and ammunition,” Abby said. “All we have to do is get our hands on it.”

“But that would mean we’d have to shoot them.”

“Better that man let ourselves be raped.”

It shouldn’t be difficult to reach the weapons. They were so far from the door, Larson probably wouldn’t pay attention if she eased away from him. Being careful not to move too quickly, Abby edged toward the guns. Her fearful looks, while not entirely false, were intended to make Larson think they were merely trying to get as far away from him and the fight as possible.

The last, at least, was true. Orman had drawn blood. It ran down Hobie’s cheek and dripped onto his coat.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Orman said. “Say we can share.”

Hobie responded by throwing himself at Orman. Both men were bleeding when they separated.

“Go easy,” Larson cautioned. “You’ll be soft pickings for some grizzly if you get cut real bad.”

“Do you know anything about pistols?” Abby whispered to her sister.

“Of course not. How could I? I never went hunting with Father every chance I got”

Abby knew almost nothing about pistols or shotguns— her father had taught her to shoot with a small rifle— but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She picked up a pistol and a box of shells. But as soon as she opened the box, she could tell the shells were the wrong size.

A shout caused her to look up. Orman had cut Hobie again.

“That’s enough,” Larson said. “I don’t want you crippled. You share with Orman or find your own woman.”

Realizing Hobie’s wound would occupy them for only a few minutes, Abby searched frantically for the correct shells. Her movements became so agitated, she dropped the pistol. The clatter caused Larson to look her way. He was on her in a flash. Moriah tried to stop him, but he pushed her aside. He looked at the shells in her hand and the pistol on the floor.

“Them’s rifle shells,” he said as he knocked the box from her hand. The shells rolled noisily about the floor. “You’d better stick to things a woman knows how to do. Get your woman, Orman. We can come back for the supplies later.”

“Where can we take ‘em?”

“Through that door,” Larson said, pointing to the door through which Abby had once hoped a clerk would materialize. “Old man Pierce lived here. There must be beds back there.”

Abby was determined she wasn’t going to be dragged anywhere if she could help it. Several knives lay next to the pistols. She snatched up two and handed one to her sister. Moriah stared at it as if she didn’t know what to do with it.

“Use it on them,” Abby said as she grabbed up a second knife for herself. Larson could grab one hand but maybe not two. She’d make him sorry he’d ever laid a hand on her.

Larson looked more menacing than before. “Put the knife down before I have to hurt you.”

“You’re going to hurt us anyway,” Abby said. “I mean to hurt you, too.”

“Stop fooling with Hobie’s arm and get around behind them,” Larson said to Orman.

“The other one’s got a knife, too.”

“You’ve got a knife, you fool. Use it.”

Orman’s relief was short-lived. “If I cut her, she can’t be my woman.”

“You don’t have to kill her, you idiot.”

“Don’t take your eyes off Orman,” Abby said to Moriah as she kept her own gaze glued to Larson. “If he comes close, go for his throat.”

The four of them stood there, staring at each other, frozen in a tableau for there seconds that seemed like much longer. Then Larson pounced. Abby didn’t know how a big man who’d drunk too much could move so quickly. One moment he was standing there, glaring angrily at her, the next he had grabbed both her wrists.

Abby didn’t know what came over her. After a life of perfect ladylike behavior, she was kicking, screaming, and biting like an alley cat Larson was too strong for her. She couldn’t break his hold.

Then suddenly she found herself free. Larson had released her and slumped to the floor. Next thing she knew, Orman hit the floor and didn’t move.

A man in a blue uniform turned to Hobie. “Touch that knife and you’ll join your friends.”

Hobie, his arm clumsily bandaged and his face still bleeding, backed into two soldiers, who immediately took hold of him. The man who’d issued the threat turned toward Abby. She found herself staring up into the face of a very tall military officer. She knew nothing about the bars and ribbons that signified rank and decorations, but she could tell this man had been rewarded with a generous measure of both.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked.

“No, but he scared me very badly.”

He smiled and pointed at the knives. “It looks like you were ready to give a good account of yourself.”

Abby stared down at her clenched hands. She still held a knife in each. She told herself she was safe, that Larson couldn’t hurt her anymore. For a moment her muscles wouldn’t respond. Then her strength left her in a rush and the knives clattered to the floor. She put out a hand to keep her balance as she slumped against the counter.

He reached out and touched her arm. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

But she wasn’t. She was weak from shock. She still found it difficult to believe the last few minutes had actually happened. If Larson and Orman hadn’t been lying on the floor in front of her, she could’ve believed she’d imagined everything.

But she certainly hadn’t imagined this army man or the effect his touch had on her. Her reaction to him wasn’t at all what she would have expected, even for a man who’d just saved her from a terrible fate. A feeling of excitement caused her pulse to quicken, her breath to come in snatches. Maybe it was his size. He was as big as Larson, taller than Orman. Maybe it was the way he looked down at her with his sky-blue eyes. Maybe it was the warmth of sincere interest in his voice. Maybe it was the feeling that as long as this man was around, nothing really bad could happen to her.