The Independent Bride (41 page)

“Good job,” Hobie shouted across the line of steers. “You’d make a good cowhand.”

Abby was sure her smile was sickly. “The horse gets all the credit. It was all I could do to stay in the saddle.”

The herd finally formed a line of no more man two abreast, but by late afternoon she was exhausted, covered with sweat and dust, and hated the sight of cows. She might never eat beef again. But her ordeal was far from over. With evening came the need to find a bedding ground for the herd and get them settled while she tried to cook something edible.

The men took care of the herd while Abby wrestled with finding enough fuel to build a fire in the open and cooking a stew without getting ash in the pot, getting burned by flying embers when the wind started up, or catching her dress on fire. By the time the stew was done, she wasn’t hungry. She practically had to force herself to drink some coffee, which turned out to be too strong from sitting over the fire so long.

“Best coffee I’ve had in months,” Orman said.

“Stew’s great, too,” Larson said, eating hungrily.

He was covered with dust from riding drag. She could see the outline of where he’d pulled his handkerchief over his nose and mouth. Hobie was still with the herd. He’d eat as soon as Orman replaced him.

Abby had seated herself gingerly on a small boulder. Her bottom was sore, and the muscles in her back and arms were so stiff and knotted from her long day in the saddle, she could hardly bend over. She didn’t look forward to sleeping on the unforgiving, rock-strewn ground. That would be adding insult to injury.

“Do you think we can reach the reservation tomorrow?” she asked.

“If we get an early start,” Orman said.

“Cows is always up early,” Larson said.

Cows! She didn’t understand why people called steers cows. She’d discovered it didn’t matter if they were cows, calves, steers, or bulls. As far as Westerners were concerned, they were cows. And why would anyone want to spend his life hanging around these ornery, dangerous beasts anyway. They liked living in country that was too hot it the summer, too cold in the winter, and too dry all the time. It was filled with rocks, dust, and more thorny plants than any decent country ought to have. There were practically no trees, no rivers, and no roads. If you didn’t become best friends with your horse and know how to use a rifle in your sleep, you could the and no one would ever find you.

If that was what she
really
thought, why did she like living here so much? Why would she want to stay even if her name were cleared and she could go back to St. Louis? When had she decided the land was beautiful rather than a barren and forbidding desert?

She didn’t know, because in the beginning her attention had been focused on all the wrong things. She had concentrated on getting the store running, delivering on her contract, establishing a way to make a living. She had decided to learn as much as possible about living in the West, not because she liked it or thought it was beautiful and challenging, but because it would help her manage her store more profitably. She wanted to learn more about the people, about their hopes and dreams, so she could stock her shelves properly never expecting she would come to like them for themselves. She’d assumed she would have gone back East if she’d had the chance.

Then she’d fallen in love with Bryce and realized she didn’t want to leave. What a time to discover she actually liked sagebrush!

She didn’t understand how the thought of him leaving could hurt so much when it had been less than a week since he’d said he loved her. She didn’t understand how such a short period of hope could overwhelm months of truly believing she didn’t want to fall in love or marry. Obviously she’d been fooling herself. Her reaction was understandable, but it was stupid and self-deceiving. It was also the sign of a weak character, and Abby did
not
have a weak character.

She’d made some mistakes, and she’d paid for them. Her heart was broken, but she would learn to live with it. She would put all thoughts of Bryce McGregor behind her and start over.

“You going to bed down next to the fire?” Hobie asked.

She’d been so deep in thought, she hadn’t realized he and Orman had exchanged places.

“Parker said we ought to sit well back from the fire. I suppose that means we ought to sleep well back from it, too.”

“It can get mighty cold out here at night.”

“I’ll be all right Maybe we ought to move farther back now.”

“Why?”

“Because anyone sneaking up on us in the dark can pick us off like pigeons in a shooting gallery,” Larson said.

“Indians never attack at night”

“It wasn’t Indians that attacked the last herd,” Abby said.

“As long as they was pretending to be Indians, they have to try to act like them, don’t they?” Hobie said.

“Maybe,” Abby replied. “They could be depending on people hating Indians so much, they’ll believe anything against them.”

She tried to stand up and nearly fell.

“You all right?” Hobie asked.

“Just stiff from so long in the saddle,” Abby told him, regaining her balance. “I’ve never ridden so much in my life.”

“Nor chased cows, I bet” Larson said.

“You can be certain I’ve never chased cows.”

She moved her arms and legs to work out some of the stiffness. She was almost afraid to go to bed. Her muscles might be so stiff in the morning she wouldn’t be able to move. She was exhausted, but she wasn’t sleepy. She was certain someone meant to attack them, but she didn’t know when, where, or how many.

She couldn’t help wishing Bryce were here. He knew all about ambushes and how to fight. He knew the best places to make a stand, which strategy to employ, how to use his forces to the best advantage, and dozens of other things she didn’t know about but that were essential to surviving a gunfight with rustlers. Why did she think she could do this by herself? Why hadn’t she tried to talk Bryce into helping her? He would have, even though he didn’t approve of her plan.

She was doing this because it was the only way she could pay her debts. She hadn’t asked Bryce to help her because she had to learn to get along by herself. And now was the best possible time to start. If she was lucky, Bryce would be gone when she got back. It would be hard not seeing him, but it wouldn’t be half as hard as having to say goodbye.

“Have you worked out a schedule for night guard?” Abby asked Hobie.

“Yes.”

“When is it my turn?”

“You don’t have no turn.”

“I’m just as responsible for this herd as anyone else,” Abby said, “so I’ll take my turn. Put my name in the rotation and call me when it’s my turn.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hobie said.

It took Abby some time to find a spot that was not too far from the fire, offered some concealment, and was level and reasonably free of rocks. She had laid out her bedroll and slipped her tired and stiff body inside it when she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Her apprehension eased somewhat when she realized it was only one horse, but she sat up on her bedroll and reached for her rifle.

“Do you hear someone coming?” she called to the men.

“Yeah,” Hobie replied.

“Stay in the shadows until we know who it is and what he wants,” she said.

“I got my rifle ready,” Hobie said.

But as Abby heard the hoofbeats coming steadily closer, she wondered if this might be a ruse to get them so focused on one man, the rest of the attackers could approach unnoticed.

“Keep your eyes open,” she said. “Someone could be sneaking up behind us.”

“I’m watching,” Hobie said.

“Me, too,” Larson added.

Abby listened intently for any sound of men approaching under cover, but she kept her rifle pointed in the direction of the rider whose outline was barely perceptible in the dark night.

“Come to the fire if you’re a friend,” Hobie said. “But know I’ve got my rifle aimed at your heart.”

The rider slowed his horse to a walk, then dismounted. A moment later Bryce walked into the ring of light around the campfire.

Chapter Twenty-five

“What are you doing here?” Abby asked

Bryce felt the muscles in his shoulders relax when he saw Abby emerge from the shadows. For the last several hours he had harangued his horse about the insanity of women, their incredible stubbornness, their inability to recognize danger, and the stupidity of men who ran after them. But he forgot everything the moment Abby stumbled into view. He only remembered he loved her, and she appeared to have been hurt. He rushed forward to put his arms around her, to support her, to hold her steady.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

She tried to push him away, but he held her still more tightly. “You can barely walk.”

“I’m stiff from being in the saddle so long.”

He wanted to tell her that if she’d listened to him she wouldn’t have been in the saddle at all, she wouldn’t be stiff, and neither of them would be out on the prairie in the middle of the night. Instead, he said, “I’ll massage some of the kinks out or you won’t be able to move in the morning.”

“What are you doing here?” Hobie asked. He approached the campfire with his rifle aimed at Bryce. “Why aren’t you wearing your uniform?”

Bryce ignored Hobie. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were going to do?” he asked Abby.

“You’d have tried to stop me.”

“You can’t do this by yourself. What if rustlers attack?”

“We’re armed and ready.”

Abby had no idea what being prepared for a gunfight really meant.

“She’s got us to take care of her,” Hobie said.

“Now she’s got me, too,” Bryce said. He had to admit the three men had served Abby well since she had persuaded him to let them out of jail, but he still didn’t trust them.

“We don’t need your help,” Hobie said.

“I’m not asking you,” Bryce said.

“You can’t boss nobody around without no uniform.”

“I’ve momentarily given up my command,” Bryce said to Abby. “Making sure you’re safe is my personal responsibility.”

“You’re not responsible for me, Bryce.”

“Since when is a man not responsible for the woman he intends to marry?”

“You’re not going to marry me.”

“Have you stopped loving me? Have you decided you don’t want to be Pamela’s mother? Have you decided you don’t want to have my children?”

He hadn’t meant to hit her so hard, but those questions had plagued him from the moment Moriah appeared at breakfast to tell him Abby had disappeared during the night. Moriah had been the one to tell him she was sure Abby had gone to buy beef from Parker. Parker had told Bryce he’d advised Abby to drop about ten miles below the trail. He’d probably still be looking for them if he hadn’t spotted the campfire. Apparently Hobie and his friends didn’t realize such a big fire could be seen for miles.

“We’ve been through all of that,” Abby said.

“Maybe you’ve been through it, but I’m still waiting for an answer.” Abby tried to move from the circle of his arms, but he wouldn’t release her. “Have you?”

“You know I haven’t,” she flung at him.

“What about Pamela, other children?”

“I haven’t changed my mind about anything.” She looked up at him, her eyes bright in the firelight. He suspected she was crying.

“Then why didn’t you let me help you?”

“Because you’d have refused to let me go, and we both knew this was the only solution. You know I can’t be the kind of wife you need. I’ll give you stubborn children who will flout your wishes, and I’ll tell Pamela to forget everything Sarah’s mother told her.”

Bryce didn’t know whether to laugh from relief or shake Abby for practically scaring the life out of him. And all during this interminable, horrible day he’d been worried she didn’t love him.

“You’re exactly the kind of wife I want and need. I want stubborn children as long as they’re yours, and I’ve been telling Pamela for weeks to ignore Sarah’s mother. Now that we’ve cleared that up, we can discuss how soon we’re going to be married.”

“If you think I’d marry you knowing I’d destroy your career and drive you from your family, you’re the one who’s crazy.”

“So you’ve decided you love me enough to give me up for my own good. Is that it?”

She didn’t answer.

“Don’t you think you ought to leave that decision to me? It’s my career and my family.”

“You’ve been out here so long, you’ve forgotten what it’s like back East. Once you get back, you’ll start to think differently.”

“Abigail Pierce, if you think I’m too stupid to be your husband, then say so.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“You must. I’m thirty-two years old, a widower, and the father of an incredible daughter. I’ve fought in a war, commanded a fort, survived growing up in Philadelphia society and my father’s career in Washington, D.C. I remember exactly what life back East is like, and I know exactly what I want and what I’m willing to do to get it. If having you for my wife means changing my plans, I’ll change them.”