"We've jawed enough." Stephanie Quinter's hand turned to steel. "Here, take her to the horses." Thrust forward, her heels couldn't catch ground before rough hands grabbed both shoulders. Jessie twisted, but his grasp was as strong as his mother's. A snide laugh bolted from his lips as his fingers dug into her flesh. A shiver rose up her spine as Stephanie Quinter blew out the lamp and darkness shrouded the tiny sod house. The man pushed and she stumbled over the threshold. The thud of the thick door echoed into the night as he forced her to walk across uneven ground. Blinking didn't help, the blackness surrounding them made everything invisible.
A flash of lightning, far off on the horizon, did little to lighten the area. She bowed her head, it really didn't matter, light or dark, she didn't have much hope. Russell had struck again. Her toe stubbed a rock, and the hands squeezed harder.
Twisting against the brutality, Jessie lifted her chin. "Mrs. Quinter, please, there must be some misunderstanding. Perhaps we could go back in the house. I'll make us some tea." Fully aware of the fact she didn't have any tea, but did have a few white sage leaves she could boil, she continued, 15
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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"I'm sure we can settle whatever problem my brother may have caused if we just sit down and talk about it." Stephanie Quinter let out a rough guffaw. "See, Skeeter, she's too bright for you. She's just like Kid, always tryin' to talk things through." Two horses a few feet in front of them came into view as the woman spoke again, "Here, tie her hands behind her back and put her on my horse." Rough hands slid down her sleeves then pulled her wrists behind her back, straining her shoulders in their sockets. Jessie twisted at the pain. The man named Skeeter tugged harder and began to wrap something around her wrists. A tight knot made her shoulder blades form a v in her back and caused the material of her dress to stretch across her breasts. She wiggled and tucked her chin to her chest, fearful the buttons holding the worn material together might pop.
"She can ride with me," Skeeter said. Fear deeper than when she'd opened the door to the double barrel shotgun threatened to make her knees buckle. Skeeter's hat flew off as Stephanie Quinter cuffed the back of his head. "I said put her on my horse and that's what I meant. Now quit stalling. The storm's gettin' closer!" Without warning, Jessie left the ground. Of their own accord, her legs parted to straddle the leather seat as her bottom landed in a saddle. She folded over the horn, pressing her chest to the leather to keep from slipping off. A split second later, the saddle tugged sideways. Leaning the opposite way, she bit her lip to keep from suggesting someone tighten the girth strap. Leather creaked as Stephanie Quinter climbed on behind her. The saddle 16
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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straightened as the woman slid her feet into the stirrups and pushed the shotgun into a long, leather pouch. The front swells of the saddle pressed against Jessie's hip bones as the woman made enough room for both of them in the seat and short arms reached around to take the reins looped over the saddle horn.
Skeeter continued to mumble under his breath, but mounted his horse, and then caught up to ride beside them as they cantered out of the yard. Jessie pressed her knees against the leather, and Stephanie's arms tightened around her, keeping her secure in the saddle as they traveled away from the soddy.
Far away, where the great flat land met an endless sky, flashes of lightning danced like fireflies. The bolts little more than jagged strips of light. The sight wasn't new. Heat lightning often filled the Kansas summer sky. The further they rode, the heavier the night air grew. Jessie let out a long slow breath. The woman was right, a storm brewed. Or had Stephanie Quinter been referring to the squabble with her brother? She tucked her chin to her chest and closed her eyes.
What had Russell done this time? For the past ten years he'd found more trouble than a nosey hound. No, that wasn't quite right. He'd
created
more trouble than a nosey hound. Since she'd been eight years old, his actions had been tearing apart her life.
It had been so long since she knew a normal life. When cholera struck their parents, within three days of each other, she and Russell had been left with a profitable business 17
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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outside Independence, Missouri. Near where the river turned north and pioneers unloaded wagons from the steamships to prepare for their trip west. Each spring the small city became a boomtown while the wagon trains formed. Jessie remembered those happier times so often, she wondered sometimes if they were dreams instead of memories. Russell had been fifteen and attempted to take over where their father left off. In less than five years the money, the business, and their home were gone. With little more than the clothes on their backs, they left Independence, begging passage with one of the wagons heading west. Russell said they were moving to a new home and business. At thirteen, Jessie had been too young to know what had all transpired, but a gut feeling said Russell's conniving was the reason they had to leave Independence. It was also why the wagon train deserted them in the middle of Kansas.
For the past five years, they'd traveled from town to town. Sometimes finding abandoned homesteads to live in, but before long one of Russell's deals would back fire, and they'd have to leave again. When Jessie found the soddy eighty miles west of Dodge City—a place where she thought they'd both be killed for sure—she'd told him no more. She wasn't leaving again, no matter how much trouble he found himself in. And she meant it.
Two months ago, she'd walked ten miles into the small town of Nixon and claimed the uninhabited cabin as her own. Kansas wasn't as stringent as other states; they allowed single women to own property. The state had even given 18
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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women the right to vote in school district elections several years ago.
The clerk at the land office said the land was hers for claiming, as well as the contents of the small shack. When the previous owner had died, his wife left everything to return to her family. Everything wasn't much, but at least they had the basic home furnishings and a roof over their heads—more than what they'd had for a long time.
Jessie had scraped out a small garden and penned in a few prairie chickens, but the most significant thing about the soddy was the fresh water well out back—a precious commodity on the prairie. She had such high hopes of staying put this time.
Something bounced off her cheek, bringing her thoughts to the present and accenting living happily at the soddy wasn't likely to happen. A low rumble of thunder ricocheted across the land and large drops of rain began to fall. The woman behind her heeled the horse into a faster run, and Jessie bent her head again, this time against the weather. A short time later they arrived at a homestead. The horse skidded to a halt, and Stephanie Quinter pulled Jessie from the horse at the same time she dismounted. Startled by the unexpected, swift movements, she tried to catch her balance, but the slimy ground sent her feet askew. The wet material of her dress clung to her trembling legs, and the tight rope twisted about her wrists made stability impossible. Prepared to hit the ground, Jessie let out a small yelp. The woman grabbed her shoulder to keep her from falling. With more 19
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
by Lauri Robinson
speed than Stephanie Quinter seemed capable of, she was towed through the sheets of rain and into a small house. The warm glow of a coal oil lamp lit the room. Jessie flipped her head to toss wet strands of hair from her face. Dry and comfortable, Russell lounged in front of a stone fireplace. Mad enough to spit nails, she shook her head, trying to stop water from dripping into her eyes. As the words formed in her mind, they flew from her mouth, "What have you done this time?"
"Sit down," Stephanie gave Jessie a slight push toward the closest chair.
Jessie sat, but her glare never left her brother. Another man, sitting next to Russell said, "That's your sister, Russ?"
Her brother nodded. "Yes, but I assure you, she's much prettier when she ain't soak 'n wet." Jessie's lips puckered as she glared harder. She felt like a drowned rat and probably looked like one too. Her waist length hair must be as tangled as a horse's tail after the speedy ride across the flatlands, but her brother didn't have to point it out. Her fingers itched to wrap around his bony neck and squeeze. She turned to the woman hanging a dripping bonnet and cloak on a wooden peg. "Mrs. Quinter, may I be untied now?"
Stephanie Quinter walked over and picked up the shotgun she'd set on the table then turned to hang it on the wall beside the door. "No, I don't think so. Not yet anyway." 20
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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"I promise I won't move. The rope is extremely tight." The door beside her flew open. Wind and rain blew in. She crouched at the water slapping against her.
"Damn it, Skeeter! Can't you do anything right? Shut the door, you're gettin' my floor wet," Stephanie Quinter shouted with annoyance.
Jessie looked at the wooden floor, a luxury her soddy didn't have. Overall, the cabin was solidly built, not a drip nor drop of rain found its way in. Long streams of muddy water were most likely flowing down the walls of her sod home. Her gaze continued to make a full circle of the large room. Two doors, one on each end wall, led to what she assumed were bedrooms, and a ladder rose to a loft above. Though small, the home was as neat and clean as the finest mansion.
"Look at that. Her hands are white. You tied the rope so tight it's cuttin' off the blood flow." A loud thump sounded the same time as Stephanie's words. Jessie knew Skeeter had been smacked again even before she heard his whine. Hands began to loosen the rope behind her back. She took a deep breath. It was as if a thousand red-hot needles had been shoved into her hands. Huffing through the pain, she waited for the ropes to fall from her wrists.
"There, that better?" Stephanie stepped in front of her, reached out and patted one cheek. "Sorry 'bout that, I should have checked the knot sooner."
Jessie wiggled her hands. Trying to rub them together and ease the stinging. Ropes still restrained her wrists, just not as tight. She glanced toward Russell, noticing for the first time his hands were tied behind his back as well. 21
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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He grimaced and lifted his shoulders. It was his classic
'Sorry, I screwed up again' look. Jessie let out a deep sigh. She'd been waiting for the other shoe to drop. The past three months had been too quiet, too perfect. She closed her eyes. What has he done this time?
"Your brothers back yet?" Stephanie asked.
"No, Ma, ain't seen 'em yet," the man sitting beside Russell answered. The voice sounded more like a teenager than a man. Jessie peeked through her lashes, but a shadow from the stone wall fell across his face, making it hard to tell.
"Good, you and Skeeter go get Kid." Stephanie began to dip water out of a bucket and pour it into a coffee pot.
"Kid? What we gotta get Kid for? He ain't gonna like this." His head shook from side to side.
Jessie glanced to the loft, wondering how a child could sleep through the ruckus of the house. A tinge of sorrow softened her fear, imagining how the kid they spoke of was probably hiding beneath the covers, frightened to death.
"He'll like it just fine once he finds out we got her for him." Stephanie scooped ground coffee into the pot then set it on the stove.
"For Kid? What does Kid want with her? Does he know about Miss Molly?" The skinny frame rising from the chair was that of a teenager, not quite a kid, not quite a man. Lamp light bounced off dark eyes wide with shock, or was it fear?
"Get off your arse and go get Kid!" Stephanie twisted, grabbed a broom, and whacked the boy with the straw end. He covered the back of his head with both hands as another wallop hit and scrambled toward the door. 22
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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"Ma, we can't go get Kid. It's really raining out there," Skeeter said as the boy skidded to a halt behind him.
"Yeah, and it's only gonna get worse. Now go get Kid
'afore the lightning and wind hits."
"But Ma, Kid ain't gonna come with us. You know that." Skeeter reached behind his back and pulled the boy to stand in front of him. Quicker than a fly, the younger boy shot back behind Skeeter, the two of them continued to try and use the other for a shield as their mother stomped across the room.
"Well, if'n you know what's good for ya, you'll figure out a way to get him here. And be quick about it!" She went after both of her sons with the broom.
"I still don't think it's fair. You said I could have her." Skeeter scrambled out the door as the whisk of the broom hit the younger one again.
Stephanie Quinter shouted into the rain, "And what would you do with a woman this fine? You ain't got no idea how she needs to be treated." She turned to Jessie, a smile softening her haggard face. "But Kid does. You'll make him a good wife."
"Wife?" Jessie choked on the word as the door slammed shut.
23
Shotgun Bride [The Quinter Brides Book One]
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Kid Quinter settled the last clean dish into the cupboard and turned to the black dog lying under the table. "That was a right fine meal, Sammy, if I say so myself." The big hound crawled out and walked over to heel by his dust covered boots. Kid grinned as Sammy's head tilted to accept the hand rubbing his ear.
"You tired too, boy? I know I am. It's been a long week, but it was a good drive. Got us some good stock this time, but like you, I'm glad to be home." He gave the dog one final pat. "Come on, time for bed." Before they left the room, Kid blew out the lamp on the table, as well as the one on the wall by the sink. He picked the third one off the counter to light his way though the house and up the stairs to his bedroom. Five years ago, he'd built the large, solid home. The kind a cattle baron would live in. The house he'd always wanted. It had taken time and a lot of hard work, but he'd done it. And he was well on his way to being a baron. Pride filled his chest at the thought of both accomplishments. A twitch pulled at his cheek. If only his father were here to see it—to see what you could accomplish when you set your mind to it. Halfway through the front room Sammy left his side. The dog ran to the front door, barking. "You already went out for the night old man, it's time for bed." Kid kept walking toward the stairway.