Their Wayward Bride (9 page)

"Gentlemen," I called out.

Brody stood at my side. "Shit," he muttered.

I was thinking the same thing, but didn't let any emotion show.

"Seems you've got a dead horse on your property a ways back,"
Harding said. He leaned forward on his pommel, his hat shielding his
eyes. I knew them to be crafty and downright mean when he set his
mind to it. Nothing good happened when the man was around.

I'd learned his ways a few years back when he approached me in town,
offering to buy me a drink. Since I'd never laid eyes on him before,
his false friendliness had me wary. I accepted just to suss out the
man's intentions. Our ranches were miles apart, several smaller
spreads between. Over the first shot of whiskey, Harding told me of
the plan he'd devised to force those in the middle to sell, leaving
our enlarged properties touching. After the third shot—the man
wasn't one for moderation—he'd even mentioned an alliance via
marriage; his daughter was just coming into her majority, he’d
said. I'd never met the girl, hell, no one had. She'd been shipped
off to—

Oh shit. Laurel's identity wasn't that much of a mystery any longer.
Hiram Johns was none other than Nolan Turner. That meant she was
Nolan Turner's daughter. His runaway daughter. And the man in the
horse next to his was the man she was to marry. The description she'd
provided yesterday over breakfast was pretty damn accurate. I
wouldn't let my neighbor's rabid dog marry him.

The other two men must be either Turner's or Palmer's goons.

"Broke its leg," Brody replied.

"That much is obvious," Turner muttered, clearly not
amused. "What I'm missing is a daughter."

I looked to Brody, then back to the men. "Never seen her."

It may have been the truth, but Laurel had never actually said she
was Turner's daughter so God wouldn't strike me dead, at least today.

"He's lying," the fat man said. There wasn't a better word
for him than that. The man was plain old fat and I felt sorry for his
horse.

Sheriff Baker shook his head and held out his hand to stop the man.
"Now, Palmer, don't go accusing people of things you have no
proof over."

"To make your job easier, Sheriff, you're welcome to search the
house," Brody offered.

The man looked to the others. "I find that mighty obliging,
don't you, Turner?"

"This ranch is large. She could be in any one of the houses,"
Palmer blustered.

"If I fire three shots with my rifle, the others on the ranch
will head this way," Brody said. "You can ask them all
about your missing daughter and go from place to place looking, but I
don't want to be shot for being hasty with my weapon. Sheriff, if you
can fire the shots, then no one will get hurt by some uneasy trigger
fingers."

The sheriff did just that, the loud reports of his weapon cracking in
the still air.

In the distance, I could see the others leaving their houses, the
stable, the barn.

"Here they come now," I said, trying to be amenable when
all I wanted to do was shoot the bastards. "They'll work their
way here as quickly as they can with the snow."

"In the meantime, go on in and search," Brody offered.

Turner and Palmer were quick to start to dismount. "Only one. I
don't need all of you tracking snow and mud through my house."

"Now see here—" Palmer spouted.

Brody held up a hand. "What's the matter, Turner? You need help
searching for one woman in a house?"

The barb hit its mark. Turner stopped Palmer from getting down, but
climbed down himself. He was in his late fifties and still spry.
"I'll find her," he vowed.

Turner climbed the steps and we moved back out of his way, allowing
him a path to the door.

"Stomp your feet," I reminded.

He swore as he did so.

A minute passed and we stood patiently on the porch. The other
Bridgewater men were approaching now, rifles in hand. Both Brody and
I were sure of what he'd find, or wouldn't. Palmer and the others
seemed uncomfortable and impatient.

Finally, Turner stepped back out holding up a pair of ladies drawers.
"She's here."

Brody made a big show of sighing, scratched his face and tried to
look contrite. "Now Turner, you found those on my dresser?"
He shook his head and grinned. "Don't you ever collect a prize
from when you're at Belle's? That sweet Adeline with the long blond
hair and big tits, I talked her right out of those just last week."

Turner actually blushed.

"What's going on?" Kane said, rifle slung over his arm.
Beside him were Simon, Rhys and Ian. The fight, to Turner and
Palmer's eyes, had become evenly balanced. However, Brody and I could
have taken them all ourselves. I had an itch to do so. Just the sight
of Palmer was revolting.
He
would have married Laurel if she
hadn't ventured out into the storm? No wonder she'd risked her life
to escape.

"Seems a woman's missing. Turner's daughter."

"That your horse over there, Turner?" Simon called out.
"Terrible losing a horse to a break. I heard Mason put him down,
so you must be thankful he didn't suffer."

"Who the hell cares about the horse? I need to find my
daughter." He placed his hands on his hips, the delicate drawers
blowing in the slight breeze.

"A pair of ladies unmentionables does not a woman find,"
Sheriff Baker commented. "Especially since we know we've all
partaken of Belle's girls a time or two."

"Then we'll continue our search," Turner added.

"What has you so hot under the collar for this lass?" Ian
asked, his Scots brogue thick. I knew this meant he was angry, but
Palmer didn't.

"She's my fiancée," Palmer said.

Fiancée.
Not a chance. Laurel was ours and he wouldn't lay a
finger on her.

"I told the men they could search the entire property," I
told the others and they nodded their agreement. "If you're
satisfied your daughter's not in my house, can we move on? Andrew's
house, ah, here he comes now, would be next."

Andrew approached, rifle in hand, Robert next to him. Turner's party
was now certainly out gunned. We had two pompous windbags, a small
town sheriff whose gun rested in his saddlebag and two henchmen. They
were no match for a group of regimental men with a woman to protect.

"We heard the shots."

Turner stomped over to his horse and mounted, the entire group
working their way to exactly where Laurel was. I was confident she
was well hidden, for we'd planned for such contingencies. Regimental
men planned for all situations, especially dangerous ones.

When we were in front of his house, Andrew stepped forward, held up
his hand. "Sheriff, I will permit
you
to search my home.
My wife, Ann, is inside with our new baby and I don't want her
scared."

"My wife is visiting with her, and I agree," Kane added. "I
do not want her fearing for her safety on her own land."

Sheriff Baker nodded his head and dismounted.

"Wait, I don't think—"

The sheriff cut off Turner. "Don't trust me to do my job,
Turner?"

That had the man huffing, but didn't say more.

He turned to Andrew. "I heard about the baby. A boy?"

Andrew nodded and smiled with paternal pride. I saw, too, that Robert
was pleased by the Sheriff's concern, but held back. Our ways weren't
the ways of Simms, of the sheriff and we intended to keep it that
way. Andrew was the man legally wed to Ann and would then be the
baby's sole father—in the eyes of the sheriff.

"Christopher."

Andrew led the lawman up the porch steps and went inside, both men
removing their hats as they did. I could see Ann through the open
doorway, the baby in her arms with Emma standing next to her.

They closed the door behind them to keep the heat within. While we
waited, it was time to get some information out of the other men.
"It's right noble of you to be worried about your daughter,"
I said neutrally.

Turner's gaze shifted from the closed front door to me. "When
you have a child, you'll understand."

"Oh? Didn't you send her off to school when she was just a
child?" Kane asked, crossing his arms over his chest. His breath
came out in puffs of white.

"You wouldn't know the ways here, Mr. Kane, being from another
country and all," Harding countered.

"Oh, I think we Englishmen take the prize for boarding schools,"
Brody added. "Why'd she go out riding when the weather was so
poor?"

Turner whipped his head around to Brody. The tendons in the older
man's neck stood out. "She might be a tad insane," he lied,
albeit poorly.

"Then, Palmer—that's your name?" When the man nodded, I
continued. "If the girl might be a tad insane, why are you
marrying her?"

He stiffened in his saddle. "I'm not marrying her for her mind."

"Don't you worry about daft bairns then?" Ian asked,
putting a little extra emphasis on his accent.

"There's more at stake here than that," the man admitted.

"Oh? And what's that?" Robert asked. "When you don't
find her at Bridgewater, where are you going to search next? There's
plenty of land for her to be."

"Her horse," Turner bit out, "is laying dead on your
property."

"Then the girl, could be laying dead anywhere between your ranch
and here," Simon added.

The sheriff came out then, Andrew following behind. Ann stood in the
doorway.

"She's not in there, Turner. Hell, she's not here. These men
would have brought her to town when the weather cleared or at least
handed her over when we first arrived." The sheriff sighed. "We
aren't going to search every building on the property, are we?"

"Did you search the Carter's house? How about the Reed's? You
passed both their ranches are on the way here," Kane asked.

I could tell by the angry looks on Turner's and Palmer's faces that
they hadn't.

"Is there some kind of bias at play here, Sheriff?" I
asked.

Sheriff Baker held up his hand. "The animal is on your land,"
he offered.

"As I said before you came out, she could have fallen off
anywhere between Turner's spread and here. The storm was mighty
fierce, and for a woman to go out alone? You think she'd make it this
far? Alive?"

The sheriff nodded sagely. "Let's go, gentleman. We've wasted
enough of their time."

The men didn't look happy. Turner and Palmer didn't have the business
deal without Laurel and the two goons didn't have any faces to smash
in. Sheriff Baker climbed up onto his horse, tipped his hat. He was
the first to turn his animal around and the rest, grudgingly,
followed.

It wasn't until they'd gone over the slight rise in the distance,
indicating they were on their way back to town, did we go inside. It
was time to get the truth, all of it, from Laurel.

CHAPTER EIGHT

LAUREL

When we heard the shots, the ladies froze in place. They'd told me
that three shots meant something was terribly wrong and indicated
that men were needed to help immediately. Within a few minutes—which
felt like forever—Andrew had stormed into the kitchen through the
back door and led me to what he called a Priest's Hole. It was a
secret space to hide built beneath the stairwell. A secret latch
opened the door and I easily fit inside.

Andrew, in no uncertain terms, told me that there were men at Mason
and Brody's house and were most likely searching for me. He’d
recognized the sheriff, even from a distance, which meant there was
no real danger. Only to me. He would have pushed me out of the way to
get Ann and the baby in first if there was truly a danger.

Of course it was my father. Mason and Brody assumed they'd come
searching for me and I knew it as well. I just didn't want to believe
they'd actually come. It only meant I was still of value to them.
They didn't
care
about me, only needed me for their own
personal gains, whatever they were. My stomach lurched at the idea of
Mr. Palmer or my father finding me and went into the hidden space
without complaint. Ann gave me a blanket to sit upon and I was
comfortable enough, but time moved so slowly in the dark.

I heard the women's voices, although muted, the baby fuss, then
settle. I focused on my breathing and staying as quiet as possible.
The sound of men's voices had me listening intently. One voice was
Andrew's, the other one I didn't recognize. They spoke of the baby in
easy, congenial tones.

"You're welcome to search the house, Sheriff," Andrew said.

"I don't care if she's here or not. In fact, if she were here,
I'd hide her. Turner's a pain in my…," he coughed, then
continued, "I beg your pardon, ladies. He's quite difficult to
deal with. Add that man Palmer and those two are like rattlesnakes.
Vicious. Mean. Wily. They're up to something else they'd leave that
poor girl alone."

"Poor girl? What do you mean, Sheriff?" Ann asked. "Have
they hurt her?"

"Mrs. Turner died while birthing the girl and the man has never
gotten over it. From what I remember, he probably blamed her for
killing her own mother, then shipped her off to some school far away.
Haven't seen hide nor hair of her since."

"Then how do you know she's actually missing or even back in
Simms?" Andrew asked.

There was a pause. "I don't. If you hear of this girl, you send
her to me, not back to her father. I wouldn't wish that on my worst
enemy."

"Thank you, Sheriff, we'll do that."

"Ma'am."

I only heard silence for several long minutes, assuming they went
outside. Then I heard footsteps. The door opened and I jumped, the
light blinding me.

"Come on out, sweetheart. They're gone." Mason.

I gripped his hand and stood, blinking against the bright sunlight. I
held onto him tightly not only because I had prickles in my legs from
being sedentary, but because I needed the connection. Everyone was
there and they were staring at me. Mason and Brody. Robert, Andrew
and Ann. Rhys, Simon and Cross. MacDonald and McPherson. Emma with
two men I assumed were her husbands, Ian and Kane.