Short-Straw Bride (6 page)

T
ravis sighted down the barrel of his Winchester. A rider on an unfamiliar white-and-chestnut paint thundered toward the porch. Travis released a nervous breath and steadied his aim. The dimness of twilight made it difficult to distinguish features, so he went for the high-percentage shot and drew a bead on the man's chest. But as he moved his finger to the trigger, a sense of recognition registered. The rider had a very familiar posture. Travis jerked the Winchester away from his shoulder, his heart thumping with the dread of what could have happened.

Neill pulled up short of the porch and leapt from the horse's back before the paint had fully stopped. “I ain't too late for supper, am I?”

Travis stormed down the steps and shoved his kid brother hard enough to land his butt in the dirt. “What were you thinking, riding in here without giving the signal? I could have shot you!”

The shocked look on Neill's face gave way to one of abashment. “Sorry, Trav. I thought you'd know it was me, since you sent me to fetch Miss Meredith's horse.”

“Did you forget we were expecting other visitors tonight? Unwelcome visitors?” Travis extended his hand to his brother and yanked him to his feet. “With the poor light and you on a strange mount, for a minute there, I thought you were one of them. You gotta think with more than your belly, Neill.”

“I'll do better next time. I swear.”

Travis gripped the boy's shoulder and offered reassurance with a squeeze. “I know you will. You're an Archer.”

“Jim,” Travis called up to the man waiting on the porch with Crockett, “dish up the vittles. We can't afford for this boy to be distracted. We got too much work to get done.”

Neill's ready smile reappeared, and the tension in Travis's gut relaxed. A little.

As Jim led the way back into the house, Travis hung back and scanned the darkening woods, wondering from which direction trouble would strike.

Lord, I'd be obliged if you'd get us through this night in one piece.

Watching the Archer brothers eat was like watching a twister blow through the room. Meredith sat with her elbows tucked close to her side, afraid to do more than occasionally raise her fork to her mouth for fear of being rammed by a reaching arm or thumped by a tossed biscuit. The venison steak was overdone, the beans gluey, and the biscuits were dry as unbuttered toast, yet the Archers attacked their food like a pack of dogs fighting over a fresh kill. No one spoke. They just ate.

Well, not all of them. The one called Jim slowed down enough to glare at her over his dish and grunt as he chomped down on what must have been a particularly tough piece of venison, giving her the distinct impression that he held her responsible for the condition of the food. Which was probably true. Her arrival
had
delayed their supper. And with the threat of Roy's men so imminent, she supposed haste was more important than decorum. Still, it was a bit unnerving to be surrounded by such ravenous appetites. Therefore, when Travis pushed away from the table and started giving orders not five minutes after the meal had begun, Meredith found herself as much relieved as amazed.

“Jim, you're in charge of the corncrib. Crockett, bring the wagon around and get started on the hay. We won't be able to get it all, but we should be able to save a decent portion. I'll give you a hand as soon as I fill Neill in on what to do with the stock.”

A chorus of chair legs scraping against floorboards echoed in response as each of the Archer brothers stuffed final bites into their mouths and rose to follow Travis. Not one of them spared her so much as a glance, all of their faces set in grim lines.

Feeling left out, Meredith jumped to her feet. “What can I do?”

Travis pivoted, quickly scanning her from head to toe, hesitating ever so briefly on her weak leg. “Stay in the house. As soon as this is over, I'll see you home.” And with that, his long strides carried him away from her and out into the night.

Meredith chased him down and grabbed his arm from behind. “I can help, Travis.”

The dark brown vest Travis wore flapped open as he spun to face her. “This isn't your fight. Just stay in the house and keep your head down. You don't know your way around out here, and it'll only slow me down to answer your questions.”

Even though he didn't say it, she could easily imagine what he was thinking. That telling glance in the kitchen had said it all. He believed her to be weak. A liability.

Meredith made no further protest as Travis left her to jog over to the barn, but as she made her way back to the house, she vowed to prove to him that she was more than just a girl with a limp. She was smart and strong and capable, and any man who thought different needed his opinion adjusted.

She charged through the front door and down the hall to the kitchen. A table full of dirty dishes and a stove covered in food splatter called out a defiant challenge. Meredith narrowed her gaze and stripped out of her cloak. Rolling up her sleeves, she moved to the table and started stacking dirty plates and utensils. It might not be the most glamorous of jobs, but she'd have their kitchen shinier than a new copper kettle by the time those thick-headed Archers returned.

Besides, her mind did some of its best work while her hands were in dishwater. And she had some serious thinking to do. The men were focused on saving the contents of the barn, but they'd really taken no time to strategize ways to protect the barn itself. That would be up to her.

Once the dishes were done and the stove scoured, Meredith set about enacting phase one of her newly hatched plan. First, she pulled out every stockpot, bucket, and washtub she could find. Then she searched the cupboards for medical supplies. She prayed Travis and his brothers would escape injury, but she'd make sure things were ready just in case. Next, she dug through the bedrooms, gathering old blankets. There was more than one way to fight fire, and she aimed to have as many weapons at her disposal as possible.

Meredith piled the blankets in the largest washtub and threaded her arm through the handles of three buckets. Then, with the
cling-clang
of the tin pails bouncing against her hip, she hefted the washtub and headed for the back door she'd discovered in a small room off the kitchen. She scanned the yard, squinting against the dark shadows, until she found a shape that fit what she was looking for. Squaring her shoulders, she made her way to the edge of the paddock.

The men had been busy. The mule and milk cow were already in the corral along with four fully outfitted saddle horses, and she saw the back of the wagon from around the corner of the barn. Male voices called to one another from within the structure, and Meredith guessed they were finishing up the hay. She'd need to hurry if she wanted to be back in the house by the time the men came in to get their coats before they headed out.

Meredith grasped the pump handle and worked it until water gushed from the spout into the horse trough beside the paddock fence. She filled the trough to the brim so it would be easy to refill the buckets quickly should the need arise. Then she filled the washtub and each of the pails. She stacked the blankets beneath the trough to protect them from the wind and returned to the house for the stockpots. When she finished, an entire line of vessels stood ready to extinguish and douse. Meredith nodded in satisfaction and headed back to the kitchen.

From the window, she could barely make out the dark outlines of the trough and bucket line she'd put together, but knowing it was there filled her with a sense of accomplishment. It was odd, really, the protectiveness that welled in her whenever she thought of the barn burning. She'd been on Archer land less than two hours, but a strange sense of belonging flowed through her when she looked out over the yard.

“I know your men are coming, Roy,” she whispered to the darkness, “but I'm going to fight you with everything I've got.”

The sound of the front door opening and the heavy thumping of booted feet turned Meredith's attention away from the window. Wrapping a dish towel around her hand, she grabbed the coffeepot she'd put on earlier and started pouring the steaming brew into cups.

As the coffee worked its way up the sides of the fourth cup, Meredith became aware of a complete lack of sound coming from the men. She tipped back the pot and cautiously glanced up. All four Archers stood bunched in the doorway staring at her as if they'd never seen a woman pour coffee before.

“I thought you'd like something to warm your insides before you set out. The night will be cold, and there's no telling how long you'll be out there.” She smiled as she fought to control the nervous tickle in her stomach.

Finally Travis stepped forward and accepted a cup from her. “Thanks.” His gaze met hers, and a warmth that had nothing to do with coffee penetrated her.

Meredith ducked her head and grabbed another cup, handing coffee to Crockett, Jim, and then Neill. Each man murmured his thanks and dipped his head in deference, but none of them inspired the same quivery feelings as their brother.

Careful, Meredith. You're going home after this. Don't be leaving your heart behind with a reclusive cowboy whose life has no room for you.

“I brought Sadie to keep you company while we're out.” Travis gave a low whistle and a big black dog pushed her way past the Archer legs blocking the doorway. Her nails clicked against the wood floor, and her stiff gait stirred Meredith's sympathy. At a motion from Travis, the animal padded over to Meredith and sat down.

“This is Sadie? The ferocious pup I thought was going to chew me to a pulp?” Meredith grinned at the slightly arthritic dog and bent to pat her head. Sadie's tail swished across the floor in friendly response. “Now that I'm bigger and you're older, you're not nearly as frightening.”

“Frightening? Sadie?” Neill scoffed. “She's just a retired bird dog. Who'd be afraid of
her
?”

“Neill.” Travis spoke the name like a warning.

Meredith laughed softly. “That's all right.” She hunkered down and rubbed the dog more thoroughly along her neck and sides. “Anyone can tell that Sadie is a loyal, sweet-spirited animal. But to a ten-year-old girl with an overactive imagination, who had stories of the vicious man-eating Archer hounds ringing in her ears, Sadie's enthusiasm was easily misinterpreted.”

“Man-eating Archer hounds? What kind of nonsense—”

“Never mind about that, Neill.” Travis cut off his question. “We have other issues to deal with. Grab your coat and mount up.”

Neill complied, followed by Jim and Crockett, leaving Meredith alone in the kitchen with Travis. He shuffled his feet for a moment, then thunked his coffee cup down on the table. “Sadie might be old,” he said, his gaze not quite meeting hers, “but she's a good watchdog. She'll bark if she hears anything, so keep her close at hand.”

“I will.” Giving Sadie a final pat, Meredith straightened.

Travis gripped the back of the chair nearest Meredith, his hands massaging the wood as if he wasn't sure what else to do with them. An odd gesture for a man who wore authority like a well-broken-in hat. The hint of vulnerability in his movements now made Meredith's pulse skip.

“Stay in the house,” he said. “You'll be safe.” His eyes finally met hers. “If anything should happen to me, the boys have orders to see to your protection, so you don't have to worry about anything.”

She lowered her lashes and peered back up at Travis. “Be careful.”

He cleared his throat and looked away. “I will,” he mumbled, then collected his coat from its hook and shoved his arms through the sleeves. “Oh, and, Meredith . . .”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

As Travis strode out of the room, Meredith smiled. Whatever the night held, the trip to the Archer ranch was definitely worth it.

Each of the brothers set out on horseback to their assigned positions, needing the cover of the woods to conceal their presence. They had considered hiding out in the barn, but that would have given them only two vantage points instead of four. If Mitchell's men came in from the east or west, they'd be nearly impossible to spot. Out among the trees, he and his brothers stood a better chance at stopping the attackers before they drew close enough to the barn to toss a torch.