Page 19 of Short-Straw Bride

“Thanks.” Travis swiveled to see which brother had just saved his hide, only to find Meredith standing there, an empty stockpot in her hands. His gratitude evaporated.

“Get out of here!” he shouted.

The woman was as bad as Samson.

He tried to order her out again, but a chest-heavy cough blocked the words as it pummeled his ribs. It bent him forward, and Meredith took advantage of his weakened state. She dropped the pot and pulled something from under her arm as she rushed toward him. Clicking her tongue, she latched onto the opposite side of Samson’s halter and tapped his hindquarters with the end of a long stick.

The mule hopped and kicked, but the movement carried him closer to the door, so Travis bit back his protest. They’d nearly made it outside when the roof collapsed. Twenty feet behind them, timber beams splintered the weakened loft floor and slammed into the ground of the barn with a deafening crash. Meredith screamed. Samson bucked and contorted. Meredith lost her hold on the halter and stumbled sideways. Travis strained to lead the animal away from her, but Samson finally grasped the danger the barn represented and kicked wildly for his freedom.

Travis released his grip on the halter. “Go!”

The panicked mule kicked out a final time and ran out to the corral.

Travis spun toward where he’d last seen Meredith, and a new terror twisted his gut. She lay crumpled on the hard ground.

“No.” The whispered denial fell from his lips as he ran to her. He dropped to the ground and yanked his gloves from his hands. “Meredith?”

She gave no answer. Not even a moan. He reached beneath her head to support it as he hoisted her into his arms, his only thought to get her away from the fire. But something sticky wet his fingers.

Blood.

8

Travis gathered Meredith close to his chest and ran out of the barn. He didn’t stop until he reached the pump. Neill was at the trough filling a pail. He straightened when he saw Travis approach.

“What happened?” His eyes roamed over Meredith’s limp form, and beneath the soot, his face paled.

“Fetch Crockett.” When Neill just stood and stared, Travis’s voice sharpened. “Now!”

Neill flinched and dashed off, leaving his pail behind.

Cradling Meredith’s head in the crook of his arm, Travis slowly knelt and lowered her to a dry patch of ground. He combed her hair from her face, and a feather-light stirring of air brushed against his palm. She was breathing.

“Thank you, God,” Travis murmured.

He shrugged out of his coat, folded it inside out, and gently cushioned her head with it. Careful of her wound, he angled her face so that the right side of her skull would take most of the weight, leaving the left side exposed for Crockett to examine.

She lay so still, it hurt to look at her.

This never should have happened. He should have let her leave as soon as she’d issued her warning. What had he been thinking, dragging her into this mess?

Desperate to do something—anything—to help her, Travis yanked the bandanna from around his neck and dipped it into the trough. Then, kneeling in the dirt beside her, he rinsed away the worst of the soot smears from her face, all the while praying for her eyes to open.

He was so focused on Meredith, he didn’t realize his brothers had surrounded him until Crockett hunkered down and touched his shoulder.

Emotion clogged Travis’s throat. He cleared it away with a rough cough. “I think the mule kicked her.” He tilted her head to expose more of the bloodied area to Crockett’s view. His brother was no doctor, but he was the closest they had. Ever since the day Jim had been shot, Crock had taken it upon himself to memorize the two medical books in his father’s study, Gunn’s New Domestic Physician and A Dictionary of Practical Medicine. Travis just prayed there’d been something in those books that could help Meredith.

Crockett pulled off his gloves and probed the wound. Meredith moaned and thrashed her arms, but her eyes didn’t open. Travis took her hand in his, wishing he could do more.

“She can feel the pain,” Crockett observed. “That’s a good sign. But I’m going to need to get her into the house, where the light is better, before I can tell you more.”

Crockett made as if to pick her up, but Travis nudged him aside. “I’ll carry her.” His brother shot him an odd look. Travis ignored it. Meredith was injured because of him. She was his responsibility.

After pushing to his feet, he shifted Meredith’s weight in his arms and turned to Jim and Neill. “The roof’s gone, so let the barn burn itself out. Keep an eye on it, though, and don’t let any sparks spread to the house or shed. Neill, when it’s under control, fetch the draft horses and Miss Meredith’s paint from the creek bed, and tie them up by the old lean-to behind the shed. Jim, take care of the barn. Oh, and one of you better keep watch in case Mitchell’s men decide to return. I’ll come spell you when I can.”

“Take care of the girl,” Jim said. “We’ll handle things out here.”

Travis nodded and strode toward the house.