Page 25 of Short-Straw Bride

Meredith watched him, her brows slightly quirked.

“Arms up,” he said as if she were a child and not a very beautiful, very grown woman. “Crock is gonna bring some tea and soup in a bit, and you won’t be able to eat if you’ve got a death grip on those blankets.” He scrunched the shirttails in his hands and stretched the unbuttoned neck hole wide. “Put this on. It’ll cover you up and still allow you to eat.”

She hesitated for a moment, then released the blankets and stuck her arm through the sleeve, her disgruntled expression making him smile.

With Meredith’s condition no longer critical, Travis joined his brothers outside the following morning. He and Crockett split her care between them, and at her insistence, only checked in on her when a break in their work allowed it. Her head still pained her, though the willow bark seemed to take the sharpness away, but it was the dizziness that kept her in bed. He’d provided her with a book to read, Ballantyne’s The Wild Man of the West, and while he doubted a less feminine book had ever been written, she’d assured him it helped pass the time.

Late that morning, Travis headed to the pump. It was his turn to look in on Meredith. He pulled off his work gloves, tucked them into his coat pocket, and ran his hands under the icy water streaming from the spout. Then he dampened his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. As he moved the cool cloth around to the back of his neck, two shots fired in close succession echoed from the direction of the road.

Company.

In a blink, he unfastened the protective loop on his holster, his fingers testing the freedom of his Colt. After Mitchell’s attack, he and the boys had taken to wearing their gun belts even when close to the house.

“Neill, take position by the shed!” Travis yelled as he ran to the corral. He ducked through the fence and grabbed his saddle from where it lay slung over the top rails. He caught a glimpse of Jim running around the corner of the shed and called out for him to guard the road.

Crockett appeared at the corral with a horse blanket, and Travis whistled for his gelding. As the two worked in tandem to get the animal ready to ride, Travis ordered Crockett to see to Meredith’s protection.

“She warned us Mitchell’s man would return to make another offer after the fire. Things might get ugly when I spit in his face.” Travis mounted, and Crockett moved to open the railings.

“I’ll watch over her, Trav. Just keep your head out there.”

He nodded to his brother and nudged Bexar into a run, his eyes only briefly touching on his bedroom window as he charged past the house.

11

Meredith shivered as a draft from the open window passed over her skin, yet her trembling had more to do with her concern over Travis than the cold. Crockett had assured her that his presence in her room was simply a precaution, but the rifle he held and the way he constantly scanned the trees outside as if searching for invaders did little to put her at ease.

What would Roy do when Travis still refused to sell? For he would refuse. She was certain of it. Would there be another fire? Would the house be targeted next? Or would Roy finally give up?

Please, Lord, let him give up.

But in her heart she knew he wouldn’t. Roy’s ambition ran nearly as deep as Travis’s loyalty. Something drastic would have to occur before either man gave an inch.

Something drastic . . . Meredith’s breath grew shallow.

“You don’t think he’s walking into a trap, do you?”

Crockett spared her the smallest of glances before turning back to his vigil. “Travis is smart. He’ll assess the situation before revealing himself, and even then, he’ll keep his gun trained on whoever’s there. He can handle himself.”

If Crockett was so confident of Travis’s abilities, why was he clutching his rifle like a soldier about to be called to the front line?

“What if Roy sent more than one man? What if they lured him with their shots, then cut the fencing wire and caught him unaware? Someone should check on him. He’s been gone too long.”

“He’s fine. Now hush.” The gentle reprimand had the intended effect, but her fears must have been communicated at least a little, for when Crockett returned his attention to the window, he fidgeted with his rifle grip and shifted his stance three times before settling.

Meredith held her tongue, but her worries festered. She watched Crockett watch the yard. Every time his focus snapped to a new location, her breath caught.

Just when she thought she’d surely go mad from the waiting, a distinctive low birdcall drifted through the window—one she vaguely recalled hearing the afternoon she arrived. Crockett relaxed immediately and pivoted to wink at her. “I told you he was fine.”

Thank you, Lord!

Meredith sagged against her pillows, relief bringing the sought-after comfort that had eluded her earlier. She grinned at Crockett, but before she could ask any questions, he slammed the window shut and strode out of the room, rifle in hand.

What did that mean? Was danger still afoot? Perhaps he was simply eager to greet his brother and hear the details of his encounter. Hmmm . . . She wanted to hear those details, too, and she doubted the Archers would make a point to share them with her. They were forever telling her not to worry. A rather bothersome trait, that.

Why did men think they had to protect women from reality? She didn’t mind being protected from wild animals or murderous villains, but from the truth? Meredith made a face as she threw back the bedcovers. The more she knew about a situation, the less likely she was to worry, not the other way around. If she was to stay with the Archers another day or two, she needed to know what was going on.

Holding a steadying hand to her head, she swiveled her legs to the edge of the bed and dangled them over the side. She blinked as the floor seemed to tilt forward and back and waited for the dizziness to pass. Grasping the top of the headboard, Meredith stood slowly, her bare toes digging into the rag rug to aid her balance. She still wore Travis’s shirt over her nightdress, and it bunched uncomfortably at her waist. With her free hand, she tugged it down over her hips and untwisted the skirt of her sleeping gown before attempting to move.