Page 43 of Short-Straw Bride

The woman had held her own against Winston like a seasoned verbal warrior. So why had one teasing word from Travis ignited her temper?

Winston clapped Travis on the back, unsettling the cinnamon things again. “That’s one ornery spitfire ya got there, Travis.” He grabbed another handful of pastries and ambled to the back of the wagon to lower the tailgate. “She just might make a halfway decent Archer yet.”

If she ever let him near her again.

Travis blew out a heavy breath and headed for the house, passing the tray off to Neill as he went. This business of wooing one’s wife was complicated. The pitfalls were so well hidden, a man didn’t even know they were there until he’d fallen into one.

“Good luck, Trav.” Crockett’s voice wobbled on the end of a chuckle. Travis shot him a glare and pounded up the porch steps.

She wasn’t in the kitchen. The bedroom, either. He checked the parlor and even peeked into the boys’ rooms on his way down the hall. Nothing.

“Meredith?” He held his volume to a minimum, not wanting the others to know he’d lost his wife. He lifted his hat, scratched at a spot on his crown, and fit it back into place. She’d only been a minute or two ahead of him. She had to be somewhere in the house.

The only place he hadn’t checked was the bathing room. Travis crossed the kitchen in six long strides and pushed through the unlatched door. “Meri?”

The room was empty, but cool air whistled through the back door, where it hung ajar. When he nudged it open, he spotted her stomping between the clotheslines as if she were squashing a wolf spider with every footfall.

Travis shook his head at the picture she made—arms swinging like a soldier, bonnet flapping against her back, pieces of hair coming loose and dancing about in the breeze. He took off after her and caught up just as she snapped the wrinkles out of a damp petticoat.

She had to realize he was there. He stood less than a foot away, for pete’s sake, yet she refused to look at him. Her lips pressed together in a tight line as she jabbed a clothespin over the cotton garment.

Travis crossed his arms, his own temper rising a notch. “You gonna tell me what I did wrong, or am I’m gonna have to guess?”

“You betrayed me!” She spun to face him, and for the first time he noticed the tears behind the fire in her eyes. But the accusation she flung at him burned away any soft feelings that might have been evoked.

“Whoa, now.” Travis uncrossed his arms and held up a hand of warning. “Archers don’t betray their own.”

“I must not be one of your own, then.”

Travis stepped closer and glowered down at the woman daring to impugn his honor. “You agreed before God to take my name. Have you forgotten?”

“No, but it seems you have.” She glowered right back at him. “I complied when you ordered me into the house. I even put together refreshments on the rare chance that someone might actually be welcomed onto sacred Archer land. Then when you did bring a guest to the house, he turns out to be the grumpiest woman-hater north of the Rio Grande. But did I shy away? No, sir. I faced Seth Winston head on. And I was making progress, too. Until you”—she poked him in the chest—“chopped the legs right out from under me.”

He knocked her finger away. “One word, Meredith. One lousy word. You’re getting all worked up over nothing.”

“Nothing?” Her voice rose. “With that one word, you sided with the enemy. You as much as conceded that I had something to do with that fire and agreed that I’m some kind of ill-tempered harpy!”

He raised an eyebrow and stared at her until she realized the irony of the shouted statement.

At that moment the starch went out of her. She glanced away and kicked at the edge of the laundry basket with her shoe. “You didn’t defend me.”

His anger evaporated at the tremor in her voice.

Travis cupped his fingers under her chin and turned her face back up to his. “You didn’t give me the chance.” He stroked the edge of her jaw with his thumb. “Meri, you are my wife, a part of my family. I will never betray you.” Her eyes stared up at him like a doe’s in an early morning mist. Travis dropped his hand away from her chin and shoved his fingers into his trouser pocket, worried he’d pull her close and kiss her if he didn’t. “The truth is, I was so blasted proud of the way you were handling Winston that I couldn’t resist a little teasing. I fully intended to clarify that you had nothing to do with the fire, but you stormed off before I got the chance.”

“I ruined everything, didn’t I?” She sounded so forlorn. “I let him goad me into losing my temper. I shamed you.”

“You did no such thing.” Travis frowned down at her. “Did you not just hear me tell you how proud I was of you?” Compliments seemed to slip off his wife as if they were covered in grease. Nothing stuck.

“But that was before I started acting like a harpy.”

“For pete’s sake, woman, you are not a harpy!”

Her startled eyes darted to his. Then without warning, a giggle erupted. Travis felt his own lips twitch, and soon they were both laughing.

“Hey, Trav,” Neill called from the back porch. “Winston wants to know if you want to add anything to your usual order since we got us a female on the place now.”

Travis winked at his new wife, her cheeks rosy from their shared merriment. “Tell him we’ll be up there to discuss it with him directly.”