Page 50 of Short-Straw Bride

She crossed her legs at the ankle and swung them out and back, her heels thumping quietly against the rock in an easy rhythm. “I attended the Palestine Female Institute and planned to sit for the teacher’s exam, but then my parents came down with that fever.” Her feet stilled for a moment. Then she sat straighter and swung them back into motion. “I had hoped to continue Papa’s work at the freedmen’s school, but Aunt Noreen wouldn’t hear of it. She declared it unseemly to involve myself with such people and insisted it was too dangerous for a young woman to travel such a distance alone.”

Travis hated to agree with anything the old bat had to say, but just the thought of Meredith traipsing about unprotected made his stomach churn.

“Seeing Moses again today awakened those old dreams.” Meri aimed her blue eyes on him, hope glimmering in their depths. “I want to teach at the school again, Travis. Just one day a week. Saturday—when the largest number of students are able to attend. I would only need to be away from the ranch for a few hours. I could leave right after the noon meal and be back before supper. I promise I won’t fall behind in my chores. You probably won’t even know that I’m gone.”

Her sentences flew at him in such rapid succession, they made him dizzy. And the churning in his gut intensified.

“Please say you’ll let me go.”

“No.” Travis’s throat closed over the word, as if an unseen hand were choking him. Her crestfallen expression pierced his heart, but he wouldn’t be swayed. He tightened his jaw and looked up to the moon.

Leave the ranch? Alone? There was no way he’d let her do that. Anything could happen to her. Anything.

Her legs halted their swinging, and she twisted to look him full in the face. “Why?”

A buzzing expanded through his brain like a swarm of bees growing more and more agitated. “Archers don’t leave,” he ground out.

Meredith laid her hand over his. “Why?”

A muscle in his thigh jumped. Why was she questioning him? Why couldn’t she just let things be? His leg twitched again and his arm began to shake. Her palm stroked the back of his hand as if to calm him. She’d noticed. She thought him weak. Afraid. But she didn’t understand.

Travis jerked his hand out from beneath hers. He needed to leave. To escape. To run.

“Why do Archers never leave the ranch, Travis?” she persisted.

“A promise.” The creek disappeared before him, replaced by a vision of his father reaching out to him from his sick bed, clasping his hand and making him swear. “I promised to keep them safe. Together. ‘Don’t leave the land, son,’ he said. ‘If you do, they’ll take it from you. They’ll split you up. Stand together. On the ranch, you’re strong.’ ”

Travis blinked away the image of his father and turned to Meredith, his voice little more than a whisper. “On the ranch we’re strong.”

Meri lifted her hand and caressed his face. His eyes slid closed.

“You’re strong anywhere, Travis. You all are.”

Her hand felt cool against his cheek, and for just a moment he allowed himself to rest in her confidence. Slowly, he opened his eyes and found hers gazing back at him filled with trust and admiration—sentiments he wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Your father was right to urge you to stay together and seclude yourself from others who would try to take advantage of your youth, but you’re not boys anymore. Not even Neill. You’re men. Strong Archer men. This ranch has been a haven for you for years, but if you’re not careful, it will become a prison.”

“It’s not a prison.” He pulled away from her touch and jumped down from the rock. “It’s a home.” He fisted his hands as if he could fight off her words.

The slide of fabric against stone whispered behind him, punctuated by a tiny grunt as her feet hit the ground. “A home where no one is free to leave? A home where all who come calling are treated like criminals? How long do you think the others will be content to live here in your shadow? Did you not see how hungry Crockett was to talk to the minister on the day of our wedding? He stayed at the man’s side, throwing question after question at him about shepherding congregations and seminary and sermons.

“He has a gift for preaching, Travis. I can tell that after only one Sunday service in your home. God placed that desire on his heart and equipped him for the task, yet because of his loyalty to you, he has done nothing to pursue his calling.”

Travis spun to face his wife, his accuser. “Maybe God called him to minister to his family. Or is that not grand enough for you? Perhaps you think a man can only serve God if he impacts hundreds or thousands, that three souls are not significant.”

“Even one is significant.”

Why was she looking at him like that? As if she were no longer talking about Crockett but about him. This wasn’t about him. Everything he did was for his family. To protect them. To support them. And now this . . . this outsider who had known them for all of . . . what, less than a week? . . . had the gall to insinuate that he was trapping his brothers in some kind of prison, binding them with family loyalty, and stealing their freedom. She understood nothing!

Travis pounded up to the creek bank, barely containing the fury that burned in his gut. “You want to leave?” He spun around and marched back up to her. “Fine. Take your horse and leave. You’re not really an Archer anyway.”

She staggered back, her right hand pressed against her middle as if staunching a wound.

All at once he realized what he’d said. Remorse nearly cut his legs out from under him. Travis rushed forward and clasped her free hand between both of his. “Meri, forgive me. I didn’t mean it. I swear I didn’t.” He drew her hand to his mouth and laid kiss after kiss upon her knuckles, unable to look at her face.

Meredith tugged her hand free of his grasp and turned her back.

“I don’t want to leave you, Travis. I just want to help others.” Her quiet words flayed him. “But helping others isn’t the Archer way, is it?” She pivoted, her delicate chin jutting forth like that of a soldier. “Archers hide in their trees, too scared of what could happen to risk reaching out to someone in need.”