Page 58 of Short-Straw Bride

The instant the blessing ended, the men tucked into their food with their usual gusto. Cassie, on the other hand, spent more time pushing her ham around her plate with her fork than actually eating.

Hoping to lighten the mood and perhaps spark her cousin’s interest, Meredith leaned forward to see around Cassie and addressed her brother-in-law at the end of the table. “So . . . Jim. I’ve been meaning to ask you a question.”

His jaw halted midchew. He glanced around the table as if looking for another man named Jim to respond. Not finding one, he swallowed what was in his mouth and scrubbed the back of his hand across his chin. “What?”

Cassie’s head came up, and Meredith secretly cheered. Straightening in her seat, she set aside her napkin and peered down the table. “Well, I’ve managed to figure out that all you Archer men have names connected to the Alamo. Travis”—she turned to smile at her husband at the head of the table to her right—“of course refers to Lieutenant Colonel William Travis, who took over command of the regular soldiers at the Alamo in relief of Colonel James Neill”—she pointed to the youngest Archer, across from Cassandra—“who had to leave San Antonio de Bexar to tend to a sick family member. Crockett most certainly is named for Davy Crockett, the famous Tennessean who arrived at the Alamo only two short weeks before Santa Anna. So, logically, I would have to assume that you were named for James Bowie, the commander of the volunteers. What I don’t understand is why you are the only Archer who doesn’t go by your hero’s surname.”

A dull red color seeped up Jim’s face, and Meredith immediately regretted asking the question. She’d only wanted to distract Cassie from her troubles, not embarrass the poor man.

“Never mind. I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

“You’re not prying.” Jim interrupted her babbling. “You might as well know the truth.”

Perhaps it was the sideways glance he darted in Cassandra’s direction, but Meredith got the feeling he wasn’t really aiming that last comment at her.

“Ma was real big on remembering the Alamo. And you’re right. She didn’t name me James. My given name is Bowie.” He ducked his head and stabbed a bean with the tines of his fork, though he made no move to lift the vegetable to his mouth.

“And none of us can figure out why he doesn’t like it,” Crockett said, his eyes full of teasing. “It’s not like it sounds like a hog call or anything. Boo-ie! No, wait. Soo-ie!”

Neill laughed out loud, nearly spewing mashed potatoes all over the table. Travis grinned and shook his head, a little huff of laughter puffing out his nose. Meredith couldn’t resist a little smile of her own.

“I think Bowie is a wonderful name. It’s strong. Heroic.” Cassie’s passionate defense brought Jim’s head back up. His eyes focused on her with an intensity that left Meredith feeling as if she was intruding on a private moment.

“However, I can certainly understand your preference for a nickname.” Her cousin blushed a bit under Jim’s regard. “I myself prefer being called Cassie. It’s so much friendlier and less pretentious than Cassandra, don’t you think?”

Jim never took his eyes from Cassie’s face. “I think they both fit you right fine. One is elegant and graceful, the other fun and lively.”

Cassie’s cheeks flushed a deeper red. “What a lovely compliment. Thank you.”

After that, Crockett turned the conversation in a less intimate direction with stories of how the Archer brothers used to reenact scenes from the Alamo battle as boys. Jim had even whittled an imitation Bowie knife to use during their skirmishes, which sparked his interest in woodworking.

While Meredith cleared the dishes and refilled coffee cups, Cassie begged to see the knife Jim had carved so long ago. He offered to show it to her along with his carpentry workshop, and Cassie didn’t hesitate. With an eager smile, she took his arm and allowed him to lead her from the room.

A look passed between Jim and Travis over the top of Cassie’s head, and at once Meredith knew that Jim had just taken it upon himself to explain the situation with Uncle Everett to her cousin. Meredith glanced at Travis and deliberately reclaimed her seat at the table. The dishes could wait. Explanations could not.

26

Travis wrapped his hands around his coffee cup and stared into the dark depths. He could feel Meri as she lowered herself into the chair next to him, his senses attuned to her movements. He didn’t have to turn, he knew she was there—knew she was looking at him, waiting for a recounting of what happened with her uncle. Waiting for a solution he hadn’t yet devised.

Her gaze bore into him almost as fiercely as it had earlier when she’d been setting out the food. He still couldn’t recall a word of what Crockett had said about the barn shingles. He’d just nodded and tried to look contemplative when all the while he’d wanted nothing more than to cross the room and wrap his arms around his wife.

My wife.

Heaven help him. He was past ready to make Meri his wife in truth. To hold her throughout the night and wake with her in his arms every morning. He’d plotted all afternoon how best to approach the topic with her that evening. After she’d kissed him with such fervor and even allowed—no, welcomed—the boldness of his touch on her leg, he’d been able to think of little else.

Now, thanks to Everett Hayes and his idiotic scheme, he’d have nothing but thoughts to keep him warm as he scrunched himself onto the too-short cot in Neill’s bedroom again tonight. Travis closed his fingers around the crockery mug before him, wishing it were Hayes’s throat.

“So, Trav—” Crockett made a grand show of finishing his coffee and plopping the empty cup against the tabletop—“what did Hayes have to say?”

Travis forced his fingers to relax their stranglehold on the mug and leaned back in his seat as he expelled a heavy breath. “We convinced him to let Cassandra stay for a visit.” He hesitated, trying to come up with some way to soften the rest of the facts for Meri’s sake.

“Spit out the rest of it, Travis.” Meredith nodded to him, but he could see the strain around her eyes where tiny lines creased her skin. Apparently she didn’t care about soft. She just wanted the truth.

Knowing the truth would be painful, he worded a short, silent prayer, and then summed up the situation as succinctly as possible. “If Cassandra’s not home in three days, Hayes will round up a posse and take her by force.”

Meredith tried to muffle her moan, but Travis heard it. And the sound cut right through his heart. Not caring about what his brothers might think, he reached around the side of the table and grabbed one of the spindles on the back of Meri’s chair. He dragged her to his side, the chair legs scraping against the floor in a loud racket, took her hand in his, and cradled her entire forearm against his stomach. She laid her head atop his shoulder and leaned into him.

Crockett tapped the edge of his thumb against his thigh. “Is he set on marrying her off to Mitchell?”