Page 8 of Short-Straw Bride

Roy took her arm and helped her navigate the three blocks back to her uncle’s house. When they reached the front gate, however, he used his grip to slow her to a halt.

“I’m so sorry to have ruined our afternoon,” she blurted, not wanting to give him the chance to ask her anything. Besides, the longer she thought about what he planned for Travis, the more ill she truly became. She looked up at the brick house, longing for the escape it promised.

“Meredith, darling,” Roy said, turning her to face him, “please, just tell me that I can move ahead with our wedding plans.”

The idea was so nauseating, Meredith didn’t have to prevaricate. Her stomach began to heave all on its own. Roy must have seen the truth in her face as she bent forward, for his eyes widened and he quickly stepped back. Meredith covered her mouth and ran for the house.

“I’ll come by later this evening,” Roy called after her, but Meredith didn’t slow until she was safely inside.

The kitchen stood empty, so Meredith made her way to the sink pump, hoping that a glass of cool water would help settle her stomach. She needed to calm her body so her mind could focus on how to help Travis. If Roy’s henchmen planned to strike tonight, that left her precious little time to strategize. The Archer ranch was a good two and a half hours’ ride to the north. A well-conditioned horse could possibly shave thirty minutes off that time, but that still left her less than an hour to implement a course of action.

“Mercy me, Miss Meri. You look like someone done wrung you out and hung you up to dry. You all right?” Eliza, the cook Meredith’s aunt employed, strode into the room cradling a selection of carrots, onions, and potatoes in her upturned apron.

Meredith managed a wan smile. “I’m not feeling well, I’m afraid. Is Uncle Everett back from Neches yet? I need to speak with him.”

Not for the first time, Meredith longed for her own father’s counsel instead of her uncle’s. She missed the days of occasionally riding beside him in the buggy out to the freedmen’s school he continued to run even after the Freedmen’s Bureau shut down—missed the talks they had, the dreams they shared.

Papa would’ve known what to do about Roy and Travis. But Papa was gone.

Eliza dropped the vegetables into a wash pan with a cascade of thumps, then shook her apron out over the dry sink. “Master Hayes told me not to expect him till suppertime.”

Meredith’s shoulders sagged. Suppertime would be too late.

“Miss Meri, you better go up to bed and rest some. You’re looking right peak-ed.”

“I don’t need—” Meredith stopped herself as she recalled Roy’s promise to return. “Well, maybe I will.” She’d not want to face her aunt, either. “In fact, with my stomach as unsettled as it is, I’ll probably forgo dinner tonight. Would you mind asking Aunt Noreen not to wake me?”

“Of course, child. You go rest.”

Why was it when Aunt Noreen called her a child she felt degraded, but when Eliza did it, she felt nurtured? Meredith set her half-empty glass on the table, the churning in her abdomen finally beginning to subside.

“And in case ya get hungry later,” Eliza said, pointing to the cookstove, “I’ll leave some of my stew broth on the warmer. You just sneak on down here and help yourself. Ya hear?”

Meredith smiled and, on impulse, hugged the older woman. Eliza flapped her hands and shooed her away, embarrassed by the display of affection. “Go on with ya, now.”

Meredith climbed the stairs and closed herself in her room. At least Aunt Noreen would not be home to pester her. She and Cassandra always paid their social calls on Tuesday afternoons. Usually Meredith accompanied them, but Roy’s luncheon invitation had taken precedence over the weekly torture of censorious glances and nose sniffing that Aunt Noreen and her friends enjoyed while expounding their ponderous opinions. Unfortunately, that meant Meredith wouldn’t be able to confide in Cassandra, either. That left only one person she could think of who might be willing and able to help her.

Changing out of her fancy polonaise, Meredith pulled a more practical dress out of her wardrobe and buttoned herself up into her favorite dark green calico. Just in case anyone should look in on her, she lumped an extra quilt under her covers to make it appear she was sleeping, then tiptoed down the stairs and slipped quietly out the back door.

Meredith chose an indirect route to Courthouse Square, studiously avoiding any avenues where her aunt might be visiting. She hurried down Market Street until she reached the jail, then circled around to the north and entered the sheriff’s office.

The man lounging behind the desk bolted upright, dropping his booted feet from the corner of the desktop to the floor. He braced his palms on the arms of his chair to boost himself up until his eyes met hers. Then he promptly slouched right back into his negligent pose.

“Well, if it ain’t Meri Hayes. Come to ask me to the church social?”

Hiram Ellis. Of all the rotten luck. The fellow was just as obnoxious grown as he’d been as a kid.

“I’m looking for Sheriff Randall.” Meredith ignored Hiram’s cocky smirk and glanced around the office as if he were beneath her notice. “Do you know where I might find him?”

“Still as contrary as ever, I see.” Hiram slowly rose to his feet, puffing out his chest as if to emphasize the deputy’s star pinned to his coat. “The sheriff’s transportin’ a prisoner over to Rusk County to stand trial, so it looks like you’re stuck with me, darlin’.”

Could this day get any worse? Hiram Ellis was the last person she’d trust with her troubles. But then, they weren’t her troubles. Travis Archer and his brothers were the ones in danger. A spark and an unruly gust of wind could easily set their home ablaze, killing them in their beds.

Meredith gritted her teeth. If Hiram was her only choice, so be it.

“I overheard a threatening conversation today.” Reluctant to reveal Roy’s part in the scheme due to his connection with her uncle’s business, she kept the account as anonymous as possible. “Two men were discussing Travis Archer’s land and how he refused to sell. One man ordered the other to set the Archers’ barn on fire in an effort to convince him to reconsider.”

Hiram leaned a hip against the edge of the desk. “So what do you want me to do about it? It ain’t no crime to run off at the mouth. You probably didn’t hear them right anyhow. How close were you to these two fellers?”