Page 82 of Short-Straw Bride

She nodded. “Be careful.” The earlier vision of his lying upon the ground came back to her, raking a shiver over her skin.

“Stay out of sight,” her brother-in-law ordered. “Travis will kill me if anything happens to you.” He released her hand and soundlessly moved past.

Meredith prayed over every step Jim took, her throat seeming to constrict at each sound that echoed in the trees. When he rounded the first oak and disappeared from her view, her breathing nearly ceased altogether. This wasn’t right. She was supposed to be watching his back. She couldn’t do that from this distance.

Taking extra care with her uneven gait, she crept forward, staying in the shadows of the trees until she stood behind the largest oak. Meredith spied Jim between the branches of the tree nearest the cabin and finally breathed easier. His rifle slung over his shoulder, he climbed higher, his footholds secure. The only trouble was the way the brittle winter leaves rattled with his movements.

Jim stretched himself across one of the thicker limbs that reached toward the roof, and began scooting along its length on his belly. Then all at once, he froze.

A twig snapped. But it wasn’t from Jim’s tree. It echoed lower. Closer.

Meredith silently gathered her cloak more tightly around her and drew the hood over her hair as she tucked her face against the coarse bark of the oak at her side. If she could have climbed beneath the bark itself, she would have.

A rough-looking logger emerged between the trees that she and Jim occupied. His heavy brows scrunched against his eyes as he scanned the area, his ear cocked in Jim’s direction. Instead of a gun, the burly fellow carried an ax.

A gust of wind blew across the tree limbs. Meredith’s gaze darted to Jim. The branch swayed. Jim’s face contorted as he struggled to keep his back perfectly flat so his rifle wouldn’t shift and knock into the leaves surrounding him.

The logger jerked his face toward the cabin, as if he sensed the intruder. He slapped the wooden handle of his ax against his left palm and stalked closer to the tree. All he had to do was glance up. . . .

Meredith scoured the ground near her for something she could use as a weapon, but all she found were decayed branches and pinecones. Nothing that would even slow the man down. But maybe she could draw the man away somehow. If she were to dart back toward the Survivor tree, he’d hear and follow, giving Jim time to lay eyes on Cassie and leave. All she had to do was outrun a bear-sized man for the short distance to Ginger. Shouldn’t be too hard, right? She’d have a head start and was more familiar with the land.

She inhaled a deep breath and grabbed a handful of skirt. Then, just as she prepared to take flight, a saner idea took shape. Meredith released the fabric of her cape and scooped up a large pinecone. Taking careful aim, she hurled it behind the oaks, back into the forest. It cracked against the trunk of a small pine, and the sound brought Mr. Bushy Brow’s head around. The man set off with a determined stride, and Meredith sagged against the trunk of her oak.

Thank the Lord for timely inspiration.

Once the logger disappeared into the woods, Meredith waved Jim toward the roof. The ungrateful man glared at her and jabbed his finger as if ordering her to retreat, but there was no time for a pantomime skirmish. If Jim didn’t go now, he might not get another chance. Fortunately, the Archers were an intelligent lot. After a final jab in her direction, Jim resumed his belly crawl and soon lowered himself silently onto the cabin roof.

Shrinking into a crouch, he crossed to the peak. There, he laid flat and peered over the edge. Meredith fisted her hands in the fabric of her cape as he slid out of her view to the front side of the cabin. He seemed to be gone for an eternity. The roof’s slope wasn’t too steep, but even then, Jim would have to hang upside down from the eaves to see in the front window. What if someone saw him? What if he fell? He would have never been on that roof if she hadn’t suggested such an idiotic scheme.

What have I done? Her soul cried out to the only one who could rescue them. Protect him from my folly, Lord. I should have trusted my husband. I should have trusted you.

All her big talk to Travis about trusting God to protect his family, about not letting fear dictate his actions, and here she was doing exactly that which she had so adamantly preached against. She should have sought the Lord’s will from the very beginning. Instead she’d proceeded with her own plans and only once she was in the midst of them did she think to ask for God’s blessing. And even then her mind was set on her own course of action. What if the Lord had inspired that vision of Jim as a warning to her that she not go, but because of her own willfulness, she chose to use it as justification for her actions?

Meredith bowed her head. I surrender. A tear trickled down her cheek. I surrender. Only you can make this right. Show me what to do. Whatever sacrifice is required, I’ll make it. Just, please . . . spare Jim and Cassie.

When she lifted her head, there was Jim, slinking back over the peak of the roof and scrambling toward the tree. Her heart surged in gratitude. Thank you!

He had made it as far as the main trunk when the logger charged out of the shallow woods. The bushy-browed henchman ran full out as if he planned to leap into the tree like a cougar after its prey. Jim was too high to drop to the ground without breaking a leg. He struggled to find a defensible position among the branches. He needed his rifle, but his hands were too busy keeping him in the tree to reach for the weapon.

Meredith sprinted toward the logger, her eyes locked on the arm that wielded the ax.

Roy’s man latched onto a branch, the soles of his shoes bracing his weight against the trunk. With a roar, he swung the ax in an upward arc, the blade aimed at Jim’s flesh.

Meredith vaulted off her good leg midstride and caught the logger’s beefy arm as it circled behind him. The logger tried to shove her aside, but she held fast to his right arm and threw what little weight she had to sway him. She had to give Jim time to escape.

She twisted and writhed, kicked out with her legs, anything she could think of to slow him down. The shouts of other men echoed behind her. Reinforcements were coming.

A rifle cocked nearby, and for a split second, both Meredith and the logger froze. Meredith spotted Jim from the corner of her eye. He was on the ground with his rifle aimed at the logger!

He jerked his head to the side, urging her to move away so he would have a clean shot, but a beefy arm locked around her waist, holding her in place.

“Run, Jim!” she shouted between grunts as the logger renewed his efforts to wrench his right arm free of her grasp, no doubt hoping to hurl his ax at his foe. “Get Travis!”

For once Jim didn’t scowl at her. His eyes had a desperate look to them, as if he were the one trapped. She knew he didn’t want to leave her, that his protective nature demanded he stay and fight. But when the others arrived, he’d be finished.

“For Cassie, Jim,” she pleaded. “Go for Cassie.”

A yell from the other side of the cabin made his decision for him. He spun and ran.