Page 88 of Short-Straw Bride

The cacophony of the shivaree drowned out the noise of the fight but also made it impossible to call out to her friends and neighbors, so Meredith waved her arms above her head until Neill caught sight of her and began steering the mob toward the house.

Meredith stayed at the door to ensure the portal remained open until Seth Winston hustled forward to relieve her of the duty. “Get on over by the horses, girlie.” His raised voice barely carried over the din. “We’ll cut the heifers out of the herd and let the steers fight it out.” He frowned at her when she hesitated. “Go on, now. It’s what your man would want.”

Travis.

The old man was right.

With a prayer on her heart and a fingertip hold on her faith, Meredith walked away.

Fire burned across Travis’s side from where Wheeler’s bullet had creased him, but he spared it little thought as he grabbed for the man’s gun hand and pounded it into the plank floor. Wheeler’s knee surged into Travis’s gut, stealing his wind, but he held on. He crushed the man’s hand down again, this time aiming for the clawed foot of one of the settee’s legs.

Wheeler let out a cry. The pistol fell from his grasp. Travis reached for it, but something hard slammed into his shoulder blade. His arms collapsed, and he fell fully atop Wheeler. The man wasted no time in kicking him aside. Travis thumped onto his back with a groan.

“It’s over, Archer,” Mitchell said as he switched the grip on his shotgun. The stock that had felled Travis twirled back toward Mitchell’s shoulder. “You’ve been a thorn in my side long enough.”

Mitchell took aim, pointing the double barrels at Travis’s chest. Travis tightened his jaw and stared at his nemesis, refusing to cower. His only regret was that he’d never told Meri he loved her.

Then, as he inhaled the breath he fully expected to be his last, men and women, neighbors and friends poured into the cabin, carrying on with their blessedly ridiculous shivaree. Old Seth Winston guarded the door as the rest of the company wound through the room like a snake, whoopin’ and hollerin’. Travis caught Moses’s eye and then spotted Crockett, who moved to casually assist Jim with the ax-wielding logger as the rest of the parade wandered deeper into the house.

How had they known to come? What miracle had brought them at just the right time? Travis struggled to his feet, cradling his aching side, and spied the answer to his question. Neill. He ought to strangle that boy for disobeying his instructions, but he grinned at his kid brother instead. Apparently Neill wasn’t too young to improvise after all.

Ever aware of his reputation, Mitchell tried to shoo the crowd away without violence, but when one of the women took Cassie’s hand and started maneuvering her toward the door, he snapped. He fired his shotgun into the rafters, and the resultant boom and debris shower succeeded in silencing the revelers.

“Unhand my bride, madam. Now!” Mitchell lowered his weapon, the dark-skinned woman his new target.

She obeyed, slowly lifting her hands into the air. Then she darted a glance at Moses. Her chin twitched to the side.

As if he’d been waiting for the signal, Moses launched himself at Mitchell and knocked him to the ground. “Get outta here, Myra!” he ordered as he fought to separate Mitchell from his shotgun.

Pandemonium broke out. Women scurried for the door. Men brought out weapons.

“Wheeler!” Mitchell screamed as he fought to defend himself against the larger Moses. “Get the girl!”

“There’s a window in the back room,” Everett Hayes called out to his daughter. “Remember, Cass?”

“Come on, Mama,” Cassie urged her mother to follow them, but the woman never moved, her blank expression unnatural.

Wheeler lunged toward Cassie.

“Go!” Travis yelled, as he grabbed Wheeler’s arm.

“Now, Cassandra,” Everett demanded. “I’ll stay with your mother.”

Finally, Cassie turned and veered toward the small room visible off the kitchen. Myra followed. At the same time, Wheeler tore his arm free and smashed his elbow into Travis’s side.

Travis cried out. Pain stabbed through him like a sword’s blade as Wheeler moved toward the back room. He’d catch the women before they could get the window open.

Travis reached behind his back, hissing at the pain. His fingers dug beneath his coat and fastened around the handle of his revolver. He pulled it from his waistband, brought his arm around, and squeezed the trigger.

Wheeler fell.

Neill and Josiah charged past Travis and seized Wheeler’s arms. He moaned at their treatment, and relief washed over Travis at the knowledge that he hadn’t killed the man. He craned his neck to survey the rest of the room, his blood still pumping with the turmoil of the fight. A member of Moses’s band crossed his line of vision, pulled a hunting knife from its sheath, and set about freeing Mr. Hayes. Crockett had a knee in the logger’s back where he lay sprawled on the floor, and Seth Winston was tying the fella’s wrists. Roy Mitchell hung unconscious over Moses’s shoulder, and the preacher was beating a hasty exit out the door.

Travis’s eyes slid closed, and he sagged against the floor. It was over.

After a moment, the sound of steady footsteps brought his eyes open. Jim stood over him, his hand extended. Travis took it and let his brother haul him to his feet.

“I thought you might want this,” Jim said, holding out his other hand.