The Wrangler's Inconvenient Wife Page 4

  And then it was over. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it certainly wasn’t for her new husband to clasp her hand loosely in his great, warm paw, or to lean forward and buss her cheek with a kiss—a warm brush of his beard with only a hint of his smooth lips.

  They were married.

  The afternoon passed in a whirlwind. They obtained a wagon from the livery in town, then visited two ranches on their way to the property her new husband shared with his family.

  At each place, when she was introduced as Edgar’s wife, there were shocked gasps, quickly hidden behind upraised hands. And cowboys with wiggling eyebrows.

  It seemed common knowledge among all the residents that her new husband had never intended to marry at all.

  And wasn’t that a fine start to a new marriage, real or not?

  It wasn’t as if he was making the stops to show her off, either. It was more as if he was too afraid to let her out of his sight.

  What did he think, that she intended to rob him blind? They hadn’t met under the best of circumstances, but she didn’t think her one untruth deserved this level of distrust. It stung, but she was determined to smile until her teeth ached if she had to and be as quiet and pliant as she could be. She wouldn’t cause trouble for her husband, not when he’d done everything he could to prevent her from being sent to that saloon.

  He seemed single-minded in his determination to get his cattle to a place called Tuck’s Station. But that didn’t stop him from making arrangements with his neighbors, who also had cattle to ship. These partnerships would ultimately net him a larger profit, she learned just by being silent and listening.

  Her paper husband seemed to have a head for business.

  Finally, they loaded up in the wagon and he informed her they were returning to his home. She was drooping on the bench seat next to him, thankful for his looming presence, even though he retained a respectable distance between them.

  “Why did you want to marry me?”

  His sudden gruff question caught her off guard and she spoke without thinking. “It isn’t as if I was given much choice.”

  He considered that for a moment.

  “You know anything about being a rancher’s wife?”

  “No.”

  Her quick answer must have surprised him, as his chin quirked downward.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Figured you’d say yes. No matter if you knew anything or not.”

  She bristled. “I don’t make a practice of telling untruths.”

  She could sense that he didn’t believe her. Before she could protest or explain, he changed the subject. “You know how to cook?”

  “Not much. But I’m willing to learn.” Fran knew her new husband didn’t believe a word she said.

  She didn’t guess she blamed him.

  She would do everything she could to make up for the trouble she had caused, even if she was only on his ranch for a few days. She would never be able to repay him for the protection that taking his name had offered both her and Emma.

  “Know how to gather eggs out of the chicken coop?”

  “No.”

  “Know how to butcher a hog?”

  She shook her head.

  “How about planting a vegetable garden? Riding a horse? Driving a wagon?”

  “None of the above.”

  “So you’re a city girl?”

  “Through and through.” And she could only hope that Mr. Underhill would never think she would take Emma west to a small town like Bear Creek.

  And if her new husband hoped to scare her off with a list of chores, he’d better try harder. She would do anything to protect her sister, even work like a dog.

  “Emma and I will pull our own weight. We won’t be a burden to you and your family.”

  He only harrumphed in response.

  The setting sun finally slipped over the horizon, and the night air quickly cooled around them.

  “Emma, put your shawl on. And mine, too.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Emma complied. Her sister’s silence was unnatural and another niggle of worry slid through her calm facade.

  Had something more happened with Mr. Underhill that Fran hadn’t been aware of? Something that had damaged her sister?

  The two threadbare garments were the only things the Children’s Help Association had seen fit to give them, other than the dresses and shoes. Although, Fran supposed, it was almost summer and perhaps they wouldn’t need warmer garments. For now, though, she would hate for her sister to take a chill. Right at this moment, it was the only thing she could do for Emma.

  For herself, she simply crossed her arms to ward off the wind that had kicked up.

  She refused to ask the man beside her how much longer their ride would be. The question might be seen as a complaint, and she was determined not to cause even that much trouble.

  She hoped that if she could hide out for a few days and make a plan for her and Emma, maybe their troubles with Mr. Underhill would be over. His obsession with Emma had to end now, didn’t it? Even if he found them, they had a place now.

  There were still the accusations against her. If Daniel were here, she’d be able to ask her attorney brother how they could be disputed. Of course, if Daniel were here, they wouldn’t be in this mess.

  Even with her new husband, the fear that had shaken her in Lincoln wasn’t letting up yet. Especially because the man beside her didn’t really want a wife.

  “Here we are.”

  The wagon topped a crest and she saw the shadows of several buildings. In the dim moonlight, she thought the sprawling, low cabin must be the main house and the larger buildings across the yard must be the barn and bunkhouse.

  Edgar seemed to be waiting for her response, almost as if he expected her to demand he return her to town. It was true the home was certainly more rustic than what she was accustomed to in Memphis, at least from the outside.

  But there was no going back for her and Emma.

  When she remained silent, the taciturn man beside her pulled the horses to a stop halfway between the barn and house.

  He left her to get out of the wagon herself. She missed one of the spokes on the wheel and nearly toppled. At least he helped Emma climb down from the back.

  He thrust a basket of food into her hands. The last farmer’s wife had insisted they take it. “There’ll be some bread and eggs in the kitchen for your breakfast. You can bunk down in my sister’s bedroom. Should be a quilt on the bed. Don’t be messing with any of her personal stuff.”

  She frowned at him. “Of course not. But what about your sister? Will we displace her?”

  “She’s in Boston with my folks. She’s adopted, like the rest of us older boys.”

  Adopted. Everything clicked into place. It explained the differences in their appearance. And temperaments. Seb seemed sweet, if a bit ornery. Matty and Ricky had been kind, but a bit distracted. And Edgar... Well, she didn’t really know him, did she? But he certainly seemed upset that his plans had been derailed as much as the train had.

  “Anyway, my parents have custody over her, but she got a notion to go back to Boston and see where her birth family hails from. It must be a girl thing, I don’t know....”

  The unspoken meaning to his words was that he had no interest in knowing more about his own birth family.

  For a moment, he stared off into the darkness.

  Emma shifted beside Fran. She’d remained quiet all throughout the wedding and while the girls had been allowed a short break to eat the supper Matty had provided. Fran knew her sister must be as tired as she was from the long days of travel and fear.

  “Where will you stay?” Fran asked softly.

  “In the bunkhouse with the rest of the boys. There’s five o
f us brothers plus another hired hand, so if you try to make off with any horseflesh, someone will hear.”

  He looked pointedly at her.

  She bristled. “I already told you, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”

  He shrugged.

  “I’ve got to get the cattle delivered to Tuck’s Station—that’s forty-five miles west of here. I’ll be leaving shortly after first light. Be back in a few days.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her.

  “My brother Davy will be here watching over you until I get back. We’ll talk about living arrangements then.”

  The way he spoke almost seemed like a threat. She could tell him she didn’t want more from him than the protection of his name, but she knew he wouldn’t believe her. She didn’t truly expect him to stand between her and Mr. Underhill if it came to that. Why would he?

  “Thank you for today,” she said instead.

  He appeared flabbergasted.

  “And I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

  His brows crinkled as he looked down on her.

  Then he stalked away into the darkness without another word.

  * * *

  I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you.

  Edgar mouthed the words, mocking their speaker as he shoved the last of the provisions in the back of the covered wagon and slammed the tailgate. The contraption with its extra nooks and crannies for their food items had been nicknamed a chuck wagon by some long-ago cowboy.

  Inconvenienced him?

  Was she kidding?

  Not only had she put a kink in his plans to get his pa’s cattle where they needed to go, but she’d forced him into a situation that would require some doing to take care of.

  But she’d seemed genuine in her remorse.

  Obviously, marrying him had been a better choice for her than working at the saloon. He couldn’t blame her for that, even though he could blame her for everything else. Like getting on that orphan train in the first place. What could have forced a gal like her, orphan or not, into going West and leaving her life behind?

  Frustrated that he couldn’t seem to get his thoughts off his new problem wife, he stalked into the barn, where he planned to bed down instead of the bunkhouse.

  For one, he’d be able to get the chuck wagon hitched quickly in the morning and get off the ranch before he even had a chance to see Fran or her sister.

  And he’d be able to watch over the house better from here.

  It sat wrong with him, settling the two girls in his ma’s house, in Breanna’s bedroom. It was true there weren’t a lot of valuables to be had around the place, but if they messed up his family’s home, he’d never forgive himself.

  He didn’t expect to get a lot of sleep that night.

  And another benefit of sleeping in the barn? He didn’t have to face his brothers again.

  He’d spoken to them briefly about his new plan to get the cattle delivered to the buyer. Teaming up with two of their nearest neighbors, who also had cattle to sell, would make things easier on them and provide more eyes to watch over the cattle.

  He’d barely gotten his plan laid out before the brothers had started razzing him. Even Davy, who was quiet natured, had apparently been filled in and was teasing him about his new wife.

  And that was when he’d commanded Davy to watch over the homestead in his absence and rushed out of the bunkhouse to pack up the chuck wagon. His feelings about Fran were so muddled. Mostly he just wanted her gone.

  She was pretty enough, he guessed. But he couldn’t trust her.

  The soft light that had been shining from Breanna’s bedroom went dark. Finally.

  He folded himself into the bedroll, just inside the barn door that he’d cracked open. The night before, he’d been up all night helping that mama cow, and now he wanted nothing more than to slip away into sleep, but he forced himself to keep his gritty eyes open. The hint of moonlight didn’t offer much, but he could distinguish the darker line of the house from the night sky.

  For some strange reason, he really hoped that his new wife wouldn’t be found sneaking out of the house.

  * * *

  Fran curled up beneath the quilt next to her sleeping sister, mind racing.

  It was a snug house, well built. Different from what she was used to. A small white dog had greeted them at the back step until Edgar had shooed it away.

  Edgar and his brothers were leaving in the morning, along with another couple of cowhands. He had said he would leave her under the care of his brother Davy, but what if...

  What if the man she’d overheard on the Lincoln platform was still hunting them on Mr. Underhill’s behalf? What if he tracked her here?

  She’d married Edgar for the protection he could afford her—she’d seen how he had rushed to rescue a bunch of people he didn’t know from the train wreck—but how could she rely on his protection if he wasn’t there? How could one cowboy who didn’t even know her go up against Mr. Underhill and his associates?

  Edgar had said he would be gone for a few days, but what if she didn’t have that long?

  Emma stirred beneath the thin quilt, and Fran’s drooping eyes flew open as an idea hit her.

  What if she and Emma went on the cattle drive with the men? Surely they could help in some way. This solution would keep her and Emma from staying in one place. They would be on the move.

  And near Edgar.

  It would be hard for Mr. Underhill to track them if they just disappeared.

  The more she thought about it, the more sense it made.

  She only hoped her new husband wouldn’t be too mad about it.

  * * *

  It was still dark outside when Fran was roused by the blow of a horse nearby. The confining wall next to her bed was unfamiliar, and why was Emma pressed against her back so closely? She could barely breathe.

  She came awake at the murmur of a man’s voice.

  She was in the wagon. She’d been unable to sleep most of the night, praying they wouldn’t be discovered, but she must’ve finally drifted off.

  And the man nearby was Edgar White. Her paper husband.

  Memories of the day before, the anxious train ride and then the terrifying wreck—and her new husband—tightened Fran’s chest until she wanted to gasp for air. But she didn’t. She didn’t want to be discovered, not here in this uncomfortable wagon bed and not yet, after they’d taken so much trouble to sneak across the yard and into the conveyance in the first place, in the dark of night.

  Emma moved beside her, softly rustling the old blanket Fran had draped over them to hide them if anyone should look in the back of the covered wagon before the journey had begun. Fran placed a gentle hand on the crown of her sister’s head, a sign of comfort they’d used at a small age in their parents’ home, and Emma stilled.

  Metal jangled—possibly the horses’ harnesses?—and Fran braved a whisper, hoping the man was far enough away from the wagon that he wouldn’t hear. “Just go back to sleep.”

  The entire wagon shifted and creaked under a heavy weight. He must be climbing onto the bench seat now. Fran was reminded how very large her husband was. What if he was angry when he discovered them? She didn’t really know him. Would he become violent?

  The realization she might be putting Emma in danger again frightened her.

  The thought that there would be other cowboys around was small comfort. She would simply have to find a way to prove her worth and hope he wouldn’t be extremely angry.

  He clucked softly to the horses, and then it was too late to change her mind as the wagon jostled forward.

  Emma’s breathing evened out as the wagon continuously bumped along. Fran’s mind raced ahead, leaving her unable to return to sleep. Was she doing the right thing?

  She couldn’t hav
e imagined Underhill’s man on the train platform in Lincoln. And even though he hadn’t been on the train to Bear Creek, if he’d tracked them that far, he could track them the rest of the way. Which meant she and Emma might be only a day or two in front of Mr. Underhill. If this didn’t work, if they couldn’t get to Tuck’s Station with the driving cattle and find a way to hide, she would never forgive herself. She was tired of running, but if it came down to it, she would keep moving for Emma’s sake.

  Soft light filtered through the canvas above them when the creaking wagon slowed and stopped.

  Unusual noises of many feet and jostling people confounded Fran. It was barely light outside. Surely the entire town didn’t wake and gather this early, rustic as the place was. But what was going on? Then she realized it wasn’t people she was hearing at all. It must be the cattle. A loud lowing from nearby confirmed it.

  The wagon shifted and then released like a spring. Edgar must’ve disembarked.

  “You’re driving the wagon,” he said, not attempting to be quiet any longer. “The other boys ready to go?”

  “Aw, why do I hafta drive first?” Fran thought she recognized the second speaker as Seb, though she hadn’t seen him since yesterday afternoon, after the rushed wedding.

  “You wanna take a guess why?” There was the sound of flesh meeting flesh—a friendly punch on the arm, perhaps?—and an “oomph” of expelled air, as if the two grown men were wrestling. Surely that couldn’t be right. But then, her brother Daniel had been much older than she and Emma were, and they had never been close enough to tease.

  “C’mon, we gotta get moving,” Edgar said. “Let me get my horse untied.”

  With only her nose poking out of the thin blanket, Fran was still able to see his shadow as it loomed over the side of the wagon. She held her breath, praying he wasn’t going to open the back flap and discover them. Sounds of leather against wood echoed right near her ear.

  Then came another male voice, one she didn’t recognize. “Excuse me.”