Page 3 of Short-Straw Bride

“Try to keep still,” he instructed. “Even when the trap opens, don’t pull yourself free. Wait for me to help you. Your leg might be broken, and we don’t want to do anything to make it worse. Understand?”

Another brave little nod.

Travis grabbed the release springs and was about to compress them when the girl spoke.

“Can I . . . hold on to you?”

Closing his eyes for a second, Travis swallowed, then gave a nod of his own. “Sure, kid.”

Her hands circled his neck as he bent over her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

He cleared his throat. “Ready?”

The side of her face rubbed against his upper arm. “Mm-hmm.”

Travis pressed the spring levers with a firm, steady pressure until the trap’s jaw released. Once it clicked back into its open position, he gently removed her foot from the trap.

“I need to check your leg to see how bad it is.” Her arms still around his neck, Travis rotated her until her back brushed the tree trunk. “Rest here.”

He eased away from her hold and lifted the edge of her pantalets a few inches up her shin. The skin had been broken, and there was a deep indentation where the steel had clamped her leg, but she’d had the good sense to keep still, so the bleeding was minimal. There seemed to be swelling and discoloration around the indentation, though, and that worried Travis.

“Can you move your foot?”

The girl flexed her foot and immediately hissed in pain. “It hurts.” Her voice broke on a muted sob.

“Just be still, then.” Travis gritted his teeth. Probably a fracture. “I’m gonna look for some sticks to splint your leg with, and then I’ll get you home. All right? Don’t worry.”

On his deathbed, his father had made him swear never to leave Archer land, to protect it and his younger brothers at all cost. And Travis had done exactly that for the last two years. But today, he was going to have to break his promise. He had to make things right with this little girl. Had to get her home.

Travis stood and scoured the ground for splint-worthy sticks while silently vowing that, before he went home, he’d spring every stinking trap on his property. No way was he going to run the risk of something like this happening again. He’d thought that any troublemakers who found themselves snagged would be able to free themselves with a minimum of fuss and leave with a sore leg to remind them not to return. The traps were too small to do significant damage to a man’s leg, especially through the thick boots most of them wore. But a child? A girl? Travis never even considered such a scenario.

By the time he made his way back to the tree, the girl had composed herself. “What’s your name?” he asked, thinking to distract her as he fit the splint to her leg.

“Meredith.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tied it firmly around the sticks just below her knee. “I’m Travis.”

“You’re Travis?” She said it with such disbelief that he stopped what he was doing to stare at her. She blushed and stammered. “I just . . . uh . . . thought you’d be meaner or bigger or . . . or something.”

Travis shook his head and chuckled softly. “That’s exactly what I want people to think. Me and my brothers are safer that way.”

He looked around for something else to use to tie the bottom of the splint. Finding nothing, he took out his pocket knife and used the point to tear a hole in the seam at his left shoulder. Then he yanked until the sleeve pulled free and slid it down over his hand. He knelt back down and fastened it into place around her ankle.

“You know what you could do for me, Meredith?”

“What?”

He made sure the knot was tight, then smiled up at his patient. “When you get back and your friends start asking you questions, make me sound as big and mean as possible. The fact that I helped you get home can be our secret. Okay?”

Her eyes glowed with something besides pain, and she actually smiled. The weight dragging on his conscience lightened.

“Grab onto my neck again—I’m going to pick you up.” Travis shifted to her side and maneuvered an arm under her knees.

“Wait! I need my tin.”

He pulled back. “Your what?”

“My lunch tin. Hiram threw it into the trees. That’s why I came onto your land in the first place. I can’t go back without it.” She twisted and tried to reach behind her.