Page 41 of Short-Straw Bride

Travis yanked off his hat and swatted his thigh with it. “Confound it, Meri. Will you just do as I ask?” He slapped the abused hat back on his head, then took her by the arm and pushed her toward the back steps. “I don’t know what kind of threat, but I don’t take chances. For all we know, Mitchell could have sent more men to convince me to sell.”

“Or my uncle could have stopped by for a visit.” Meredith didn’t resist his forced guidance. His grip wasn’t rough, just insistent. But she meant to make it clear that she didn’t appreciate his high-handed tactics.

When they got to the back porch, he released her. “I know you haven’t been here long, Meredith, but you’re an Archer now, and you’ve got to learn how Archers do things. We always expect the worst. It keeps us alive. And when someone gives an order, you don’t question it, you follow it. Explanations take time away from setting up our defense, and that leaves us vulnerable. Trust me to do what’s right for you, Meri. It’s for your own protection.”

She frowned at him, letting him know she wasn’t too pleased with his methods, but dutifully nodded her agreement. “All right.”

Travis clapped her upper arm in a movement probably meant to convey his satisfaction over her compliance, but the hard lines of his face never softened. She would have preferred a smile. She’d have to make do with the brotherly thud on the arm, though, for he was already striding away from her, heading to the corral, where his mount waited.

“One of these days you’re going to have to learn that the whole world isn’t out to get you,” she said softly to his retreating back, unsure if he heard her or not, even more unsure if she wanted him to hear. “You’re keeping out more friends than foes with that gate, Travis.” This last observation she whispered to herself.

She’d follow Travis’s instructions and trust him to protect her, but she’d also follow the directives the Lord had placed on her heart. The Archers might be experts when it came to defense, but they were sadly lacking in their execution of hospitality.

Meredith marched through the bathing room and into the kitchen. After stoking up the fire in the stove, she took out a mixing bowl and scooped out three large portions of flour from the bin. She sprinkled a pinch of salt into the bowl, then cut in enough lard and cold water to make a dough. Taking the rolling pin from the drawer, she quickly rolled out the crust, not caring what shape resulted from her hasty efforts. Instead of reaching for a pie pan, she selected a large baking sheet from the cupboard and greased it. She cut the dough into strips, laid them in the pan, and dusted them with the leftover cinnamon-sugar mixture she had reserved after making the sweet rolls. While the crisps baked, she tidied the kitchen, then bustled back to her room to tidy herself.

If their guest proved not to be foe, as she suspected, the brave soul would be showered with neighborly hospitality. It was time the Archers were known for something other than seclusion.

Travis charged through the trees on Bexar’s back, left hand on the reins, right hand on the butt of his pistol. Catching a shadowy glimpse of a wagon, he slowed the chestnut’s pace and steered him off the path to take cover in a thicket of young pines. Crockett must have heard his approach, for the call of a white-winged dove floated on the breeze. White-winged doves rarely nested this far from the Rio Grande Valley, so when Joseph Archer taught his three older boys to imitate the call, they immediately turned it into a game of secret communication. Later, when they were on their own, it became an essential tool of stealth, allowing them to communicate to one another without being seen.

Taking his hand from his pistol, he patted Bexar’s neck and waited for the second call that would signal all was well. When it came, the tightness in his chest lessened, and he drew in a deep breath. Strangers on his land made him tense at the best of times, but now that he had a wife to protect, fear for her safety intensified the usual concern that poured through him every time shots echoed from the road. At least he knew it wasn’t one of Mitchell’s agents. Crockett never would’ve admitted a wagon through the gate if he didn’t know the driver.

Travis cupped his fingers around his mouth and returned Crockett’s call. When the wagon drew abreast of his position, he urged Bexar forward with a touch of his heels and added his escort.

“Travis, my boy!” the bewhiskered driver boomed. “Good to see ya. I wondered where you were hidin’.”

“I’d hate to grow predictable on you after all these years, Winston.” Travis grinned at his father’s old friend, the only man with a free pass onto Archer land.

“Shoot, that’d take all the fun out of it. Coming to see you boys is about the only excitement I get nowadays.” He reached under his coat and scratched a spot on his chest with the three fingers left to him on his right hand. “Jim got my cabinets ready?”

“Yep. Finished the fourth one a couple weeks back.”

Early on, the Archer boys had traded livestock for supplies—a cow or a hog, whichever they could best spare, in exchange for three months worth of flour, cornmeal, lard, coffee, sugar, and other necessities, like garden seeds, tools, and medicines. But when Jim started dabbling in woodworking and turned out to have a true talent for carpentry, Seth Winston quickly renegotiated their standing arrangement. They could keep their animals if Jim would fashion pieces Winston could sell to the local farmers’ and ranchers’ wives in his shop. Winston’s general store and post office, along with a saloon and a church that doubled as the local schoolhouse, were the only buildings in the nearby tiny settlement known as Beaver Valley, but having the store situated on the market road between Palestine and Athens provided a place for the locals to congregate and therefore a steady trickle of customers. Customers who apparently appreciated rustic oak and pine furnishings.

“Can’t wait to see ’em. Pansy Elmore’s been badgerin’ me somethin’ fierce about that open cupboard I promised her. You know how antsy them women can get.” Winston slanted a glance at Travis and let out a cackle. “No, I reckon you don’t, do you?”

“Oh, he’s learning,” Crockett offered in a wry voice.

Winston twisted to eye the younger Archer. “Whadda’ya mean, he’s learning? You four are livin’ in bachelor heaven. You ain’t even seen a female in fourteen years. Lucky dogs. Womenfolk’re more trouble than they’re worth, if you ask me. Always naggin’ a man to death. I tell ya, there’s been many a time I thought about holin’ up out here with you boys just to get some peace.”

“Your sister still pestering you to move down to Palestine and retire?” Travis asked, eager to veer the conversation in a different direction.

“As if I’d want to be surrounded by her clan. Nellie’s brood is all girls. And not a one of ’em has up and married yet. I’d be stuck in a house with five females. Five! Can ya imagine the torture? All that yappin’ and carrying on. It’d drive me batty.” His violent shudder made Travis smile. Seth Winston was a grouchy old cuss, but beneath all that bluster beat a loyal heart. If a person ever managed to find a way to his good side, he’d have a friend for life.

When Joseph Archer helped him rebuild his store after a twister tore off the roof, he’d landed himself on Winston’s good side. And fortunately for Travis, Joseph’s sons inherited the man’s favor when their father passed.

“Yessiree. You boys are the smart ones. Protect what you got out here, Travis.” Winston pointed at him with the trio of fingers on his right hand. “Don’t let no woman come in and start changing things. She’ll suck the freedom right outta ya.”

They arrived at the front of the house right as he made that statement. Jim and Neill set aside their rifles and stepped down from the porch to help unload the wagon.

Crockett grinned and winked at Travis over the old man’s head. “I think your warning came a couple days too late, Seth.”

Travis shot him a quelling look, but Crockett just chuckled and dismounted, wisely staying on the opposite side of the wagon, out of his big brother’s reach.

Winston squinted up at Travis, consternation furrowing his brow. “Tell me he’s jokin’, Travis. Tell me you didn’t—”

The sound of the front door squeaking open stole the rest of his sentence. Meredith backed through the doorway, her arms occupied with a tray. When she turned, a cheery smile lit her face even as her eyes darted nervously between all the men assembled in the yard.

“Consarn it, Travis! What is she doin’ here? Ya gone and ruined everything, haven’t ya?”