Page 46 of Short-Straw Bride

Silence stretched over the pair as they continued to size each other up. Finally, Travis thrust out his hand. Moses grasped it with his own, and the two shook. Giddy pleasure gurgled through Meredith, but she contained it behind a soft smile.

“One of us will meet you at the gate each morning to escort you in,” Travis instructed. “You and the boy can take your midday meals with us while you’re working and collect your payment at the end of the week.”

“Yessir, Mr. Archer.” Moses dipped his head in compliance.

“Call me Travis. If we’re going to be working together, there’s no need for such formality. That there’s Jim,” he indicated with a thrust of his chin. “Crockett and Neill are out on the range. You’ll meet them in a bit when they come in to eat.”

Moses shook hands with Jim and introduced his son, Josiah. Meredith stepped back and watched the whole thing unfold, pride in her husband seeping through every pore. She’d worried, just for a moment, that the color of Moses’s skin might have played a part in Travis’s reluctance to accept his help. But clearly that was not the case. Not with him offering the use of his Christian name. No, Travis would have treated any stranger with the same discourtesy.

A giggle tickled her throat. Oh, that’s right—he had. She’d nearly forgotten about her own inhospitable Archer welcome. That day felt like a lifetime ago now.

“Jim, why don’t you take Moses and Josiah up to the shed and show them the sketches you’ve been working on,” Travis said. “Meredith and I will meet you at the house in a couple minutes.”

Jim nodded and led the Jacksons toward the shed. Meredith waved to Moses when he tipped his hat to her, then turned a beaming smile on her husband.

“Oh, Travis,” she gushed. “You won’t regret this. Moses is a good man and a talented builder. I know the two of you will get along famously. Papa always held him in high esteem even though he and his older boy never came to the reading classes. Too busy sharecropping. That’s probably why he didn’t heed your sign. I don’t think he can read. But his wife and younger son attended and were fine pupils. Why—”

“Meredith,” Travis snapped and grabbed hold of her arm.

The well of frothy babble inside her dried up in an instant. She met his gaze, and her heart started a painful throb in her chest. She’d experienced his irritation and even an occasional flash of true frustration, but never had Travis directed a look of raw anger at her.

Suddenly she very much wished she had let Sadie keep her penned in the house.

21

Travis glared down at the woman who’d nearly given him a heart seizure. Her blue eyes had gone wide. Good. Maybe he’d scare some sense into her.

“Don’t you ever step in front of my weapon like that.” He ground the order out between clenched teeth. “Do you understand me?”

Meredith gave a quick little nod, her chin quivering. Travis hardened himself against the urge to set aside the lecture and gather her into his arms. This was no time to be soft. Just thinking about what could have happened made his blood run cold.

“A bump against the barrel, an involuntary jerk of my hand . . . anything could have set the gun off, and then where would you be?” He let go of her arm and stalked off a pace before whirling around, his finger jabbing toward the earth, where he visualized her bloody, prostrate form. “On the ground, that’s where. Dead.”

A shiver passed through him, and he raised a hand to his face to try to rub away the torturous image.

“I trust you, Travis.” Meredith took an uneven step toward him. “I know you would never harm me.”

“Not intentionally, but accidents happen. You need to exert better judgment, Meri. Stop rushing in to help all the time.”

“Stop rushing in . . . ?” She stiffened her posture.

A tickle of unease gathered in Travis’s gut.

“It wasn’t my faulty judgment that placed me in front of your rifle, Travis Archer. It was yours.” Her index finger collided with his chest.

Travis frowned. If she thought she was going to turn this around on him, she could think again. She was the one who needed to learn how things were done on his land. She was the one who needed to quit putting herself in harm’s way, conducting those good deeds of hers that always seemed to go awry. She was the one—

“I tried to explain who Moses was when I first came across your little welcoming party,” she said, intruding on the satisfaction of his inner tirade, “but you were so set on driving him away that you rebuffed my efforts. Had you simply listened, there would have been no need for me to get your attention through drastic measures. Perhaps I did put myself in harm’s way, but only because you drove me there.”

“I’m sure you could have found other, safer, ways to secure my attention.” Travis crossed his arms. Let her try to refute that argument.

Meredith crossed her own arms. “Maybe, but none of those options would have put me between you and Moses. And that was precisely where I needed to be. Or did you fail to notice the way his hands curled into fists when he thought I might be in trouble?” She paused, as if daring him to comment. “He would have flattened you if I hadn’t intervened.”

“I would’ve held my own,” Travis grumbled.

“Would you have shot him?”

Travis rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the tops of his boots. Meredith knew he’d never shoot an unarmed man, he could hear it in her voice. So why was she pressing him?