Page 86 of Short-Straw Bride

But he could. He’d give up anything for her. Without a moment’s regret. What he couldn’t do was look at those big blue eyes of hers without getting distracted. So he set his jaw and marched toward the table, tipping his head so his hat blocked his view of her.

As he moved, he tallied Mitchell’s men. Mitchell and Wheeler made two. The thug with the ax wrestling with Jim was three. And the two fellows who had trussed him and Jim up were loitering outside the door; he could see their shadows through the front window. According to Jim’s earlier count, that left only one for Crockett to track down and disable before returning to the cabin. Their plan to draw the men out of the woods had worked. Now they just had to figure out a way to get Jim’s hands untied and take out five armed men without endangering the women. He was still working on that part.

Meredith watched with swelling dread as Travis made his way to the table. He couldn’t sign away his land. He just couldn’t. That land was everything to him. If he sacrificed it for her, it would kill whatever hope they had of making a love-filled marriage together. Oh, he’d never voice his regrets. He was too noble. But he would grow to resent her. How could he not? Because of her, he was breaking his deathbed promise to his father and forfeiting the one thing he treasured above all else—his land.

She bit her lip. He’d never even looked at her. Not since Roy named his price. And that more than anything ate away at her hope.

“You mind untying my hands, Mitchell?” Travis twisted sideways, aiming his bound arms at Roy. “I can’t exactly sign your papers with my hands behind my back.”

Roy hesitated a moment, then nodded to the only man on his payroll without a gun in his hand. “Parson? Some assistance, please.”

“All right,” the man huffed. “But it will—”

“Cost me extra. I know.” Roy glared at the minister. “Just do it.”

The man pulled a blade from his boot and sawed through the rope at Travis’s wrists. When her husband was finally free, he rubbed his chafed skin and immediately took up the pen that lay beside the document on the table. He only spared a moment to glance over the words before inking the nib and scratching his name across the bottom of the page.

A silent sob caught in Meredith’s throat. It was done.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Archer.” Roy nodded his head toward Travis in a mockery of a bow. “You and your wife may leave if you wish.”

Travis strode toward her, but his narrowed eyes focused at a point above her head. Wheeler pressed the side of his pistol against her chin and forced her head around. Then before she knew what he was about, his mouth crashed down on hers. A sound of protest reverberated in her throat as she struggled to free herself from the violation.

From somewhere behind her, Travis shouted, and Cassie cried out for Wheeler to stop. Meredith could hear her husband’s pounding footfalls, but right before he reached her, Wheeler yanked his horrible mouth from hers and threw her into Travis, nearly knocking them both to the ground. His wicked chuckle echoed through the cabin as Travis’s arms closed around her.

Meredith scrubbed the vile man’s taste from her lips with the back of her hand, wishing she could crawl into Travis and hide.

“Go outside and get on Bexar,” Travis whispered close to her ear. “Ride for home.”

Meredith stiffened. “I can’t leave Cassie.”

“Jim and I will take care of Cassie.” There was no soothing in his tone. Only command. “I need you to go.”

How were he and Jim, who was still bound as far as she could tell, going to take care of Cassie? It made no sense.

Travis’s grip tightened on her arm ever so slightly. “Trust me, Meri.”

The words cut through her. She’d not let him down a second time.

Meredith nodded and slowly stepped away from him. He released her arms, then staggered forward as if her moving had thrown him off-balance. She turned back and grabbed for him, but he’d already recovered. He found her hand within the folds of her skirt and slid a small cylindrical object into her palm. Her eyes widened, and in an instant he glanced toward Jim, let her go, and gave her a little nudge toward the door.

Not only was he asking her to trust him, he was trusting her in return.

Not knowing exactly how to fulfill her mission, Meredith exacerbated her limp so she had an excuse to slow her pace. Stomach fluttering, she made her way to where the logger was kneeling with a knee against Jim’s hunched back near the doorway.

“Would you mind letting him up,” she asked the man, struggling to minimize the nervous quiver in her voice. “I’m afraid I’ll trip over his legs if I try to step over him.”

The logger muttered something about “worthless cripples” but did as she requested, hauling Jim to his feet.

When the man was holding Jim only by the elbow, Meredith seized her chance and slid up against Jim’s side, reaching for his hands as if to assist him in gaining his feet.

“Get away from there.” The logger scowled at her and jerked Jim away from her grasp. But the transfer had been made.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, praying he hadn’t noticed anything. “I was just trying to help.”

She turned back to the door, intending to leave as she’d promised, when one of the outside guards burst into the cabin, sending her skittering back toward Jim.

“We got comp’ny.”