Page 87 of Short-Straw Bride

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Roy cursed. “What is it now?”

Meredith flinched at his harshness.

“There’s about a dozen townsfolk coming down the path, screechin’ and carrying on with drums and washboards and such. They look like a bunch of crazies. What do you want me to do?”

“What I want you to do, Mr. Elliott,” Roy answered through gritted teeth, “is to go out there and dissuade them.”

“Dis . . . what?”

Roy slammed his fist onto the table, rattling the ink bottle Travis had used mere moments ago. “Scare them off, you idiot!”

Mr. Elliott recoiled from the shout and backed away. “Y-yes, sir.” He spun around and lumbered past Meredith, leaving the cabin with all possible haste.

Meredith darted a glance toward Travis. Her husband seemed as surprised as anyone by the guard’s announcement. The distraction was buying Jim some much needed time, though.

He’d gotten the penknife open and was working on the ropes at his wrists. Meredith maneuvered her way closer, using her body to shield Jim’s hands.

The logger moved to the window and reported, “They’re mostly darkies. Women and men. Only one feller looks like he’d be worth much in a fight, but even from here I can see a big stupid grin on his face. They’re more nuisance than threat.”

Could Moses be the man he referred to? A little thrill shot through Meredith. Perhaps the Lord had sent them assistance. The sound of drums, shakers, and other crude noisemakers grew louder as the group advanced on the cabin.

Then she heard the man called Elliott yell out a warning. “You’re not welcome here. Turn around and go on home.” His rifle boomed, but the oncoming noise never lessened.

“We heard Miss Cassie done got herself hitched,” a strident female voice called out. Myra. “We come to give her a shivaree, and we ain’t leavin’ until we give it.”

Roy shoved the paper Travis had signed into the pocket of his coat and stomped to the middle of the room, where he grabbed hold of Cassie. “Of all the ill-conceived, dim-witted— We’re not even married yet!”

The logger turned a questioning glance to his boss. “What do you want to do?”

“Bar the door,” Roy ordered. Then he turned back to the minister. “Get the deed done, Parson.”

The door slammed shut. If Moses and Myra were out there, it was possible Crockett and Neill were, too. She had to find a way to let them in.

The preacher began the rushed service, mumbling the words more to himself than the bride and groom as his finger ran down the page of his prayer book in search of the vows. “. . . signifying the mystical union betwixt Christ and his Church . . . not to be entered into unadvisedly . . . If any man can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, speak—”

“I’ve got plenty of cause.” Jim’s deep voice brought the clergyman’s head up.

“Shut up, you!” The logger brought the handle of his ax across Jim’s jaw, knocking his head against the wall beside him.

The penknife clattered to the floor. Meredith leapt forward to cover it with her boot and dragged it under the hem of her skirt. But before she could figure out how to retrieve it and get it back to Jim, her brother-in-law let out a mighty roar and snapped free of the weakened ropes. He lunged at the logger and tackled him.

Travis rushed Wheeler in the same manner.

Roy shouted.

A gun fired.

Cassie screamed.

Meredith’s heart froze.

All she could see of her husband was a tangle of arms and legs. She wanted to run to him. See if he’d been shot. Help fight off his foe. But she forced the desperate urge aside. The help he truly needed stood on the other side of the door.

Kicking the penknife into the corner, she moved to the door and threw the latch. The swarm had overtaken the guards—Crockett and Moses at the center, throwing punches and wresting away rifles. Myra’s iron skillet got in on the action—and was that Seth Winston clobbering Mr. Elliott with a washboard?

Josiah and Neill brought up the rear.