Bushedwhacked Groom (13 page)

Cole eased into a smile. “Look, young fella, there’s no stopping my Molly when she’s determined. Guess
she’s too much like me—”

“But she purely goaded me into this,” Lucky reiter
ated. “Surely you can see that.”

“Yes, I believe she might have. But you took her bait,
didn’t you?”

“Damnation.” Lucky muttered. “So I’ve been had?”

“Reckon that’s about the size of it.”

Lucky glowered.

“She’s a good girl once you get past all the bluster,”
Cole went on. “If I were you, I think I’d quit fighting so
much and try to get to know her better, to make the
best of things.”

Lucky clenched his fists. “Look, get it through your
head, Mr. Reklaw. All I want is to be free of you folks.”

“Free? But where would you go?”

“Back to my life at the Flying T.”

Cole sadly shook his head. “Son, there is no Flying T,
and it’s about time you accepted the notion that your
life is gonna be here.”

“Bullshit.”

He sighed. “What will it take to convince you to stick
around?”

“I haven’t a clue, sir.”

Cole frowned for a moment, then smiled. “You know,
my wife made an apt suggestion.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.”

“What if I take you around, show you the town and
convince you that you really are living in another cen
tury now?”

Lucky gave a disbelieving laugh. “You mean you’re actually gonna persuade me we’re all living in the year
1911?”

“Yeah. What if I can make you accept that? Will you
stop fighting your fate so much then?”

Lucky spoke with absolute conviction. “Sir, if you
can convince me of that, I’ll marry your haywire
daughter.”

“Will you?”

“Hell, I’ll marry your ma.” Watching him glower, he hastily added, “But
only
if you can persuade me. Otherwise, I want your word that you’ll let me go.”

Cole beamed. “You’ve got a deal, son. If I can’t convince you, I’ll let you go with fifty dollars and a horse, no less. Shall we shake on it?”

“Yes, sir.”

As he shook Cole’s hand, Lucky waited for the ex
pected wave of elation to sweep over him. This was a
bargain he surely could not lose. There was no way they were actually living in the year 1911, right? Soon
he’d be free of these lunatics.

Then why did he feel such a sense of impending
doom instead?

Chapter Ten

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While Lucky pondered his fate, the four Reklaw broth
ers were approaching the Trumble farmstead several miles north of the ranch. It had been a painstaking journey through high mountain passes and on toward
a misty valley beyond.

Cory Reklaw didn’t have a good feeling about this
spur-of-the-moment courting excursion. He was the
youngest of the four, the one who most resembled
their ma, with his auburn hair and green eyes, the one
who shared her more moderate temperament and
love of books—while his three older siblings were their pa reincarnated, both in their dark good looks
and in their wild, unruly ways. Although his brothers
often teased him about being a sissy and a mama’s
boy, Cory was much more inclined to believe what Ma
told him—that he was the only one among the four
who had any sense.

Cory was also the only one among the boys who re
ally believed his ma had traveled through time to be
with his pa—which he supposed also meant that
Molly's “fiancé” might have accomplished this same
outlandish feat. When Molly had been younger and Ma
had told her stories of the future, Cory had often se
cretly crouched outside his sister’s bedroom window,
listening in fascination to the astonishing and mar
velous tales. Moreover, Molly was not the only one
who enjoyed the works of Jules Verne and H. G. Wells,
who saw possibilities beyond their own limited reality.

Only Cory knew he never dared voice his true feel
ings on the subject, even to his ma, or his brothers
would roast him worse than a wiener at a Fourth of
July picnic.

He’d definitely seen enough of his brothers’ hot
headed exploits to have a healthy fear of their tem
pers. Time and time again, he’d implored the other
three not to rush headlong into trouble, and time and
time again, he’d failed—including the other night,
when they’d mixed it up with their long-standing rivals,
the Hicks cousins, at the saloon, and all four Reklaws boys had landed in jail.

His pleas had made little difference then, just as his
arguments earlier today had been jeered at. He very
much feared they’d get off on the wrong foot with old
man Trumble and his daughters. And he really liked
the girls—particularly Ida May, whom he’d waited on a
time or two at the Mariposa library. Once he’d even
helped her select a novel—
Daisy Miller
by Henry
James—before her scowling father had dragged her
away.

Now, spotting the neat two-story farmhouse emerg
ing in the hazy hollow below them, he cleared his
throat and tried one last time to dissuade the others.
“Boys, like I told you, I’ve got a real bad feeling about this
courting business. Hasn’t Ma always told us wooing a future wife is nothing to be embarked on in haste?”

“Yeah,” answered Vance, “but just look what baby sis
ter is doing, beating us to the punch with that drifter.
Hell, she’ll likely have the knot tied with him before we
get home tonight.”

“But Molly’s a girl,” Cory argued. “Girls can get away
with murder—leastwise, that’s what Ma has always
told me.”

“Well, baby sister ain’t beating us out this time, not
while I have breath left in my body,” asserted Zach.
“And quit quoting Ma to us, you little pantywaist.”

Cory bucked up his fortitude. “Boys, my point is, we
haven’t thought this through. We’re going off half-
cocked to court these four sisters when we know Mr. T.
will likely forbid us to see them—”

“Yeah, he’s had it in for us ever since Grandma gave
him his comeuppance,” grumbled Matt.

“Well, would you want to marry old man Trumble?”
asked Cory.

While Zach and Vance hooted with laughter, Matt
went red-faced. “Hell, no! Just what are you insinuat
ing, you little pissant?”

“I’m saying we can’t just each of us up and grab a sis
ter and go get hitched, like a bunch of barbarians.”

“Why not?” asked Vance.

Cory waved a hand. “Well, for one thing, we don’t
even know which one of us is going to court which
sister.”

“Ah, that’s easy,” blustered Zach. “We’ll just go by
ages. I’ll take the eldest, Sally. Vance, you get Nelly, Matt
can court Bonnie and Cory, you get the pudgy runt,
Ida May.”

“I don’t think she’s pudgy, or a runt,” Cory protested.

“Good. You’re welcome to her, then.”

Cory could only shake his head as the group arrived
before the two-story Victorian farmhouse. All dis
mounted and tied their horses at the hitching post; Vance was the first to go vaulting up the steps and
knock on the door. Following along, Cory could have sworn he spotted a curtain moving in an upstairs win
dow, a flash of blond curls. And had he heard a giggle?

A moment later a gaunt, bearded elderly man with
bushy eyebrows and fearsome features opened the
door and scowled at the four as he lifted a hearing
horn to his ear. “So, it’s the Reklaw boys, eh?” he
greeted in a loud, strident voice. “What are you four
whelps doing on my porch this fine spring afternoon?”

Vance had the grace to remove his hat. “Afternoon,
Mr. Trumble. We’ve come to court your daughters, sir.”

“What?” the old man cried, ire shooting from his
dark eyes. “You say you’re here to
wart
them? How dare
you!”

As all four men struggled not to smile, Vance said
forcefully, “No, sir. No. We’ve come to
court
them.”

The old man harrumphed. “Court ‘em, eh? Why,
that’s even worse! Of all the gall! What makes you pip
squeaks think you have my permission to spark my
daughters?”

Vance gulped. “Well—er—”

Trumble advanced, sneering at the boys. “You ain’t e
ven asked me, you know. Just showing up here with
out a never-you-mind.”

“Well, sir, we’re asking now,” put in Matt bravely.

Trumble snorted. “That ain’t how you ask, young
fella. You should make a proper appointment, or
speak to me in town. Did your ma raise up a bunch of
heathens?”

“No, sir,” insisted Zach. “You know we all attend church every Sunday, just like you and your girls do.”

“‘Pears it ain’t done you much good.”

The three older Reklaw boys glanced helplessly at
one another. Cory knew he had to step in. “Sir, we apol
ogize for just showing up like this, but we really were
hoping we could see your daughters—er—just for a
few minutes.”

“Where’s your calling card, young man?” Trumble
demanded.

“Er—we don’t have any.”

“Well, how can I tell you boys whether you’re
received or not if you don’t even got no calling cards?”

All four Reklaw brothers appeared stumped. “But
sir,” pleaded Matt, “just let us have a moment—”

“Young man, what makes you think you have anything
at all to offer one of my daughters?” Trumble demanded.

“Why, I’ve plenty I’d like to offer your Bonnie,” Matt
spouted back. “The lower five hundred.” He paused,
grinning. “If she’ll just give me a baby right quick.”

Cory winced as Trumble cursed violently, then
slammed Matt across the jaw, knocking him to his
heels. Horrified, Cory watched his brother go crashing
down the steps, landing with a moan in the swept yard.

Meanwhile, their host was bellowing blasphemies
and bashing Zach and Vance with his hearing horn.
“Foul-mouthed hooligans! Where’s my shotgun?” he
shouted, whirling to go back inside.

This was all the prodding the Reklaw brothers needed. The three who remained upright vaulted
down the steps and hauled Matt to his feet. Then all
four jumped on their horses and galloped away.

Hearing the sounds of feminine laughter, Cory
glanced back to see the four lovely Trumble daughters
framed in a second-floor window. All were tittering
and waving. Great. Not only had they made complete
fools of themselves, but the four sisters, ladies they’d hoped to impress, had witnessed their downfall.

“Well, that was right productive, boys,” Cory drawled
to the others.

“Shut up!” Matt snapped back, rubbing his jaw.

But Cory was too indignant to be silenced. “Didn’t I tell you boys what Ma said—that you can’t just go
snatching up some lady like a caveman?”

“If you don’t stop quoting Ma, we’re gonna string you
up,” threatened Zach.

Cory waved a hand. “There you go again, behaving
like savages. Has it ever occurred to you boys that the
only way to win this contest might be to
listen
to our
mother?”

There, the others had no replies, though their angry
looks spoke volumes.

***

The sun was low in the sky by the time Cory and his
brothers arrived, dusty and bedraggled, at the ranch
house. Before they could even dismount, Molly came
dancing down the steps. With secret mischief in her
eyes, she teased, “Well, don’t you four look a sight?
Where you boys been? You missed all the excitement.”

“Well, maybe we had some of our own,” sneered
Vance as he slipped off his horse.

Molly frowned at the sight of Matt hobbling toward the front steps. “You boys get in another fight at the saloon?”

“That’s none of your business,” Matt snarled.

“So, be a prickly pear, then,” she taunted back. “I’m
still gonna tell you my good news.”

“Oh, yeah?” scoffed Zach.

“Yeah.” She preened to each one in turn. “Handsome
and me are gonna get hitched. It’s all official now.”

All four of Molly’s brothers snapped to attention.
“What?” demanded Zach.

“You’re lying!” accused Matt.

“No way you did all that in one afternoon,” protested
Vance.

“Oh, no? Just go ask Ma and
Pa.
”

“We will,” vowed Zach.

As his three older brothers stormed toward the
house, Cory lingered on the steps with his sister, shak
ing his head at her superior look. So she had already
hoodwinked the drifter into a proposal of marriage. He
had to hand it to her—Molly was one smooth operator.

“So you did it, eh, sis?” he teased. “Convinced that
cowboy to marry you, just like that?”

“Well, I have my ways about me,” she gushed,
smoothing her hair with a hand. “Still, I reckon it was
more Pa’s shotgun that persuaded Handsome, right after he shoved his tongue in my mouth.”

Cory laughed. “Wonder whose idea that was?”

“Why, old Handsome’s, of course.”

“Sure, I just bet it was.”

She winked. “So, how did it go, courting the Trumble
sisters?”

“You knew?” Cory raised an eyebrow.

“Pa told us after you left. Now I want to hear all the
juicy details.”

He just bet she wanted to hear. “Well, maybe I’m not
in a mood to chat.”

“Cory, please,” she wheedled.

He wagged a finger at her. “You may have that cow
boy of yours bamboozled, but I’m wise to you, sis.
Don’t expect me to help you win this contest over the
rest of us.”

“Well, I tried.” She grinned. “Reckon I’ll go air out my hope chest.”

Cory was still laughing as he followed Molly inside
the house.

***

Jessica turned from the sideboard at the din of her
three eldest sons storming into the kitchen.

“Ma, is it true?” Zach demanded. “Has Molly already
convinced that low-down sidewinder to marry her?”