Guardian Bride (5 page)
"I remember Maisy," Snake said. "It's going to take your
sister half the day to get to the wheat field. Just get me a pair
of britches, would you?"
The boy bit his lip, glancing from Snake to the dresser. "I
don't think Summer w—"
"August," Snake interrupted. He really didn't give a damn
what Summer Austin thought. He had to get out of this bed.
"Now that's an interesting name," he offered, noticing how
the boy looked at him questionably.
August grinned. "It's cause I was born in August." He
nodded proudly. "September was born in September. My pa
was born in July and my Ma in June. That's how we all got our
names." He gave a slight shrug. "Summer was just born in
the summer I guess, 'cause that's her name."
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Snake nodded. His family had some unconventional
names, but they were just nicknames, their given names
were normal enough. "Good thing you weren't born in May,"
he said. "To be a man named May would be tough."
The kid giggled.
The light carefree sound brought a smile to Snake's face.
He winked. "How about you get me those britches?"
August shuffled his feet and scratched at the back of his
neck.
Snake didn't say a word, just waited for August to make
up his mind.
With a shrug, August agreed, "All right." He walked to the
dresser and tugged out a pair.
"Thanks." Snake, keeping the sheet over his waist, swung
his legs to the side of the bed. The movement sent flames
ripping up his thigh, and the room spun. He clenched onto the
sheet until his knuckles grew numb.
"You all right?" August asked.
"Yes," Snake groaned between clenched teeth.
"Your face looks like you're mad or something. You want a
different pair of britches?"
The room no longer spun. Snake let out a breath and tried
to sound friendly as he took the clothes. "No, these pants will
do just fine. Thanks."
August hung near the side of the bed. Watched.
Snake tried several ways to get one foot into a pant leg—a
difficult task with only one hand holding the waistband open.
Huffing through the pain every movement caused, he flipped
them out and tried again.
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"You need some help?" August asked.
"Yeah." He tucked the sheet tight across his midsection. "If
you could just set them on the floor by my feet, I'll step into
them."
August did so, and by the time Snake had them pulled up
to his waist, he was breathing heavily and sweating profusely.
Unable to put any weight on his left leg, he plopped onto the
bed. The mattress bounced. Another surge of pain took his
breath away completely.
"I better go yell for September. You don't look so good."
Snake couldn't muster up a response. He laid back and
wished the room would stop spinning again. The motion was
enough to make him throw up. He closed his eyes, willing his
stomach and the room to settle.
When he came to, August sat near the edge of the bed—
again, with big blue eyes staring at him—again.
"Hi," August said.
Something about the kid made him grin. A rough chuckle
bubbled up his chest. "Hi," Snake replied.
"You gonna be my pa?" August asked.
"No." Snake ignored the stitch in his chest. "You already
have a pa."
August shook his head. "Not anymore."
A chill raced over his shoulders, and Snake eased himself
up to sit on the edge of the bed. He took it slow this time,
and then positioned his feet on the floor, careful not to put
any pressure on his left leg. "What do you mean?"
"My pa died. The sheriff was here and told Summer."
"When?"
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"Day 'afore yesterday."
A million subjects darted around in Snake's head. Who'd
killed July Austin? Who'd shot him? How'd he get home? Had
he really seen his father? Had that been some kind of
mystical vision?
August's sad voice filtered in amongst Snake's thoughts.
"It's all right," the boy said. "If'n you don't want to be my pa.
I was just thinking having a ma and a pa would be kinda nice.
Jeffrey Mohler has both a ma and a pa and bragged about it
all the time."
"Who?" Snake asked, trying to follow the child's words.
"Jeffrey Mohler. Summer worked for his pa back in Dodge,
at the Long Branch. Jeffrey went to school with me. Mrs.
Hinkle had to tell him to leave me alone." August's eyes were
cast down and a frown pulled on his lips. "He's lots bigger
than me."
Snake's heart tugged on the wall of his chest. It had to be
hard, growing up without parents. Poor August was so young,
and he was a good kid, for all Snake had seen so far anyway.
"Summer said even though she's my sister, I could
pretend she was my ma."
A smile tickled Snake's lips. He could see her saying that.
It was evident how much she loved her siblings. He'd noticed
that right off. "That was nice of her," he said, unable to think
of a better answer.
"I was hoping now that the two of you are married, I could
pretend you were my pa."
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For a moment he thought he'd been shot again. "What?"
Snake pressed a hand so hard on his stomach he could
almost feel his backbone. "What did you say?"
August jumped back. "Sorry!" He glanced about the room
nervously. "I won't pretend you're my pa, I promise."
Snake took a deep breath and told himself not to shout
this time. "No, not that part. What did you say about Summer
and I?"
"That you two are married?" August mumbled
questionably.
"No, we aren't."
"Ah, ha," August said nodding his head.
"Uh, uh," Snake said, shaking his.
Still nodding, August supplied, "The preacher man was
here."
Snake went ice cold, inside and out. "When?"
"While you were sleeping. When the doctor was digging
out the bullets."
The air in his chest, hotter than Hades, burst from his
lungs as Snake bellowed, "Mmmaaa!"
Just then the door flew open. Summer Austin, sweat
running down her face and chest heaving with gulps of air,
blasted into the room. Following closely on her heels was his
mother.
Snake glared. His mother's eyes grew wide, and quicker
than a horsefly, she buzzed in, grabbed August, and soared
back out the door.
"Ma!" he yelled, thrusting himself onto his feet. Blinding
pain made him grab for the table beside the bed. It collapsed.
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He went down with it, growling and cursing a blue streak at
the hell tearing across his body.
Hands tried to assist him, and he pushed them aside. "Get
away from me!"
When a little more than a constant ache filled his system,
he eased himself off the floor, grunting, and silently cursing,
until he finally sat on the edge of the bed again.
Summer Austin stood before him, tears streaked her
cheeks. As if she hadn't noticed them until just now, she
wiped her face with the backs of her hands, and then met his
stare. Her eyes weren't cold, but there was hardness in them,
a strength he'd never seen in a woman before.
The sight took him aback, made him stare longer, harder.
She didn't flinch, just met him eyeball for eyeball.
"Are you through trying to kill yourself?" she asked.
His lips grew tight.
She lifted her eyebrows.
He raised a hand, pointed to the door. "Get my mother."
She didn't even blink. "No."
"No?"
"No," she stated, pointedly.
"Fine, I'll get her." He put his hand on the edge of the bed
but knew full well he couldn't put any weight on his left leg. If
he could get up, he might be able to hop to the door. Fear of
the pain he'd felt moments earlier kept him from attempting
to stand.
"I didn't think so." Her voice was soft, and she stepped
closer. "Tell me what you need, and I'll get it."
"My mother. I need to speak to her."
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She lifted the table and checked the legs for breakage.
"Why? I can tell you what happened." After settling the table
beside the bed, she looked at him. "What do you want to
know?"
Snake couldn't make his eyes move. It was as if they were
glued to her. Had she been that pretty the last time he saw
her? Her long black hair hung past her elbows, and her eyes
weren't black, but the deepest, darkest blue he'd ever seen.
They were the color the sky turns just before night falls. Her
face was long and finely shaped so that each feature stood
out, clearly, proudly, yet blended with the others to make the
entire image flawless and overly appealing.
His heartbeat increased again, and this time it wasn't
caused by pain from his wounds. He wet his lips and tried to
come up with something to say. But for the life of him, he
couldn't remember why he'd wanted to hop across the floor.
She blinked and the tiniest grin flickered upon her lips as
he relaxed. "What was it you wanted to ask your mother? We
aren't sure who shot you, but believe it was Wainwright."
His mind cleared with a rush. He pushed one palm deep
into the mattress. "August said the preacher was here."
Her eyes grew round, and she twisted, glancing at the
door.
"Was he?" Snake asked. "Are we married?"
She spun back around.
Her face had grown beet red. "Uh—" Her hair flew about
her shoulders as she twirled again, pointing toward the door.
"Umm—" Once again, she spun back toward him. "Oh..." she
let out a long sigh that carried a moan.
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"Ma!" he bellowed loud enough to be heard in Dodge.
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Summer had never wished to be dead before, but at this
moment, being planted six feet under sounded pretty good.
Snake Quinter was a large man. She'd bathed him while he
slept, washed the bulging muscles more than once. But alive,
sitting on the edge of the bed, those muscles seemed much
larger, and he, overall appeared much fiercer than his
sleeping formed had demonstrated.
Her knees knocked together like spindly tree limbs. She
took a restorative breath, told herself there was no need to
panic, and flipped around to race for the door.
He bellowed again as she slapped the door shut. Leaning
her head against the wood, she gulped as if she'd just floated
up from the muddy bottom of the Arkansas River. When her
heart no longer tried to beat out of her chest, she glanced
around the room. The kitchen area, holding a big table, stove,
cupboards, and all the other household necessities, stood
empty before her. Empty of people anyway.
There was no sign of Stephanie Quinter anywhere.
The door stood open. Had Stephanie taken the children
and headed back out to the wheat field? The thrashing was
coming along well, the field more than three quarters done,
but it would take every available hand to complete it before
night fall.
Maybe Stephanie had gone to get Bug, or even Snake's
oldest brother Kid. Summer's shoulders drooped. There
wasn't anything they could do. She stepped away from the
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door, and spun around, gazing at it. To keep Snake from
being extremely angry at his mother, she surmised. Who
wouldn't be?
Shaking her head, she lifted her hair off her shoulders with
both hands and held it up for a moment to let a touch of
coolness lick at the sweat that had accumulated as she rode
for the house. September had arrived at the field, shouting
that Snake had woken up and then fallen back on the bed.
Fearful he'd hurt himself or opened his wounds, Summer
had leaped on the closest horse and raced for the house.
Frowning, she let her hair fall down her back and walked to
the front door. The yard was empty. The horse she'd ridden
on was gone. So was Maisy. As were her little brother and
sister.
She turned around, looking across the long room to the
doorway at the far end. Balling her hands into fists, she
tossed her head and squared her shoulders.
"I'll do whatever it takes to keep September and August
safe, and that, Mr. Scott Quinter, includes facing you," she
said.
Her feet were heavier than cast iron skillets full of rocks,
but Summer kept them moving, barely let them stall as they
came to his bedroom door. Thrusting it open, she marched
into the room and didn't stop until she stood beside his bed.
"Yes, Mr. Quinter, we're married."
"Where's my mother?" he asked so calmly she squinted to
make sure it was him who'd spoken.