Here Comes the Bride (33 page)

A rasping sob tore through Tess. Her hands instinctively flew to her belly, protecting it from the pain she was feeling—and inflicting.

“I’m not,” she lied again. “I started bleeding this morning.”

Gabe eyed her suspiciously. “I don’t believe you. Look at me, Tess. Look me in the eye and tell me you’re not carrying.”

Tess lifted her tear-streaked face to his and willed herself the strength to pull this off.

“I am telling you the truth,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Please, just let me go.”

“Do you love him?”

“No,” she said. “I never have.”

“Do you love me?”

Tess’s lips trembled against the lie. She needed to lie, needed him to believe it, but the truth was stronger than she was.

“Yes,” she choked. “You know I do.”

“Then why are you doing this?” he cried, his own eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Did I do something? Did I
not
do something?”

“No,” she sobbed. “It has nothing to do with you, you’re a wonderful man. I’m just not capable of living this way anymore. It’s too hard. You said it yourself, Gabe, ladies belong in cities.”

Gabe’s mouth opened and slammed shut. He should have known she’d throw that back in his face one day. Should have listened to his gut a long time ago, but, no, he gave in to his stupid heart and now look where it got him.

“Go,” he mumbled. “Get the hell out of here.”

“Gabriel, please,” she sobbed, reaching for his arm.

He stormed away from her then, with long, angry strides, never once looking back.

Twice Harmon Stiles threatened to shut Tess up for good if she didn’t stop crying, but it was the look in his eyes the third time he turned around that did finally stifle her sobs. She knew he would kill her, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. Her only concern was what would happen to her unborn child. Would she live long enough to bring the child into the world, and if so, what kind of life would he have?

She covered her stomach with her hands and prayed frantically for God to save the son she was certain she carried. Once the child was born, Tess would find a way to deliver him to his father, but until then, she would have to use every little bit of knowledge she had and every ounce of courage she could muster to ensure he was born healthy. She owed Gabriel at least that much.

They rode through the day and night, stopping long enough to water the horses. When they reached Shelton, Harm purchased another horse from the livery and tied Tess to it as though she were some kind of criminal.

In the almost two days since they’d left El Cielo, Tess had not spoken once. Harm and Stan chatted away like they were taking a Sunday ride, discussing everything from local politics to the readmission of the southern states, to how—if given the opportunity—they would personally bring a halt to the whole “women suffrage” fiasco. Women needed to be kept in line by their men, and those women were obviously married to nancy-boys. What they needed was a firm hand to guide him.

More than once Tess leaned over the saddle and vomited onto the ground. Neither Harm nor her father paid her any mind at all, not even offering her a drink of water. Never had she known such despair; even when she thought Gabriel was to marry another, she had never felt this desolate. Her only reprieve was the knowledge Gabriel would not be harmed and one day, God willing, he would be united with his son.

Nothing else mattered to her anymore.

 

 

Bart had been riding fences for two days now and his poor horse was taking the brunt of his anger for it. Leave it to Joby to go and get busted up in a fight at the saloon so he couldn’t ride; hell, he could hardly move for that matter. Doc Bender told Gabe it’d probably be a couple weeks before his ribs healed. Bart cussed and threw down his pouch of staples. Damn, but he hated ranching.

He hadn’t seen Collette in two days, hadn’t had a decent meal or a warm place to sleep, and if it weren’t for the fact Gabe was his brother and he needed help, he’d be long gone.

“Bart!”

Bart spun on his heel—what the hell was Seth doin’ ridin’ his horse that hard? Didn’t he know . . .

“Bart!” he yelled again. “You best get back to the barn—there’s somethin’ horrible wrong with the boss and I can’t find Miss Tess anywhere!”

“Whoa down there, Seth,” he hollered, taking the horse by the bit. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

Seth took in great gulps of air before saying anything else. Bart waited, his fury growing with each passing second.

“I done went by to see if the boss needed me for anythin’ else today b’fore I left, and he was . . . he was . . .”

“He was what?” Bart bellowed.

“Can’t explain it,” Seth said, shaking his head. “He done tore up the barn or somethin’ and there he was, sittin’ right in the middle of it all, mumblin’ on an’ on.”

“About what?” Bart was already throwing his tools back into his saddlebag.

“Don’t rightly know, couldn’t make out anythin’ he said.”

“Where’s Tess?” He pulled himself into the saddle and was already turning toward home.

“Dunno. Like I said, I couldn’t find ’er.”

“Well, how long’s he been like that?”

“Dunno that either,” Seth called after him. “I ain’t been near the barn since yesterday mornin’ when them two fellas showed up.”

Bart had no idea who he was talking about, but in the time Seth took to tell him, Bart could already be home. He spurred his horse on as fast as he could, but even at that speed it would be close to dark before he reached his brother.

The barn was a disaster. Saddles and bridles lay strewn around, pitchforks and shovels had been upended and hurled across the length of the room, and the ladder to the loft lay in three pieces on the floor.

Bart stared in disbelief at the mess, checking to make sure the horses hadn’t been injured. He almost missed Gabe altogether until his voice crackled from behind a pile of hay.

“She left me.”

Bart wandered over to the hay pile, righting pitchforks as he went.

“What’re you talkin’ about?”

“My wife,” Gabe growled. “She left. Saddled up with her father and . . . and . . . Harmon Stiles . . . and left.”

Bart’s jaw just about hit the floor. “She what? When?”

“Yesterday morning.” Gabe’s head fell back against the wall, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes. “Said she couldn’t live like this anymore and she left.”

“This is a joke, right?”

“Do I look like I’m laughing?” Gabe snapped.

“But she was so happy here with you and . . . okay, it’s been a little tough lately, but you were making it work.”

“I thought so.”

“Ho-lee shit.” He slumped down in the hay beside his brother and stared blindly at the wall. “How’d her father get here?”

Gabe shrugged. “They were here when I got back from Brolin’s mill, and next thing I knew they were all three of them riding out.”

“Maybe they forced her. . . .” Bart offered weakly, but Gabe shook his head.

“I asked her over and over again if they’d said or done anything to scare her, but she denied it. Kept saying how sorry she was, and how I was right, she didn’t belong out west; how she was wrong about everything.”

“Ho-lee shit,” he whistled, knowing he was repeating himself but unable to think of anything else. “And yer sure she ain’t lyin’, maybe on account of bein’ scared or somethin’?”

Gabe shook his head slowly. “She’s the worst liar in the world. Looked me right in the eye and told me . . .” His voice trailed off.

“I can’t believe it,” Bart said. “I just can’t believe it.”

“Told me her father would arrange for a ‘quiet’ divorce—can you believe that shit? I am not about to divorce my wife!”

“Gabe, man, maybe you should think ’bout it. If this is really what she wants . . .”

“What about what I want, Bart? What about that?”

“Gabe . . .”

“No!” he raged. “This is crap! We took vows, we swore to love each other forever—not just until someone burns down our house or kills part of our family, and not until some fancy-pants lawyer turns up and waves his money around. We swore to love each other forever and I intend to hold her to that.”

“But if she doesn’t love you . . .”

“I don’t give a shit! She’s the one who came here; she’s the one who told me she was in love with me after knowing me all of one day. She’s the one who made me love her—whether I wanted to or not—so I’ll be damned if I’m going to just let that go.”

“What are you sayin’?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying!” He pushed himself up and began to pace back and forth over the same line he’d walked a million times already. “Maybe what I’m saying is if she wants to live in the city, then damn it, that’s where we’ll live.”

“What?” Bart was on his feet in a heartbeat. “You’re gonna move to the city? What the hell would you do with yourself? You hate the city.”

“I don’t know, I don’t care. She married me and she’s damn well going to stay married to me.”

He stopped pacing and stared around the barn, not really seeing anything and yet seeing everything for the first time.

“When will you go?” Bart asked quietly.

Gabe shrugged. “Soon. But first I need to work out what’s going to happen to the ranch.”

“Hell, Gabe, I’ll tend the ranch. . . .”

“No, you won’t.” Gabe turned to face his brother. “You don’t want to be a rancher, Bart, you never have. Tess told me about the sheriff’s job. You should take it, it’s what you want.”

“But what about the ranch?”

Gabe exhaled loudly. “Well, I guess I could go talk to our new friend Wyatt. He might be interested in taking it over.”

“No bloody way!” Bart erupted. “It’ll end up in the hands of Stupid Frankie—or worse—and even I’m a better rancher than him.”

“Is that any way to speak of a man who will be your brother-in-law one day?” Collette’s soft laughter made them both jump. She stepped inside the barn, froze, and sucked in her breath. “What on earth happened here?”

“What are you doing here?” Bart asked, obviously happy she was.

“I came to see Tess,” she answered slowly, still eyeing the barn. “What happened?”

Gabe looked back at Bart and shrugged. “Might as well tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Bart hurried over and took both her hands in his. “Why don’t you sit down?”

“What is it, Bart?”

“Sit down,” he repeated, pushing her gently toward a pile of hay.

“I will not sit down!” she snapped. “Now out with it!”

“Okay,” he sighed. “But you’re not going to like it.”

“I gathered that already. What is it?” She glanced cautiously around the barn. “Where’s Tess?”

“Tess is gone.” Gabe’s face was as grim as it was the minute he saw the two strange men in his yard the day before.

“Ho-lee shit, Gabe,” Bart scowled. “Couldn’t you’ve been a little easier on ’er when you said it?”

“What? Is there an easy way to say it? I don’t think so. She’s gone.”

Collette sank slowly into the hay beneath her. “What do you mean she’s gone? Gone where?”

“I mean she’s
gone
gone. Left yesterday morning.”

“Yesterday?” she croaked. “She’s been gone since yesterday? Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“Don’t look at me,” Bart said, holding up both hands. “I just got here.”

“What on earth did she say?”

Gabe snorted. “She said she’d have her father arrange the divorce, that’s what she said.”

“No.” Collette’s head shook so hard Gabe was sure it would twist right off her neck. “You must have misunderstood.”

Bart sat down beside her, still in shock himself.

“Nope,” Gabe said. “There was no misunderstanding. She’s gone.”

“But how . . . where . . . I don’t understand.”

“That makes three of us,” he said.

“Where did she go?” Collette’s face was as white as the daisies she clutched in her hand.

“Boston.”

“Boston?” she almost shrieked. “No, Tess would never go back there. Not as long as her father and that other horrible man are alive.”

Gabe’s head cocked to the side. “What other horrible man?”

“That . . . that . . . Stiles man. I think she said his name was Harmon Stiles, you know—the man her father wanted her to marry. She’s scared to death of him.”

“What? How do you know this, Collette?” he demanded, crouching in front of her.

“She told me. That day . . . that awful day we buried Rosa and Miguel . . . and you two rode off. I asked her about Boston and . . . she told me what an awful man he was.” A sob broke from deep within her. “Oh, Gabe, she was so frightened telling me about him, there’s no way she would go anywhere near him!”

“Are you absolutely sure?” he asked, peering intensely into her frightened face.

“Good Lord, yes. She told me he threatened her but she wouldn’t say anything more except he was an evil, evil man. Oh, Gabe, are you certain she said Boston?”

“Yes,” he groaned. “And the only reason I’m so sure is because she left here with her father
and
Stiles.”

“No!” Collette cried. “You have to go after her, Gabe. There’s no way she would go anywhere with that man unless . . . unless . . . go after her!”

“I asked her, Collette, over and over again if either one of them had threatened her in any way and she denied it. Said she couldn’t live like this anymore.”

“And you believed her?” She shot to her feet and grabbed Gabe by the arms. “Go after her!”

“She wasn’t lying, Collette,” he said slowly. “I made her look at me, look me right in the eye.”

“Did she say she didn’t love you?”

“N-no,” he answered hesitantly. “She said she did love me.”

Collette’s face softened. “Did you ask her about the baby?”

Bart bolted upright then. “What baby?”

Gabe and Collette both ignored him.

“I asked her,” Gabe said, his frown deepening. “But she told me she’d started bleeding. Do you know something I don’t?”

Collette shook her head. “Nothing for sure, but haven’t you noticed lately how often her hands rest on her belly?”

Gabe’s heart fell right to his toes. She’d done the exact thing when he asked her about a baby.

“Oh God, no,” he staggered back, falling against the wall. “She’s got my baby growing inside her and . . .”

“Go, Gabe,” Collette pleaded. “Go now. If that Stiles man is half the demon she thinks he is, she is in terrible danger and so is your baby!”

Gabe didn’t move. He couldn’t. How could he let her ride out of here with that animal? How could he not know about the baby? How could he not know she was lying? She is the worst liar in the world! Anguish gnawed a gaping hole in his stomach. Tess.

Bart leapt into action. Without even thinking about what he was doing, or who the horse was, he charged into Zeus’s stall, saddled him in record time, and yanked him out of the barn.

“Gabe!” Collette’s voice beckoned him from the blackness of his thoughts. “Go! Find her and bring her home.”

Gabe moved as if in a dream—a horrible, terrifying dream. He couldn’t remember mounting his horse or riding out, but all of a sudden his eyes refocused and the night had turned into day. Bart stood over him pouring whiskey down his throat.

“Come on, Gabe, drink it.”

Gabe brushed it away with the back of his hand and stood up.