Rexanne Becnel (25 page)

“Miss Morgan?”

“Yes?”

Captain Peters opened the back curtain just enough to peer in. “I just wanted to express my condolences to you and to say that Cracker here has offered to help you with your team if you need assistance.”

He pulled the curtain farther aside so that she could see Cracker O’Hara standing beside him. Abby tried to look grateful, but she knew she failed. “That won’t be necessary,” she answered. “I’m to marry Reverend Harrison tomorrow. He’ll be seeing to the stock.”

“Well, that’s good news, miss. Mighty good news.” He smiled, clearly relieved not to have a young, unattached female traveling alone in his wagon company. “I wish you both the best.”

After they left, Abby just sat there, staring at the wet canvas curtain as it ebbed and bellowed in the never-ending wind. Captain Peters was relieved to see her care shifted onto some man’s shoulders. Any man’s. But that was the way of the world, after all. No matter her dissatisfaction with the limitations placed on women—they must be wed; they could not possibly have careers of their own—that was the way things were. And she was going along with it.

But why? she asked herself. Why marry a man she didn’t love, and feared she never could? For possibly the only time in her entire life no one could force her to do anything she didn’t want to do. So why was she fleeing from that freedom into the constraints of a marriage she didn’t really want?

Abby sat a long time in the wagon just thinking. She’d promised her father, and she’d been raised to honor her promises. But what about her father? a rebellious part of her demanded. Why had he hidden the truth from her?

The meager light faded to a gray twilight and then to a wet darkness, broken only by the sputtering of a few campfires. But she sat unmoving, angry with her father and mother. Angry with the world.

In the end, though, she was reduced to wondering if she could manage on her own. And if she could find the right words to let Dexter down easily. Best to tell him tonight, she realized, pushing herself wearily to her feet, though facing him and his disappointment was not something she relished. But it had to be done, and the sooner the better, she resolved.

Her bonnet was still damp, so she wrapped a blue knitted shawl around her head and shoulders and climbed down into the churned-up mud outside her wagon. Most people had already bedded down for the night, and snores of varying volumes wafted on the wet breeze. But she found Dexter still awake, sitting at the Godwin fire, leaning forward, his face intent as he expounded to Rebecca and her father.

“That broad appeal is what makes the Bible the miracle it is. For the simplest souls it says, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ For those souls who would search deeper, however, there are passages that, when studied, can illuminate and guide us the full length of our lives. And for those who would delve even deeper, they have only to—Why, Abigail.” He broke off when he spied her. “Are you looking for me?”

Abby sent Rebecca and her father an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to interrupt. But might I have a few words with Reverend Harrison?”

Rebecca looked disappointed, but Mr. Godwin only stifled a yawn. “’Tis past time to turn in anyway. We’ll say a good night to you, Reverend. And to you, Miss Morgan. Uh … should I stay up and walk you back to your wagon?” he added.

“It’s all right. I’ll see Miss Abigail home,” Dexter answered for her, placing a proprietorial hand on Abby’s waist. “Since we’re to wed in the morning, there’s no threat to her reputation.”

That remained to be seen, Abby thought. But she refrained from expressing herself until they were a little distance from any of the wagons.

“What is it?” he finally asked when it seemed she would lead them completely out of sight of the wagons. “Abigail, what is it?”

She turned to face him, hardly able to make out his features in the moonless night. “The thing is,” she began, nervously clutching the shawl to her throat. “I … I don’t think we should be married tomorrow.”

He was quiet a moment, and she began to wonder if he’d heard her at all. “I said, I don’t think—”

“It’s all right, Abigail.” He reached out and took her hands between his. “It will be all right. You’re just nervous now. But once we’re married—”

“No.” Abby jerked back, and her shawl slipped from her head to her shoulders. “You don’t understand. It’s not nervousness. The truth is—” She took a sharp breath, willing herself to be calm and to be kind, though she feared there was no kind way to decline a man’s proposal of marriage. “The truth is, I don’t love you, Dexter. I like you. I respect you. But I do not love you and I know I never will.”

“Now, Abigail. You can’t be certain of that. And anyway mutual respect—”

“I just don’t think mutual respect is enough for me.”

“If you would give it time. Think about it more.”

“But I have thought about it, Dexter. I have. And I … I just don’t think I’m the right sort of woman for you. You’ll find someone far better suited to the role of minister’s wife than I could ever be.”

“It’s him, isn’t it? McKnight. He’s turned your head, just like everyone says.”

Abby’s heart sank. He was right of course. At least partially. And by turning Dexter’s marriage offer down, she would appear to be confirming the gossip Martha had obviously started. But what else could she do? When she didn’t answer his charges, Dexter sighed and his shoulders slumped.

“Well, if that’s how you want it,” he mumbled.

She left him then and with a determined stride made her way back toward the wagons. She was free now. Truly free to choose her own path in the world. Yet she found it impossible to exult. She was free, yes. But she was also alone, and though it had not been her choice to lose her parents, she had made tonight’s decision of her own free will.

The mud sucked at her heavy working boots and dragged at the ends of her shortened skirt as a sudden sense of loneliness dragged at her soul. Today she had turned down a perfectly good offer of marriage, as well as the dangling promise of a wealthy grandfather’s attention—if Tanner McKnight was to be believed. But though the rest of the world would surely think her mad, she knew she was right. Like her little Tillie, she could not settle for a life that did not truly fit her.

The trouble was, just like Tillie, she had no idea what sort of life
would
fit her. She didn’t know what tomorrow might bring, nor which way its winds might blow her.

She hugged her shawl tight around her arms, not caring that her hair came free and lifted on the vagaries of the night breezes. For now she didn’t have to worry, she reassured herself. The next few months would be spent heading west. She had nothing to do but keep putting one foot before the other.

After she reached Oregon and claimed her land, well, then she’d decide what to do next with her life.

A
BBY CAME RUDELY AWAKE
when a large hand clamped over her mouth. Fear erupted through her, but before she could do more than try to twist away from her unknown intruder, a heavy body descended onto hers, pinning her to the bed.

No!
she wanted to cry. But the callused palm that pressed her head into the pillow prevented her from even taking the breath needed to speak. She bucked hard and tried to free her hands to strike at him. But one of her arms was caught between them, and the other was trapped beneath the tangled sheets.

This could not be happening to her.

And yet it was, she understood as panic took over her reason. It was happening to her just as it had happened to Rebecca.

Abby bared her teeth and tried to bite the unyielding palm. She tried to knee him in the groin as Doris Crenshaw had advised the other women should they ever be subject to an attack. But the brute seemed to anticipate her every move.

“Just relax, dammit. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Abby went stock-still, but not because his words so reassured her. No. Rather it was his voice. Tanner’s voice.

Her heart sank, though her fear did not ease one whit. Was
he
the one who’d hurt that innocent child?

He shifted slightly, raising himself up on one elbow, though his hand remained firmly in place on her mouth. “That’s better. I know you’re not going to like this, Abby, but I can’t let you marry that preacher.”

Abby’s eyes widened and she stared up at the vague shadow of his face. Her heart thundered like a herd of buffalo in her chest, but now she dared hope. He didn’t want her to marry Dexter? Did that mean that he …

“I’m loosening my hand now, but don’t yell. Understand?”

Abby nodded. As if she would yell and thereby alert the entire camp that she had Tanner McKnight in her bed. When his hand slid away, she took one deep gulp of air, then another.

To her acute embarrassment, however, those deep breaths caused her breasts to flatten against his chest. He must have felt it too, for he shifted again, and his chest moved up an inch or two. She could breathe more easily now, true. But this new position only pressed their lower extremities closer together. She could feel the outline of his belt buckle against her stomach. And something else as well.

“Get off me,” she bit out, trying to cover her mortification with anger.

One of his fingers pressed against her lips. “Be quiet, Abby,” he murmured in warning.

She jerked her head to the side, appallingly affected by the touch of his fingertip to her sensitive lips. Why did he have to be so infuriating—and so obscenely appealing? She should be outraged at his unforgivable behavior, yet she was overwhelmed by her own physical response to him. When he lay upon her full-length this way, and touched her lips …

The fact was, if he would just have kissed her, she could have died then and there a truly happy woman.

But he didn’t kiss her. He seemed more interested in talking, and Abby had to struggle with the sinful feelings that beset her as best she could.

“I can’t let you marry him, so we’re going to leave here tonight.”

“Leave here?” Abby stared up at him, seeing the whites of his eyes, the flash of his teeth as he spoke.

“I’m taking you to Chicago,” he explained as if she should have known as much, your grandfather’s not just paying me to find you. He’s paying me to bring you back to him. And it’s time for us to get going.”

Maybe she was just slow, but it took several long seconds for Abby to fully comprehend what he’d said. He was taking her back to Chicago.
That
was what this was all about. Not that he couldn’t bear to see her marry Dexter. Not that he wanted to marry her himself.

He was taking her back to Chicago to collect the reward her grandfather had offered.

“You
bastard—
”

He blocked the rest of her furious tirade with his hand, and once more Abby felt the full press of his weight on her. He was bigger, he was stronger. But she was by far the angrier. She managed to free one of her hands and struck the left side of his head as hard as she could.

“Son of a—” He broke off when she twisted sharply to the right and nearly brought one knee up between his legs. But before she could do any real damage, he rolled off her, then jerked her over and pushed her facedown into the feather mattress. No matter how much she struggled, he held her down, straddling her hips and pinning her legs down with his booted ones. With astonishing swiftness he bound her mouth with a bandanna, then tied her hands behind her back the same way. Only then did he flip her over again.

Abby tried to kick him, but he just sat on her legs and stared at her.

“I’m doing this for your own good,” he growled, rubbing his ear gingerly and breathing almost as hard as she was.

Her own good! Abby wanted to scream her rage at him, and her frustration. He didn’t have her good in mind at all, only his own.

She tried her best to get her feet free, but he just grabbed her ankles and bound them as well, using her own shawl to do the deed. When he finished, he moved off her legs, but he kept one of his hands on her calf.

“You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

She glared at him, wishing more than anything that she could shoot him with his own gun. But she was forced by the way he’d trussed her up simply to endure his ill treatment. Harder than it had to be? She scoffed inwardly. He didn’t know just how hard she planned to make it on him. He couldn’t keep her tied up forever, she silently fumed. And once she was free, she’d make him sorry he’d ever laid a hand on her.

His hand moved on her leg, just the slightest slide of his fingers and palm against the fullness of her calf. But it was enough to throw her angry thoughts of revenge into sudden turmoil. She hated him. But his touch was turning her insides into melted butter. Against the dusty bandanna she let out a faint groan. Why must she react so violently to this most inappropriate of men? Why couldn’t she have been happy with Dexter?

Why hadn’t she married Dexter immediately as he’d wanted her to, instead of making him wait till tomorrow?

Then she remembered. She’d turned Dexter down completely tonight. Only Tanner didn’t know that. He was kidnapping her, when there was no need.

“Lft mr gw!
”
she demanded through the muffling gag that choked her.

But he ignored her. With the frightening efficiency of a man who knew precisely what he was doing, he grabbed a carpet bag and dumped its contents out. Then he began rooting through her belongings, stuffing random clothing and other items into the bag until it would hold no more.

He turned toward her then, and though Abby tried to shrink back into the bed, her old familiar bed that she’d slept in for as long as she could remember, she could not escape. He tore the sheet from her and after a moment’s pause, when his eyes raked her from head to toe, tugged her nightgown down to cover her thighs and knees. When he grabbed her boots, though, and started to force them onto her feet, she fought him with every bit of strength she possessed.

She would not go with him. She refused to go!

In the end, however, she went. He laced her boots up, wrapped her in her rain slicker, and after tying her bag of possessions onto his horse, he gathered her in his arms and stood her upright on the tailgate of the wagon. Then he mounted his big horse Mac and pulled her in front of him.