by Lauri Robinson
Darkness began to clear. Loud, garbled voices filled her ears. Jessie twisted, trying to make out words, but there were too many, coming from all directions. A moan rumbled in her throat.
"Shush now! She's coming to," shouted above the others. Jessie opened her eyes, recognizing Stephanie Quinter's rough voice. How'd she come to be lying on the floor? Her lids closed.
Please, please let it all be a dream.
She tugged them open again. Stephanie Quinter's face hovered inches above hers. Jessie covered both eyes with her hands.
So much for
wishes and prayers.
"There now sweetie, are you feeling better?" the woman asked.
Had her tone always sounded so kind and friendly? No, it had been harsh and forceful. The bite of the woman's voice was something Jessie clearly remembered. At least her hands were no longer tied. She pressed them against the floor. With the help of the Reverend and Stephanie Quinter, Jessie rose to a sitting position. Confident the room was no longer spinning she nodded and allowed them to help her back into the chair. She settled onto the hard wood and twisted her hands in her lap. Rubbing at sore wrists, and unsure of the silence that had filled the room, she eased her gaze to the man sitting next to her.
Still tied to the chair, he now had several strips of white cloth wrapped around his face and tied atop his head with a 34
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wide bow. If she hadn't been so uncomfortable, she may have laughed at the sight.
He must have caught the glint of humor she was unable to hide. A gentle smile lifted the corners of his mouth and deep brown eyes sent a twinkle her way. His features were much softer than his brother's and held a hint of kindness. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. It reminded her of Russell's 'I'm sorry' look.
Her glance went to the fireplace. Russell still sat with his hands tied behind his back. Her fingers began to tremble. What had happened while she was out? She'd never fainted before in her life. The incident left her feeling more nervous, if that was possible.
"Miss Johnson, are you feeling all right?" The Reverend patted her shoulder.
"Y-yes, I'm fine. S-sorry for the, um, disruption," she murmured and lowered her gaze to the floor, realizing the entire room stared at her.
"Now that the medical emergencies are over, perhaps someone would care to tell me what's going on here?" the man beside her said.
Jessie didn't dare look his way. His voice didn't sound as friendly as his face had looked an instant ago. Silence hung in the air like dew in the morning. Refusing to allow her eyes to move from the shiny wood beneath her feet, she waited for the stillness to break. Her heart thudded so hard, she wondered if others could see the bodice of her gown jump with each rapid thump.
"Well?" he said.
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Stephanie Quinter cleared her throat. "Like I told you, Kid, this here gal is ta be your wife. Reverend Kirkpatrick is here to perform the marriage."
His intake of breath whistled over his teeth. Jessie cringed, and afraid to breathe, waited for his outburst. Kid Quinter's exhale was long and loud. It echoed through the silence of the room. Time ticked by a few minutes before, in a low, smooth voice, he asked, "How, may I ask, did this marriage come about?"
"Her brother here stole one of our horses. And since he no longer has it and can't return it, he agreed to give us his sister in exchange for not pressing charges," Stephanie Quinter explained.
Tears stung Jessie's eyes. Russell had pawned her off as a store clerk, a nanny, and a schoolteacher the past few years, but this was the first time he promised her as a wife. She blinked past the tears filling her eyes and snuck a peek at the man next to her.
His neck was bent backwards, the back of his head rested on the top rung of the chair. The wide, white bow fluttered as he took a deep breath. Slowly his head lifted. His dark brows furrowed and his gaze leveled on his brothers. "I think I need a few more details. Especially since none of you own a horse." Hope made her eyes grow wide.
"We got a horse. Miss Molly. Or we had one anyway afore this thief stole her." Skeeter pointed to Russell.
"Miss Molly? That old nag's pushing thirty. She should've died years ago. That's the horse we're talking about?" Kid Quinter looked to the sheriff.
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Sheriff Turley shrugged his shoulders. "A horse is a horse, and a horse thief is a horse thief." The lawman glanced to Russell. "In these parts, we hang horse thieves." A lump formed in her throat. Jessie was mad at her brother, but she didn't want to see him hanged. She looked at Kid Quinter. His gaze captured hers. She tried to pull away, but couldn't. He didn't blink, nor did the brown eyes flutter. They linked with hers. It felt like he could see into her mind and was reading each and every thought. He broke the contact by lowering lids that had thick, dark lashes. Jessie pressed a hand to her chest, the thumping filled her palm.
When the lids lifted he looked at the youngest brother.
"Bug, tell me the whole story."
"Alright, Kid." Bug shuffled his feet. "Uh-I met him in Nixon a few weeks ago." He pointed at Russell. "He was buying supplies and needed a ride home." Jessie already questioned the tale. Russell never bought supplies, ever.
"And?" Kid Quinter lifted his eyebrows.
"The things he'd ordered weren't in, but I gave him a ride home. Well, almost home, I dropped him off near White Woman Creek. Then yesterday, he came by to see if he could buy a horse to go to town and pick up his order. Since all the horses here belong to you, I didn't dare sell him one of those, so I sold him Miss Molly. He said he'd be back with the money. Said he had to stop at the bank. He signed a bill of sale. Ma has it." Bug looked to his mother. 37
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Stephanie Quinter laid a piece of paper on the table. Russell's fluent signature filled the bottom of the page.
"Fifty bucks? You sold Miss Molly for fifty bucks? She isn't worth fifty cents." Kid Quinter acknowledged the number above the signature.
"That's what I said. The nag didn't even make it to town. She collapsed and died before I got half way there. I told you I was swindled, Sheriff," Russell said.
"And I told you, Mr. Johnson, you can only be swindled if money was actually exchanged. You admitted you didn't give Bug any money for the horse, nor do you have the fifty dollars you owe him. That makes you a horse thief," the sheriff said.
"She died?" the man beside her asked. His voice sounded deflated.
Russell nodded. "Yes!"
Kid Quinter turned to the sheriff. "Come on, Turley, you know Miss Molly wasn't worth fifty bucks."
"It doesn't matter how much she was worth. This man took her without paying for her. He can't return her, in the same condition she was when she left, nor can he pay for her. You know the law, Kid. This man either pays for Miss Molly or he hangs."
Jessie gasped and with shaky hands tried to wipe at the tears that had started to fall over her cheeks. All eyes in the room turned to her. She lowered her hands to her lap, wringing them together as the tears continued to trickle down her face. Whether they were because of the poor horse dying, or her brother's imminent hanging, she wasn't for sure, either 38
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way, she couldn't stop the water from slipping out of her eyes.
"If you don't want her, Kid, I'll marry her. Can't ya tell she don't want to see her brother hanged?" Skeeter's whinny voice penetrated her ears and caused a loud sob to burst between her lips. The skinny brother made her skin crawl.
"No, you won't," Stephanie Quinter piped in. "I already told you she's too fine for you. Had she been some sodbuster gal it would be different. Look at her, it's as plain as the nose on your face she's a refined gal. Knows her numbers and all, knows how to talk good. You wouldn't know what to do with her."
The woman's hands rubbed on Jessie's shoulders. She didn't know if she should be honored by the woman's kindness or frightened to death at the thought of marrying Kid Quinter. The one thing she did know, the older brother was a whole lot cleaner looking and acted kinder than Skeeter—if those were her only two choices. Unable to withstand the stares any longer, Jessie buried her face in her hands.
"Come on, Kid, the storm's lifted. I gotta get back to town. Either you agree to marry the girl, or I take her brother to town for hanging," Turley said.
Kid couldn't believe this was happening. Nor did he appreciate how much Malcolm Turley enjoyed it. The man had had it in for him for years. Since his cattle ranch became successful, the sheriff had gotten more determined. All because of Emma Sue White—the woman had once set her cap on him instead of the lofty sheriff. Kid gritted his teeth. 39
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To him it was water under the bridge. He hadn't had time for a wife back then and was glad when Turley finally married Emma Sue.
He still didn't have time for one. His attention went to the girl sitting next to him. It wasn't that she wasn't fine enough, matter of fact, she was a pretty little thing. His mother was right; the tiny gal was way too fine for Skeeter. He'd misuse the daylights out of her by just being in the same room. But he didn't want a wife, had no need for one. Not right now, he had too much to do with his ranch and keeping his four brothers and mother on the right side of the law. Besides, when he was ready to marry, he would go to Europe and bring back a refined English lady like the one Sam Wharton, the richest cattle baron west of the Mississippi, had married. Kid shook his head, forcing his rambling thoughts to return to the present. The girl next to him trembled from head to toe, and tears fell from her eyes faster than she could wipe them away. Part of the reason he took to buying the frail cattle no one else wanted was because he couldn't stand the thought of someone misusing or destroying them. He knew with the right amount of care and nourishment, they'd become as strong and grand as the rest of the herd. Those same feelings entered his chest. This little girl needed care and nourishment. Obviously, he was the only one who saw it; the rest of the room only saw fifty dollars or a hanging when they looked at her.
"What's it gonna be, Kid?" Turley's impatience was as clear as the Roman nose on his face.
"All right, I'll marry her."
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The girl's head snapped toward him. He wasn't sure what he read on her face—thankfulness or fear. He wished his hands weren't still tied behind his back. He wanted to squeeze one of her tiny ones with reassurance. Let her know he'd never let any harm come to her. He'd nurture her until she was at her peak, and then ... Then what? He'd have to think about what he'd do once she was fit for the world. He pulled his eyes away and looked at her brother. "I'll marry her, under one condition."
"What's that?" Turley asked.
"That her brother comes to work for me. I'll pay him ten dollars a month, of which half will go to Bug to pay for Miss Molly. After ten months, when the debt is paid, the marriage will be dissolved."
The smile on Russell Johnson's face showed happiness with the arrangement. Kid let his gaze wander over the man. He recognized the shifty eye movements, the man's mind already scheming for a way to get out of the ten months of work. Kid felt a smile form, but didn't let it show. The man's hide had been saved, it was clear that was all he'd been concerned about. He showed little care to the harm he may have thrust on the sister. Well, it was time for Russell Johnson to learn a few lessons. The first one being Kid Quinter could not be swindled.
"That sounds fair to me," the sheriff said. "What do you think, Reverend?"
"Well, I don't believe in divorce, but under the circumstances, I could go along with the plan," Reverend Kirkpatrick agreed.
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"Then start the service, Reverend," Stephanie Quinter said.
"Wait a minute, we don't need to have the ceremony right here, tonight," Kid said. He'd agreed to the event, but needed a bit more time to get used to it, to plan his next step of action.
"Yes, we do, Kid. If word got out a horse thief got away, I'd lose my job." Turley pointed to Kirkpatrick. "Go on Reverend."
"Could you at least untie me?" Kid asked. Shuffling noises made Jessie turn to the brothers. They all scrambled for the door. Her fatigued mind, caught in a whirlwind, hadn't processed all that had been said. Had Kid Quinter agreed to marry her? She didn't know anything about being married, or how a marriage could be dissolved. And had he said Russell had to work for him? That could be worse than the marriage. Heavy dread bore down on her shoulders as the brothers fought over opening the door.
"No, I think not," Sheriff Turley said with a curt laugh. "I want to be well on my way back to town before you get untied." His glance landed on Jessie. "I don't want to have to arrest your husband for murder on your wedding night." Her body went cold. The scuffling behind her ended and the sound of relieved sighs filled the room, making her shiver. Her gaze went to the man sitting beside her. Would he really kill his brothers? Would he kill Russell?
Never in her life had Jessie imagined she'd be sitting at a table in a shanty in the middle of western Kansas marrying a man who was literally tied up from head to toe. Truth be told, she hadn't thought much about marriage, having always been 42
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too focused on finding food and shelter. She didn't have long to contemplate the thought nor what was going to happen next, because Reverend Kirkpatrick opened his Bible and began to read.