The Barefoot Bride (18 page)

What was more worrisome to her was how to deal with the fact that she and Seth would be spending the night together—alone. Her ambivalent feelings toward the man confused her. She admired his courage as a doctor; his physical cowardice baffled her. She desired Seth; she did not love him. She had pledged to love James forever; Seth was her
husband and wanted her to be his wife in every way.

With James, everything had been so simple. Love and desire had walked hand in hand. With Seth, she felt adrift in a turbulent sea without oars or a sail, or even a rudder.

“I think it might be a good idea to go ahead and get a room at Schmidt's Hotel when we arrive,” Seth said. “That way you'll have a place to rest while I pick up the plate glass for the windows at Carroll & Steell.”

Molly refused to think ahead. She would take each step as it came. And do what felt right. She cleared her throat and said, “That sounds just fine.”

Seth left the buckboard at the livery, and he and Molly headed for Schmidt's Hotel. While most of the town's businesses were constructed of adobe and logs, or housed in tents, Schmidt's had been the first building made from lumber hauled by bull train from Helena. Jacob Schmidt met them at the front desk. The German was known to have a volatile temper. He had once gotten angry and closed down the dining room just because a freightman had tugged on his coattail and demanded service.

“I'd like a room, Uncle Jake,” Seth said.

“For you and the missus?”

“Yes,” Seth said, drawing her forward to meet the German. “Molly, meet Jacob Schmidt.”

“Call me Uncle Jake,” the fat little man said, taking her hand and shaking it once. “I give you best room in the house. Big bed. You like it.”

“Th-thank you, Uncle Jake,” Molly said. She couldn't get used to the frankness of westerners. They said what they were thinking and seemed to have no sense of modesty. Seth saved her from having to say anything more by leading her past Jake and up the stairs to their room.

Uncle Jake hadn't lied. The room was lovely, with a big old maple four-poster covered with a star-patterned quilt and a matching maple wardrobe in which to hang their clothes, a brick fireplace, and a dry sink with a flower-patterned pitcher and bowl for washing. From the window she could see most of the levee, including several steamboats pulled up to load freight and disgorge passengers. Molly turned back to Seth, uncertain what to expect from him now that they were alone.

Seth slowly walked over to her. His fingertips caressed her palm as he handed her the key to the room. “I need to go check on that
blinded whiskey-seller and run my errands. I'll meet you back here later. Uncle Jake can give you directions to I. G. Baker & Co. They probably have the largest selection of cloth goods.”

Then he kissed her.

He took his time about it, kissing one side of her mouth, then the other, then running his tongue along the seam of her lips, slipping it inside for just a taste. He lifted his head and looked at her, and she saw the barely leashed desire that raged in him. He took a step back from her, and another. Then turned without a word and left the room.

Molly realized she was panting. She put a hand against her heart to still its pounding. Her tongue slicked her lips—and found the taste of Seth. Enervated, she sank down on the edge of the bed. Once again, she had yielded to his kisses. Her whole body had responded to the mere touch of his mouth. With very little effort, he had made her want him.

Molly couldn't understand what had happened. When he touched her, all thought of resistance fled. He didn't have to fight her for what he wanted. She willingly surrendered in his arms. Molly wasn't sure whether she felt guilt or euphoria at the prospect of the
coming night. She settled the matter by admitting she felt both.

While their parents were otherwise occupied, Patch and Whit had little trouble sneaking out of the livery with Maverick. Patch led Whit up and down alleys heading toward the levee. Everything might have gone as planned, except that when they were passing the back window of one of Drake Bassett's warehouses, Patch clearly heard the words
“Masked Marauder.”

She halted in her tracks. Whit bumped into her, started to complain, and was immediately shushed by Patch. “They're talking about the Masked Marauder. Shut up so I can hear.”

Whit hadn't the foggiest notion who the Masked Marauder was, but Patch was captain of the ship, and he had no choice but to follow her orders.

Patch listened only with the expectation of hearing more of the Masked Marauder's heroic exploits. But the more she listened, the wider her eyes got. The men inside weren't praising the Marauder—they were planning to ambush and kill him!

They were just beginning to discuss the details of the plan when Maverick, for no good reason that Patch could see, bared his teeth
and growled ferociously. She grabbed the dog's snout, but she was too late to avoid discovery.

“You out there! What are you doing? Hey! That's my dog!”

“Run!” Patch yelled. She gave Whit a shove and took off.

Whit wasn't expecting the push. He stumbled a couple of steps to the end of the alley and fell face-first into the street. Patch came running back to grab him by the seat of his trousers and yank him to his feet. That delay allowed the men inside to reach the street in front of the warehouse.

Whit took off, but rough hands captured Patch. A second later, Maverick attacked the man holding Patch, barking excitedly and snapping at whatever flesh he could reach.

“What the hell? Get down, you damned mongrel!” The man holding Patch lashed out with a boot and gave Maverick a vicious kick in the ribs. Yelping in pain, the dog-wolf tucked its tail between its legs and slunk away.

Outraged, Patch struggled against the man's hold. “Durn you! Leave my dog alone! You pig-faced yellow-belly. You—”

“Shut up, kid,” the man snarled. “Who are
you? What were you doing listening at the window?”

Patch wasn't about to tell her name. If her pa found out she was in town, she'd be in trouble for sure. Instead of answering, she bit the hand that held her.

Whit hadn't stopped running, figuring Patch was right behind him. When he heard the man howl, he looked back just in time to see Patch being slapped. Whit stopped, not sure whether to run back to help her or go in some other direction for help. The size of the man who held Patch decided him. He whirled to run and collided with a solid object. The force of the impact toppled him into the dirt.

Solicitous hands helped him up. “Where are you going in such a hurry, son?”

If Whit hadn't been so frightened for Patch, he might have been terrified at the grim features on Seth Kendrick's face when he suddenly realized who had just run into him.

Before Seth could say anything else, Whit blurted, “You have to help Patch. There's a man hitting her. Over there. He—”

“Where?”

Whit pointed.

“Your mother should still be at Schmidt's Hotel. Find her and stay with her. Go! Now!”

Seth didn't wait to see whether Whit obeyed him, just headed on the run for Patch.

“That's my daughter you're holding, Pike,” Seth said when he was within calling distance. “Put her down.”

Pike Hardesty peered at Seth through narrowed eyes. “This brat's yours, Doc?” he asked. “You oughta teach her not to listen at windows.”

Patch jerked ineffectually against Pike's grip on the front of her shirt. “Pa, he's planning to—”

Pike shook Patch to shut her up. “Keep your mouth shut, kid. You didn't hear nothin’. Understand?”

“Why not try picking on someone your own size?” Seth said.

“Why, Doc. Didn't know you was a fightin’ man.” He let Patch go, and she scampered to Seth's side.

Seth's hand traced the growing bruise on Patch's face, and his jaw tautened. “Go find Molly at Schmidt's Hotel. Stay there till I come for you.”

“But, Pa—”

“Don't argue with me, Patch. Get out of here.”

Patch called Maverick to her side and hurried down the street. She went just far enough away to be out of her father's line of sight, then stopped to watch what was about to happen.

At last!
she thought.
He's going to fight at last My pa is
not
a coward.

“Come on over here, Doc, and we'll see how you handle yourself,” Pike said.

Seth looked over to the doorway of the building and saw Drake Bassett leaning against the portal, smoking a cigar. Though he was a relatively young man, Bassett had snow-white hair and a salt-and-pepper moustache and brows. His features were ordinary: dark brown eyes spaced wide, a nose that hooked a little, thin lips, and a sloping chin. He was dressed plainly in a gray wool suit, and he wore a single watch fob across his vest. He was a picture of honesty and prosperity.

Drake Bassett was prosperous, all right, Seth thought. It was the honesty he was lacking. The man was so crooked, he could eat nails and spit out corkscrews. Bassett was the brains and Pike was the brawn of what had become a very dirty business. People had begun
to gather, and Seth was guessing Bassett wouldn't like calling attention to himself. “Call off your dog, Drake. This has gone far enough, don't you think?”

“Your kid started the trouble,” Bassett said, eyeing the growing crowd.

“My daughter meant no harm. She—
“

“Figured you'd try to wiggle out of fighting, Doc,” Pike said. “Admit it. You're just plain yellow.”

Seth felt the eyes of the crowd on him. He had chosen this path, and he had known it wouldn't be easy. But it was hard to endure the disgust and disdain in all those faces. “Think what you like. Just don't ever touch my daughter again.”

Pike laughed in his face. “Ooh. I'm scared. What you gonna do to me, Doc? Rap my knuckles with a stick?”

The crowd laughed along with Pike, and some began calling Seth names. Seth just stood there, enduring their raucous jests. He had made a vow, and as hard as it was, he would keep it. He turned and began walking away.

He hadn't taken two steps when a
blur
came racing past him and leaped
onto Pike's
back. “Take that, you varmint!”

The crowd went wild, yelling and screaming
encouragement to Patch as she attacked the man who had forced her father to back down. Her assault had surprised Pike, so she was able to box his ears and yank his hair before he reached up, grabbed her by the arms, and threw her over his head onto the ground.

Patch landed so hard, all the air came out of her in a huff. Then she lay still.

The crowd quieted instantly and looked at Seth to see what he would do.

Seth knelt beside Patch and checked the pulse at her throat. Although fast, it was strong and steady. She opened her eyes, and he saw she was only dazed.

“Pa?” she said. “I couldn't let him say those things about you.”

“It's all right, Patch,” he said. He lifted her in his arms and carried her over to Red, who was part of the crowd. He handed her into the other man's arms and said, “Take care of her.”

Then he turned to face Pike, who was leering at him.

“Whatcha gonna do now, Doc?”

Seth pulled off his suit coat and draped it over the hitching rail. Then he undid his string tie and pulled it off. Finally, he unbuttoned the throat of his shirt and turned up
his cuffs. “All right, Pike,” he said. “Whenever you're ready.”

Pike grinned at the crowd. “Looks like the doc's finally decided to fight.” He put his hands up in fists like a boxer to protect his face. “Here I am, Doc. Come and get me.”

Seth took Pike at his word. He marched up to him and put a fist in the burly man's stomach, folding him in half like an empty wallet. He followed that with an uppercut to the chin that straightened Pike back out again.

Pike's fists were still out there in front of him, but somehow they didn't seem to be doing him much good. Seth showed no mercy, hitting Pike in the face, choosing his punches. A right to the eye, another under the chin. A quick left opened a cut in his cheek; another jab widened it.

Pike's right eye was already swelling closed, and his left cheek was dripping blood like a faucet. Pike couldn't understand what had gone wrong. He swung hard, and Seth stepped out of his way. He swung again, and Seth simply wasn't there. He charged and caught Seth in a bear hug. Bigger and stronger, he tried crushing the other man.

But Seth got a hand under Pike's chin and forced his head back. Pike either had to let go or get his neck snapped. As soon as he did,
Seth hit him in the solar plexus, knocking the breath clean out of him.

Pike dropped to his knees.

Seth didn't have a mark on him. “I warned you not to touch my daughter. You lay a hand on her again, and I'll finish the job.”

Pike heard the crowd murmuring and felt the nausea rise in his stomach at the thought of being beaten by a man everyone knew was too scared to fight. Slowly, his hand inched toward the gun tied down on his leg.

Molly had left Whit at the hotel and come looking for Seth. She had found him in time to see everything. When Seth had refused to fight, she had felt ashamed; when he had effortlessly whipped Pike, she had been astounded. She was shoving her way toward him through the crowd when she saw Pike Hardesty reaching for his gun.

“Seth!” she cried. “Look out behind you!”

Molly was watching Seth when she heard the gunshot. In that instant she realized that her feelings for him were much stronger than she had ever imagined. If she'd had a gun, she would have shot Pike Hardesty herself.

Seth jerked when the bullet hit him, but he didn't fall right away. He shook his head
slightly, swayed, then crumpled to the ground.

Molly was the first to reach Seth and dropped to her knees beside him. The gorge rose in her throat when she saw the blood streaming from the wound on his head.

When Patch saw her father fall, she tore herself from Red's grasp and ran toward him. She halted when she realized Molly had gotten there before her. She stood back, feeling shut out. “Pa. Oh, Pa!”

Pike pushed his way clumsily to his feet and crossed to stand over Seth. He grunted when he saw his bullet had gone high and wide, merely creasing Seth's left temple instead of hitting him in the heart.