The Barefoot Bride (25 page)

He leaned close and whispered, “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I'm still wanted by the law, Molly. Not here in Montana,” he reassured her. “Back in Texas.”

“What did you do?”

“I killed a man who deserved to die. I was wounded in the shoot-out. Dora dug the bullet out of my leg, but—”

“Dora Deveraux?” Molly asked in amazement.

Ethan grinned. “Small world, huh?”

“I'll say,” Molly muttered. “Go on.”

“Anyway, Dora dug the bullet out, but I was still losing a lot of blood when I saw what I thought was an abandoned line shack. I managed to slide off my horse and get myself inside. Turned out Seth was there. He had Patch with him. Lord, she was only about three years old then and tiny as can be.”

“What was Seth doing there? Was he hurt?”

“Drunk.”

“Drunk?
Seth?”

“And looking at the moon through the neck of a bottle.”

“I can't believe it. And Patch was there while he was in that condition? Was she all right?”

“Curled up on the bunk and sleeping like an angel.”

“What did you do?”

“Took the bottle and the guns away from Seth and laid him on the bed with Patch.”

“Guns?
Seth?”

“Two of the nicest Colts you ever saw. Found me a comfortable spot on the floor and went to sleep. Come morning, woke up to find Patch sitting on my chest. Saw the kid was hungry and fed her. Figured I couldn't just leave her there with Seth passed out like that. I hung around till Seth woke up, then hung around a little longer till I convinced him he owed it to the kid to stay sober.”

That wasn't the whole story, but Ethan didn't feel he could say more than that without revealing Seth's secrets.

“I stayed with Seth and Patch for almost six months while my leg healed—at least as much as it was ever going to. Then the family of the man I'd killed found out Seth was hiding me. I didn't want to put him or Patch in any danger, so one night I lit out.

“I saw Seth again during the war, when he was doctoring. It turned out the family of the man I'd killed had hired detectives to watch Seth in case I showed up, and they came after me again. I had to run. I've been running ever since. I came here last fall because Dora said she needed my help. I'll stay until I have to move on again.”

“I thank you for helping Seth,” Molly said. “And I hope you don't ever have to leave.”

Ethan grinned. “I hope so too. I kind of like
it around here. Besides, Patch needs looking after as much now as she ever did.”

Molly saw Iris gesturing to her and realized it was time for the christening ceremony to begin. Tve got to go,” she said. “Thanks again for taking care of Seth, Ethan.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek and then ran to join Iris.

The christening itself was lovely. Iris and Henry Marsh had asked Molly and Seth to stand as godparents for their sixth child. Molly held the baby while the Reverend Adams baptized her. Then she and Seth took their vows as godparents to the baby, and the celebration began.

Of course everyone fawned on Lily. But the main topic of conversation at the party was the Masked Marauder's encounter with Pike Hardesty the previous evening.

Drake Bassett's whiskey-seller had come running back into town and spread the word at the Medicine Bow Saloon. He had seen it all, he said. How Pike Hardesty had the Masked Marauder dead in his rifle sights, and the Marauder had drawn his gun and beat Pike “slicker than butter on a teaspoon.” However, the rumor was that the Marauder had been wounded.

“Anybody asked you to treat a gunshot wound lately, Doc?” Grimbald asked.

“Not lately,” Seth replied. “Maybe the Marauder didn't get shot after all. Could be that's just brag on Pike's part. Or maybe it was only a scratch, and he took care of it himself.”

“Could be,” Grimbald agreed, and turned to discuss the possibilities with someone else.

This was the first time Patch had been dressed up in company, and Molly kept a close eye on her to see how she was managing. It was comical to see Patch come face to face with Ferdie Adams, the preacher's middle boy. Ferdie's eyes nearly bugged out of his face. He yanked his hat off his head and rolled it nervously in front of him. His eyes remained glued on Patch's two small feminine accomplishments.

“What're you looking at?” Patch demanded, fists on hips. “Didn't you ever see anybody in a dress before?”

“Ain't never seen
you
in one,” Ferdie pointed out.

“Yeah, well, watch what you say about it. Just ‘cause I'm all gussied up don't mean I can't use my fists if I have to.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Ferdie said.

Patch snorted in disgust. “I ain't a ma'am, Ferdie.”

“Whatever you say, Patch.” He put a finger into his collar, which seemed to have gotten tighter in the past few minutes. “You, uh, wanta go down to the pond and catch frogs?”

“Can't hardly move in this getup,” she confessed. “How about a game of marbles, instead?”

“Sure,” Ferdie said. “You got any?”

“I got a whole bag. I'll go get them and meet you around back.”

Whit had been standing nearby throughout their conversation and asked, “Can I play too?”

“Who're you?” Ferdie asked.

“That's my dumb old stepbrother,” Patch said.

“Name's Whit.”

“You any good at marbles?” Ferdie asked.

“I was a champion player in New Bedford.”

“Patch is the best player around here,” Ferdie said. “You better than she is?”

Whit met Patch's eyes and said, “Could be. Don't really know.”

Ferdie's eyes gleamed as he sensed the possibility of a challenge. “Go get your marbles, Patch, and let's find out.”

Molly started to follow after them, to intervene if necessary, but she was waylaid by Mrs. Gulliver's niece.

“I want to think you for inviting me,” Mrs. Biddle said. “We don't have many entertainments in Fort Benton. I hope this is just the first of many.”

Molly smiled. “I'm glad you could come. I'm only sorry Mrs. Gulliver isn't here.” At least now she knew the woman really existed.

“Aunt Judith didn't feel well enough to leave the house today. Your husband has been a godsend, Mrs. Kendrick. Why, Doc Kendrick sat with my aunt for an entire half-hour last night, bless his soul.”

“A half-hour?”

“Can you imagine such a thing? And him such a busy man, with a family of his own to come home to now.”

Molly felt sick to her stomach, but her facial expression didn't change a hair. In a perfectly pleasant voice she said, “Did he say where he was going when he left your aunt's house last night?”

“Why, no he didn't. Home, I expect. Where else would he go with a pretty wife like you waiting for him?”

Where else, indeed? Molly very much
feared she knew the answer. She'd seen for herself that Dora Deveraux didn't think much of Seth's marriage vows. But she couldn't understand what he found so attractive about the woman.

“I'd better go check on my daughter,” Mrs. Biddle said.

Molly didn't see the woman leave, though she was staring right at her. She had turned her glance inward.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Molly was jerked back to reality by Iris's voice. “You wouldn't much care for them, I'm afraid.”

“I noticed you frowning after you talked to Mrs. Biddle. Bad news?”

“No. Yes. Not really.”

Iris smiled. “You seem to be perfectly clear on that.”

Molly laughed. “I wish you lived closer. I could use someone to talk with who could make me laugh.”

“Come visiting anytime. It gets a mite lonesome without someone to talk to. Not that my oldest girl isn't a comfort to me, but sometimes a woman just likes to have another woman to share her thoughts with. You know what I mean?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” Molly said.

“Anyhow, I been wanting to tell you what a good job you've done with Patch. Never seen her look so pretty nor act so nice. She's turning into a real little lady. Why—”

“Fight! Fight! It's the doc's brat, Patch, she—”

Molly didn't hear the rest. She was already running toward the back porch. When she rounded the corner of the house, it wasn't the preacher's middle boy rolling around in the dirt with Patch—it was Whit.

Both their faces were red with exertion. Whit had a swollen eye. Patch had a split lip. Their arms and legs were tangled together, and it was hard to see where one began and the other ended. As Molly arrived from one direction, Seth arrived from the other. He reached down, hauled Whit up by the scruff of his shirt, and grabbed one of Patch's arms —the one with the sore shoulder, from the yelp she let out—and held both children at arm's length.

“I'm not a cheater!” Whit yelled.

“You durned sure didn't win fair and square!” Patch yelled back.

“Shut up!” Seth shouted over both of them.

Both Patch and Whit seemed to realize at
the same time that they were surrounded by adults watching with various levels of amusement. The two adults that mattered most— her father and his mother—weren't laughing.

“Whit! How could you?” Molly cried.

“Just look at yourself!” Seth said to Patch.

“He started it!” Patch said.

“She hit me first!” Whit argued.

“You're both to blame,” Seth said. “And I'm ashamed of both of you.”

“I hate him!” Patch cried.

“I hate her back!” Whit shouted.

“Stop it, both of you!” Molly said. She turned her back on the children, in hopes of concealing their misbehavior behind her skirt, and met the eyes of the crowd. “Just a little family squabble,” she said with a crooked smile. “We'll have it settled in no time. Why don't you all go see what kind of dessert is on the table.”

No one moved for a moment, until Iris said, “Come on, folks. Let's give this family some privacy so they can settle their differences.”

The preacher breathed a sigh of relief that Ferdie was not involved, as he laid a hand on his middle son's shoulder and ushered him away from the fray. Ferdie looked back over
his shoulder and grinned at Whit. “You sure showed her,” he whispered to the other boy.

‘Til take Nessie with me,” Iris said to Molly. “She can play with Amaryllis.”

A few moments later, only Ethan remained to watch the confrontation of parents and children.

Molly looked at the remains of the dress she had so lovingly sewn for Patch. The sash was gone. One sleeve was ripped from the shoulder, the hem was down, and there was a tear in the skirt. A fine powdery dust covered the whole of it, and blood from Patch's cut lip stained the bodice. The ribbon had come undone in her hair, and one blond curl hung down over her eye.

“What am I going to do with you?” Seth said. “Look at you. Look at your dress.”

Patch's fingertips covered the tear in her skirt and fitted the material back in place. When she looked up again, Ethan was staring at her with pity in his eyes.

Molly's heart went out to Patch when she saw the stricken look on the girl's face.

“I just ain't cut out to be a lady, Pa,” Patch said in a woeful voice. “And I don't care if I never become one.”

She tore herself from her father's grasp and ran off in the direction of the pond. Seth
started to go after her but realized he still had hold of Whit. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“It wasn't my fault!” Whit retorted. “I hate her. I hate you. And I hate living here! Let me go!” He jerked himself free and ran toward his room.

A moment later, Molly heard the door slam.

Ethan took his hat off, forked a hand through his hair, and put his hat back on again. He cleared his throat and said, “I think I'll go see if I can find Patch,” then turned and walked away.

Seth stood across from Molly, unyielding, stony-faced. Molly had absolutely no idea what he was thinking. If she had felt secure in her relationship with him, it would have been easier to contend with the upsetting scene she had just witnessed. She would have gone to Seth for succor and given it as well. Enfolded in his strong arms, they could have laughed over this perfectly normal incident of sibling rivalry and reassured each other that everything would be all right.

But Molly didn't take a step toward Seth and was thus denied the consolation they could have provided each other. She was frozen in place by the certain knowledge that
her husband had lied to her about where he had been last night.

Molly was very much afraid that she had made a horrible mistake in coming to Montana. That she had made a mistake in marrying this secretive man with his violent past. That was not the worst of it. The biggest mistake of all was that she had fallen in love with a man who did not—could not—love her back.

Molly gritted her teeth to still her trembling chin. She balled her hands into fists and hid them in her skirts. “I'm going to return to our guests,” she said in a controlled voice. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Do you want me to come?”

“I can face them by myself. But it would be easier if you came with me.”

“Then I'll come with you.” Seth took her elbow in his hand to lead her around to the shade of the cottonwoods. “Smile,” he said.

Molly put a bright smile on her face.

“Everything all settled down?” Henry Marsh asked as they approached.

“It's quiet for the moment,” Seth said. “But with kids you never know what's coming next.”

Henry grinned. “You said it. The wife and I sure do appreciate your having this party for
us, Doc, Mrs. Kendrick. And we're proud as punch to have the two of you stand godparents to our Lily.”

“It's our pleasure,” Molly said. But she wondered if she and Seth would still be together when and if the time ever came that they were needed as godparents for the child.

Molly slipped away during the afternoon to speak with Whit and found him sitting on the edge of his bed, whittling. A pile of wood shavings had collected on the dirt floor at his feet.

When he saw his mother, his lips compressed, but he didn't stop what he was doing.

“I brought a steak to put on your eye, for the swelling,” Molly said. “Lie back on the bed.” She didn't give Whit a chance to protest, just pressed him down. He lay with the knife on one side of his body and the whittling stick on the other. She dabbed at his eye with a cool, wet cloth, then laid the steak on. “I can think of better uses for a good steak,” she said with a tentative smile.