The Barefoot Bride (28 page)

Ethan stood and said, “Listen, Seth—”

“Get out of here, Ethan.”

Ethan's lips pressed flat. He looked from Molly to Seth and back again.

“It's all right, Ethan,” Molly said. “I'll handle this.”

“You're a fool, Seth,” Ethan muttered as he stalked out the door.

Seth closed the door behind Ethan and turned to Molly. “Where were you?”

“I went to town.”

“Without telling anyone? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I do now. I'm sorry, Seth. I—”

“Sorry?” Seth grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “Do you have any idea how I felt when you didn't come back before dark? Do you have any idea what kind of crazy thoughts went through my head when Iris said you'd left hours ago? Do you?”

“Seth! Stop! I'm going to be sick.”

Before he could do anything to help, she leaned over the side of the bed and heaved. But she had lost everything in her stomach at Dora's. Molly retched and retched until tears squeezed from her eyes, but nothing came up. At last her body released her from the awful spasms, and she slumped forward, sobbing.

Seth lifted her up in his arms and pulled her face to his chest. When he did, she cried out and grabbed her jaw. For the first time he saw the terrible bruise that had previously been hidden in the shadows created by the single lantern.

“What happened to you? Who did this?”

Molly knew that Seth's life might depend on how well she told her story. She tried to keep her voice casual and light as she explained, “It was just a silly accident. I was buying material for a new dress for Patch at I. G. Baker. A heavy bolt of material fell from the top shelf and hit me in the jaw. Really, it looks worse than it feels.”

Molly held her breath for a second, waiting to see whether Seth would accept her story. When he pulled her tighter into his arms, she let out a silent sight of relief and closed her eyes.

“I was so worried about you, Molly. If anything had happened to you …” He smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed her eyes closed. It frightened him to see her so pale. “What made you sick, Molly? Do you know? Was it something you ate?”

He had given her the perfect opening to tell him she was sick because she was pregnant with their child. But how could she tell him that joyous news in light of what she had learned this afternoon? “I didn't have anything to eat today,” she said. “I guess I was just exhausted.”

He hugged her tight. Seth had discovered something in those awful hours when he had
searched for her that had at first astonished him, then left him terrified. How awful it would be to find out he loved Molly, only to lose her before he had a chance to tell her so. Now look what he had done. He had accused his best friend of having taken advantage of his wife. And instead of being glad that Molly was home safe, he had shaken her within an inch of her life. She had been so sick! Lord, his body ached for the wretchedness he had seen in her face.

“Molly, I just wanted to tell you—”

“Not tonight, Seth. I'm so tired. I can't talk anymore tonight.”

There were several knocks on the door, and it opened to reveal Whit and Patch.

Whit crossed to the foot of the bed. “We just wanted to see if you're all right, Mother.”

“I'm fine,” Molly said. “I'll tell you both all about everything in the morning.”

“Let's go, Whit,” Patch said. “Your mother needs to rest.”

“I know that,” Whit snapped. “I was just leaving.”

The two of them left the room arguing over which one of them was being more considerate of Molly's feelings.

Seth finished undressing Molly and laid
her carefully in bed. He joined her and pulled her into his arms. First thing tomorrow morning, he would tell her he loved her. And they would start over from there.

When Seth woke up early the next morning, Molly still had dark circles of exhaustion under her eyes. He decided it didn't make sense to wake up an exhausted woman to tell her he loved her. He was careful to be quiet in the kitchen as he made coffee so as not to wake anyone, but as he turned from the stove, Nessie stood at the kitchen door.

“You woke me up,” she accused. The very next words out of her mouth were, “Where's Mama?”

Seth hurried over to scoop Nessie up in his arms. He laid a finger across his mouth and said, “Shh. Your mother's still sleeping. She's tired from her trip into town.”

“I went to town too,” Nessie said.

“I know.”

“I didn't like the bad man.”

Seth froze. “What bad man?”

“The man with the hurt on his face. Here.” Nessie laid her hand against Seth's cheek.

“What did the bad man do?”

“He took Mama away. But she didn't want to go.”

“Where did he take her, sweetheart?”

“I don't know. Mama told me to stay in the buggy. I got scared.”

“But you were a good girl and stayed in the buggy?”

“Uh-huh. Red came and said Mama would be coming in a minute. But it felt like a whole
hour,”
Nessie said. “And when she came back, she had a hurt on her face too. Here.” Nessie put her hand on Seth's jaw, which had tautened as the little girl spoke.

Seth set Nessie down and said, “I want you to go get back in bed with Patch and stay there until your mother wakes up.”

“But Da—”

“What did you call me?”

“Uh … Seth?”

Seth gave her a quick hug. “I like Da better. Now do as I said, Nessie.”

She made a face but said, “All right, Da.”

Seth crept into his bedroom and sat down on the bed beside his sleeping wife. His fingertips lightly grazed the bruise Pike Har-desty had put there. His face paled with fury. “I'll kill him this time,” he whispered.

He rose and silently left the room.

*   *   *   

Molly swatted at the itch on her face for the second time. When it came back again, she opened her eyes. Nessie was sitting beside her on the bed. She had a strand of Molly's hair in her hand and was using it to tickle her mother under the nose.

Molly rolled over and said, “Go away, Nessie, and let me sleep. It's too early to be up.”

“Da is up.”

Molly squinted over at the other side of the bed. “So he is. Did you just call Seth ‘Da?”

“Uh-huh. He said I could. After I told him about the bad man.”

Molly tensed. “What bad man?”

“The bad man who took you away.”

Molly sat up and pulled Nessie into her lap. “What did you tell Da?”

“That you didn't want to leave me, but the bad man made you go away.”

Molly set Nessie on the bed and started dressing, yanking on the new split riding skirt she had made for herself. “What did Da say when you told him that?”

“He told me to go back to bed.”

“Where is Da now?”

“I don't know.”

“Patch!” Molly shouted as she ran into the next room. “Patch! Wake up!”

Patch sat bolt upright at the sound of her name being screamed through the house. A second later, Molly arrived in her bedroom doorway.

“Go get Ethan, quick!”

“What's the matter?”

“Your father's gone to town to fight Pike Hardesty again.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because Nessie told your father that Pike put this bruise on my face.”

Molly turned her head, and Patch gasped at the black and blue mark on Molly's jaw.

“Garn! You look awful!” Patch said.

Molly tried not to sound as frantic as she felt. “We have to go after your father. Pike doesn't fight clean, and he doesn't fight fair. He'll kill Seth.”

“I'll be back with Ethan in the flick of a horse's tail. He'll know what to do.”

Molly woke up Whit and told him to watch Nessie while she was gone to town. When Ethan arrived at the house moments later, she explained the facts to him as quickly and calmly as she could.

“Now he's gone to meet Pike. We have to stop him.”

To Molly's surprise, Ethan seemed reluctant to go after Seth. “He can handle himself.
He doesn't need you in town. And I don't think he'd appreciate you coming after him.”

“I don't care what he'd appreciate,” Molly retorted. “I am not going to let this baby be born without a father!”

“Baby?” everyone said at once.

Molly closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. “I wanted to tell Seth first. But yes, I'm going to have a baby.”

“I guess it couldn't hurt to go and keep an eye on things,” Ethan said. “But
III
go. The rest of you stay here.”

Molly wrung her hands in indecision.

“There's nothing you can do in town that I can't. You're exhausted. You have to take care of yourself. Think about the baby,” Ethan said.

For the baby's sake and no other reason, Molly nodded.

Patch and Whit exchanged looks. They hadn't agreed to anything. The instant Ethan was out of sight, they slipped out of the house to the barn and saddled their horses.

“We gotta be there,” Patch said. “Pa might need us.”

“Right,” Whit said. “We can warn Da in case there's an ambush or anything.”

Patch arched a brow at Whit. “He ain't your Da.”

“He is so. You wanta make something of it?”

Patch tightened the cinch on her saddle. “Ask me again when I have more time to argue.”

Nessie was watching out the front window when Whit and Patch rode away. “There they

go.”

Molly was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. “There who goes?”

“Whit and Patch. They're riding
fast”

Molly jumped to her feet. “They're what?”

Nessie pointed. “See.”

“I'll wring their disobedient little necks!” Molly grabbed Nessie by the hand and ran all the way to the barn. She harnessed the buggy and shoved Nessie up into the front seat. “Hang on,” Molly said. “We're going to town!”

Pike had stayed out of town for twenty-four hours and figured that was long enough. Nobody was going to come after him for hitting Doc Kendrick's wife. They were too scared of him to do anything. Dora had just said that to get rid of him. He still owed Dora for that business with the doc. Now was as good a time as any for her to pay.

Despite Pike's belief that there was no danger for him in town, it never hurt to be careful.
He used the back way upstairs to Dora's room.

Dora was just ushering a customer out, and Pike waited until she was closing the door to shove his way into her room.

Dora turned and walked away from him. “Hello, Pike.”

“Don't touch nothin’, Dora. I ain't forgot how you pulled a gun on me.”

Dora draped herself across the bed and pulled her black negligee aside to show off her red satin chemise and drawers. She pulled a knee up and adjusted the red garter on one of her black silk stockings. “You come here for a reason, Pike?”

“I figure you owe me some time under the covers, Dora. I'm here to collect.”

“You know I never turn down a payin’ customer, Pike. Only, before you drop your drawers, maybe you'd like to know the Masked Marauder is waiting for you downstairs.”

“What?”

“Came in about three hours ago. Been sit-tin’ at your table downstairs playing solitaire ever since.”

Pike felt the sweat break out on his brow. “What's he want with me?”

“How should I know, Pike? Why don't you go downstairs and find out?”

Pike thought seriously about sneaking out the way he'd come in. Then he thought again. The Marauder would be expecting him to walk in the front door of the saloon, not to come down the stairs. He'd have the drop on that masked devil this time for sure. He'd lay all that talk to rest about him getting outgunned by the Masked Marauder when he shot that sonofabitch dead.

By now, the town of Fort Benton knew there was going to be a showdown of some kind. A crowd had gathered in the saloon, although no one had worked up the nerve actually to speak to the Masked Marauder. There was a constant irritating noise, like a mosquito buzzing an ear at bedtime, as they talked low amongst themselves. Most of the speculation centered on why the Marauder had finally decided to show himself in public. And whether he would, at last, reveal his identity.

The Marauder had ridden up to the Medicine Bow Saloon on a big black stallion looking more sinister than anyone had expected. His shirt, pants, and boots were all black. He wore a black leather vest with the outline of a Texas star stitched in red on the pocket.

Movement on Front Street came to a standstill as he dismounted. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and slim-hipped. Tied-down twin Colts rested in tooled black leather holsters that looked well used. His black mask was tied in a knot behind his head and covered his face down to his nose, with only slits for his eyes. It wasn't even possible to tell the color of his eyes because his high-crowned black hat was pulled low and shadowed his face. He sported no beard or moustache, but he had a strong jaw and a grim-lipped mouth. An aura of danger and mystery surrounded him.

It was hard to believe this man might be someone they knew, someone who worked beside them day to day. Try as they might, it was impossible to imagine any one of their ordinary friends as this mythical hero. Yet here he was in their midst. The Masked Marauder had come to life.