Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train Read online

  Her brother had scoffed at her decision to be a “railroad bride.” Enoch’s frowning face—angular, severe, so like her father’s—invaded her mind.

  “You disappoint me, Sis. What do you think you’ll find in Kansas? I’ll tell you what: rioters, drunkards, outlaws and savages. Take heed. Forming alliances with disreputable men will result in a lifetime of sorrow.”

  Enoch had quoted their father to make her doubt the wisdom of her plan. She knew her place in God’s order, but she couldn’t bring herself to bow to her eldest brother’s decrees. His arrogance rubbed against her pride.

  Yet, he’d put his arm around her shoulder and concern had warmed his brown eyes, a feature they’d both inherited from their mother. Father’s eyes had been the clear, cold gray of a winter morning.

  “You’d be better off coming with us to California…”

  Much as she hated to admit it, Enoch had been right. If she’d gone with him and his family, she wouldn’t be in this fix. Better unhappy and alive than adventurous and dead.

  A shudder racked her body and then another. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. If God would save her, she would never do anything imprudent again.

  “Whoa!” The driver’s call interrupted her misery. She tensed as the wagon rolled to a stop.

  Whoever sat atop the coffin moved and the lid was lifted off.

  Prudence blinked. A flash of blue sky, a scowling, bearded face…and then she was hauled out of the coffin, passed from one set of rough hands to the next. Her limbs hung numb and useless. She could resist no more than a rag doll.

  The bearded giant grabbed her hair, tore off the snood and fished out the hairpins. Gagged, she moaned in protest as her unbound hair tumbled down her back and into her face.

  “That’s better,” he muttered. “Now get her loose.”

  The burly man untied the binding around her ankles and released her wrists. She couldn’t feel her hands and feet and would’ve collapsed had someone not been holding her up.

  “We don’t need this no more,” said the ginger-haired accomplice as he untied the gag. “You can scream all you want, nobody to hear you…except us.

  Scream? She couldn’t produce a sound through her dry throat.

  The wagon had come to a stop in a clearing about a stone’s throw from a small dwelling sided with unpainted clapboard that might’ve been shipped in by rail. Beside the open doorway, a red coonhound barked. The timbered area behind the house would indicate the presence of water, possibly a stream. Railroads tracks were laid near water, weren’t they?

  She frantically scanned the landscape, praying she would recognize something, a landmark, anything that might help her find her way back after she managed to escape.

  The sun hung low in the sky. That direction was west, and out there was nothing but a sea of tall grass, undulating like waves.

  She had no idea where she might be, or which way she ought to run, or if she could run.

  Feeling returned to her limbs with a vengeance, she flexed her fingers to speed the painful process. Her rubbery legs threatened to give way. She didn’t have the strength to wrench away from the bearded man’s grip; was at the mercy of three brigands whose plans seemed abundantly clear. They’d brought her to this lonely place to ravish her and would likely kill her afterwards.

  The air smelled fresh, like newly mown hay. But being able to breathe freely didn’t calm the sick churning in her stomach. Weakened, unable to hold back the nausea, she leaned over and vomited on the trampled grass.

  With a grimace, the skinny abductor held out the handkerchief he’d used to gag her. “You almost got my shoes.”

  “Won’t make you smell any worse,” cracked the bearded man, who held her arms fast.

  If he released her, she would run. Even if she fell on her face, it was better than accepting her fate.

  The shorter, heavyset man ambled toward the cabin. “Arch! Git out here…we brung you a present.”

  Dear God. They planned on passing her around?

  A man’s figure darkened the doorway. His shoulders filled the framed-in entrance. Her heart accelerated as he emerged, half-dressed, his chest bare as a savage’s. Suspenders dangled on either side of his legs from the waistband of worn denims. He threaded his fingers through shoulder-length hair the color of a tarnished penny and stared at her with a fierce scowl.

  Prudence tasted fear. The metallic essence that filled her mouth also seemed to permeate her bones and muscles, rendering her paralyzed. Four strapping males, and this last one appeared to be half-wild. How could she hope to fight, or escape? She was doomed.

  The man behind her tightened his grip, keeping her upright, holding her out like a prize. “Come meet yore new bride!”

  Chapter 2

  What the Sam Hill had his worthless brothers done now?

  Arch made the distance between the house and the sagging woman in Obadiah’s arms in less than six long strides. “Are you crazy? What the devil…”

  Before he could formulate words to express his outrage, his eldest brother shoved the bedraggled female at him. He had to move fast in order to catch her before she folded up like a loose-jointed puppet. He got his arms around her ribcage and hauled up her up against him in an awkward embrace.

  The boneless doll jerked up straight as a soldier. With a terrified screech, she went at him with her fingers curled into talons. He dodged a sweeping assault, barely missed getting his eyes gouged out, and had to snatch her wrists to stop the attack.

  “Sheath your claws, gal! I ain’t gonna hurt you.”

  His brothers jerked out of their startled trance and lunged at them.

  “Keep away!” Arch’s bellow halted them in their tracks. By God, he’d kill the misbegotten curs for frightening this poor woman. They’d scared her so bad she’d lost her mind.

  He held her by her wrists at arm’s length and danced side-to-side to evade her kicks. Growing desperate, he dragged the little wildcat up against his chest again, pinning her arms to her sides, tight enough that she couldn’t get her hands free, but not so tight he’d injure or suffocate her.

  “Whoa now, don’t fight me! You’re safe. Nobody’s hurt y— Ow!”

  She’d nailed his shin with the toe of her shoe. He winced and sidestepped. “Calm down.” He used a firm, but kind tone, and continued shushing her, crooning into her hair, assuring her he’d keep her safe.

  Almost as fast as she’d changed into a feral cat, she went back to being a limp doll. “Please,” she begged in a pitiful, hoarse voice. “Don’t a-abuse me…” Her voice wavered and she sagged in his arms. Her shoulders shook as she sobbed silently.

  Her distress fanned the flames of his anger until it was hotter than a blacksmith’s furnace.

  He raised his eyes, pinning a hard look on each of his brothers. Obe stroked his long beard and didn’t flinch. Vernon Lee and T.J. looked away, acting oblivious.

  “Get out of here. Now.” Arch snarled the command.

  Amusement glinted in his eldest brother’s eyes. “Don’t be gettin’ your dander up, bub. We done you a favor by bringing you this woman. They’d all be gone by the time you got around to courtin’ one, and then where would you be? Without a wife, you cain’t secure your land. The way I see it, you ought to be thankin’ us.”

  Obe’s decisions were frequently rash, but this crazy act made the other stunts he’d pulled look like child’s play. This time, he’d find himself at the end of a rope—and the rest of them alongside him.

  Arch spoke through clenched teeth. “I’ll thank you with a load of buckshot in your backside.”

  The humor in Obe’s gaze vanished and his expression flattened. “You need a lesson in respect little brother.”

  “Yeah, well, we can teach him later.” Vern put his bulk in front of Obe and held him back with ham-sized hands. “We ought to leave now, so they can get acquainted.”

  Arch supposed he should be grateful to Vern for playing peacemaker, although part of him longed to ha
ve it out. He wasn’t the weakling Obe thought he was.

  The woman in his arms shuddered. Her loose hair concealed part of her face so it was hard to see what she looked like. A glimpse revealed ashen skin and haunted dark eyes.

  Arch kept her enfolded to make it clear she was under his protection. Not something that was likely to soothe her, but he wanted her to know that she would be safe from harm as long as he drew breath.

  “We didn’t hurt her. Just tied her up and brought her to you. Didn’t even use rope.” T.J. held up several long strips of plaid cloth, looked like from an old shirt.

  So tempting to take those cloth bonds and wring T.J.’s scrawny neck.

  “Are you so stupid you don’t realize the damage you’ve done?” Arch fumed. “Look at her. She’s so scared she can’t talk. Might not be in her right mind after this.”

  T.J. rubbed at a thatch of red bristles, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him that he might’ve done the woman permanent harm. He wasn’t callous, like Obe, but he didn’t think for himself, followed their older brother’s lead. “She’ll come out of it after we’re gone.”

  “You better hope so.”

  “Time to go…” Vern wrapped a heavily muscled arm around T.J.’s bony shoulders. He clapped his hand on Obe’s broad back. “We can celebrate a wedding—without the bride and groom.”

  The three of them fought like spurred roosters one minute and hugged each other the next. They had always been inseparable. Growing up, Arch hadn’t been part of the tightknit circle, no matter how hard he’d tried to fit in. Now, he wished they would leave him alone.

  Obe threw him a final look that said he’d be back to settle things. He had a foul temper and any slight would set him off. Arch didn’t care if he’d angered his brother. Wouldn’t be the first time. The two of them had never gotten along.

  As the ornery cusses retreated in the creaking wagon, Arch curled his fingers around the woman’s waist. She wasn’t tiny, but she had nice curves and full hips. Not that he ought to care about her hips, or any other part of her.

  He couldn’t imagine what insanity had possessed his brothers to steal a woman, and a plain one at that. Maybe they intended it as a joke. Wasn’t a bit funny. “My brothers are idiots, but don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.”

  What a stupid thing to say. They’d manhandled her, injured her pride, her reputation, quite possibly, her mind. He could say he was sorry, but an apology was far from what she was owed.

  “If you’d like, I’ll be happy to thrash ’em. Have to do it separately, or I’ll end up trussed and hanging upside down from a tree branch. They did that to me once. I got them back, though. Put ants in their boots.”

  His attempt at levity was met with a dull gaze. She wasn’t in a humorous mood, and he ought to know better than to make light of a harrowing situation, regardless.

  He couldn’t imagine where they’d found her. The rumpled gray dress looked more suited to a prim old lady, but her rich dark hair didn’t have a speck of gray, and it tumbled over her shoulders past her waist. The women he knew who wore their hair down were prostitutes.

  Regardless, she was a woman and had been put through a hellish experience. Could be she needed a doctor. He’d send for his ma if it came to that, the fewer folks who knew about this the better. “Let’s go inside, sit for a spell. I’ll get you some cool water.”

  Her head came up, fresh terror flooded her face; she shook off whatever weakness had taken hold and pulled away, backed up a few feet and faced him on shaky legs. “I’m not going in there with you.”

  Nothing he’d done would’ve given her the idea that he would take her by force. He heaved a patient sigh. “Look here, if I wanted to hurt you, I could’ve done it by now.”

  She kept on hugging her arms while shooting arrows with her eyes. “Return me to Centralia. Immediately. If you don’t, I swear I’ll see you hang.”

  Unease skittered over his skin. A whore would probably ask for money.

  Arch raised his hands, palms out, in a peaceable gesture. “Easy now. No need to get me in trouble.”

  “If you don’t take me back…” She clutched the skirt, lifting the hem like she was prepared to run. Her slender wrists were marked with abrasions, probably from twisting her hands trying to escape her bonds. God knows what story she would tell. Didn’t matter. Folks would take one look at her and assume she’d been violated. The soldiers assigned to keep the peace would take him to jail, and his brothers along with him—unless a lynch mob got to them first.

  He had to stall, find out her name, make sure she wasn’t hurt worse than what it appeared. “I’ll take you back…after I clean up those scratches on your wrists.”

  She dropped the skirt and looked at her arms, appearing surprised. That confirmed her mind wasn’t working right if she hadn’t noticed the injuries. Those had to be painful.

  “Why don’t you tell me your name?” He considered not giving her his name, but she’d heard his brothers use it, and if she described him, any man in town could give her his identity. “I’m Arch. Short for Archer, but you can call me Arch.”

  Her ghostly cheeks turned rosy as she stared, wide-eyed, directly at his chest.

  He glanced down. Shoot. He’d forgotten he hadn’t put on a shirt. Now it made sense why she thought he would drag her inside and molest her. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting company, was washing up. Shaving. I’ll put on a shirt when we get inside—”

  “Prudence Walker.” She averted her eyes, and used her fingers to comb tangles out of her hair. Her hands trembled. “They-they took my hairpins…and my snood.”

  That pretty well cinched it. The curs had snatched a lady, not a whore.

  “I’ll get your things,” he vowed. He’d take a pound of flesh along with it.

  She peered up at him through thick lashes. With her hair combed out of the way, he could see her face better. Tear-streaked and a little dirty, but not as plain as he’d first thought. Her dark, luminous eyes reminded him of an alert doe. “After you take me back…”

  Her plea tugged at his heart. He knew the longer he continued to stall the more upset she might become, but she was already shaking hard and she’d be even worse off after being jostled around for another hour on a bumpy road. “Miss Walker, I fully intend to take you back. But you look like you’re about to drop. I know I’d feel better if you would come inside and sit down. Maybe take some tea.”

  He motioned for her to go ahead of him into the house.

  She shook her head.

  “All right then. If you won’t go in, I’ll bring a chair out to you.” He slipped inside and grabbed two chairs tucked up under the table. Once he got her situated, he’d see to getting her something to drink. Whatever it took to convince her not to report him and his brothers, he’d do it. They couldn’t afford another run-in with the law.

  He stepped outside.

  She’d taken off. Lit out in the direction of the creek.

  “Wait!” He set the chairs down and took off after her. What was the fool woman thinking to hotfoot it down a steep, rocky path? “That’s not the way back to town.”

  She ran faster—though he was sure she’d heard him. Her long hair fluttered behind her like a ragged banner. If she didn’t watch out, she’d trip over one of those sycamore roots.

  Suddenly, she stumbled. Her legs got tangled in her skirts and down she went. Hard. Skidding to a stop, she lay crumpled. Still.

  He dropped to his knees next to her, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it. Should’ve known the poor woman was unbalanced and not to let her out of his sight. “Dang it all to perdition.”

  Being gentle as possible, he turned her into his arms.

  Her chest moved. Breathing, thank God.

  He brushed the tangled hair out of her face. Her smooth skin had turned as white as one of those porcelain dolls he’d seen in the window of the mercantile. Blood ran freely out of a cut along the edge of her scalp.

  Carefully lifting her, he cradle
d her limp body and started up the path as fast as he could go without stumbling or losing his grip. He had to get her to the house and staunch the bleeding. The cut would need to be stitched. When she woke, she’d have a devil of a headache and would have to stay in bed for a few days, maybe a week, and he’d thought he was in trouble before. Now, he had an even bigger problem on his hands.

  * * *

  Something damp laved her face. A wet tongue…odiferous breath… “Stop bathing me, Caesar,” Prudence mumbled. She raised her hands to ward off the eager licking. When the dog wouldn’t stop, she turned her head.

  A sharp pain made her gasp. Someone had embedded a knife in her forehead.

  Moaning, she forced her eyelids to open a crack. A black nose appeared, sniffing her face. Loose skin hung from the dog’s snout. So it wasn’t a sheepdog, and definitely not Caesar. Where had the hound come from, and why was it on her bed? Why did her head pound as though it would fall off? Her eyes drifted shut as the questions melted into awful memories…or were they dreams?

  She remembered being in a coffin. Buried alive. Bearded men leered at her and tossed her bound and gagged, to and fro, cackling like demons. Someone lifted her into strong arms that formed a safe cradle. She snuggled against what felt like a solid wall and could hear inside a heavy thump, thump, thump.

  A low voice whispered in an unfamiliar drawl. “Hush now, be still. I won’t leave you.”

  “Git down, Rebel!”

  The harsh command startled Prudence out of the troubled, half-sleep. She snapped her eyes open in time to see a flash of fur as the dog leapt off the bed.

  A man’s face, wreathed in auburn hair, hovered over her. His heavy russet brows drew down over eyes as blue as a bright summer sky. The bridge of his nose had a slight bump, suggesting it might’ve been broken at one time. A slight cleft softened an otherwise square chin. His lips were thin, or maybe it looked that way because he had them pressed together. She didn’t know him. Yet, he looked familiar…her dream rescuer?