A Convenient Wife (15 page)

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Ellie cried, her tears of frustration vying with the pain in her head.

“You have to say that you didn't sleep in the doctor's bed,” George said. “That'll solve the whole problem.”

“It would be a lie.” Ellie's chin lifted as she glared at him.

He hooted, jeering at her with a look of derision. “No man in his right mind would touch you, with you carryin' a bastard like you are. That doctor's got himself a fancy education. You think anybody would believe he'd ever put his hands on you?”

“I just know I won't sign anything,” she said stubbornly. “You can go and tell your mother I said so, Tommy.” The door slammed behind her as she went in the kitchen, and on the porch, George laid his hand on the youth's shoulder.

“You tell your ma I'll take care of Ellie. She'll sign anything I tell her to.”

Ellie watched as Tommy rode away, and then her father turned to enter the kitchen door, and her heart sank within her breast. “I'm gettin' you outta here before Kincaid shows up with his fancy guns and his silver badge.”

 

They'd ridden from town in virtual silence, James leading the way, Win searching his mind for an answer to Ellie's disappearance. “You think she's out there?” Win asked. As they neared the Mitchum ranch, he began second-guessing James's idea for setting up a search. “Maybe we should have split up, headed in opposite directions.”

James shook his head. “It makes sense to me that someone took Ellie last night, and the logical person is her father.
Don't know why I didn't think of it right away. I suspect I was thrown off by what Kate said, thinking that Ellie was afraid to stay and cause you trouble.”

“Here I thought everything was going so well,” Win said. “She seemed happy with me, and… Damn, will you look up ahead, James. Is that that young fool coming this way?”

The horse and rider were headed in their direction, and Win felt a surge of anger as he recognized Tommy, although to be absolutely honest, he'd been in a temper for the past several hours. It wasn't a good time for the boy to appear in front of him.

James dug in his heels and rode ahead, halting Tommy in his tracks. “Where you off to, boy?” he asked.

Tommy eyed the two men and tugged at his horse's reins. “Been out lookin' for Ellie.”

“You find her?” James asked mildly.

Tommy's gaze veered from the sheriff, and red splotches appeared on his cheeks. “No, I don't know where she is. I was hopin' she was at her pa's ranch, but she isn't there.”

James frowned. “Don't lie to me, boy. If George took her against her will, he'll end up in jail.”

Tommy shook his head. “You can't do that. He's her pa. He's got rights.”

“She's my wife,” Win said, his fingers itching to grab hold of the youth and shake the stuffings out of him.

“Not for long,” Tommy jeered, hatred flaring in his expression. “My mother has a lawyer workin' on it right now.”

“Working on what?”

“I'm the one who should have married her,” Tommy said stoutly. “It's my baby she's going to have.”

“You should have thought of that a long time ago,” James told him. “You're a little late on the draw, son.”

“Way too late,” Win chimed in. “And for the life of me, I can't figure out why you and your mother came all the way out here to get her. Aren't there any girls in Philadelphia? You
didn't treat her right when you were keeping company with her. Why on earth do you want to cart her clear across the country now?”

“I'm not sayin' any more about it,” Tommy muttered. “I'm heading back to town. Mr. Briggs let me take this horse, but he said he needs it back this afternoon.”

Win looked after him as Tommy sent his mount into a gallop. “You going to let him leave?” he asked James, exasperation roughening his voice.

“Don't have much choice,” James said. “He hasn't done anything for me to nail him.” He lifted his reins and his horse set off at a trot. “We need to check out the Mitchum place, Doc. If she's not there, we'll put out the word and notify all the ranchers in the area to be on the lookout for her.”

 

George was suspiciously welcoming, allowing them to search the house without a word of protest. “I told you she wasn't here,” he said, his leer triumphant as James and Win exited the back door. “You're wastin' your time, Sheriff. The girl's no good. Probably ran off with the first man that looked cross-eyed at her.”

Win held his tongue, his every sense alert to Ellie's presence. Even the room upstairs had held a faint scent he identified as hers, and it had obviously been hastily straightened, the quilt askew on the bed, the rug rumpled. “She's been here,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” James agreed. “But she's not here now.”

“How about the barn?” Win glanced toward that huge structure.

James stepped off the porch. “We can check it out.”

“Where you headin'?” George asked, rounding on them as they set off toward the barn.

“Just going to take a look out back,” James said. “You got some objection?”

The man shook his head. “Look all you want. She's not here.”

And Win felt, with sudden conviction, that the man was telling the truth. “He's moved her,” he said. “He's had someone take her off somewhere.”

“Where are your hired hands?” Win asked.

“Out on the range, most of them,” George said, waving a hand to the north, where open range held hundreds of head of cattle. “They're roundin' up the calves, bringing them closer in for the winter.”

“They staying out in your line shacks?” James asked, and George grunted a reply.

Win swallowed his query, willing to let James be the spokesman here. Was a line shack somewhere a young woman might be held against her will? The idea festered as he gave the barn a perfunctory once-over, climbing the ladder to the hayloft, even though he was dead certain Ellie would not be found there.

James made the rounds of tack room, empty stalls, and even the bunkhouse, where empty cots and the odor of stale food told Win that the men were long gone. “You here alone?” Win asked George, who'd followed them with a smug expression on his features.

“Just me and a couple of my men, enough to tend to chores.” His chest puffed out like a banty rooster, and his fingers slid into the back pockets of his trousers as he grinned, an evil expression that turned Win's blood cold. That this man had Ellie in his power was almost too much for him to tolerate.

“Come on, Win.” James tugged at his sleeve, his face seeming carved of stone from the mountains. Win obeyed, helpless in his anger, yet aware that James would not give up on their quest. “We'll ride out, and talk later,” James muttered, checking his stirrups as he readied himself to mount his horse.

Win followed his lead, lifting into his saddle with an easy movement, catching up the reins in his hand and turning the
gelding to the east, where the road to Whitehorn stretched like a narrow ribbon past the fields and pastures of the area ranchers.

 

“I'm sorry, Miss Ellie.” Tall and sinewy, Al Shrader lifted Ellie from the back of his horse and held her firmly as she attempted to catch her balance. “I have to do what your pa says. And he wants you kept out here for a while.”

“You'll end up in jail for this,” Ellie threatened, although even to her own ears, her voice was a tenuous thread, her weariness causing her to stumble as she wrenched from his hold. “Don't touch me.” She shuddered as he ignored her protest and bent to lift her, carrying her into the rude line shack.

It was small, with a potbellied stove, a wide set of bunks and a table with three mismatched chairs. She remembered it from her childhood, when, as an adventure, she'd ridden out to play house in it, during a hot summer afternoon. And then been severely berated by her father for making him search for her. Now, it was even more dilapidated, the furnishings ragtag and worn by years of hard use by a series of cowhands during roundup time.

She slid from Al's arms, aware that he treated her with unaccustomed care. “You gonna be all right?” he asked, standing in the doorway, watching as she slumped onto a chair. “I'll get some water from the stream for you.”

He snatched up a bucket from the corner and stepped out the door, then turned back. “Don't try to leave, Miss Ellie,” he said, his voice reeking with apology. “It'll be worth my scalp if you run off. I don't want to tie you up, but I will if I have to.”

She couldn't run anywhere right now if her very life depended on it, Ellie thought glumly. Her arms and legs ached from the harsh treatment at her father's hands last night. And now she'd survived a ride behind Al's saddle, and her thighs
were sore, abrasions burning where her bare skin had rubbed the sides of the horse.

Yet, all of that paled next to the pain she bore in knowing that Win might think she'd left him on her own hook.
I think I need to leave for a while.
She'd spoken the words to Kate, voicing aloud the fear of bringing shame to Win. And Kate, being the honest soul she was, would no doubt repeat those words, maybe gentling them for Win's hearing. But nothing could buffer the pain such a statement would bring him.

Maybe he wouldn't be looking for her, Ellie thought, her head lifting as fear settled deep. Maybe he'd think it was good riddance. And she couldn't blame him if he was angry with her. She probably appeared to be ungrateful, after him being so good to her. The fact that he'd even taken her to his bed must be making him feel like he'd made a terrible mistake, claiming her as his wife. No doubt his pride was stung….

Surely it must be. The whole town would know she was gone by now. And Win must meet and greet them with full knowledge that his wife had left him.

“Here you go, Miss Ellie.” Al toted the bucket of water inside, placing it on the floor near the table. “If you want to wash up, I got a towel in my pack.”

His feeble attempt at comfort did not go amiss, and Ellie nodded her thanks, grateful for the man's eagerness to please.

“Just don't try to leave, ma'am.” Al stood in the doorway, hesitating as if he must gain some small measure of assurance from his captive. “Your pa holds a tight rein, you know that.”

“I know.” Ellie spoke the words dully, unwilling to antagonize the man who had at least offered her a small amount of kindness. Al cast her a last glance before he went outside, and she looked around the small room. A supply of firewood stacked against the wall assured her of warmth against the
coming hours when the winds from the mountains blew across the acres of open range.

Surely there was food here. Even her father would not expect a woman to survive with no sustenance, she decided. Rising, she opened a heavy chest, built from rough wood and equipped with the necessities of life for whatever stray cowhand might require its contents.

A small kettle and a chipped coffeepot comprised the cooking supplies. A tin of coffee and an assortment of cans assured her she would not starve over the course of the next day or so. Several plates and cups nestled in one corner of the box and spoons were scattered amid the supplies. A large knife had been left to open the cans with, and Ellie wiped it off on her skirt before she placed it on the table.

“I'm gonna see if I can roust up a rabbit for you, ma'am,” Al said, entering with a dingy towel and a bedroll from his pack. “I brought you some matches, in case there's none here. We ain't used this shack all summer, but there's enough stuff to do you for now.”

“Thank you,” Ellie said, limping to take Al's offerings. “I'll put on a pot of coffee if you'd like some.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he said agreeably. “I'd appreciate that.” He turned away, and then spoke quietly, as though the confidence he shared was better said without peering into her face. “I won't be sleeping in the shack, ma'am. I'll bunk outside.”

He stepped from the building and Ellie watched him go, aware that she could have done worse with several others of her father's hands. Al was the best of the bunch, and it was pure dumb luck that he'd been the one forced into bringing her here. With no warning, he'd been presented with an unwilling woman, and told to get her as far from the house as he could.

She'd shed her coat and her shawl lent a certain amount of warmth as she pulled the door closed, keeping the chill air outside the shack. The stove door swung open readily, and
she piled kindling atop the ashes, then added small sticks of wood before lighting a match. It caught, flaring up and she watched for a minute, then added larger pieces, thankful that the wood was dry and plentiful. The damper was open, and the fire drew well as she closed the door on the blazing warmth.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too cold once the sun went down. Perhaps Al had an extra bedroll to keep him warm. If not, she'd invite him in by the fire. The beds were stacked atop one another, and she spread Al's bedding on the bottom shelf. It left a lot to be desired, she thought, remembering the lovely quilt and the clean, crisp sheets she'd slept on in Win's house.

Win.
Her heart ached as she whispered his name, and she closed her eyes, wishing she could send a message, let him know she had not left of her own accord. He was a city man, although he'd said he could ride a horse. Surely James would begin a search, but on his own, Win would have no way of searching out her whereabouts, no knowledge of the countryside. And perhaps not even the urge to seek her out. A shaft of pain struck deep inside as that thought entered her mind.

“Ma'am? I didn't see any sign of game nearby, but there ought to be enough provisions in that box to keep you fed till tomorrow.” Al stood in the doorway huddled within his coat, and a draft of cold air swept past him. “I'm gonna make a fire and set up camp out front. If you have anything extra to eat, I wouldn't mind a bite.”