Bushedwhacked Groom (25 page)

All four girls gasped in dismay. “0h, Pa, must you?” wheedled Sally.

“Hush up, daughter, or I’ll send you to your room.”

“Yes, sir.”

Matt whispered in Cory’s ear. “What’s a courting
candle?”

Cory thought he had a general idea but observed
Mr. Trumble to be sure. “See that candle he’s lighting?”

“Yep. It’s got some spiral metal doohickey wrapped
around it.”

“Yes. And at the bottom of the candle is wedged a cork to work the metal doohickey up and down.”

“What does that mean?” whispered Zach.

Cory winced as the wick was lit.
“
It means we may be done for before we even begin. See how little of the
candle he’s exposing?”

“Yep. So?”

As Trumble turned to glower at the boys, Cory mut
tered, “You’ll see.”

After lighting the candle, Trumble parked himself in a straight chair flanking the table, then crossed his legs
and waved a hand. “Very well, boys. Court away.”

With Trumble watching all eight of them like a hawk,
the boys glanced helplessly at one another, then at the
girls. The girls stared back, appearing equally miserable.

The next five minutes were the most awkward Cory
had ever known in his life. First a silence stretched so
tautly that Cory feared it would snap all their spines.
Then Cory asked Ida May how she liked the weather.
She said she liked it just fine. Zach asked Sally if she’d
ever been to
Colorado Springs
. She said no, never.
Vance asked Nelly how her health was; she confessed
she had a boil on her big toe. When Matt’s turn came
up and he appeared to go blank, Bonnie took charge,
asking him what his favorite color was. He admitted he
was color-blind.

No sooner had all this inanity ended than Trumble
heaved himself to his feet with a snide grin. “All right,
boys. Candle’s gone out. Time’s up.”

“What?” cried Zach, staring aghast at the burnt-out
candle. “We ain’t been here five minutes.”

“Yeah!” seconded Vance. “And you rigged that candle
to burn out quick just to thwart us. Talk about trimmin’
the wick—”

“Hah!” Trumble laughed scornfully.
“
I trimmed yours
right smartly, didn’t I, young man?”

“Mr. Trumble, why are you being so uncooperative?”
Cory asked. “We’ve tried our best to play by your rules,
and our intentions are honorable.”

“This from a passel of scoundrels who may be bank
robbers.”

“We’re not outlaws,” Matt declared furiously.

“Well, it will take more than idle talk or a molasses
pie to move me,” Trumble retorted. “If you boys want
more lift for your wicks, then tell that ornery grandma
of your’n to come along next time.”

“Oh, brother,” muttered Cory. All of this would go off
just swell with Grandma, he mused dismally.

Trumble waved an arm. “Now git out, all of ya, be
fore I fetch my shotgun.”

“Pa, please, can’t they stay—just for a moment?”
pleaded Ida May.

He shook a finger at her. “Hush up, daughter, before
I take a switch to you as well.”

Cory yearned to punch Mr. Trumble over his last
comment but realized that would only make matters worse. Knowing further resistance was futile, he ex
changed a wrenching glance with Ida May. He
watched his brothers follow suit with their own ladies
as the four men turned and glumly trooped out the
door.

***

“I could murder that old tyrant,” Matt cursed as the four galloped away.

“Me, too,” added Vance.

“The nerve of him, accusing us of bank robbery,”
complained Zach.

At last Cory dared to voice his concerns. “Unless
there was a grain of truth in what he said.”

“What?” demanded Zach.

Even though the other three were staring murder at
him, Cory went on. “Have you boys been outlawing behind my back?”

“Why, you nervy little snot,” snapped Vance.

“How dare you accuse your own brothers of law-
breaking,” scolded Zach.

“Now you’re sounding worse than old man Trum
ble,” declared Matt.

“But I don’t hear you boys denying it.”

The others glared again, then Zach sneered, “You go
to hell, Cory Reklaw. As for the rest of us
. . .
Shoot, you
and everyone else in these parts already thinks the
worst of us. So, come on, boys, why don’t we go hold up a bank or two?”

“Yeah!” mocked Vance. “Let’s blow up some safes and
do some pillaging and plundering while we’re at it.”

Hooting outlaw yells, the eldest three spurred their horses, leaving Cory to eat their dust.

***

Later that afternoon, Cory arrived home feeling tired
and dispirited. The courting expedition had been a dis
aster, and as for his confronting his brothers about the holdups—well, now he was more confused than ever. He didn’t know whether they’d gone outlaw or not.

Or maybe he did know and was just afraid to face the truth.

He found the house strangely quiet, and strode into
the kitchen to see Grandma standing there alone
rolling cookie dough. He smiled at the sight of her; with flour dabbed on her nose and generously sprinkled on her apron, she looked quite comical.

“Hi, Grandma, where is everyone?”

She turned to him with a grin. “Howdy, honey. Well,
your ma and pa went over to Billy and Dumpling’s
place to rock the babies—”

“And Molly and Lucky?”

She waved a hand. “I got tired of watching them two
mope around the house, so I sent ‘em off for a picnic
in the buckboard.”

He laughed. “Good for you.”

“‘Bout time they settled their differences.”

“Grandma, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

She laughed. “So how was the courting?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m afraid Mr. Trumble outwitted
us with a courting candle.”

“Huh?”

Cory explained about the tradition. “The upshot is,
Trumble gave us less than five minutes with his daugh
ters, then shooed us on our way.”

Grandma pounded her rolling pin on the sideboard.
“Why, the jackass! And after I made a devil’s bargain
with him, sending him my molasses pie—”

“Well, this particular devil wasn’t satisfied with his
lot. He wants you to come along next time.”

“What? When mule deer fly, I will.”

Cory sighed. “Then I guess our courting days are
over.”

Grandma gave him a long look, then waved him off.
“0h, don’t stand there pouting like an old maid at a so
cial, Cory Reklaw. If I must deal with Lucifer to see you
boys happily wed, then I reckon I’ll do it.”

Cory broke into a grin. “Good for you.”

She cackled. “But that old coot may just find he’s bit
ten off more than he can chew with Eula Reklaw.”

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” Cory concurred with
a grin.

Her gaze narrowed on him. “By the way, where are
your brothers?”

Cory glanced away guiltily. “0h, they went for a ride.”

She shook a finger at him. “Don’t you lie to me, Cory
Reklaw. I know you better’n a prairie dog knows his
shadow.”

He gave a groan. “I’m not sure where they are,
Grandma—but maybe they went to the saloon in Dil
lyville to blow off some steam.” Cory hated twisting the
truth around but suspected his brothers would end up
at the saloon anyway, wherever they might go in the
meantime.

Grandma sucked in a horrified breath. “And you let
‘em gallivant off alone that way? They’re bound to get
in all manner of mischief.”

Cory felt at his wit’s end. “Grandma, how can I stop
them? They’re three grown men, all bigger than me.
I’m the runt of the litter, as my brothers and Mr. Trumble are so fond of reminding me.”

Noting his dour expression, Eula stepped closer and
enfolded him in a bear hug. “Now, darlin’, don’t fret.
I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for you, Cory
boy. I’ll help you. And we got no time to waste getting
them elder three back on the straight and narrow. I’ll
be speaking with that weasel Ez Trumble the next time
we see him in town.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” With a relieved grin, he nodded
toward the sideboard. “Now how ‘bout I steal some of your cookie dough?”

She tweaked his nose. “Better that than you rob a
bank.”

At her words, both went sober. Cory was well aware
of the questions both he and Grandma were asking
themselves, doubts neither dared to voice aloud . . .

Chapter Twenty-five

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“Well, cowboy, you gonna drive us around in circles for
hours or you gonna head somewhere?”

Lucky glanced sourly at his bride, who sat next to him in the buckboard, looking far too enticing in her green gingham Sunday dress. She was right that he’d
been rambling about the countryside for a good
stretch now. But he was trying his best to postpone the
inevitable moment when he’d have to stop the buck
board, pull out the sumptuous picnic Grandma had
packed them, spread out the blanket she’d also included, and actually talk to his bride, or . . .

Damn Molly’s hide!

Meanwhile his wife was growing even more exas
perated.
“
I said, are you gonna keep ambling about like
a steer on loco grass—”

“I heard you, woman.”

“Then where are we headed?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want to go back to Reklaw Gorge so’s you can
try to hitch a ride back to the present?” she sneered.

He made a sound of contempt. “You ready to let
me go?”

“I’m tempted.”

Lucky almost grabbed her bait but remembered in
time that there was no way he could take her to the canyon, let alone allow her to see the old stagecoach
that he and Sanchez had managed to partly reassem
ble—although the coach remained quite a twisted
sight, even with the wheels reattached to the axle. “I’ll
pass on Reklaw Gorge. Knowing you, you’d try to push me off a cliff just like your brothers did.”

She waved a hand. “What’s ailing you, cowboy? First
you were all over me like honey on sourdough, then
you went all standoffish—”

“And you weren’t cold, once I started pursuing you?”
he countered.

She turned away, her face hot. “You—you con
founded me, I reckon—”

“Well, that makes two of us who are buffaloed.”

She shot him a resentful glance. “The other morning
when I was feeding the chickens, I heard you snoring
in the barn. You enjoying your nights in the hayloft?”

“Yeah. Even with Jezebel and her kittens crawling
all over me, it sure beats the hell out of catfighting with
you.”

Angrily she folded her arms over her bosom. “0h,
why don’t you just take me home?”

“No,” he retorted stubbornly. “I’ve been smelling your
grandma’s fried chicken for an hour now, and there’s
no way I’m forgoing
some
pleasure from this ill-fated
outing.”

She spoke through gritted teeth. “Then take us
somewhere, before the g’damned horses drop from
exhaustion!”

He actually grinned at her mimicking his manner of
cursing. “Where do you suggest?”

She bit her lip, then snapped her fingers. “I know. I’ll
show you the lower five hundred. ‘Bout time you saw
what’s really involved here, and what’s at stake in this
marriage.”

Lucky felt irate again. “Yeah, ‘bout time I saw what you
really
want, Mrs. Lamont. And it sure as hell ain’t me.”

She eyed him mutinously, then went coldly silent.

***

“Here we are, cowboy.”

“My God.
This
is the lower five hundred?”

“Yep.”

Moments later, Lucky pulled the buckboard to a halt
at the crest of a rise. In awe and wonder, he gazed at
the exquisite valley stretching beneath them, where
wildflowers bloomed and deer grazed next to an enchanting pond, where aspen and pines grew on a glo
rious expanse of sheltering mountainside. He stared
off at a familiar knoll and his throat knotted.

Molly was observing him raptly. “You like it, cowboy?”

“Like it?” he repeated hoarsely.

Without taking his eyes off the property, Lucky slid
to the ground. Methodically, he helped Molly alight.
He couldn’t believe how beautiful, pristine and pas
toral this land was. Untouched, like his bride. Emotion warred within him; his gut twisted and his throat grew
even tighter.

“You lost your tongue, cowboy?” Molly asked. “I’m
waitin’ to hear what you think of my land.”

He whirled on her. “Your land?”

She blushed. “Soon as we have that baby.”

Lucky seized his bride by the shoulders and spoke
passionately. “Woman, this isn’t your land. It’s
my
land.”

“What?” she cried.

Shaking his head in amazement, Lucky murmured,
“Mrs. Lamont, you’re looking at my grandparents’ old
homestead.”

She gasped. “This is their old homestead?”

“Yes. Their ranch.”

“You mean in the future?”

“Yes—well, I guess so.” With the same expression of
reverence, he gestured at the landscape.
“
My God, I
can’t believe I’m actually standing here. This is the
land where I was raised, where I loved my grandpar
ents—and buried them. It’s so ironic.”

She hesitated. “You mean, the land I want turns out to be the same land that you—”

“Lost,” he finished in a tortured voice. Swallowing
hard, he continued, “When Granddad and Grandma
died, I had to sell this land to settle their debts.” All at
once realization dawned on him, and his gaze settled
on her fiercely. “Now I’m taking it back.”

“What?” she gulped, backing away.

Lucky advanced on Molly with an intense gleam in
his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised, Molly. After all, this
whole crazy scheme was your idea. Okay then, you’ve
won, honey, you’ve got me now. I’m claiming the land I love—
which means I’m claiming you, too.”

And before she could object further he closed the
distance between them, pulled her against him and
kissed her long, achingly, his mouth drowning out her
soft protests. His hands roved her body freely, inti
mately, kneading her buttocks, tugging up her
skirts . . .

At last, with a cry of anguish, she pushed him away.
“You—now you’re trying to take advantage of me just
to get what you want.”

He laughed bitterly. “Touché, Molly. It was all well
and good when you wanted to milk me like a stud to
suit your own needs. But now that the tables are
turned, you’re finally finding out how it feels to be
used, aren’t you?”

She began blinking back tears. “Please, Lucky, don’t
say such mean things to me. You—you’re confusing
me—”

“I’m telling you the truth. ‘Bout time you stepped in
side my moccasins and walked around, to see how
you’ve exploited
me.”

A tear spilled down her cheek. “Please stop.”

He took in her stricken face, then cursed. “Ah, hell!
You never do fight fair, do you?”

“I—I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Me, too, Molly. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

With a last longing glance at the land, Lucky
grabbed Molly around the waist and lifted her onto the
buckboard seat. As he drove them away, they ex
changed heated, accusatory glances. Just when the
tension seemed ready to shatter, Lucky set his jaw and
said adamantly, “Make no mistake about it, Molly. I want the land, too, now. And I’m gonna get it.”

Judging from her half-anxious, half-fearful look, she
believed him.