Short Straw Bride (20 page)

She heard someone scream—Letty, perhaps? There were shouts of warning but they were distant things. All she could hear was the thunder of hoofbeats
rushing toward her. All she could see was the solid wall of horses coming directly at her. And she knew she was about to die.

Luke’s attention was focused solely on the narrow ribbon of street visible between his horse’s ears. As far as he was concerned, it was a waste of time to worry about what the other contestants were doing. His only concern was to get the best speed out of his own animal. Seeing someone else creeping up on him wasn’t going to give his horse any more speed or stamina than it already had. He was only peripherally aware of the spectators who lined the street, shouting encouragement to the riders. They were a blur of colorful gowns and somber suits.

Out the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of a familiar shade of buttercup yellow. Eleanor. He was too far away to see her face, but he could see the eager tilt of her head beneath that god-awful hat and he knew she was watching him, cheering him on. The thought of seeing her sweet face lit with pride added to his determination to win.

And then, too quickly for him to determine what had happened, Eleanor was no longer standing on the boardwalk. She was stumbling into the street, falling to her knees in the dirt.

Luke thought his heart would stop. She was directly in the path of the racing horses. He saw her
struggling to get to her feet, but there would never be time for her to get out of the way. The rider to his right saw her and pulled back on the reins, trying in vain to stop his horse, but there was no way the animal could be halted in time. Nor was there room for all the horses to go around her. The street was too narrow and there were too many riders. All these thoughts flashed through Luke’s mind in the space between one heartbeat and the next. They all distilled down to one paralyzing realization.

Eleanor was going to die.

In that instant Luke felt his entire world crash down around him. She couldn’t die. Without her, he might as well be dead himself.

She finally managed to get to her feet and turned to face the oncoming riders. He didn’t know whether she was paralyzed with fear or simply recognized the impossibility of getting out of the way. He only knew that he’d die himself before he’d see her go down beneath the brutal pounding of the horses’ hooves.

There was one chance, one slim chance. Luke dug the spurs into the gray’s sides. Startled by the rude treatment, the gelding sprang forward with a sudden burst of speed. Luke leaned low in the saddle. Just as he had earlier in the race, he blocked out all thoughts of the other riders, focusing his attention on one thing and one thing only—his wife’s slender and all-too-fragile figure. He knew
the exact moment Eleanor realized what he was going to attempt. He saw the blank terror drain from her face to be replaced by a look of absolute trust. If there had been time, Luke would have offered up a prayer that her trust wasn’t misplaced.

Leaning out of the saddle, he caught her under the arms, jerking her off her feet. He must have hurt her, but there was no time to worry about that. The muscles in his shoulders and arms strained as he dragged her partway across the saddle. She grabbed hold of his leg, her fingers digging into his flesh through the denim of his pants. Keeping one hand flat on her back, pressing her down across his thighs, he fought to control the gray with the other.

The gelding was well trained and placid by nature, but he was not at all happy with the recent turn of events and it took all of Luke’s skills as a rider to stay in the saddle while drawing the frightened animal to a halt. By the time he had the gray under control, the race had ended in wild confusion as the riders who’d seen Eleanor fall dragged their animals to a halt and those who hadn’t seen her thundered on to the end of the street and the finish line, bewildered to find themselves there in such small company.

Daniel drew his horse to a plunging halt nearby. He was out of the saddle immediately, his boots sending up puffs of dust as he covered the distance
between them. He was reaching for Eleanor as he spoke.

“Is she all right?”

“I don’t know.” Luke let her slide into his brother’s hold and then swung one leg over the saddle and dropped to the ground beside them. He reached out and snatched his wife from Daniel’s hold, turning her toward him. “Are you hurt?”

His eyes raked her, seeking signs of injury. But other than the fact that her hair had come down and some streaks of dirt marred the soft golden yellow skirt of her gown, he could see no damage. Yet she hadn’t said a word and her eyes seemed unfocused. His hands tightened on her shoulders.

“Ellie? What’s wrong? Tell me where you’re injured.”

“I think she’s just had the wind knocked out of her,” Daniel said. He put his hand on Luke’s shoulder to calm him. “The saddle horn probably caught her in the diaphragm.”

As if to confirm his diagnosis, Eleanor suddenly drew a shallow, wheezing breath, followed by a second, deeper gulp of air. She blinked, the frightening blankness leaving her eyes. She focused on Luke.

“I’m not dead.” She seemed surprised.

“God, no.” Luke caught her in his arms. Now that the danger was past, he felt fear grab hold of him like a hand around his throat, choking off his
breathing. He’d almost lost her. It had been so close. So very close. If the gray had been a little slower, if he’d stumbled. The cinch strap could have snapped under the added weight. There were a hundred and one things that could have gone wrong, all of them ending in disaster. “God.”

His arms tightened around her, pressing her head into his shoulder. The fear he hadn’t let himself feel earlier knotted his gut and made his skin icy cold, despite the summer sun beating down on them. He didn’t know what he’d do if he lost her. She was the center of his world.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered against her hair.

“I thought you had, too.” Eleanor clung to him, her knees shaking in the aftermath of her close call. “When I saw you, I knew you wouldn’t let me die.”

“Never. I’ll never let you go.” He wrapped one hand in her tousled hair and tilted her head back, his eyes searching her face. He’d never seen anything more beautiful than her trembling smile and the love and trust shining in her eyes.

“What happened?” Daniel’s question reminded Luke that they weren’t alone.

“I don’t know.” Luke loosened his hold on Eleanor slightly but kept one arm around her waist. He looked down at her. “What happened, honey?”

“I—”

“I’ll tell you what happened.” Letty’s voice preceded her as, in a most unladylike way, she pushed through the crowd that had gathered around the McLains. There was a murmur of surprise and a few titters of nervous laughter when she stepped into sight. One hand was wrapped firmly around a fistful of golden curls, dragging Anabel’s protesting figure with her literally by the hair. “This little cat pushed her. That’s what happened.”

“I did no such thing!” Anabel’s denial ended on a shriek of pain as Letty tightened her hold. “You’re going to scalp me!”

“It’s no more than you deserve,” Letty said fiercely.

“I agree, but it might be best if you let her go for the moment.” Daniel stepped forward and gently pried her fingers loose. Putting one arm around her shoulders, he drew her against his side. “Perhaps you’d like to explain what happened, Miss Williams?” he invited coldly.

Anabel stared at Letty and the McLains, then looked at the people crowded around as if seeking a friendly face. But in her sixteen years there was hardly a citizen of Black Dog who hadn’t felt the sharp edge of her tongue, and she found no sympathy among them.

“Here, now. Let us through.” Zeb Williams’s deep voice cleared a path through the crowd. “What’s going on here? Are you injured, niece?”

“I’m all right, Uncle Zeb,” Eleanor said quietly.

“What’s going on?” Dorinda repeated her husband’s question. Her eyes settled on her daughter. “What on earth happened to your hair, Anabel?”

Anabel looked from her mother to where Luke and Eleanor stood. Whatever she saw in their expressions, it wasn’t the reassurance she wanted. Seeing disaster staring her in the face, she responded the only way possible. She burst into noisy sobs.

“Your daughter pushed my wife into the street in front of the oncoming horses,” Luke said quietly. He turned cold gray eyes on Zeb Williams. “She was almost killed.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Dorinda said, paling with shock. “Anabel? Tell them they’re wrong, sweetheart.”

“I saw her do it.” Letty’s voice was hard and angry. “She pushed her once and, when that wasn’t enough, she pushed her again. She tried to kill Eleanor.”

“I just wanted to scare her a little,” Anabel said through her sobs, condemning herself with her own voice.

“Eleanor could have died,” Luke repeated, still looking at Zeb.

Zeb Williams looked from Luke’s hard face to the condemning expressions of those in the crowd.
He was a banker. His livelihood depended on his reputation. He might own half of the only bank in town but, if they were riled enough, folks might be willing to take their business to another town, even if it meant a long drive to get to the bank. He couldn’t afford to have a speck of dust mar his reputation, and his daughter’s actions today threatened to put considerably more than a speck on it. There was only one possibility to salvage the situation.

“Come along, Anabel. I think it’s time you learned a lesson from the flat of my hand.”

“Daddy!” Anabel’s voice rose on a wail of shocked disbelief.

Stepping forward, he grabbed hold of his daughter’s arm and jerked her after him as he strode through the crowd. There were a few helpful offers to continue the lesson should his arm tire too soon and a remarkable lack of sympathy for Anabel’s continued wails. Dorinda trailed after them, looking as if she couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

“I hope he beats her until she can’t sit down for a month,” Letty said vengefully as the Williamses disappeared from sight.

“Poor Anabel,” Eleanor said with a sigh.

“
Poor
Anabel?” Luke asked incredulously. “She tried to kill you.”

“No. I think she really was just trying to scare me. I can’t help but feel a little sorry for her. I think this is the first time in her life she’s had to bear the consequences of her actions.”

“I’d wish I could show her a few consequences myself,” Luke muttered, unmoved by Anabel’s plight. His arm tightened around her. “I could have lost you today.”

Eleanor looked up at him, her eyes questioning his fervor, but before she could say anything a new voice intruded. “Ma’am? Miz McLain?”

She turned to see Shorty Danvers approaching. “I’m real glad you’re all right, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Shorty.”

His lean features drew down in regretful lines. “But I’m right sorry about your hat.”

“My hat?” For the first time, Eleanor noticed the object he was carrying. Only a considerable feat of imagination could turn the squashed, torn item into a hat, but she recognized one of the fat roses that trailed from the twisted brim.

“The horses run right over it, ma’am.” He poked one callused finger at the end of a frayed ribbon. “Don’t reckon you can salvage much of it.”

Eleanor felt Luke’s chest shake. She glanced up at him just as he burst out laughing.

“Luke?” She didn’t see what was so funny about her hat being ruined. True, she’d hated it, but new
hats were expensive and she could have gotten at least another year’s wear out of it.

“Throw it away, Shorty.” He grinned at the other man. “Burn it.”

“Sure thing, boss.” Shorty looked as puzzled as Eleanor felt.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

She brought her hands up to rest against his chest as he turned her in his arms. “That was the ugliest hat I’ve ever seen,” he said bluntly. “It getting trampled is the second luckiest thing that’s happened to me in recent months.”

Eleanor decided not to take offense at his comment about the hat, especially since she agreed with him. She stroked her hands over the soft fabric of his shirt, feeling the steady beat of his heart under her fingers.

“What’s the luckiest thing that’s happened to you?” she asked, savoring the feel of him holding her.

“The luckiest thing?” He brushed a dusty curl back from her forehead. In his face she saw a tenderness that made her heart stop. A tenderness and…something more? “The luckiest thing that ever happened to me was drawing that short straw,” he said softly.

“Luke?” Surely she wasn’t imagining what was in his eyes. Right here, in the middle of the dusty
street, she was seeing all her dreams come true. “Luke?”

“I just wish I could lose like that every time,” he murmured.

And right there in front of God and the citizens of Black Dog, Luke McLain kissed his bride, thanking the Lord for the wisdom that had made him draw the short straw.

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