Libby had been a married woman for four days, and all in all, she decided, it had been a good marriage. Garrett was out on the ranch property doing whatever ranch foremen did every day and friendly enough at dinner. In the evenings, they sometimes played whist or chess or read in quiet companionship, occasionally with Jackson in attendance and other times alone. At bedtime, he seemed to struggle with himself, as if he did not really want to couple with her but couldn’t help himself.
She would have laughed at that if he had not been so sincere in his attempts to avoid carnal activities. Seriously, though, all she had to do was place her hand between his legs and he was lost. She reasoned he was probably trying to keep himself from getting too close to her, but she had discovered the joys of sexual…joyfulness…and was not about to give it up. And the more they didn’t give it up, the closer she felt to her husband. He was kind enough but obviously trying desperately to keep that wall up. She was very familiar with emotional walls and not nearly ready to give up on him. She couldn’t help but be curious about his mother and sister, who she blamed for his guarded heart.
“What was your mother like?” she asked after one particularly vigorous mating.
“She was a bitch,” he said, no doubt trying to shock her into silence.
She almost smiled. Like that ever worked.
“She must have cared for you.”
“Must she? She was angry and bitter and blamed me because my father left her after I was born.”
She slowly ran her hand down his chest. “Well, that’s just silly.”
He pulled her closer to him and cupped her buttocks, which placed his hardening member against her stomach. She knew he was distracting her from the topic with sex, but at the moment that seemed like an awfully good idea to her.
* * *
Libby’s dealings with Jackson also enhanced that relationship. They spent time every day exchanging stories about their lives. He talked of meeting Elinora Haley in Butte when the stage broke down as her father was escorting her to San Francisco to visit friends. He was heading for his last meal before returning to the ranch after buying several horses in Butte. They met in the street and got to know each other better in a hotel dining room, and two weeks later were married. Almost like the whirlwind relationship between Libby and Garrett. She hoped it would have a little more longevity than his first marriage.
“She was beautiful and innocent and gay, at first, anyway. I lived for her laugh.”
It struck Libby then that she could not remember ever hearing her mother laugh. How strange.
“I reckon she just was not cut out for ranch living,” Jackson said. “We were both young and much more skilled in arguing than in working things out. I tried to find her for nearly two years after she left me. I suppose it was for the best that I never did, except for missing out on your life.”
Jackson also talked about the ranch, and she was struck by how much he loved it. Not the ranch exactly, but the land and the people. In the early days, he had built up much of the herd by trading cows with travelers heading west. They were only too happy to let him have two or three tired cows for one good healthy cow. The tired cattle regained their strength on the rich Montana prairie. Over the years, he had bred his cattle with better strains and now had a huge, healthy herd.
They were sitting in the wicker chairs on the porch on a beautiful, blustery day with white, billowy clouds. Jackson nursed a glass of lemonade, while Libby drank a cup of tea. Her housekeeping days were over, at Jackson’s insistence, not that any of them much noticed the difference.
“Tell me about your stepfather.”
How to describe Elias Parminter? She thought for a moment. “He never seemed to like me, but I didn’t understand why until my mother told me about you. He never beat me. Well, he slapped me many times. And he liked to call me names and constantly criticized me. I was required to do a great deal of manual labor and had to sneak out of the house to meet friends.”
Jackson’s hands fisted and he made a sound that resembled a growl.
“I guess I should have been weakened by all that, but it almost became a game with me. When I was eight years old, I started reading the dime novels my mother had left near her bedside, and they somehow gave me the strength to put up with almost anything, to be my own hero, I guess. To answer your question, Elias Parminter is not a very nice man. I think I already told you this. Mama said he was selling me to Edward DeJulius to pay off his gambling debts. She thought they most likely had an arrangement to share my dowry.”
She set the tea cup down and looked at her father, her aqua eyes almost burning. “Elias Parminter is kind of like an empty vessel. I never saw any warmth or kindness or humanity, really, in him. He always seemed to be conniving. Not lying necessarily, but not telling the truth, if you know what I mean. I realize now he must have known I wasn’t his daughter. I don’t ever want to see him again.”
“Was Elinora a good mother to you?”
Libby thought about this as she sipped her tea. She did not want to hurt Jackson, yet she did not want to lie to him either. “My mother was not unkind like Elias but she was…rather uninvolved with me. I knew she loved me or at least liked me. I just did not spend much time with her.”
He looked sad and rather wounded.
“It was not until she was near death that I truly realized that she did care for me. I think she had some regrets and would have changed some things if she could have gone back.”
“She died too young.” Jackson leaned over and patted her hand. “That kind of upbringing could have made you weak and needy or angry and cruel yourself, Libby. Instead, you’re strong and resilient and loving. You have a home here as long as you and Garrett want it.”
She inhaled deeply. A home. She did finally feel at home, and it warmed her to her core. There was just one little problem. “I’m not sure Garrett wants me or is planning to stay with me.”
Jackson digested that for a moment, then took one of her hands in both of his. “I dare say that will be up to you, Libby. He’s ridden a hard road and has a suspicious mind where women are concerned, but I’ve never met a better man. You would do well to be patient and to hang on to him.”
“I aim to try.” She had almost called him “Papa,” yet held herself back. It was all still so new. He released her hand and sat back. She took another drink of her tea, then had a sudden thought. “Do you think I could go into town?” She looked down at her sad gray dress, which, while not fraying at the cuffs, had seen better days. “If I have to wear this dress one more day, I think I’ll scream.”
Her father smiled. “I have an account at Finn’s and you’re welcome to use it. I’ll send Clem with you. I don’t want you going anywhere alone.”
His bossiness should have annoyed her, and she was surprised to feel a warmth radiating throughout her body. So this was what it was like to have a parent who cared.
“Is now too soon?”
He rose. “No, not at all. I’ll go find Clem. I think he’s in the barn.”
She got up as well. “I’ll go change into my riding outfit.”
She waited for him to object to her breeches-and-shirt ensemble that had raised a few eyebrows in town, but he just smiled as he walked away. She felt so good to not be judged she could almost forget she was in danger and her ankle still ached.
Clem, another one of those cowboy’s cowboy, probably in his 40s and as tough as they came, chatted about everything from breeding cattle to Carmen’s fajitas on the ride to town, and Libby made what she hoped were reasonably insightful contributions. Halfway to town she realized she was really, truly happy for the first time in her life. Oh, life wasn’t perfect, especially on the Garrett front, yet who wanted perfect? How boring would that be? Since Jackson had fired her as housekeeper—no great loss there—she found herself with the unprecedented luxury of free time and somewhat at a loss of what to do with it. The trip to town was just what the doctor ordered, and she would make the best of her time.
When they stopped in front of the mercantile, Libby took pity on Clem. She jumped down from the wagon on her good foot before he could give her a hand. “There’s no sense in you following me around while I pick out fripperies, Clem. Why don’t you go off and please yourself and come back and find me in an hour? Unless you have some shopping here to do.”
“No, ma’am. But Mr. Butterman told me not to let you out of my sight,” he said stubbornly.
“I promise I won’t leave the store. I’ll wait right here for you. And Parley keeps a shotgun behind the counter.”
He glanced longingly down the street and then back at her.
“Go on, Clem. I won’t tell Jackson.”
He struggled with himself briefly and then said, “All right. I’ll leave the wagon here. I’ll be back in one hour if you swear you won’t leave the mercantile.”
“You have my word,” she said. “If I get done before you return, I’ll sit right here on this bench and wait for you, I swear.”
“Okay then.” He headed off toward the livery and she walked into the store.
So, of course, who would be flouncing around the aisles but the ever-annoying Cindy Lou. “Oh, it’s you,” the flouncer said disdainfully.
“Guilty as charged,” said Libby, walking right past her.
Cindy Lou followed, her petticoats making an annoying swishing sound that grated. Even as she had the thought, Libby knew she was being hypocritical. She loved the sound of her own petticoats.
“So you trapped him into marrying you, didn’t you? But he’ll never be faithful.”
“It’s nice to see you too, Cindy Lou,” Libby said, perusing the ready-to-wear dresses.
Cindy Lou smiled haughtily. “My dresses are all custom made.”
“They probably don’t make the ready-to-wear big enough,” Libby smiled, and Parley, the proprietor, busy stocking shelves, choked back a laugh.
“You’re not woman enough to keep a man like Garrett.”
“And yet I am. Keeping him, I mean.” Libby smiled serenely, although she wanted to scratch Cindy Lou’s eyes out. She knew instinctively, however, pretending not to be upset would irritate the hell out of the woman.
“We’ll just see about that,” Cindy Lou spat out and stomped out of the store.
Libby watched her go. “That woman needs a hobby.”
Parley chuckled.
“Do you have a place I can try on a couple of these dresses? And I’ll be buying some yard goods and other items as well.”
“Yes, right back here, Mrs. Winslow.”
After she had made her dress selections, Libby was perusing the ribbons and other accessories when she spotted her friend Nellie trying on a pair of shoes. “Those look comfortable,” she said.
Nellie looked up and smiled. “Libby! I have been meaning to come out to the ranch and visit. Congratulations on your wedding.”
“Thank you.” Libby smiled guiltily. “I just needed some simple frocks for daytime or I would have come to your shop.”
I’m not here spying on you,” her friend laughed. “I occasionally buy dresses from Mr. Finn myself.”
Libby sat down beside her and picked up one of the high-top, white, six-button shoes Nellie was trying on. “These will look great with that blue and white-trimmed gown you were wearing the day we met.”
“And several other gowns as well.”
“Oh, I need these.” Libby picked up a pair of leather-lined elastic gusset shoes, which resembled boots but were ankle-length. Not exactly appropriate to wear with gowns, but great for outdoor use.
Nellie grinned. “You’re one of a kind, Lib.” Then she became more serious. “Doc Watkins said you have had some injuries.”
Libby smiled. “I suppose there are no secrets in a small town. Yes, I guess you could say I am rather injury prone. It’s not always my fault, though.” Someday she might share the details of her dowry story, but this was not the time.
Forty minutes later, Nellie had returned to her store and Libby sat on the bench in front of the mercantile, with several packages at her side. She didn’t feel right about Jackson paying for her purchases with their relationship so new, so she had used some of the money her mother had given her for her escape. In addition to three dresses, a split skirt and material to make a skirt and two more dresses, she had bought undergarments, that tempting pair of shoes, ribbons and other accessories for the dresses she would make and a dime novel. She also picked up a copy of Harper’s Bazaar, that “Repository of Fashion, Pleasure and Instruction,” and Jackson’s issue of Scribner’s Monthly.
As she sat on the bench engrossed in “Kit Carson, the Happy Warrior,” she suddenly became aware of two men standing nearby. Cowboys, but obviously down on their luck, their stares made her uncomfortable. They were disheveled and dirty and kind of leering at her. She smiled briefly and pretended to go back to her reading, but couldn’t concentrate. She looked down the street for Clem and then up the street in the opposite direction and saw no one.
All right, this wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. She would simply go back into the mercantile and wait for Clem. As she rose and started to pick up her packages, the men stepped closer.
“Where are you going, sister?”
“Oh, I forgot one of my purchases,” she said, and took one step before one of them grabbed her.
“Release me, you varmint!”
She started to shriek and the other one punched her in the jaw. She saw the fist coming, but had no time to react before she felt the intense pain and crumpled into blackness. The one who had ahold of her slung her over his shoulder and they took off, turning down a nearby alley, leaving her packages behind.
Down the street, Clem was just exiting the saloon as they turned into the alley and took off running and shouting.
“Hey! Hold up there! Stop those men!
As Clem closed in on the alley and Parley ran out of the mercantile with his shotgun, one of the men came back out of the alley and fired his gun at the cowboy. Clem looked down at his side, which was suddenly bleeding profusely, and his knees gave way. He fell to the ground. The shooter disappeared back down the alley, and moments later, Parley heard horses galloping off as he rushed to assist Clem. Two doors down, Cindy Lou, running a gold coin through her fingers, had watched the series of events with great joy. Soon Garrett would be hers.
Jackson was in his study, seated at his desk and going over the ranch ledger, when Carmen burst in.
“What’s all the ruckus?” He hated to lose his concentration when he was working on finances.
“Jonas brought a message from town for Garrett. He says it is muy importante.”
Jackson felt a sense of dread. Libby and Clem were in town. Maybe it was just a coincidence. “Let me see the note before we get Garrett.”
She handed him the envelope, her hands shaking. He opened it and read it quickly, then jumped up, swearing. “Libby’s been kidnapped and Clem was shot. Christ!”
“Oh, Dios mío!”
“Throw some food in a sack, Carmen, enough for Garrett and me for two days. He’s out at the main herd. I’ll go get him right now.”
Garrett knew something was wrong as soon as he saw Jackson riding up hell bent for leather. “Is it Libby?”
“Two men in town shot Clem and took her.”
Garrett instinctively put his hand on his revolver. “Let’s go.”
Jackson whipped his horse around and they took off at a gallop. “We need to stop back at the ranch house and pick up supplies!” he shouted above the drumming of the hooves.
“Do you think it was De Julius?”
“Or someone he hired! It wouldn’t do her stepfather any good to kidnap her!”
“Unless he doesn’t know she’s married!”
“Shit! Let’s go faster!”
They made it back to the ranch and into town in record time. Jackson went to the doc’s to check on Clem, and Garrett stopped in the mercantile to get the story from Parley. While he was there, Cindy Lou, as voluptuous as ever in some red, form-hugging gown that left nothing to the imagination, came up and hugged him seductively.
“I’m so sorry about your troubles, Garrett,” she purred, but she didn’t look sorry to him. She was almost gloating. It made him suspicious.
“What do you know about this, Cindy Lou?”
“Me? Why, nothing. I just want to help.”
“Thank you, but excuse me.” He unclutched her claws and moved her aside. “Thanks, Parley, and for sending Jonas out.”
“I have all her packages here. I’ll keep them for you.”
Garrett nodded and quickly headed out as Cindy Lou watched him go.
Garrett and Jackson met up in the alley, leading their horses.
“How’s Clem?”
“He took one in the side. The bullet went clear through, and Doc says he’ll be good as new in a couple of weeks if it doesn’t fester. He needs to stay at the doc’s another day or two.”
“Parley said it was two men. She was sitting on the bench in front of the mercantile waiting for Clem. Corley Peters saw one of them hit her, hard enough to knock her out.” He uttered the last sentence through clenched teeth as Jackson’s visage turned grim.
The two men led their horses down the alley and quickly discerned where the kidnappers had tied their horses in waiting. Skilled trackers both, they also could see where the horses left the alley, one carrying noticeably more weight than the other. Garrett had a moment of utterly inappropriate levity as he thought how Libby would probably hate it that her weight enabled them to track her.
The men determinedly followed the tracks out of town, losing them temporarily as they mingled with too many tracks inside the city limits but picking them up again outside of town. It quickly became apparent the outlaws were heading toward Drummond or Butte, a two-day ride to the latter city. The kidnappers had a four-hour head start, but Garrett and Jackson rode top stock and were confident they could catch them before they reached Butte, if that was their destination.
They wouldn’t find them until after nightfall, however, and Garrett had to force himself not to dwell on what could happen to Libby when the men stopped for the night. He didn’t believe they could make the two-day trip without stopping. Libby was courageous, he knew, but no match for two brutes. It made him prod his gelding to go even faster, and Jackson didn’t complain. He was just as anxious to catch up with the criminals. The men had been furious when they had learned Libby appeared to be unconscious as she was carried down the alley.
Tracking and riding, Garrett thought about Libby and what she meant to him. He did not love her, of course, and never would love any woman. She was too independent and reckless for her own good, not genteel the way a woman should be. And certainly not biddable. That was laughable. He had married her to keep her safe, as he would do for any woman in trouble. Even an ugly woman? Well, probably. Maybe. She sure was passionate in bed, but that’s where he had to be careful so she wouldn’t worm her way into his heart. No, he didn’t love her, but why was he so desperate to get her back? And to beat senseless the men who kidnapped her? Because she was his, he decided. And it was a matter of right and wrong. That he understood.
As they followed the trail southeast toward Drummond, the determined pursuers stopped at a stream to rest and water the horses. The ranchers understood the value and needs of their livestock and would never run them into the ground. As anxious as they were, they knew stopping would increase the horses’ stamina and pay off in the end.
At the stream’s edge, Garrett scooped water into his hat to drink and looked at his friend. “They’re not even trying to cover their tracks.”
Jackson nodded. “I don’t think these men are geniuses.”
“If they hurt Libby any more than they already have…”
“Let’s not borrow trouble, son.”
Garrett took a long drink and poured the remaining water over his head, which he shook like a dog before running his fingers through his hair. He felt about ready to explode. He had to stop thinking about Libby before he went crazy.
After slaking his own thirst, Jackson sighed. “I shouldn’t have let her go to town.”
“She was going a little batty being shut in, and you may have noticed she’s a might headstrong. I doubt you could have stopped her. This isn’t your fault.”
Jackson sat on a rock and cleaned mud off his boots with a stick. “It’s hard to believe we didn’t even know Libby existed a few weeks ago.”
Garrett couldn’t help but smile. “She definitely grows on you, doesn’t she?”
Jackson studied the younger man, whom he thought of as a son. “That she does, Garrett. Let’s go get her.”
* * *
This headache was even worse than the last one. Her jaw ached, her nose throbbed and even her hair hurt. The bouncing didn’t help either. Bouncing? Why was she bouncing? Ouch! And why was the air so stale? Libby, never one to make precipitous decisions before she had all the facts—oh, except for moving West on a moment’s notice; oh yes, and leaving the ranch without telling anyone—tried to gather her thoughts. What happened? Where was she?
And then it slowly came back to her. The disgusting cowboys. She thought she could smell one of them now. Oh, Lord. She was wrapped in a stinky old blanket and hanging over a horse like a sack of grain. And one of them had hit her! Oh, they would be in such trouble when Garrett caught them.
That was interesting. She knew she liked Garrett but hadn’t realized how much she trusted him. And counted on him. She had no doubt he would come. Not a one. She did not know, however, if it would be in time. She had to think, although the bouncing and the headache were almost too much to bear. Even if she could manage to throw herself off the horse, that wouldn’t do her much good. The ruffians would just go back and recapture her, especially since she just realized her hands and feet were tied. Too tightly. That hurt, too. Not to mention she truly didn’t think her head could take another blow when it landed on the hard ground. Think! What would Kit Carson the Happy Warrior do? Well, he wouldn’t have left his reticule with the pistol in it behind, would he? Although, in her defense, she was unconscious at the time of the abduction.
And then it came to her. She remembered those leering looks. As rough and painful as the bouncing horse was, it could be far preferable to whatever happened when they stopped. That just about made her toss her breakfast. She had to have a plan. She was weaponless, except for the pin on her broach, which she could probably reach, even with her hands tied, once she was out of this rug. Not quite as effective as a gun, however. She’d have to work a little harder to use her brain, which had definitely taken a blow and was sluggish. It was so hard to concentrate. Still, she forced herself to think amidst the throbbing. The best idea she could come up with was to pretend to still be unconscious when they stopped and took her off the horse. Surely they would have to stop sometime. And surely they would not accost her when she was insensible. At least it might buy her some time, time enough for Garrett to save her. Again.
It could not have been more than 10 or 15 minutes later that the horse she was on pulled jarringly up.
“Come on, Dooley, I’m tuckered out. Let’s camp for the night. Nobody’s following us.”
She heard the other nefarious gunman reining in.
“I’m gittin’ hungry, too. There’s a crick about a mile ahead, remember, Chad? We’ll stop there.”
“I can’t believe what easy money this is. Wish we had more jobs like this.”
“Yeah. This was shore easy. She wasn’t as ornery as that there fella said.”
Bounce, bounce, pain, bounce, pain and more bouncing. And more pain. In that last mile before they stopped, Libby had an opportunity to think about how foolish she had been. Why, oh, why did she have to go to town? And why did she sit on the bench, out in the open, when she knew how evil and desperate her stepfather and Edward DeJulius were? Arrogance. Pure arrogance on her part. She had thought her marriage to Garrett had solved all her problems. Well, she had paid for her lack of insight and could be paying more in the future. The near future. There was no telling what would happen before Garrett found her. She wasn’t much for praying, since it had never seemed to work too well in St. Louis, although the Parminters went to church every Sunday like clockwork so everyone could see them. She shot off a prayer, just in case and felt somehow more at peace.
Then her horse stopped again and the smelly cowboy untied the rope that was holding her on the saddle and unceremoniously dumped her on the ground, where she rolled out of the filthy blanket. Ow! That hurt. She wanted to touch her tied hands to the cut she was pretty sure she now had on her cheek, as she felt a warm stream flowing down her face, but didn’t dare. Keeping with her plan, she kept her eyes closed and her jaw slack as if still unconscious.
“Jesus, Chad, don’t kill her. We’re supposed to get her there alive.”
“I thought she’d be awake by now.”
“You hit her dang hard.”
Chad smiled. “Yeah.”
The men set up camp in a clearing, with a little creek on one side and wooded areas on two sides. After they unsaddled their horses, Dooley led them to the creek, while Chad gathered kindling and wood for a fire. After Dooley took care of the horses, hobbling them near the creek, he walked over to Libby and looked down at her.
“She’s a looker,” he said.
“Yeah, I noticed her shape right off. I figured we’d make ‘er cook for us, but I guess that’s not gonna happen.”
Dooley kicked her, but not hard, just trying to rouse her, to no apparent avail.
“You better drag ‘er closer to the fire so she don’t freeze tonight.”
Dooley spit near her head and it about killed her not to react, but she somehow managed it. Then he leaned down, grabbed her at the shoulders and dragged her the 20 or 30 feet toward the fire. If she hadn’t already had a vicious headache, her head bumping along the uneven ground would have given her one. At least she was on her back, so it was the back of her head taking the beating, not her face. She doubted Dooley would have cared one way or another.
“Go git us a rabbit or a squirrel, Dooley,” Chad ordered.
“Yeah, okay, I’m a better shot than you anyways.”
As he trudged off, Libby subtly struggled against the ropes tying her hands without alerting Chad and prayed that Garrett would find her before something worse happened. Her eyes were closed, but she could feel Chad staring at her, and it took all her concentration to keep from shuddering. And then she heard him get up and shuffle toward her.