Badland Bride (8 page)

He rested his chin on Lila's sun-kissed curls. Would she be like that little bird? Only in his life for a few days, but remain with him forever. She'd told him so many incredible things about the future, he couldn't stop from asking her questions, all sorts of questions, since he found it all so amazing. Then again, so was she, amazing, that is. And so loveable, just like his little bird. Not that she had a broken wing, but she was broken. He could feel it—there was something besides being from a different time, from being pregnant, and from the terror she'd experienced. No, it was deeper, like there was a part of her that had been broken and had never healed.

The thought stuck in his head, and his chest, as the horses trudged down the trail leading to his Ma's place.

The cool night air licking Skeeter quickly dried the water from his long legs before he pulled on a clean pair of pants. The echoing thuds of horse hooves, made him slip on his boots and grab the new shirt from the fence post before walking around the back side of the wash house. Lila had settled into the brass bathing tub his mother always used in the house before he came out to use the big one Snake had made for him and the boys outside.

One of his brothers, from this distance he couldn't tell if it was Snake, Hog, or Bug raced down the driveway like they were being chased by Indians. Skeeter glanced toward the barn, frowning. What would take them away this time of night? He and Lila had arrived an hour ago, and just as he'd suspected, Ma had begun clucking around the girl as if she were a long lost chick.

The barn door flew open, the hinges creaking as the heavy wood swung wide. The broad door hit against the outside wall of the barn with a solid thud. Ma Quinter, all five feet of her covered in a brightly flowered dress that almost glowed in the moonlight, stomped out. He smiled at the sight of her marching form. She was a tough, little lady, who could outshoot all five of her sons. His grin widened. It was good to be home. Good to see everyone.

As she came to a halt beside him, the glint in her eye made him take a step back. He took another step, reading body language that said she wanted to cuff the back of his head. Slightly miffed, he scowled, “Come on, Ma. I'm too old for you to be cuffin'."

"Yeah, well, maybe you're right. Ain't seemed to have done a lick of good any way.” Her eyes snapped like fireflies.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"That lil’ gal in there!” She pointed to the house. “I think you got a bit more explainin’ ta do."

Skeeter shuffled his feet. What was it about his mother that always made him feel he was about nine and still wet behind the ears? He'd told her as much as he could. Hell, he was still trying to figure it all out. After all, a ghost dance that produced a girl from the future, who in their right mind would believe it?

"Well?” she asked.

"Ma—"

"Don't Ma me!” She stepped forward, lifted her nose so her eyes could glare into his. “That gal's gonna have a baby."

A bucket of cold water couldn't have been more shock inducing. “H-how—d-did—"

"How do I know? I've had four babies. I know what a woman's body looks like when it's expecting. Poor little gal's probably embarrassed as ole-git-outs about the way yer treatin’ her. Yer Pa's turning over in his grave, thinking this is how you care for a woman."

Skeeter took a quick side step, making sure he was out of her arm's reach. “Ma,” he started. “It's not like that. Yes, she is goin’ to have a baby, but it's not mine."

"Well, then, whose is it?"

"Some man who took her against her will,” Skeeter admitted, trying to hide the rage boiling in his gut. Once Lila had told him what happened, he'd wished that shutter had been larger, split the man's head wide open. Never had he encountered the type of hatred he felt for Pete Hawkins.

"The devil you say!"

"Yes, I think he's as close to the devil as you can get."

"Well, you're gonna marry her anyway,” Ma said with solid resolution.

He glanced toward the house, wished things were different. “I've asked her Ma, but she doesn't want to get married."

"We'll what's wantin’ got to do with anything?"

"Wh—” Before Skeeter could complete his response, a loud ringing filled his ears and pain exploded across the back of his head. The world became colorful, swirling out of control, and then everything went black.

Lila sat in a straight-back, wooden chair, dressed in a gorgeous gown of lilac, embellished with lace, eyelet and ruffles. In some ways it reminded her of the dress she wore to her senior prom. But she couldn't enjoy this ensemble. Twenty-five feet of thick, hemp rope tied her to the chair.

Stephanie Quinter had been kind about the whole thing, even to the point of giving her a soft, embroidered pillow to sit on, but nonetheless, bound and gagged, Lila sat at Ma Quinter's kitchen table.

Skeeter, in somewhat the same predicament as she—only worse, gave a low, pain-filled groan. Her heart jolted. She wanted to reach out to run a comforting hand over his shoulder, but the bindings made it impossible. She swallowed a lump of shame, and justified, at least the back of his head had quit bleeding. The white bandage his mother had wrapped around the top of his head, and tied with a bow above his eyebrows, covered the gash the iron frying pan had caused. Until tonight, Lila had always thought stories about women hitting men with a skillet were old wives tales. A new bout of regret slapped her. He probably needed stitches.

Her heart began to thud harder as he moaned again, indicating he was coming to. His head rolled her way, his eyelids lifted. “I'm so sorry,” Lila mumbled through the cloth covering her mouth. Knowing full well he couldn't understand she tried to apologize with her eyes. It was all her fault, and she'd gladly take the blame. She's the one who should have been thumped, not him.

He blinked and squinted, his gaze moving from the ropes around her shoulders to the gag over her mouth. His eyes bugged, then shot daggers toward his mother as his chair started to bounce around. One of the boys had tied the chair to a table leg, and his fierce actions made the table slide. It hit her chest, causing her to give a small yelp of surprise.

Skeeter's gaze landed on her, and he calmed instantly. Eyes full of sorrow, the cloth stretched over his mouth fluttered as he mumbled.

She nodded, accepting his apology. His eyes flashed around the room, and landing on his mother, he began to mumble again. The rag over his mouth billowed in and out with frenzy.

"Settle down, Skeeter! You're gonna make your head start bleedin’ again,” Stephanie Quinter carried a cup of coffee to the table and sat down. “The boys have gone to get Reverend Kirkpatrick as well as Kid and Jessie. I thought they might like to be at the wedding.” She registered her reasoning with a stiff nod.

Lila started coughing, gagging on the extra saliva the wet rag produced in her mouth. Swallowing, she peered at Skeeter, who'd started yelling, the gag in his mouth greatly muffled the noise. However, his movements sent the table askew again.

Through cough-induced, stinging tears, Lila watched Stephanie grab her coffee cup seconds before it tumbled. “Skeeter!” the woman shouted, “You're making the table hit Lila."

Skeeter stopped thrashing and once again looked at her with apologetic eyes. The way his shoulders drooped made the tears in Lila's eyes burn with empathy. He'd told her his family was a little rough, but this was beyond belief.

Stephanie Quinter had been a beacon of kindness when they'd arrived, satisfying their hunger with a meal of stew and biscuits while the three brothers filled the high-back, brass bathtub in one of the bedrooms with steaming water. The woman had insisted Lila put on the pale purple dress, and even supplied her with an array of lacy, somewhat confusing, undergarments. She had on more layers than she wore in the dead of winter, and would never have figured out all of the strings and buttons without the woman's help.

After assisting her dressing, Stephanie had left the room, only to return a short time later transformed into a Holy Roller. Quoting the Bible and totting a shotgun half the size of a cannon, she burst into the room and marched Lila to the kitchen table. She tied her to the chair, while one of the brothers tied an unconscious Skeeter to another chair. Scared out of her wits, and more confused than driving in Wichita made her, Lila had barely uttered a protest. Her vocal cords had become paralyzed by the way Stephanie Quinter ranted and raved no grandchild of hers would be born out of wedlock.

Lila had even gone so far as to click her heels together three times, praying she'd wake up and the wicked witch would be gone. Guilt made her stomach roll, bile burned the back of her throat. She shot a glance toward Skeeter. His head slowly shook back and forth, as if he couldn't believe it all either.

He hadn't betrayed her by telling his mother of her condition. She'd known the moment the older woman had seen her darkened breasts her secret was out. Taking a bath at the Quinter house had provided less privacy than showers in seventh grade gym class. And the short, round, pioneer woman was more attentive than any physical education teacher had ever been. Caught off guard when Stephanie carried in another bucket of hot water, Lila hadn't been quick enough to cover herself. Now Skeeter's family thought he'd wronged her, and they were set on making it right.

"The baby isn't his,” Lila muffled through the cloth, once again trying to explain his innocence.

Skeeter mumbled something at the same time while gesturing toward her with his head.

"I can't understand a word either of you is sayin', so you might as well hush up. The boys will be back soon.” Stephanie took a long drink from her cup.

Behind the woman, leaning against a long cupboard, stood what Lila imagined could only be called an elephant gun. The huge double-barrels were large enough to make any beast die of a heart attack long before it was shot. A shiver ran up her spine. Skeeter gave her a worried glance. She tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the quivers raking her body wouldn't quell. How on earth was she going to get out of this one?

The answer seemed to have come a moment later, when the door flipped open, and a man and woman, followed by the youngest Quinter brother, Bug, rushed in the house. “Stephanie, what the hell is going on here?” a tall, broad shouldered man asked.

Lila's heart leaped to her throat.

The petite woman with golden brown hair hanging almost to her waist beside the man patted his arm. Her voice was warm, but held warning. “Kid."

The man glanced down at the woman. His dark eyes instantly softened. “I'm sorry, love. Are you feeling all right? The ride wasn't too much for you was it?” One of his hands went around the woman's shoulder while the other began to caress her stomach.

Lila felt her eyes widen. The woman was pregnant. The pounding of her heart became almost painful. Skeeter had told her about his brother Kid, and his wife Jessie, but he hadn't said how pretty Jessie was, or that she was pregnant. Lila surveyed the woman with interest. Jessie Quinter appeared to be very young, younger than she. A depressing sigh left Lila's chest. The odds of the girl surviving a pregnancy in this day and age were gravely against her.

"I'm fine,” Jessie said, and tilted her head upwards, accepting a gentle kiss, before she turned to Stephanie Quinter. “Ma, why are this girl and Skeeter tied up?” Her voice was once again light, but it held underlying authority that rang surprisingly loud and clear.

Stephanie had leaped to her feet when the trio entered. She wrapped an arm around the woman. “Here, sweetie, have a seat. I'd have thought you'd have brought a wagon in your condition.” She frowned at the man as she continued, “Kid, you should have known better than to have her ride over."

"He tried, Ma, but I insisted we ride. I thought we needed to get here as soon as possible.” Jessie lowered herself into the chair at the end of the table. Her husband's hands settled on her shoulders and she reached up, resting a hand on one of his.

"Now, what's going on here?"

"These here two are gonna have a baby,” Stephanie said, pointing to her and Skeeter. “And no grandchild of mine is gonna be born a bastard."

The skin on Lila's cheeks prickled with heat, and she wished with all her might she could just disappear. Skeeter started shouting. The rag over his mouth billowed and rough mumbles filled the room. The ropes binding him strained against his trouncing and his chair legs bounced a time or two.

"Is that true, Skeeter?” Kid asked angrily.

Skeeter started to mumble at the same time she jumped to his defense. Fighting the gag, as well as the thick rope wound around her, Lila tried to say none of it was Skeeter's doing, but between the rag and Skeeter's loud sounds, no one could understand her.

Kid held up one hand. “A simple yes or no is all I need."

"It's not his baby,” Lila said against the cloth, shaking her head.

The older brother frowned, clearly not understanding what she'd said, and then glanced to Skeeter.

He mumbled beside her, long and loud the whole time gesturing with his head. Tails of the billowing white bow tied against his forehead fluttered and fell over his eyes. He flipped it aside, and Lila grimaced, afraid his wound would start bleeding again at his thrashing.

"Just nod your head,” Kid said, staring at Skeeter. “Yes, she's going to have a baby? Or no, she's not?"

Simultaneously, she and Skeeter nodded their heads.

Kid bowed his head, slowly shaking it from side to side. His long, eerie sigh filled the room with a stinging silence.

Skeeter started talking again, but Lila hung her head. This was somewhat the same scene she'd imagined would happen when her father learned about the pregnancy; and a major part why she had yet to tell her parents. She was a chicken. Hated conflicts; always had—which was probably the reason the whole scheme to catch Pete hadn't worked either.

"Told ya!” Stephanie slapped the table. “Hog should be back with the reverend any time now."

"Ma, pregnant or not, you can't keep tying people up at your table and marrying them,” Jessie said.

"Why not? It worked out just fine for the two of you. I ain't heard either of ya complain a'tall,” the older woman responded.