Guardian Bride (3 page)

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Guardian Bride

by Lauri Robinson

The ride to Dodge City was hot, dusty, and long. Snake

knew all this before leaving home, but somehow, today—his

second day on the trail—seemed to have no end. It wasn't

even noon yet. Buster, the dapple gray gelding he'd bought

from his brother, Kid, two years ago, knew the way, so there

wasn't a whole lot for Snake to do—but think. Ponder about

that dim-witted mule, Maisy, and her outrageous behavior.

An uncontrollable grin formed on his face, as if someone

tickled his chest with a rooster tail-feather. Dang if that mule

wasn't ornery. Stupid critter had sat down again as soon as

they got to Ma's place, wouldn't even budge an inch for him

to get the harness off her.

The animal's antics didn't faze Summer. She'd just gone

about other tasks until the animal stood up, and then

moseyed over to unhitch her. He'd also learned Maisy didn't

like to have her hat taken off. When he'd attempted, the

blasted mule tried to bite him. It had been Summer again,

who rushed over to inform him Maisy's hats stay on until they

fall off. She proceeded to explain that a new one must be put

on before the animal will stand up again.

He left shortly after that lesson, having already learned

enough about Maisy to last a lifetime. With one hand, he

patted Buster, "Good thing you ain't that stubborn. I'd have

had to put you out to pasture. No man has that kind of

patience."

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Buster tossed his head, as if agreeing with the statement,

and they continued to amble along.

The wire from Hinkle said he needed to talk with Pat

Sughrue, the Sheriff in Dodge. George Hinkle was the

previous sheriff, and a family friend. Snake had met Sughrue

while in Dodge, found him to be a good sort, but didn't really

know what the sheriff could do about a poker game.

It had started out fine enough, just five men passing a lazy

afternoon with a deck of cards. July Austin was the fifth one

to join, had thrown in a single gold coin, and ended up

winning the first pot. The next couple hands had lessened the

man's stack of coins and bills, and by the last hand, he'd been

once again down to his gold coin.

It was amazing how someone as attractive as Summer,

with her dark hair and eyes, could be July's offspring. But

then again, most of July's unsightly image had to do with the

smallpox outbreak a few years back. The man's face was

scared with deep craters, and from what Snake knew, the

disease had also taken his wife.

He'd seen Summer back there, at the Long Branch,

washing out spittoons and other tasks. She'd stuck her head

and arm out of the back room, handing the clean dishes to

the bar keep, and July had made a point of singling her out,

telling everyone at the table she was his daughter.

"Come here, girlie, see what your pa won," the man had

shouted. That of course had been while the coins were

stacked up in front of him. She'd bowed her head shamefully

and slid back into the backroom. July had spouted on then

about his other daughter.

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A frown tugged at Snake's brows. If he remembered

correctly, July had gone on to say his other daughter was the

pretty one.

A sense of foreboding hit him like a gust of wind. Snake

turned to investigate. He'd had the sense someone followed

him—he'd half expected his little brother, Bug, to walk into

camp last night.

This feeling was different.

Behind a patch of brush there was a quick flash of light.

Before he had a chance to decipher what it might be, fire shot

up his leg, a split second later, a hard force hit his shoulder,

and the ricochets of gunfire rolled across the plains.

Pain exploded across his chest as he caught the saddle

horn, keeping his seat. Buster bounded sideways and then

took off in a full, wild run.

Snake could do little more than hold on and feel the blood

flowing out of the holes in both his leg and shoulder. The gun

shots continued, but his one arm was useless, and he needed

the other just to stay in the saddle.

The ground flowed beneath them, and the bouncing gave

teeth-clenching pain the opportunity to eat away at his body.

His vision became blurred, and his hearing muffled.

Through the thick fog encompassing him, hoof beats

behind grew closer as Buster, winded from his wild race,

slowed. With his good leg, Snake tried to nudge the horse,

make him continue to run, but it was futile. Beyond dizzy,

Snake slumped lower over the saddle horn. The pace really

didn't matter, he couldn't hold on much longer.

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"Don't let go," a faintly familiar voice shouted. "Don't let

go!"

He attempted to lift his head, to glance behind him, but

the movement was too much and the fog too thick. Snake laid

his head against Buster's bouncing neck, and the world as he

knew it, ceased to exist.

Later, or maybe not, he couldn't really decipher when, a

man stood several yards away. He was familiar. When the

man raised his hand, holding it out, Snake lifted an arm.

Oddly enough, the movement didn't hurt. "Dad?"

Jonas Quinter nodded but then held his hand all the way

up, silently telling Snake to stay where he was.

His mother's voice filtered in his fuzzy mind and pain like

he'd never experienced ripped him in two. There was more

pain, more voices he half recognized, but couldn't muster up

the strength to respond to them. Jonas appeared again while

those voices called to him, his father, calmly, assuredly told

him to nod his head. Nod in acknowledgement to the far away

voices. Snake nodded because he hadn't seen his father in

ten years. He had so much to ask him. So much to say. Then

they all—his father and the voices—faded away.

It was the warmth on his face and a light so bright it

filtered through his eyelids that he responded to next. It took

effort, and he was worn out by the time his eyes open.

Sun shone through the open window. He blinked at it,

wincing at how his head, swollen and thick, pounded. Dull

aching throbs filled his arm and leg. Over all discomfort

consumed his body from head to toe. The groan in his throat

caused more pain.

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"Here," someone said, "drink this."

He turned toward the sound, but stopped, cringing and

closing his eyes against the pain. Something bumped his

bottom lip. A glass. He sipped from it. A nasty, bitter taste

filled his mouth. He shuddered as it flowed down his throat,

burning.

"It'll help. Drink some more."

He shook his head.

Something refreshingly cool settled on his forehead, and

he sighed at the relief it brought.

"Try to sleep some more." The voice was feminine, and

slightly familiar. However it didn't belong to his mother or

sisters-in-law.

Flames of fire ate at his vocal cords by the time he

managed to mutter, "N-not t-tired."

"Just try to sleep," she said.

"C-can't," he forced out. Something twisted deep in his

guts, told him he had to wake up, there was danger or

something he needed to remember, respond to.

"Just try."

The cool cloth left his forehead to run down the sides of his

face and over the skin of his neck. It was heavenly. The knot

in his stomach dissolved, and he sighed with reprieve.

"That's it, just sleep," the voice faded into oblivion.

Summer continued to dip the cotton in the basin of water

by the bed, wring it out, and pat his clammy skin. It had been

almost a week since he'd been shot, and though the doctor

had shown her two bullets, assured there weren't any more in

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either Snake's leg or shoulder, she wondered if he'd truly

survive.

What would she do if he died? Where would she and

September and August go? They couldn't return to Dodge.

Yet, even if they were married, she and Snake, she and the

children couldn't remain here. Wainwright would find them.

She couldn't put the rest of the Quinters in danger.

A cool, calm feeling overcame her body, and she closed

her eyes, accepting the sensation like one welcomes a visit

from a long lost friend. There were no words, not even the

faintest hint of a whisper, yet he spoke to her. Jonas assured

her all would be well. The heaviness in her chest lifted,

floated away like a feather on a warm breeze. When she

opened her eyes, Summer knew Snake would survive.

Voices, those of August and September blew in through

the open window, and she let the air out of her chest. There'll

be bumps in the road, she intuitively understood, but in the

end, the children would be taken care of, and that was all that

mattered—besides Snake's recovery.

He'd fallen back to sleep. The wide span of his chest rose

and fell with each breath. Summer placed her hand in the

center of his torso, and ignoring the heat of his skin and the

softness of the splattering of curls, concentrated until she

could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating.

The doctor had said he was lucky, another inch and the

bullet would have torn through his heart, killing him in the

saddle. She lifted her face upwards, and whispered, "Thank

you."

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There was no answer, but she hadn't expected one. Jonas

never acknowledged her gratefulness. His silent assurance

Snake would survive was more than she anticipated.

She rose from the chair beside the bed. After repositioning

the sheet over his sleeping form, she gathered the rag and

water bowl and carried them from the room.

"How's he doing?" Stephanie, who'd been a beacon of

kindness, wanted to know.

"He woke up for a minute, but is sleeping again now."

Summer dumped the bowl in the sink and hung the cotton

cloth on a hook above the cupboard. "He's going to be fine."

Even though she knew the words to be true, a lump formed in

her throat.

"I know he is, sweetie," Stephanie patted her shoulder.

"My boys are tough. Practically made of nails."

Summer nodded a response.

"Did I tell you about Bug? When he was hit in the head,

and we didn't know if'n he was gonna make it?" Stephanie

asked while she carried a basket of beans to the table. "We

were out at the Badlands, building Skeeter's house. You ain't

met him yet. Most likely we won't see them now 'til the

holidays." The woman plopped into a chair and began to snap

the ends off the beans. "He and Lila got two kids. I've

mentioned that."

Summer nodded and took a chair to assist with the green

beans. She replied when appropriate but for the most part

didn't hear a lot of what Stephanie said. The woman had five

sons and talked non-stop about them. Summer didn't think

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there could be much about the brothers she didn't already

know.

Kid, married to Jessie, lived on a cattle ranch a few miles

away. Skeeter, married to Lila, lived near the Kansas

Badlands. Snake was next, he owned the land next to this

farm, but hadn't built a house there yet so still lived here.

Hog, married to Randi, owned the Majestic in Dodge. Bug was

the youngest. He lived at home with Stephanie and Snake. As

they snapped beans, Bug and Kid were towing the big

thrashing machine out to the wheat field. Tomorrow, with the

help of Kid's ranch hands, they'd start to harvest Snake's

wheat.

In the past few days, the wheat had turned golden brown,

and the big heads had opened up to let the sun and wind dry

out the seeds. Summer would help with the harvest as well,

so would August and September. The field was massive, the

largest one she'd ever seen. Not that work scared her, but the

possibility they'd be able to thrash the entire field while the

wheat was in its prime seemed almost impossible. Of course

there was also the fact she wanted to stay behind and nurse

Snake.

Stephanie would watch over him, she'd been doing so right

along with Summer, but Summer liked to know for herself

how Snake was doing. Even before she met him, before he

won her in the card game, Summer felt as if she'd known

Snake, knew he would be a part of her life. He'd been the one

Jonas told her the most about.

Jonas never really said anything. He didn't actually talk to

her. Not with words anyway. But over the years, he'd let her

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know things about all the brothers, but mainly Snake, and

he'd led her to believe she was destined to be connected with