Page 14 of Redeeming the Outlaw
Heads turned in his direction, and a few men nodded in acknowledgment. Brodie looked up from sharpening his knife, a glint of recognition in his eyes. “Whit, you’re back,” he said, standing up and sheathing the blade. “Get him a plate of beans, Austin. Did you find out anything about where the marshal will be tomorrow?”
Whit forced a grin. “Yeah, he’s going…” He flicked his eyes to Esther before turning to Brodie. “What’s going on here? Are you playing some kind of game with me?”
Brodie’s gaze darkened as he looked from Esther to Whit. Then he let out a low chuckle. “This was what we were doing when you disappeared this afternoon.” He strode over to Esther, grabbing her chin roughly. She flinched at his touch, tears streaming down her dirt-smudged cheeks.
“Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Brodie sneered. “Reverend’s daughter, I hear. Can’t imagine he’ll be too pleased when he finds out we’ve got her.”
Esther’s eyes, wide with fear, met Whit’s. His fingers curled into tight balls, knuckles white with tension as he fought theurge to lash out at Brodie. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the man, his jaw clenched in anger.
“Let my wife go,” he hissed.
Brodie’s hand dropped, and he turned on his heel, closing the distance to Whit in three long strides. “What did you say?”
Whit struggled to maintain his composure. “You heard me. I said to let my wife go.”
“Your wife, eh?” Brodie looked back at Esther, who was struggling against her bonds. “When did you get married?”
Whit’s thoughts raced in his mind as he tried to think of a plausible story which might appease Brodie. “Last month. Shortly after her family arrived in town.” Glancing over Brodie’s shoulder, Whit saw Esther had stilled and was looking at him, her eyes glaring at him against the campfire. He prayed she wouldn’t say anything. “It was a harvest dance, and there were several couples getting married. We were one of them.”
Brodie scratched at his grease-stained shirt before throwing his head back and laughing. “You sly, dog. You didn’t tell us you were hitched. We brought your wife right to you. Why didn’t you say nothing?”
The men around the campfire joined in, shouting their well wishes and lifting bottles of whiskey in his direction. Whit walked over and started tugging on the rope binding her arms. “I don’t want her mixed up in this life.”
“Too late for that now,” Tom snorted.
“I wouldn’t untie her.” Austin approached and put a plate of beans with a thick slice of cornbread next to the fire. “She’s going to run.”
“No, she won’t,” Whit assured them.
Once the restraints around her wrists were removed, Esther quickly reached up and pulled at the bandana tied tightly aroundher mouth, ripping it off with a sense of relief.
Gasping for breath, she watched as Whit untied the ropes around her ankles. He stood up and offered a hand to help her up. With a fierce scowl, she pulled her hand back and slapped him across the cheek.
“You uncultured brute,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You ruffian. I wouldn’t marry…”
Whit’s powerful hand wrapped around her arm, his grip firm as he pulled her close. Without hesitation, he crushed his lips against hers, leaving no room for questions or protests.
The sound of a little kitten’s cries caught his attention, and he noticed it was coming from Esther. As she finally surrendered to him, her body became soft, and she relaxed in his embrace.
Just as quickly as it began, the kiss ended. Whit pulled back, his piercing blue eyes searching hers. Her cheeks flushed crimson as they noticed the hoots and laughter from the watching outlaws. She ducked her head, smoothing her disheveled skirts with trembling fingers.
“Come now, darlin’,” Whit said gently, tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. He brushed his lips gently against hers. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” He pulled her close before turning to address the rambunctious men. “This is my wife, Esther, and I expect you to treat her with the respect she deserves. I will hunt down anyone who causes her harm. Do I make myself clear?”
He felt Esther’s hands clinging to his coat, trembling like fragile leaves in a storm. He longed to wrap both his arms around her, to shelter her from the leers and jeers of the lecherous outlaws. He dared not show such tenderness here in the vipers’ nest.
Leading Esther over to the campfire, he guided her to alog secluded from the rest of the group. He handed her the plate Austin prepared, and she accepted it with shaking hands, avoiding eye contact.
“Eat,” he whispered. “You must be hungry.”
Esther picked at her food, occasionally taking small bites while keeping her gaze fixed on the mesmerizing flames. The men returned to their boisterous conversations and drinks, barely acknowledging the couple’s presence.
“I need to get her back to town,” Whit said, walking to Brodie. “She can’t stay here.”
“She can, and she will.” Brodie pulled out his knife and used the tip to clean his fingernails. “Ma wants to meet her.”
“Ma?”
“She’s arriving tomorrow, and then we’ll make plans to move out.”
