Chapter 3
Cassie was a widow one day and a newlywed the next. The wedding was held at the cemetery with a good share of the wedding guests standing on her dead husband’s grave.
She didn’t so much have wedding guests as she had a lynch mob.
Twenty-five armed men wanted Red Dawson dead.
No doubt one of Red’s murderers would then insist on marrying her.
If the pattern continued, she’d be forty or fifty times a widow within the next few hours.
At that rate, Divide would be a ghost town by the weekend—Cassie Griffin’s contribution to Montana.
Red had reached up to take Cassie off Mort’s horse. Mort had spurred his horse away, but Red had caught the reins and soothed the animal while glaring at Mort.
“You will do the right thing, Mort Sawyer. Before God and all these witnesses, Cassie has refused your offer of marriage and accepted mine. Now let her down.”
Hands touched her—she had no idea whose. But Red lowered her to the ground. She suspected that “all these witnesses” was a better incentive than “before God.” Considering his treatment of the parson, Mort didn’t seem to be much interested in what God saw when He looked into Mort’s black heart.
Red pulled Cassie to his side, looked down as if to check that she was in one piece, and then reached ] down to assist Parson Bergstrom in standing.
“Let’s get it done quick, Parson.” Red slid his arm around Cassie, and Seth did some shoving to get to her side. The crowd grumbled, but even Mort Sawyer only made noise.
“Do you, Cassie Griffin, take Red Dawson to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The parson spoke the words so fast, it was obvious he was scared to death.
To Cassie, that didn’t speak well for the man’s trust in eternal life.
But maybe he believed well enough—he just didn’t want to pass through those pearly gates into eternal life right now.
Someone said, “I do.” Quite possibly, she’d said it herself.
“Do you, Red Dawson…” The parson repeated the most abbreviated version of marriage vows Cassie had ever heard—though in truth, she hadn’t heard many. The parson used an economy of words, most likely planning his escape all the while.
The service took about two minutes, including the time it took for Red to get Cassie off Mort Sawyer’s horse. How he managed it, Cassie didn’t really know. There was a relentlessness to the way Red moved. He seemed unconcerned with the hostile explosions surrounding him.
The only rational thought Cassie had about Red was if she’d blackened Griff’s eye the way she’d done to Red, the punishment would have been severe and swift. She expected nothing less with her new husband. Hopefully, Red would wait until they were alone to mete out her punishment.
Wade Sawyer was openly furious, but his father controlled him, maybe thinking the cold-blooded murder of an unarmed man in front of dozens of witnesses might be too much for even a Sawyer to walk away from.
Cassie was summarily married, and Red took her arm and led her away from the mob toward the stables. He stooped to pick up his shovel on the way.
Cassie remembered the argument she’d seen Muriel having with Red in the same spot where the shovel lay. “Muriel nagged you into marrying me, didn’t she?” Cassie looked at Red fearfully, veering from grief and shock to humiliation.
But she’d made the best of a bad situation. She’d come up with a plan…death. Marrying Red Dawson was her second choice, and it was a poor second. But, all things considered, she’d do it again.
“I did what I thought was right, I reckon.” With the wedding guests prowling behind them, Red hurried her to the stable—whether because he had work to do or because he was looking for shelter from the horde, Cassie couldn’t say.
Did Red possibly live in the stables? She really didn’t know the man at all. She’d seen the red hair a time or two around town, and fortunately, his nickname was easily recalled. But Red Dawson, along with almost every other person in Divide, was a stranger.
Red headed for a saddled buckskin half as tall and a quarter as pretty as the magnificent bay Cassie had ridden to town bareback when Griff died.
The bay had been stabled here ever since.
The regal animal now stood eating in a stall.
Seth had gone for Griff’s body without taking Cassie along.
He’d brought her dress and Griff’s suit because she quoted Griff’s careful deathbed instructions.
Seth had fed and watered the other bay, left out at the ranch—a match to the one she’d managed to bridle and climb onto after a long struggle.
The two horses were the only livestock Griff had owned when he died.
Red didn’t even look at the bay. He hung the shovel on the back of his saddle, turned to stretch out his hand to her, and said, “I’ll give you a leg up.”
“I’ll ride my own horse.” She startled at her own words…for they were not proper ones for a wife to say to her husband.
His ordering her onto his horse, telling her what to do—that was something familiar. Her objecting—that was rude. She clamped her mouth shut, determined to be as good a wife to Red as she’d been to Griff. But they really did have to take the horse.
“The horse belongs to the bank.” Red held his hand out, waiting for her to come to him.
Cassie shook her head, trying to rattle the words around inside her head so they made sense. “B–Belongs to the bank? I don’t understand.”
“They’re mortgaged, Cassie. Your place has a lien on it for the property, the livestock, and the contents of your home.”
“Griff mentioned a loan. But surely the horses… We brought them west with us. They were from my parents’ stable. I know they were paid for.”
“They were paid for then…maybe.”
Red’s tone made Cassie wonder how much was known publicly about her finances. Obviously, far more than Griff had ever told her. Griff had always told her a woman shouldn’t concern her weak mind with money matters.
Red went on. “Now they’re mortgaged. I can’t afford to pay off your loans. I’d end up owning horses I don’t need, a house miles away from my place, and fancy furniture that won’t fit in my soddy. The bank can take ’em.”
“How did you know about the loan?” Cassie struggled to keep up. Every word he spoke was news to her.
“It’s a small town.” Red shrugged. “And I work at the bank some, washing windows and such. I hear talk. Besides, it’s no secret.
Everyone knows.” He reached for her, pulling back as he studied her stomach.
He ran one finger over his puffy lip, glanced at her for a second, and then said, “I’ll have to…
to lift you onto Buck. Excuse my…my familiar…
uh…touch.” He very carefully put his hands under her arms and lifted her so she sat facing sideways on his saddle.
He settled her gently. “Uh…try hooking your leg over the horn.”
Cassie shook her head, confused at what he was asking her to do. “I…I don’t ride…”
“I don’t have a sidesaddle. You’ll just have to learn to ride Buck like this or straddle the horse. Except, if you do that, your skirts’ll…um…they’ll…well…” Red’s face turned a color that matched his hair. “You’d best just figure on sittin’ sideways.”
With another nervous glance that met her eyes, he gingerly took hold of her right leg and swung it around the saddle horn.
Again, he was gentle, and Cassie thought of the sharp scrape of Wade Sawyer’s saddle horn when he’d slammed her onto it.
She grabbed at the saddle horn through the layers of her gown.
Red untied Buck and swung himself up behind the saddle with a single, graceful leap. He pressed against her back as he shifted the reins from one hand to the other. He brushed her arms and sides. He looked around her, and his chin nudged her hair.
When he got so close, touching her, close enough to smell the earthy scent of dirt and sweat, it hit her—she’d wedded him, and a husband had manly needs.
Her stomach quivered at the humiliation that lay ahead of her.
Maybe he wasn’t as demanding as Griff had been.
He’d left her alone at first because he said she was too young.
But for the last year, scarcely a night had gone by that Griff hadn’t come to her bed.
He’d explained it was her duty, so she’d endured it.
But then, Griff had also said a woman was unclean when she was with child, and he wouldn’t be with her until after the child was born. She barely suppressed a sigh of relief. Surely, she had time before Red claimed his rights. Maybe by the time the baby was born, he’d forget what his rights were.
Red shifted his weight and made a clucking sound to start his horse moving. She shifted forward so he wouldn’t be so close, but he caught her. “Hold still. I can’t see when you lean that way.”
Cassie obeyed quickly, hoping she hadn’t annoyed him.
“It might be a good idea to stop at the bank and talk this out with Norm. He’ll move to claim the property, but I don’t want him to think we’re not willing. It’ll ease his mind some if we tell him we expect it.”
Red steered Buck around to the back door of the bank. Red slid off, reached up, lifted Cassie down, and led her into the bank through the back door. “It being Sunday, the bank isn’t open, but that Norm always has something that can’t wait until Monday.”
She’d never been inside the bank. She’d always either stayed home or remained in the carriage when Griff had bank business. A door was ajar next to the safe, and Red walked toward it, but Cassie hung back.
“Norm, I can always trust you to be working on the Lord’s Day.”
“Now, Red, don’t start,” a deep voice replied. “I never catch up.”
“Can I talk to you a minute?” Red asked.
“Come on in my office.”
Red rounded the counter, then leaned back to look at her. “Come on, Cass. I’m in a hurry. I’ve got chores.”
As always, Cassie obeyed because a woman must always obey her husband, but she couldn’t imagine why she needed to hear this.