Travis waited until the man had reached the center of the yard before ordering him to stop. "Tell your friend to drop his shotgun or I'll shoot him."
The stranger didn't like being told what to do. He squinted his eyes into slits and stared at Travis a long minute before he gave in.
"Git on out of them trees, Roscoe," he shouted before turning his attention to Emily.
"Are you the Finnegan woman?" he demanded.
Travis didn't give her time to answer. "Who are you?"
His gaze darted back and forth between the two of them. Emily thought he was trying to decide if he should lie or tell the truth. The disgusting man reminded her of a rodent, and every time he glanced her way, she could feel her stomach tighten.
"O'Toole. Clifford O'Toole. Is she our bride?"
Emily let out a gasp. Dear God, the rodent and Clifford O'Toole were one and the same.
"No, I'm not your bride," she blurted out.
"Our bride?" Travis asked at the very same time.
"We're sharing her," Clifford explained in a matter-of-fact voice. "Like brothers do," he added with a shrug, and Emily could have sworn she saw a bug fly out from under his hat.
"How many brothers?" Travis asked in the same mild tone of voice that Clifford had used.
"Just Roscoe and me," he answered before his gaze settled on Emily once again. "You're her, ain't you?"
She frantically shook her head. "No," she insisted.
It wasn't the answer he was looking for, she realized. His hand moved toward the gun tucked in his waistband. Clifford gave Travis a quick glance, then suddenly changed his mind. His hand dropped back to his side.
"Then who are you?"
She straightened her shoulders, gave him a scathing look, and said, "I'm Mrs. Travis Clayborne."
If Travis was surprised by her lie, he didn't show it. His attention remained on the brother, Roscoe, who was now running toward Clifford.
Emily was too shaken to look at him. The meaning behind Clifford's explanation had finally sunk in. The two brothers intended to share the same woman, and, dear God, just thinking about it made her want to throw up. She continued to stare at the loathsome rodent in front of her, and, oh, how she wanted to lash out at him for lying to her in his letters.
She shook her head. No, he couldn't have written them, she realized. The letters were written by a refined gentleman, and it was apparent that there wasn't a refined bone in Clifford's body. He couldn't have written poetry either, of course, and she sincerely doubted he could even read or write his own name.
What in God's name had she gotten them into?
She made the mistake of looking at Roscoe then. He resembled his brother and was certainly just as filthy. His hair wasn't covered with a formal top hat though. He had a red silk scarf wrapped around it like a turban, and from the way he was grinning up at her, she thought he believed he was quite fashionable.
Emily wanted to leave with all possible haste. She found Roscoe vile and disgusting, but Clifford was worse. He frightened her. There was a mean look in his eyes that made her skin crawl.
Travis also wanted to leave, but at the moment he had his hands full. He knew there had to be at least one more man stalking them, and he was trying to find him and keep his attention on Clifford and Roscoe at the same time.
"If you ain't ours, what are you doing here?" Clifford asked.
"We took a wrong turn," she lied. "Travis, we should leave now."
"Don't go rushing off nowhere," Clifford insisted.
"If she ain't our woman, then where is she?" Roscoe asked his brother.
"You seen a woman going by the name of Finnegan?" Clifford asked her.
She was going to tell them no, then changed her mind. If they thought their bride was on her way to them, they might be more willing to let her and Travis leave in peace.
From the looks on the brothers' faces, she knew it was a remote possibility, but it was all she had and she latched onto it with a vengeance.
"As a matter of fact, my husband and I did meet a lady named Finnegan. Now, what did she tell me to call her? Barbara? No, that wasn't it. Emily," she added with a nod.
"Is she perty?" Roscoe asked.
"Oh, yes, she's very pretty."
"Where'd you meet up with her?" Clifford asked.
"We were just leaving the Perkinses' home when she arrived. Her escort will probably bring her to you tomorrow."
"Just one man riding shotgun with her?" Clifford wanted to know.
Emily nodded. "Yes. I recall his name too. Daniel Ryan. Perhaps you've heard of him."
The brothers shook their heads. "We don't recollect him," Roscoe told her. "Why'd you suppose we would?"
"Because he has quite a reputation," Emily said. She was grimacing inside over the tremor in her voice and prayed they couldn't hear it. If they knew how afraid she was, they might jump to the conclusion that she was lying, and then her game would be over.
"He's a United States marshal."
Clifford scowled. Roscoe spit on the ground. "A lawman coming up here?" Roscoe muttered to his brother. "I don't like the sound of that."
"I don't like it neither," Clifford said.
Travis wasn't paying much attention to the conversation. His gaze continued to scan the trees, looking for the enemy.
"Maybe we can get us two brides," Roscoe whispered loud enough for both Emily and Travis to hear.
Clifford nodded, and it was apparent from the way he was staring at Travis that he'd already made up his mind.
Travis saw the silver gleam coming from the tree to the east just as Clifford let out a shout.
"Shoot him down, Giddy."
Travis's gun was out of his holster and firing before Clifford had finished bellowing the obscene order. A scream came from the trees, a branch snapped, and everyone but Travis turned to watch the brothers' cohort crash to the ground.
Clifford and Roscoe were smart enough not to go for their weapons. Roscoe dropped the shotgun and put his hands in the air, but Clifford stubbornly kept his hands down at his sides. They were balled into fists.
"He killed Giddy," Roscoe muttered.
"There weren't no call for that," Clifford said.
The two brothers shared a nod and then began to slowly edge apart.
They stopped when Travis cocked his gun.
"Take the lead down the hill," Travis told Emily.
He didn't have to repeat himself. She was so terrified now she almost dropped the reins when she forced her mount to back up and turn around.
Travis hadn't spared her a single glance from the moment he'd spotted the bastard hiding in the trees with his shotgun. He ignored her now while he continued to search for more brothers lurking about, waiting for an opportunity to ambush him, but, damn, he couldn't find them, and time was running out.
He made Roscoe and Clifford remove their guns and toss them in the water trough and then made them do the same thing with their boots. Once they were finished, he ordered them to lie on their stomachs with their hands up over their heads.
He still didn't take his gaze off them, trusting his horse to find his way down the path while he turned in his saddle so he could keep his gun trained on them.
He didn't turn around until the brothers were out of sight, and when he did, he goaded his stallion into a full gallop. He reached Emily's side, slapped her mount on his hindquarters, and sent him flying into a gallop too.
He deliberately stayed behind her so that he could protect her back, and for that reason, he was an easy target. The shot still caught him by surprise. The bullet went into his back, and damn, but it burned. He could feel himself slipping to the side, and with his last ounce of strength, he threw himself forward. He grabbed hold of his horse's mane with his left hand and tried to turn so he could fire his gun with his other hand.