Boots Under Her Bed

by Jodi Thomas

  Edna shrugged. “Hear tell he’s a lawyer. They’re usually the noisiest drunks in the world, but this fellow just sat and drank. Didn’t even want any company to help him drown his sorrows.”

  Other than the dirt, Callie looked for what else might be wrong with him. He looked to be in his twenties and had curly hair as dark as coal.

  Edna laughed. “I’m guessing he’ll marry you. I heard he came all the way from Virginia to marry Dorothy Trimble and she ain’t half as pretty as you, Callie Anne, even if she is in her right mind.”

  “But Dorothy married last year.” Callie stared down at the man, feeling sorry for him. Dorothy could never pass geology in school because she thought the center of the world was circling her feet. “In church last Sunday, I noticed Dorothy’s baby must be due soon.”

  “I know. Too bad this fellow didn’t know that before he got on the train,” Edna said. “Seems they met when her daddy sent her back east to visit relatives and they been writing for three years. She must have forgot to add the fact she married in her letters.”

  “It was so sad,” Lindsey chimed in. “One of my students told me about him. Lovers never to be united even after he traveled halfway across the country. Dorothy must have been his world for him to come here, and she tossed him out like he was nothing when he came knocking. The neighbors for half a block heard her yelling at him.”

  The barmaid agreed with a sigh. “He said she told him he was no more than a paper man to her, not real flesh and blood. He said she tossed his letters at him and told him to go away.”

  Lindsey patted the drunk’s back. “Many a man has been driven to drink by a hard-hearted woman.”

  “I’ll take him.” Callie made up her mind. “Help me get him in the wagon.”

  All three women lifted the stranger into the wagon bed, only banging his head twice against the tailgate. Callie figured she’d patch him up if need be. After all, doctoring a man couldn’t be that different from patching up a horse.

  Quentin, the saloon’s bartender, stepped out onto the back porch to tell Edna they were closing.

  When he asked what the ladies were doing, Lindsey said simply, “We’re picking up Callie Anne’s groom and heading for the church. You want to come along as a witness?”

  To everyone’s surprise, Quentin pulled off his apron and hopped on the back of the wagon. “Why not,” he said, never taking his eyes off Lindsey. “It’ll probably be the only wedding I ever see.”

  “How about you coming along?” Callie Anne asked Edna to be polite.

  Plain Edna shook her head. “No, it wouldn’t do to have me along, but thanks for asking.”

  Callie Anne smiled and waved good-bye. It didn’t seem so very long ago when she and Edna and Lindsey had played together. Now Edna wouldn’t allow herself to be seen with them for fear of hurting their reputations, or what little they had left. Everyone thought Callie was crazy and Lindsey dressed and acted like the old-maid schoolteacher she’d become. It seemed to Callie that knowing Edna wouldn’t hurt them.

  The only one who remained the same was Quentin. He’d grown up next door to Lindsey and seemed to think of himself as her personal guardian though he never talked to her.

  Callie Anne smiled. Somehow, Quentin must think Lindsey was in danger tonight for he was coming along to the wedding.

  Chapter 2

  A COLD dawn broke on the horizon when Callie Anne turned the buckboard toward the preacher’s house. She knew she was about to step through a door that might close behind her. There was no going back, but marrying a stranger had to be better than being afraid to sleep at night. In the best of times, Howard Thornville couldn’t be considered much of a father, and this wasn’t the best of times. He’d sweet-talked her newly widowed mother into marrying him and then never wasted another kind word on her.

  Quentin, Lindsey’s silent guardian, jumped out of the wagon and tied off the reins while Callie climbed into the back. She shook the drunk as hard as she could, wishing she’d asked Edna his name.

  After a few slaps, he came around and jerked free of her long enough to throw up. She didn’t miss the fact that he was polite enough to turn away, then wiped his mouth on a white handkerchief before he faced her.

  “I’m sorry, miss,” he mumbled.

  She handed him a canteen. “What’s your name?”

  “Morgan,” he answered before taking a long drink.

  She couldn’t see much, just a silhouette, but he looked normal enough. “You want to get married?”

  Her words sobered him.

  She hurried on. “I’m Callie Anne Cramer. I own a ranch a few miles from here. I read in a law book that my stepfather can have me committed for being insane and take over my place, but if I’m married, my husband would have to sign the papers ’cause he’d be the next of kin.”

  “I’m sorry, miss.” The drunk sounded like he meant it. “I’m not licensed to practice law in Texas.” He dug long fingers through his midnight hair. “However, it would be my educated guess that you are correct. If you have no other relatives, of course.”

  “I don’t need a lawyer. I need a relative. A husband, to be exact.” She swallowed hard. “A husband who’ll swear not to have me committed or try to kill me. That’s all I’m asking, mister.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Are you crazy?”

  “It’s a strong possibility.” She’d been told it so much she couldn’t flat-out deny it. “But if you’ll marry me and stay around long enough for me to sell half my cattle this spring, I’ll give you the money from the sale for your service and we’ll call it even.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was thinking about her offer or about to pass out so she added, “It’s not like you got a better offer.” She could see well enough in the dawn light to tell his clothes were not fancy and his shoes were worn. If he’d had any money left, Quentin would have put him in one of the rooms upstairs when he passed out and not in the alley.

  “The money will be enough to get you a fresh start anywhere you want to go.” If he said no, she saw only one option left. She’d have to run and, if she did, Thornville would win. He’d have the ranch.

  While Morgan thought her offer over, Quentin helped Lindsey down from the wagon. The bartender always showed a gentle touch with the little schoolteacher, like she was breakable.

  Her one friend stood beside Callie Anne as she always had. Miss Lindsey Baxter might not be two years out of her teens, but she straightened as if she were a witness on the stand. “I’m her friend, Mr. Morgan, and, though she does do a few strange things from time to time, she’s not insane. I’ve never known her to give her word and not keep it.”

  Morgan looked like he was trying to focus.

  “I’d ask nothing from you, mister, except to stand as my husband and help me get the cattle to market. The marriage has to be real. I’m not asking for you to lie. It would need to stand up in court if my stepfather decides to fight.” She jumped from the wagon bed and waited for him to follow. He was too big to drag in to the preacher, and she’d said all she could to convince him.

  Slowly, like a man lowering into quicksand, he slid from the wagon and stood; he was almost a head taller than her.

  Quentin moved toward him to offer help, but Morgan held up his hand and faced Callie Anne.

  “I’ll marry you,” Morgan said with only a hint of a slur. “Only don’t say anything about it being a bargain. As far as everyone in this town knows I married you for love, and you are the woman who loves me back.”

  She tried to get a good look at the man. He sounded strange, talking of love and all, but he did seem to be sobering some. He had his own reasons, and she’d not pry. “Fair enough, we marry for love.” She shook his hand and added, “But you got to swear you won’t put me in the nuthouse or hit me.”

  “I swear.”

  “And the ranch is mine when you leave. All mine, like my real father meant it to be. You’ll lay no claim to it.”

  “I swear. When this is over I ca
n think of nothing that would make me stay here. When our marriage is finished, I’ll never step foot in this state again, and Shallow Creek can dry up and blow away.”

  She waited while he washed up at the preacher’s well. Quentin and Lindsey moved on to wake the old man and his wife. Callie hadn’t seen the retired preacher since he’d said the words over her mother’s grave. He was a good man, who helped out with hurry-up weddings and sudden burials. The only other thing she remembered about the man was that his wife never stopped talking. Most of the time she didn’t seem to need an audience, she just rattled on. Callie Anne had no doubt that, by noon, everyone in town would know about her dawn wedding.

  Morgan’s eyes were still red when he returned from the well. He wasn’t a man people would think of as handsome, but she thought he had strong solid features beneath his week-old beard.

  “I’m ready,” he said as he offered her his arm.

  “You sure?” The weight of what she was about to do settled over her as she felt the strength in his arm.

  “Why not?” He smiled, with no humor reaching his eyes. “I’ve got nowhere else to go, lady, and nothing else to do. The road I thought I was following ended, so any path seems preferable to standing still.”

  They walked to the front door, where Lindsey and Quentin waited as if they were part of the wedding procession.

  Preacher Winters greeted them warmly and showed them into his dusty parlor. Spiderwebs hung in the corners like fragile lace over faded furniture.

  While his wife rushed around getting everything ready, Winters asked them to fill out the paperwork. Her groom’s hand shook slightly as he took the pen, but his writing was bold.

  The preacher’s wife hurried Callie and Lindsey off to the hallway, explaining that they had to wait until the music started before coming back in. Callie looked down at her jeans and oversized shirt. She wasn’t even marrying in a dress. Even the drunk groom looked better than she did.

  Callie forced herself not to look at him. She might be ruining his life, but he didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

  “The man has a dead look in his eyes,” Lindsey whispered. “You know, like he’s about to step in front of a herd of running horses and doesn’t even care. Maybe we should go back and look through the pickings again now that it’s light.”

  “No. He’ll do.” He was tall and not scary to look at. That was enough. She wasn’t planning to spend the rest of her life with him, just a few months. As the piano clanked, Callie pulled Lindsey along. “The sooner we get this over with the better.”

  Lindsey smoothed her hand over Callie Anne’s unruly blond curls and smiled. “I wish you happiness and love,” she whispered. “It’s about time some came your way.”

  “I’ll settle for peace,” Callie Anne answered. “I don’t believe I was meant to be loved.” She wouldn’t think of him as anything more than her one chance. This stranger would never matter more to her than that.

  Yet, when she stepped next to her new husband, she fought back the urge to run. This was the last option. Her last chance.

  When she turned slightly and saw Morgan standing at attention beside her, she couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t his last chance also.

  Chapter 3

  LUKE Morgan tried hard to focus. For three days he’d drunk enough to keep reality at bay, but he knew this wasn’t a dream. Not that it mattered all that much. He’d take a dream over the reality of his life.

  Tiny shards of sunlight blinked through the lace curtains of the little room he stood in. His eyes and throat burned as he fought down the urge to vomit again. Concentrating on the thin slices of morning light, Luke remembered the shafts of light that would sparkle into the tunnels when he walked out of the mine after work. If he were lucky and nothing went wrong, he’d finish his shift underground and be up in time to see the sunset. For a few moments there would be light in the world, but for three years he’d felt like he lived in darkness. Mining all day and studying as late into the night as he could, with his only day off spent sleeping to catch up so he could work the next six days and study every night.

  The past three years had passed like one long nightmare. The same never-ending schedule, the same meals, the same darkness. The only thing that kept him going was a letter from Texas now and then, from a girl he’d met once. She was waiting for him to become a lawyer and come get her. She’d promised they would both start their life together, and all the work and study and loneliness would be worth it.

  Only she hadn’t waited. The last year the letters had grown short, notes really, and far between. He should have known not to come.

  Luke glanced over his shoulder at the tall woman standing in the foyer looking like she was waiting for sentencing. Her hair curled around her head like a halo. She was far too pretty to be marrying a drunk she’d picked up in an alley, but judging from her tattered clothes she must be on hard times.

  He remembered how Dorothy Trimble had called him a paper man. Maybe he could be some help to this woman. Maybe he could prove Dorothy wrong, and she’d wish she had waited for him.

  The room started spinning as the worst piano playing he’d ever heard filled the air. Luke closed his eyes and swore he’d be the man Miss Sunshine needed or he’d die trying.

  He wasn’t a paper man. He deserved to have someone tell him she loved him. It might be the only way the darkness wouldn’t swallow him whole.

  Chapter 4

  TO Callie’s surprise when the preacher asked for a ring, Morgan pulled one from his pocket and slipped it on her finger. It was a delicate weave of thin gold and silver bands. She knew, without asking him, that he’d had it made for another. She promised herself she’d give it back to him when he left.

  They both said what Preacher Winters told them to say. Lindsey cried softly and Quentin shuffled behind them. Everyone seemed to take a long breath when Mrs. Winters played the final march and they could leave the parlor.

  Lindsey paid the preacher with the bill Callie had given her without anyone else noticing. When her gaze met that of her best friend, Callie knew Lindsey still wasn’t sold on this wild idea of marrying, but as always, she’d stood beside her friend. “Thank you,” Callie whispered to Lindsey as she took Mr. Morgan’s arm.

  A moment later she saw her new husband clearly when they walked from the house into the sun’s light. He was a little on the thin side, with his clothes hanging on his frame as if he’d bought a suit one size too big. Dark whiskers spiked across a hard jawline, and his hair had been cut far too short by a barber with little skill. Just as she’d suspected, he wasn’t handsome.

  She thought of turning away; nothing about the man was interesting. If she’d seen him on the street, she wouldn’t have remembered anything about him except maybe his height. Except now, she’d always remember he’d been willing to save her life. What kind of man, even drunk, marries a stranger?

  She decided to pick one thing, one feature that she liked about this man. Then, no matter how hard the coming months were, she’d remember that one thing she liked. If he turned out to be mean, her world might go from bad to worse. If he were kind, the months would pass in peace, but either way, they’d pass and she’d be alone with her land before fall.

  He had honest eyes. She liked that about him. He looked at her directly, which was more than most men did. They always acted like they could catch crazy from her.

  “What do you do now?” Lindsey asked as she took Quentin’s offered arm.

  “We could go over to the hotel for breakfast,” she said, thinking of delaying going back to the ranch for a while. Mamie, the old housekeeper, always came to Callie’s cottage after breakfast. By now she was probably rushing to the main house to tell everyone that Crazy Callie was missing.

  Lindsey shook her head. “I’d best get over to the school. No time for breakfast. I’ve lessons to get ready.”

  “I’ll drive you,” Quentin volunteered, already helping her into the wagon. He looked back at Callie Anne.
“I’ll leave the buckboard in front of the hotel after I’ve circled Lindsey over to the school.”

  Callie nodded. “We’ll walk from here. It’ll give us time to get acquainted over breakfast.”

  He didn’t say a word as they walked, and she figured getting acquainted might not be as easy as she thought it might be. The town was waking with a few people already hurrying about. No one seemed to notice the odd couple walking.

  Her husband covered her hand as it rested on his arm. “Nice morning,” he said as if it wasn’t near freezing.

  “Yes,” she answered.

  At the hotel door, he hesitated and Callie remembered that Edna had said he’d drunk until his money was gone. She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the money she’d been saving in case she had to run. “I’d consider it a favor if you’d handle this for me, Mr. Morgan. We’re going to be needing a few things before we head back to the ranch, so after we eat I thought we might stop at the mercantile. You might want to buy a few things.”

  He slowly took the money. “I’ll pay you back from the cattle sale for anything I buy.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They reached the hotel café just as the doors opened for breakfast. He held her chair and waited until she was seated. In a low voice, he asked her what she liked here, then ordered for her when the waitress came.

  Callie thought of telling him that she could speak for herself, but realized he thought he was doing her a kindness and kindness was something she’d had too little of in her life.

  They ate in silence. When the waitress pulled the plates away, he ordered more coffee and asked if she’d like tea or coffee.

  She smiled. “Tea,” she said, remembering her mother used to have a cup of tea now and then. It seemed a very “married lady” kind of thing to do.

  When the waitress left, he said, “You’re very beautiful, Mrs. Morgan. Your hair catches the morning sun.”