Luke stepped back. How could something like this have happened?
“Please, everybody, let’s remain civil.” The women sat down at Rachel’s gentle admonishment. “Do any of you wish to return home?”
The trio of brides shook their heads.
“All right then, let’s see if we can come up with a different solution.” Rachel turned to face the men. “I suppose you men could pay the women’s room and board until they found work or uh ... someone else to marry.”
“Or maybe they should just marry the brides.” Luke grinned at the thought then sobered as he realized that still left one bride.
Garrett shook his head. “I’m not ready to marry.”
“Me either.” Mark leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
“Then what do you suggest we do?” Rachel stood in the parlor entryway looking like a warrior matron ready to fight for her young charges. “It would seem we have a stalemate.”
Suddenly, Jenny Evans strode through the parlor doors with Jack fast on her heels. “A breech of promise is grounds for a lawsuit.” Miss Evans’s eyes shone bright. She held her notepad to her chest and looked at the brides. “I know a good attorney who will sue the britches off those three men for falsely luring you to town under the guise of marriage.”
Luke stood stunned to silence like the rest of the group. Even the brides appeared shocked at Jenny’s declaration.
“You’ve forced these poor women to leave the comforts of their home and travel hundreds of miles, and now you refuse to marry any of them?” Jenny glared at Luke. Why should her accusations make him feel guilty when he had no part in this loco scheme?
Rachel took a step forward. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of solution without something as drastic as a lawsuit.”
“No, I think these women should sue the marshal and the Corbett brothers as accomplices. Of course, the suit could always be dropped if the marshal agreed to marry one of the women.”
Miss Bennett stood and scurried over to stand beside Miss Evans. “I believe this woman has a point. Marry one of us, me preferably, or we’ll sue you men. Don’t you agree, ladies?”
The other two brides glanced at each other. Miss Blackstone shoved up from her seat and joined them. Miss O’Neil was slower to follow and seemed to do so only to avoid being left out.
Jenny smiled. “There you have it, gentlemen. What will it be? A wedding or a lawsuit?”
“This is ridiculous.” Garrett jumped up. “A lawsuit could ruin us and put us out of business. We’ve worked hard to make a go of our freight line, and this town needs our services. Luke would probably lose his job as marshal, and how would he support a wife then?”
Miss Evans shrugged. “I’m sure he’d find a way to get by. He’s big and strong and could do about any kind of work he put his shoulder to.”
Luke wrestled with the thoughts bombarding his mind. He didn’t want to be responsible for his cousins losing their business, yet none of this was his fault. How had this fiasco turned into a shotgun wedding with the sights set on him?
“Even if the marshal is agreeable, how will he be choosin’ who to marry?” Miss O’Neil asked.
Garrett sat on the vacant settee and held his chin in one hand while he tapped his index finger against his cheekbone. “I have an idea. Why not have some type of contest? See which gal is the best cook or seamstress. Which one would make the best wife.”
Mark leaned forward, steepling his fingertips together. “That’s not a half bad idea.”
“It’s a stupid idea.” Luke rolled his eyes. Would these fellows never grow up?
“That’s preposterous,” Rachel cried. “There’s more to being a good wife than domestic abilities.”
Miss Blackstone stamped her foot. “I got me a letter stating the marshal wants to marry me. I won’t vie for him like some prize at a carnival.”
Miss Bennett shoved her aside with her elbow. “I’m not giving up without a fight, and if we have to have a contest to find the winner, I’m game.”
The young Irish woman looked as white as milk and remained silent.
“This is a bigger mess than you’d find at a stockyard.” Miss Blackstone plopped back onto her chair, arms crossed.
“Well, you only made things worse when you showed up,” Miss Bennett said. “Two brides wanting the same man was bad enough.”
Miss Blackstone puckered her lips and glared at the young blond. Luke wondered if he might have to separate the brides to keep them from throwing punches. He could hardly blame them for being disconcerted. He certainly was.
“I really like the contest idea.” Mark leaned back with his fingers laced behind his head. “It could solve our problem, and we could get the whole town involved. The women could make you dinner, maybe sew you a shirt or something—I don’t know.”
“And just where are they going to cook this dinner?” Luke shook his head at the absurdity of the idea.
“Rachel would probably let them use her kitchen, beings as it’s for such a good cause.” Mark grinned.
“What good cause? And there’s not a kitchen in town big enough for three feuding women to cook in.” Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, a frown marring her pretty features.
“We could charge people to sample and judge the food, and the money could go to the church.” Garrett stood with his hands on his hips, grinning, as if he’d just solved everyone’s problem.
“No, wait. Not a dinner. How about a pie-making contest? And we can help judge it.” Mark licked his lips and raised his brows.
Luke shook his head. “I’m not about to ask these women to spend what little money they may have left cooking for me.”
Mark drew his eyebrows down. “Of course you won’t. You’ll provide the supplies, and they’ll do the work.”
Luke scratched the back of his neck and half admired his cousins for their ingenuity, even though it was going to cost him more than money, he suspected. He glanced at Jenny Evans to see what she thought of the idea and found her scribbling notes as fast as she could write. Jack sat off to the side, behind her ma, watching the whole ordeal with wide-eyed excitement. His gaze swung over to the ladies. “What makes you think these ladies would even agree to such a harebrained idea?”
Garrett turned to face the women. “If you’re serious about marrying the marshal, you’d be willing to fight for him, wouldn’t you?”
Each bride slowly nodded but looked skeptical.
“Besides,” Garrett said, “a contest would be a good way to see which of you would make the best wife for Luke, and the whole town could get involved.”
“Now hold on. I didn’t even say I wanted to marry one of ’em.”
Jenny looked up from her pad and quirked a brow. Luke fidgeted, knowing he wanted nothing to do with a lawsuit.
Mark strode to the front window and looked out. “Well, you won’t know for sure unless you spend some time with them—see how good they can cook. You just might fall head over heels in love, and then you’ll be in debt to us for the rest of your life.”
“Just where I’ve always wanted to be.” Luke shook his head. All three women were comely enough that a man wouldn’t tire of looking at them over the years, but was marrying one of them the right thing to do? Hadn’t he asked the good Lord on occasion to send him a mate? But a stranger—a mail-order bride that he hadn’t ordered? What would God have him do?
The Lord moved in mysterious ways, he knew, but this situation seemed too outlandish to be the hand of God.
“Personally, now that I’ve had time to ponder the idea, I think it’s excellent.” Miss Bennett curled her finger around a tress of loose blond hair.
“B–but what happens to the l–losers?” Miss O’Neil’s eyes looked as wide as silver dollars.
Rachel glanced at Luke’s cousins. “Since you and Mark caused this situation, it’s only fair that you pay for the ladies’ room and board until they can find employment or marry.”
“What if that takes a
while?” Mark straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “Jobs aren’t readily available for females.”
Rachel shrugged. “You should have thought of that before writing to so many women.”
“Maybe the contest will show off the ladies’ talents, and the other bachelors in the area will be swarming for their attention.” Garrett grinned.
“I’m not much of a cook, b–but I can sew.” Miss O’Neil gazed up, a wary look engulfing her fair face.
“That’s why we’d need to have several categories—to make it fair for all entrants.” Garrett paced the room, his eyes dancing. “This could be the biggest thing to happen in Lookout in a decade.”
Luke couldn’t help wondering if the last big news story in Lookout had been Rachel’s marriage to James Hamilton when the whole town had expected her to marry him.
“Yeah, I bet everyone for miles around would like to get in on the fun.” Mark leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees and his eyes livelier than Luke had seen them since his homecoming.
“I don’t know. It seems rather ... unconventional,” said Rachel.
“But it would solve one bride’s dilemma, providing the marshal was willing to marry the winner.” Miss Evans looked at Luke, all but daring him to say no.
He swiped at a trickle of sweat on his temple. Was he ready to marry? Could he make a life with one of these women?
His gaze drifted to Rachel. Marrying would sure solve one problem—it would get Rachel off his mind. The Lord did work in peculiar ways at times, but was this the Lord’s provision? Or just another of his cousins’ crazy stunts?
He thought of the lawsuit. Jenny Evans was tenacious enough to actually sue his cousins. He couldn’t stand by and watch them lose their livelihood if he had it within his power to help them. He felt his head nodding in spite of his reservations.
Rachel’s eyes went wide; then something that looked like disappointment crossed her pretty face. Would she begrudge him marrying, having a family, and finding some happiness like she had?
“Was that a yes?” Jenny asked.
Luke shrugged. “Yeah, I reckon so.”
Garrett and Mark let out a whoop in unison that made the brides jump. Luke wished he could be that excited instead of feeling like he’d just stuck his head into a hangman’s noose.
CHAPTER 19
Luke sipped his morning coffee and studied the newest batch of wanted posters that had come in on yesterday’s stage. He didn’t recognize any of the men, nor had there been any illegal activity in the region since he’d arrived other than a pickpocket who seemed to have moved on to better pickings. The peaceful little town hardly needed a marshal, except maybe on Friday and Saturday nights when the cowpokes came in.
Max looked up at him with big brown eyes, and Luke realized that Jack hadn’t come by with the bucket of breakfast scraps that she normally brought each morning. He gazed out the window and watched the citizens of Lookout as they went about their daily business. Maybe he and Max should wander over to Rachel’s and see what the holdup was. But then he might run into one of the brides.
Rachel hurried past his window and charged through his open door with a scowl on her normally happy face. What now?
He rose and nodded. She sure was pretty when she had a bee in her bonnet.
“Have you seen this morning’s paper?” She set the scrap bucket down in front of Max and slapped the Lookout Herald on his desk before he could respond.
Luke picked up the paper and read the headline. “THREE BRIDES BATTLE FOR ONE MAN’S HEART.” Grinding his back teeth, he slammed the newspaper against his desk and paced the small office. Was nothing sacred?
“What are we going to do?” Rachel stared up at him, her soft blue eyes looking vulnerable.
Luke didn’t like her fretting. He wanted to fold her into his arms until her frown turned into a smile. To avoid doing just that, he picked up the paper again and started reading: “Lookout, Texas, to host bride contest. In hopes of helping their cousin, Marshal Luke Davis, find a wife, Garrett and Mark Corbett wrote to several mail-order brides. Imagine their surprise when not one, but three women arrived in town to marry the same man.”
Luke clenched his jaw. This whole situation was getting out of hand faster than a drunken brawl at the Wet Your Whistle. He continued reading about the pie-making contest that would be held in three days and how people could participate and raise money for the church by paying five cents for a small taste of each pie. Then they could vote for their favorite. At least the newspaper lady had told the truth about the contest and hadn’t added a slant to the story. Nor had she mentioned blackmailing him with threats of a lawsuit.
He laid the paper back on his desk, slid his hip onto the corner, and crossed his arms, wishing this whole thing would go away.
“Are you really going to marry one of those women?” Rachel nibbled her lower lip, and he couldn’t help watching. She’d always done that when she was nervous, and it never failed to intrigue him. Her lips looked so soft. No, he knew they were soft.
He shook his head to steer himself away from such disastrous thoughts. Why was Rachel so anxious?
“I reckon I will get married since I said I would. A man has to keep his word.”
“I can’t believe that.” Her nostrils flared and eyes sparked, doing odd things to his insides. He held her gaze, and after a moment, she ducked her head and seemed to be watching Max, who’d nearly finished his breakfast. The dog glanced up, licked his lips, and burped.
Luke grinned. With Max, all was good as long as he had food and someone to love him. Was he all that different? What more did a man need?
He tried to imagine what life would have been like if he’d been married to Rachel all this time. He’d never have been in the cavalry and probably wouldn’t be the marshal now. How would he have supported a wife and family?
He’d been so young and naive when he’d lost his heart to her. Now that he was older and had hindsight, he realized how ill prepared he’d been to marry back when he was eighteen. He and Rachel would have had next to nothing, but somehow that would have been enough. All he really needed was her—and the Lord. But he hadn’t known much about God back then.
Rachel peered at Luke without lifting her head. “Could you actually marry a woman you don’t ... love?”
Filled with a sudden desire to shove away his melancholy thoughts, Luke snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Loving a woman doesn’t guarantee a happy marriage. It doesn’t guarantee a marriage at all.”
“I’m truly sorry, Luke.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. Her eyes glistened as if she might cry. “You have no idea how much.”
He shook off her hand and strode over to stand in front of the window, not wanting to see her sad expression. How could a man stay strong and determined in the face of a woman’s tears? Females never played fair. He ran a finger down the window. One of these days he needed to clean the dingy glass.
“I heard that you became a Christian. Surely you’ve learned that God expects us to forgive one another for our misdeeds. Can’t you forgive me for what I did?”
He flinched as if she’d punched him in the gut. Didn’t she know that she hadn’t just broken his heart but that she’d crushed it into so many pieces it would never be the same? Left it so shattered that he’d never love again? He wanted to forgive her, but he didn’t know how. Lord, help me.
“You’ll never know how sorry I am that I married James.”
“Why did you?”
“I–it’s not something I can talk about.”
“Don’t you think you owe me that much?”
“Yes.” Rachel’s soft whisper almost made Luke turn around, but he held himself stiff, as if at attention. He couldn’t help being intrigued. Why would she regret marrying the richest man in town? Had she learned that true love meant more than money?
He’d never considered that James and Rachel’s marriage might not have been a happy one. James was a charmer who most people
liked. Yeah, he could be selfish, having been the only child of a wealthy couple, and he liked to gamble more than the average fellow, but he was friendly, funny, and generous with his money.
Max whined and nosed Luke’s hand. Even the dog could sense the tension in the room. Luke hated causing Rachel pain, but after all he’d suffered, the least she could do was explain why she’d dropped him so suddenly and married James.
Rachel made a noise that sounded like a strangled sob, and she dashed out the door. Luke’s first impulse was to run after her, but he held his ground. He was empty—had nothing to say that could ease her pain.
He thought of a verse from Mathew that he’d read last night before going to bed. “For if ye forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you: But if ye forgive not men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.”
The Anonymous Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 1) Page 18
