Jack scowled and stomped off. Getting punished for something she’d done was bad enough because she deserved it, but knowing her mother didn’t believe her made her stomach ache. Yeah, she’d opened the pie safe doors, but that’s not what her ma had asked her about.
The thought of her ma quitting the contest brought tears to her eyes. She swatted at them. She’d promised herself she’d never cry, because crying was a weakness. Boys made fun of kids who cried and picked on them.
She thought again of her ma not entering the other contests, and the idea sobered Jack. Somehow, she had to make sure her ma had an entry. She couldn’t quit.
A few minutes later, she stopped at the marshal’s office. Luke was gone, but Max lay sprawled on his blanket as if waiting for her. He lumbered up and wagged his tail. The old dog licked the gray whiskers around his nose and looked up eagerly. Jack set down the bucket, and Max started eating.
“I wish you could talk, old buddy.” She scratched his back while he ate. “I’m sorry for being mean to you before. I didn’t know what a good dog you were.”
She thought of the many times the townsfolk had shouted at Max and chased him away from their trash heaps. Why should they care if a hungry dog helped himself to what they no longer wanted? Ricky and Jonesy had liked to chase Max and throw sticks at him, but she always tried to make them stop.
She knew what it was like to have someone yell at you and threaten to hurt you. She shivered just thinking about the evenings her pa would come home drunk or having lost at gambling. He’d holler at her ma like it was all her fault, shove her, and sometimes even slap or hit her. He hadn’t been much of a father and never seemed to like her. Many times, he said he wished she’d been a boy.
Tears stung Jack’s eyes again, and she swiped her sleeve over them. Max whined as if sensing her frustration and licked her cheek. “Oh Max, why can’t Luke marry my ma and be my pa?”
***
Luke crossed the dusty street, waving to Simon O’Malley as he drove by with a load of hay in his wagon. The man kept Dan Howard, the livery owner, well-stocked in hay and feed. Luke could see Jack sitting on the floor, patting Max. As he neared, her words about wanting him for a father nearly made him stumble. He righted himself, looked around to see if anyone had noticed, and then stood outside his door. Luke’s heart ached for the child, but he wasn’t the answer to her prayers.
Jack didn’t say anything else, but she suddenly jumped up. “Gotta go, boy.”
She ran out the door and straight into Luke. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her, and she gasped and peered up. Her wariness changed to delight, warming his insides.
“Howdy, half bit. I just heard your ma holler for you.”
She frowned and plodded back toward home.
What was wrong with her? If he wasn’t mistaken, her lashes had looked damp from tears—and Jack never cried. Halfway home, she turned while walking backward and waved. “See you later.”
His gaze followed her to the end of the street to make sure no one bothered her. She was a cute kid and reminded him of himself when he was young. Ornery, feisty. If only she were his child.
He scowled. Better not to think such thoughts. Spinning around, he marched back to his office, scanning the town and thinking about the wanted posters he’d looked through earlier. If he could capture one or two of those outlaws, he would get enough reward money so that he could order lumber for a house. He already had a lot picked out with a view of the river and could imagine a white clapboard house sitting on it.
He stopped and leaned against a hitching post. If he were to marry, he’d need a bigger house. The one the town provided was fine for him alone, but a wife would want to cook, and that Sunday house had no stove. He supposed he could build an outdoor kitchen. Lots of homes in Texas had them, usually on ranches and farms rather than in-town houses. That would be much easier, and maybe it would solve his problem for now.
The bigger problem he had was envisioning a woman other than Rachel in his home. Maybe because she cooked his meals now and did his laundry. He’d run into her a few times when she’d come over to clean or return his clothing. He shook his head. Somehow he needed to rid his mind of such images.
Forcing himself to focus on the brides, he stared across Bluebonnet Lane at the boardinghouse and tried to decide which woman would make the best wife. They were all pretty, but he wasn’t attracted to any one of them in particular. He sighed and thumped the railing. That pie contest sure hadn’t helped.
Who was the anonymous entry from? He’d racked his mind, trying to figure out who she was, but had no luck. He turned around and moseyed into Foster’s Mercantile, nodding at Trudy Foster. “Everything all right in here?”
“Yes sir, Marshal. We’re fine and dandy.” Trudy smiled and continued sorting skeins of colorful thread.
Luke looked around for a few minutes, thinking about all the things he’d need to buy if he did get a house of his own. Finally, he exited the store. As he turned right, a woman’s shapely body appeared in the doorway of his office. Miss Blackstone.
She looked down the street right at him and waved. “Morning, Marshal Davis. How are you this fine day?”
He’d been fine—until he saw her. Now his neck felt as tight as if he were dressed up in his church clothes. He pushed away from the hitching post and shoved his hands into his pocket as he walked toward her. Just what had she been doing in his office? And how had she gotten in there without him seeing her?
She looked pretty in her pine-colored calico, which made her brown eyes look almost hazel. Her hair was always a bit disheveled and tended to just be tied behind her with a ribbon, as if doing anything more to it was a chore. Something wild sparked in her eyes on occasion, making him wonder about her past.
He walked up to her and stopped since she blocked his doorway. “What can I do for you today?”
“I noticed that you never eat at the boardinghouse and thought you might be hungry.” She stepped back into the office and motioned to something on his desk. She removed a towel from a plate, and the scent of bacon and eggs filled the room. His mouth watered.
“You made this?” he asked, walking over to look at the plate. His stomach rumbled.
She shifted her feet and looked around his office. “Well, uh ... nope, but Mrs. Hamilton let me bring it to ya. I couldn’t very well cook up somethin’ else when she had all this left.”
No, he didn’t figure she could—and somehow didn’t think she would have even if Rachel had allowed her use of the kitchen. Still, he sat down and tucked into the food since he hadn’t had time to get over to the boardinghouse for breakfast this morning.
Miss Blackstone looked at a map on his wall. Luke noticed her hands trembling. Was she nervous being alone with him?
“Do you catch many outlaws in this little town?”
He shook his head. “No, but I run a tight command here and don’t let things get out of control.”
“Well, that makes me feel safer.” She stared at him with her head cocked to one side until he looked away.
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. A horse whinnied outside, and Miss Blackstone turned to look out the door. Luke studied her profile. Yeah, she was pretty, but something about her set him on edge.
He leaned back in his chair, holding his lukewarm coffee. Miss Blackstone pivoted back toward him and smiled. She looked softer, more approachable when she was happy. Maybe he was overreacting. Or just touchy, since she could be his wife one day soon. A shiver charged down his back.
He turned back to his food and noticed one of the two desk drawers was off kilter. He ignored it for the moment but knew it hadn’t been like that when he’d left his office earlier. He took several more bites of food, hoping she hadn’t noticed him looking at the drawer.
Had Miss Blackstone gone through his desk?
And if she had, what had she been looking for?
***
Carly resist
ed tapping her foot while the marshal ate. Just being in the jail office around a lawman made her itch to leave. Did she look more casual than she felt? Or could he tell she was nervous?
She cast a glance at the two cells in the shadows at the back of the room, and her throat threatened to close up and choke off her breath. One door was open, as if daring her to enter. If the law ever caught up with her, she would be locked up in such a place. A cold shiver snaked down her spine.
She forced her gaze back to the marshal. There hadn’t been any information about payroll shipments in his desk. Tyson had said that town marshals always had that kind of information, and without it, she was stuck in this dinky town. Maybe she needed to come up with a better plan. Besides, how could she pull a payroll heist alone?
Trying to sway the marshal in her direction by flirting and taking him breakfast had probably been a dumb idea, but she had to do something to make herself stand out from the others. The marshal’s fork scraped against his plate. He ate the last of the eggs and took another sip of his coffee.
“Could I freshen that up for you?”
He shook his head. “No thanks. I’m about done.” He shoved the last third of a biscuit into his mouth.
The marshal was a fine-looking man with his lean, muscular body, handsome face, and dark hair and eyes. She had hoped he might like her nut pie better than the others, but that had hardly been the case. She had switched the salt and sugar before the other brides mixed up their pies, but she hadn’t counted on burning hers.
Her gaze swerved toward the cell again, but she yanked it back. A stack of wanted posters on the side of the desk caught her eye. “Mind if I have a look at those?”
The marshal shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He leaned back in his chair, holding his coffee cup and watching her.
She picked up the thick stack of posters and sat in the chair across from the marshal’s desk. Slowly, she thumbed through each one. A hand-drawn picture of each outlaw looked her in the face. She didn’t know most of the rough-looking men but did see two that she recognized—Wild Willy Watson and Hank Yarborough. Both men had run with her brother for a few months.
Pressing the posters to her chest, she stared at one lying in her lap and saw her brother’s face. Her heart took off like an outlaw being chased by a posse.
The marshal’s cup thunked as he set it down. He stared at her, brows lifted. “See someone you recognize?”
Carly forced a laugh. “Only someone who looks like someone I know.”
Marshal Davis’s eyes glanced toward the papers, and Carly quickly dropped the stack of posters back on top of her brother’s likeness. She stood, and the whole pile slipped from her hands. “Oh goodness.”
She squatted down, snatching up poster after poster, all the while her heart thudding as if she might be arrested. The marshal had noticed her reaction to Ty’s poster. While she resembled her brother in some ways, she didn’t look enough like him for the marshal to put two and two together. Too bad she hadn’t had time to read the writing below Ty’s likeness. Did it mention anything about him having a sister? If only she could get rid of Tyson’s poster somehow.
The marshal stood and came toward her. “Let me get those for you, ma’am.”
She forced herself up on wilting legs and handed him the stack. “If you’re finished, I’ll just take the plate back to the boardinghouse.”
“Thank you kindly for bringing my breakfast.” He nodded.
Carly picked up the plate, but the fork clattered to the floor. The marshal bent easily and handed it to her. She forced a grin and was half a block away before she could suck in a breath. Her gaze roamed over the town as she forced herself to relax. There was nothing to connect her with Tyson, but the marshal was a smart man. Could he tell she was lying? Whatever possessed her to do such a foolish thing as to visit him?
She continued on toward Hamilton House. Had it been a mistake to assume Ellie Blackstone’s identity? Now that she was in Lookout and had seen the one-horse town, she doubted many payroll shipments passed through here. Yep, she needed another plan.
Maybe things would have been better if she’d never crossed paths with Ellie Blackstone.
***
Luke stood at his door and watched Miss Blackstone scurry away like a rat caught in a feed bag. She was hiding something. And if he wasn’t mistaken, she was lying, too. But about what?
He sat down at his desk and slowly studied each poster. He was certain she’d recognized someone, but there were nearly twenty likenesses of outlaws, and he hadn’t gotten a good look at the one she’d stumbled over. None of the wanted men were named Blackstone, but a name was a simple thing to change.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Did Miss Blackstone have other business in town besides landing a husband?
CHAPTER 24
Rachel stood in the backyard with her hands on her hips, staring down at her precocious daughter. The sun sprinkled through the trees, dappling Jacqueline’s upturned face, casting shadows on the smattering of freckles on her nose. “I’m sorry, sweetie, but I’ve told you before, I’m not entering the bride contest this time around.”
Jacqueline clutched Rachel’s arm. “But Ma, you’ve gotta. You can’t let Luke marry one of them brides.”
Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself against her daughter’s pleas. Jacqueline was too young to understand all that had happened between her and Luke. “No. I can’t enter.”
Tears filled Jacqueline’s blue eyes, piercing Rachel’s heart. Her tough daughter rarely cried, and seeing her do so now made Rachel waver. Should she compete in the contest’s next round? Even if she happened to win, there was still the issue of Luke’s unwillingness to forgive her. She straightened her back and her resolve. “I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.” Jacqueline stomped her feet. “You’re ruining everything.”
Rachel sighed and took her daughter’s hand, pulling her over to sit in the double rocker that rested under a tall pine. She hugged the stiff girl. “Just because I enter the contest doesn’t mean Luke would pick me anyway. He doesn’t know my pie was the anonymous entry, and he’s sure not going to agree to marry the winner if he doesn’t know who she is. Besides, there are things you don’t know about Luke and me.”
Jacqueline rubbed her sleeve over her eyes. “What kind of things?”
Nibbling the inside of her lower lip, Rachel considered how much to tell her. “I was engaged to Luke before I married your pa.”
The blue of Jacqueline’s eyes intensified. “You nearly married Luke? What happened? Why didn’tcha?”
Rachel pressed her lips together. What a can of worms she’d just opened. It would have been best to keep quiet. A blue jay screeched overhead as if agreeing and letting her know she was intruding in its territory. She stroked her daughter’s head. “It was a very long time ago, and I don’t want to talk about it. I just thought if you knew about the engagement you’d understand why I can’t enter the contest.”
“No! I don’t.” Jacqueline shot to her feet. “If you were engaged once, why couldn’t you be again?”
Smoothing out her dress, Rachel prayed for the right response. “Because it ended badly. I married your father, and Luke left town and joined the cavalry.”
“So? He’s back now, and you’re not married anymore.”
She made it sound so simple. But Rachel couldn’t think of a way to explain without mentioning Luke’s inability to forgive her, and she wouldn’t make Luke look bad in her daughter’s eyes. “That’s all in the past. I’m not entering the contest, and that’s final.”
Jacqueline flung out her arms. “Why do you always have to ruin things? I hate you.” She spun and ran toward the river, her braids flying behind her.
Rachel clutched her upper arms, her heart aching. She knew Jacqueline didn’t hate her, but the words still inflicted pain, as they were meant to. She stared up at the sky. “Lord, I know You control all things, but I don’t understand why You h
ad to bring Luke back to town. Maybe things wouldn’t hurt so bad if he’d forgive me, but to see him each day and to always have this past between us is so difficult. Is it my punishment to watch Luke marry one of the mail-order brides? Is that what You require from me as penance for what I did?”
She dropped her head. God didn’t work that way. She knew that. But she wanted Luke for a husband as badly as Jacqueline wanted him for her pa. The truth was she still loved him. She sat for a while, praying and seeking God, but no answers came. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she saw the back door open. Miss Blackstone looked out and saw her then started forward. Rachel straightened her back. For some reason, God had sent the brides to live with her for a time. Maybe it was so she could speak His Word into their lives. God, help me. Give me the fortitude to do what You’ve set before me, and please watch over Jacqueline. Comfort her and keep her safe while she’s away from me.
The Anonymous Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 1) Page 23
