The choice had been hard. Everybody in town knew he’d do any kind of honest work to make money—and the rancher had offered him a fair amount. Luke needed only about fifty dollars more before he could put a down payment on a house for Rachel and him to live in after their wedding. The pull to spend time with her had been strong, but in the end, the chance to make money won out. After all, once they were married, they’d have all the time in the world together.
He remembered looking for his cousins as he drove out of town but finding James instead, lounging outside the bank with a friend. James had more than willingly agreed to deliver a message to Rachel that Luke had found work and wouldn’t be able to meet her.
Luke’s stomach swirled with sudden realization. His limbs trembled, and he leaned forward, hands on his eyes, sure that he would retch at any moment as the truth dawned.
It’s my fault James took advantage of Rachel.
CHAPTER 28
Rachel leaned back on the chair in her bedroom, eyes closed, relishing the moments she’d spent with Luke. He hadn’t said he forgave her, but he had said he was sorry. He’d barely reacted to all that she’d revealed, but he’d been right: she felt better for having finally told him the truth. Only time would tell how he would respond, and she was afraid to hope for too much. But she could still pray for him—pray that he wouldn’t feel responsible for what James had done. Luke had always tried to protect her when they were young. Now that he knew the truth, would he blame himself for not showing up that day at the river?
She sighed. Her legs ached from standing much of the day. She loved tending the boardinghouse and her boarders, but by evening, she was exhausted. Maybe selling the place wasn’t such a bad idea. She stretched and sniffed her fingers. In spite of the scrubbing with lye soap she’d given them, she still caught the faint whiff of the onions she’d cut up to go with the fried liver she’d made for supper.
Her gaze traveled across the room, and she watched the rise and fall of her daughter’s chest as she slept. This was about the only time her child was peaceful and not running about or causing trouble. She blew out a heavy sigh. Why was raising children so difficult?
Jacqueline had said a man was in Miss Blackstone’s room, but Rachel didn’t believe her. The young woman had made it clear that she planned on marrying the marshal, so why would she risk her chances by inviting a man to her room?
She wouldn’t. Besides, Rachel didn’t know of a single man in town who’d lower himself to steal another man’s potential wife or sneak into her boardinghouse. Most of the men in Lookout were good, decent sorts. She shook her head. If only Jacqueline wouldn’t tell falsehoods. It surely made it hard for Rachel to tell when the girl was being honest.
She pulled her high-top boot up on her knee and untied the laces, thinking about her visit with Mayor Burke. Though a bit less than she’d hoped for, he had made her a fair offer for the boardinghouse, but was it enough to start over in a new town? Could she really leave her hometown and move in with her aunt?
The thud of heavy footsteps above her head drew her gaze to the ceiling. Why would Miss Blackstone be stomping around like that?
Who knew what that young woman was doing? Something about her made Rachel wary, but maybe it was just that she was competing for Luke’s affections. Rachel’s lip wobbled at the thought of him picking one of the boardinghouse brides, but she’d done all she could to get him to forgive her. She must have hurt him much more than she realized.
Rachel worked at the laces, stretching them apart so she could get her foot free from the boot. Overhead, a softer set of footprints walked in the same direction as the heavy ones. The floor creaked above her head, and she thought she heard voices. Rachel froze.
What if Jacqueline had been right?
Pulling her boot back on, she hurriedly tied the laces and tiptoed to the open window. Miss Blackstone’s window was right above hers, and she listened hard for the sound of people speaking. The darkness of night had wrapped the house. The lights were already out in the Castleby house next door, and only the faint glow of the lantern on the dresser held the darkness at bay. Crickets battled tree frogs, but she couldn’t hear any voices.
Still, there were those footsteps.
The thought of a trespasser in her home flooded her limbs with strength. Maybe Jacqueline hadn’t been lying.
Guilt needled her, but the desire to know the truth pushed her forward. She crept to the entryway and paused at the staircase, her heart thundering. Maybe she should get her rifle—or Luke.
Maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing.
With her hand shaking, she held on to the railing and climbed the stairs to the second floor, being careful to miss the squeaky steps. No light shone from under either Miss Bennett’s door or Miss O’Neil’s, but a faint glow illuminated the floorboards around Miss Blackstone’s. Rachel tiptoed forward across the wide hall, wincing when a board creaked. At the door, she stood, her breath sounding like a locomotive chugging uphill. Was she overreacting?
She heard a thump in the room, and suddenly, the door flew open. A large stranger stood in the doorway, grabbed her wrist before she could react, and yanked her into the room. A gasp fell from her mouth as he kicked the door shut with his foot and pressed her up against the wall in one swift motion. His arm against her throat cut off Rachel’s breath, and she shoved against it.
“Be still, and I’ll loosen my hold.” His hot breath smelled like smoke.
“Let her go, Ty.” Miss Blackstone’s voice sounded from behind the man, but Rachel couldn’t see her.
He stared into Rachel’s eyes. “You gonna cause me any trouble? I know ya got that purty little girl downstairs.”
Fear she hadn’t known since the day James had his way with her flooded her whole being. Her body shivered as if it had been caught up in a tornado. Dear Jesus, help me. “W–what do you want?”
“Well, now, that’s none of your business.” He loosened his hold just enough for Rachel to catch a deep breath. “You’re an unexpected development. You should’ve stayed downstairs.”
“Just let her go, Ty. She’s not part of this.” Miss Blackstone grabbed the man’s arm.
He shoved her back, and she lost her footing, falling to the floor. “Don’t be tellin’ me what to do.”
Rachel’s mind raced for a way of escape. If she could get away and run for Luke, this man would get to Jacqueline before she could return. But if she got loose and ran to her bedroom to get her daughter, surely the man would catch up with her. She had the other two brides to be concerned about, as well.
The man turned back to her, his leering gaze running over her face and down her body. “I’ll let ya go if you promise to behave, although I’d like it even better if you chose not to.” He licked his tongue across his lips.
Rachel turned her face away as a shiver wormed its way down her spine. “I won’t cause any trouble. I promise.”
He backed away nearly as quickly as he’d captured her and leaned against the door, resting one hand on the butt of his revolver. Rachel hurried across the room and stood next to Miss Blackstone, who’d managed to untangle her skirts and get back on her feet. “Do you know him?”
Her boarder nodded. “Unfortunately. He’s my brother.”
Rachel noted the resemblance in their black hair and some of their features, although their eye color was different. The man chuckled and touched the edge of his hat. “Tyson Payton, ma’am. A pleasure to meet ya.”
Frowning, Rachel swung her gaze back to the young woman. “Did you have different fathers? I mean, since your last name is Blackstone.” A sudden thought bolted across Rachel’s mind. “Or have you been married before?”
“Wrong and wrong.” Tyson chuckled and crossed his arms over his wide chest.
Truth be told, he was a handsome man, even in the pale light from the hurricane lamp. But his response confused Rachel. “What do you mean?”
“Ty, please...”
He snarled at Miss Blackst
one. “I mean her name ain’t whatever she told ya. It’s Carly Payton.”
Rachel gasped and clutched her bodice. “You’ve been lying? Why?”
“Never mind all that.” Ty scratched his jaw and eyed her. “The question is, what are we gonna do with you?”
Rachel had dealt with stubborn, troublesome men before and drew in a fortifying breath. “Why don’t you just leave and let the rest of us get on with our business?”
Tyson chuckled again. “I kinda like your spunk.” Suddenly, his countenance changed. “But spunky or not, you’ve gotten in the way of my plans. I’m gonna have to do somethin’ with ya.”
Miss Blackstone—no, Miss Payton—crossed the room. “Ty, she’s not part of this. Let’s just cut our losses and leave this dumpy town.”
While the brother seemed to be considering her suggestion, Rachel’s mind raced. Had they come to town with some kind of nefarious scheme?
She wrung her hands together. Heavenly Father, please help me.
“No, I think it’s best if we get rid of her.”
Rachel’s heart bucked in her chest. He was going to kill her? What would happen to Jacqueline? Lord, no.
He pulled out his pistol and pointed it at her. She took a step back. Surely he wouldn’t shoot her here, not with Luke and the whole town so close by.
“You can’t kill her, Ty. She’s got that kid to care for.” Miss Payton turned to face Rachel, worry etched in her face. “I’m so sorry. I never meant for him to find me here.” She broke her gaze and looked down.
“You got a key to the door leading to those back stairs, lady?”
Rachel nodded and reached into her apron pocket. Thank the Lord she hadn’t left the key in her bedroom.
“You go first. Quietly. Unlock the back door, then Carly next, and I’ll follow. If you try anything, I’ll shoot ya and then come back and finish off your kid and the rest of those gals.”
Rachel searched her mind for a way of escape, but she didn’t want her daughter or the brides to get hurt. If she followed along, maybe she could find a way to overpower the man and get free. Please, Lord.
“You got a scarf or bandanna, sis?”
Miss Payton scowled at her brother but nodded. She pulled a red bandanna out of a drawer and held it up.
“Gag her so she don’t make no noise.”
Rachel winced as the cloth cut between her teeth and pinched her cheek. Miss Payton tied a knot, pulling Rachel’s hair.
“Sorry,” the girl whispered.
Tyson slowly opened the door and peered out. He waved his gun at them. Rachel breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the hall and found the other doors still closed. In the light of the hall lamp, she located the right key and unlocked the back door, taking one last glimpse at the hall she’d so carefully decorated to be pleasing to her guests. Would she ever see her home again? Or her daughter? Swallowing hard and forcing back the tears burning her eyes, she hurried down the dark stairs that wrapped around the back side of the house, praying Luke would find them.
Yet a part of her hoped he wouldn’t. She couldn’t bear if he got mortally wounded.
At the back of her lot, two horses were tied in the trees, out of sight of anyone who’d pass by. How had she and Luke missed them earlier when they were in the yard? Ty grabbed her waist and hoisted her onto one horse. “Get on behind her, sis.”
Miss Payton clawed her way up and managed to climb on behind her. “It wouldn’t have killed you to help me,” she hissed at her brother.
He took the reins of their horse and mounted his own. Tears she’d fought to keep at bay charged down Rachel’s cheeks. The light still glimmered in her bedroom, waiting for her return. She thought of her daughter sleeping there so peacefully. Would she ever see Jacqueline again?
***
Jack covered her head with her pillow to drive away the cheerful chirps from the birds welcoming the new day. If only she could sleep another hour. Bad dreams had pestered her all night. Dreams of Butch pulling her hair. Of him throwing her in the lake when she had her Sunday dress on. Dreams of her marrying him.
“Ick!”
She tossed the pillow aside at the disgusting thought.
Her body let her know that she’d get no more sleep until she visited the necessary. Sighing, she stood and stretched. She turned around and froze. Her mother’s side of the bed looked as if it had never been slept in. And the lamp still burned. How odd.
Now that she thought of it, no fragrant smells greeted her this morning or the familiar sound of her ma clattering in the kitchen. She glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. Eight o’clock?
Jack hurried out the door and into the kitchen. She struggled to make sense of what she saw. First thing every morning, her ma cooked biscuits and made coffee. The kitchen looked just as clean as it had been last night before bed, while the coffeepot was as cold as a winter’s night.
She opened the back door and stuck her head out. “Ma?” When she got no response, she hurried to the necessary and ran back inside, racing from room to room downstairs but finding no sign of her mother. Where could she be? Had there been some emergency in town?
Jack raced to her bedroom and found her shirt and overalls. Once dressed, she ran upstairs and pounded on Miss Bennett’s door.
The woman opened it and scowled down. “Is breakfast ready? I haven’t smelled a thing this morning.”
“Have you seen Ma?”
“You mean today? Uh, no I haven’t. Why?”
Jack spun around and pounded on Miss O’Neil’s door. It fell open but the room was empty. Could her ma be somewhere talking with the Irish lady?
“Try the washroom,” Miss Bennett offered.
Jack jogged to the back of the second story, noting that Miss Blackstone’s door was open and the room also empty. Suddenly remembering the pastor’s sermon about being ready for the rapture, Jack halted. She thought about how much trouble she’d caused her mother. Was she such a heathen that the rapture had come and she’d been left behind?
Her heart pounded like the blacksmith’s hammer. The washroom door handle jiggled, and she looked up. Miss O’Neil came out, her face looking pink and freshly scrubbed. If Miss O’Neil was still here, Jack felt certain that the rapture hadn’t come. God might leave snooty Miss Bennett, but surely He’d have taken the kind Irish woman.
“Top o’ the mornin’ to you. Would it be breakfast time?” Miss O’Neil lifted her head and sniffed, and then her brows dipped down.
“Have you seen my ma?”
“Nay, I have not.”
Jack started to turn, but the back door caught her eye. “Did one of y’all unlock that door?”
Both brides shook their heads. “We don’t have the key,” Miss Bennett said.
Jack spun around, worry for her mother rising like the summer temperature. “Ma’s missing, and I’ve gotta find Luke.”
CHAPTER 29
Luke scrubbed the sleep from his face in the warm river water. The whiskers on his jaw bristled as he ran his hand across his face. He hadn’t planned to be out all night, but after crying out to God and praying like he never had, he’d fallen dead asleep near the riverbank just before sunrise. He yawned. A few more hours rest would be nice, but he needed to check on the town, and then he had to see Rachel again.
Now that he’d wrestled with his unforgiving spirit and his guilt over what had happened, he was eager to see what God would do. The blinders on his eyes had been removed, and he saw things clearly for the first time in years. He stood and looked toward town. Excitement battled regret. Alamo nickered to him and walked away from the patch of grass where he’d been grazing.
Luke patted his faithful horse, bridled him, and mounted. He’d have to eat a lot of crow with Rachel, but she wasn’t one to hold a grudge. And if he wasn’t wrong, she still had feelings for him. He’d just spent the last few weeks denying them, but in his heart, he knew she still cared just as he did.
Last night, once he’d let go of his anger a
t James, he’d wallowed in guilt for an hour or two. Good thing he wasn’t a drinking man, because he wouldn’t have been sober for a week after he realized how he’d failed Rachel. Instead, he had to face the facts. He was responsible for what happened to her, but his intentions had been good. He was just trying to get enough money to get them a home so they could get married.
Then why did he still feel bad?
As he drew near the town, he surveyed the serene scene before him. The business folks were opening up their shops. The clink of a hammer could be heard coming from the livery, and fragrant scents from Polly’s Café filled the air, making his belly rumble.
The boardinghouse drew his gaze, and he hoped to see Rachel outside sweeping. But then at this hour, she was more likely cleaning up the breakfast mess. At least he knew there would be a plate of her fine cooking waiting for him.
The Anonymous Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 1) Page 29
