Marrying the Preacher's Daughter

by Cheryl St. John

  “Is he dead?” Phillip asked.

  “No, he’s breathing,” she answered, but paused to watch his chest rise and fall. “He’s sleeping.”

  “He’s sleeping in his clothes,” the boy remarked. “And wearing his holster and gun.”

  “That’s his own fault. He could have stayed put and he’d still be comfortable.” Her hand went to the thick envelope in her apron pocket. Just having all that money on her person made her uncomfortable. She would give the ill-gotten gains to her father and let him use it to his discretion. She led Phillip out of the room. “We’ll let him be.”

  She carried the money to Sam’s study and left it in his top desk drawer, then hurried to the kitchen to help Josie with supper.

  The Jacksons were again their guests at dinner that evening. Beatrice had been a widow for the past five years and occupied herself holding tea parties and peddling her son as a perspective husband. From all accounts it looked as though Elisabeth was her first choice. Beatrice raised a questioning brow at her now. “Elisabeth, we were quite concerned when we heard the news about the holdup and learned that you’d been on the train. How dreadful for you. Thank the good Lord you weren’t injured.”

  “I’m thanking God for my safety,” Elisabeth replied, not wanting to talk about the incident.

  “Mr. Taggart saved Lis’beth,” Phillip piped up. “And he saved all the people’s watches and rings and money, too. Din’t he, Lis’beth?” He sat with a slice of turnip forgotten on the tines of his fork, his expression serious. “He gots a big gun.”

  Beatrice’s eyes widened. Rhys glanced from Phillip to Elisabeth.

  Samuel Hart spoke up, saying, “We’re all appreciative for Elisabeth’s safe return home.”

  Josie returned to the dining room at that moment. Elisabeth took the refilled bowl of mashed potatoes and reached to set it in the middle of the table. Unconsciously, Josie spread her hand at the small of her back before taking her seat. Elisabeth glanced at Rhys at that moment, confused by the fleeting expression that darkened his features before quickly disappearing.

  She’d gone to school with Rhys, though he’d finished ahead of her. He’d always been interested in the Harts and enjoyed coming to their home. He worked at the bank and knew much of the goings-on of the townspeople.

  “Does your new position sit well with you, Miss Tyler?” Beatrice asked.

  Kalli had been assigned a seat between Peter and John, where she sliced their meat and encouraged them to eat their vegetables. She glanced up. “Yes, ma’am. Quite well.”

  “Kalli is a perfect fit for our family,” Josie added.

  Elisabeth glanced at her sisters to note any reactions to Josie’s remark. Anna was absorbed in her meal, and Abigail was giving Rhys surreptitious glances. Neither seemed to think anything of Kalli’s presence or the conversation.

  Anna glanced up and smiled, and with a surge of affection, Elisabeth returned the smile. She dearly loved her sisters. They shared so much history, and wonderful memories of their mother.

  Sam had brought Elisabeth and her sisters to Jackson Springs after their mother’s death and his remarriage to Josie. Elisabeth had been filling the role of caregiver and nurturer and at first felt usurped by Josie’s new position as her stepmother. But it hadn’t been easy to resent a woman so kind and generous and who made her sisters happy. She and Josie had come to an understanding, and she had grown to love the woman dearly.

  Still, even though their marriage and family had turned out well, Elisabeth sometimes questioned her father marrying for convenience. She was far from a romantic—in fact she was a painfully logical and practical person—yet Elisabeth had always imagined herself finding a love born of common interests, mutual needs and future plans. She wanted to marry for love and passion, not practicality.

  Her father had never questioned Elisabeth’s choice to assist him in his duties, appreciating in fact, that she took care of details and finances while he saw to the spiritual and emotional needs of his congregation. Still, it was the natural order of life for a man or woman to leave her father and mother and marry.

  She had turned twenty on her last birthday. Most of the young ladies with whom she’d attended school were married and already had their own children. Elisabeth loved her young brothers and had spent a good share of time caring for them. Perhaps that was why she hadn’t yet experienced a burning desire to have her own children.

  Once she was married she’d undoubtedly feel different. Love changed everything. Zebediah Turner had called on her for a season. She’d been to his family’s ranch with her father a time or two. When Zeb had kissed her after an ice cream social, their relationship had grown awkward. He hadn’t called on her again, and he later married someone from Morning Creek.

  Studying Rhys now, she wondered about the whole kissing thing. Maybe it just had to be the right person.

  “How was school today?” Josie asked, looking to Abigail and Anna.

  “I finished all my assignments in class,” Abigail replied. “So I have no studies this evening. I’d like to make pies with those apples Mr. Stone gave Papa, if that’s all right.”

  “No one around here ever objects to pie,” Josie answered with a smile.

  “I have arithmetic to finish,” Anna said. “May I sit in your study with you, Papa?”

  The sound of a bell tinkled from a distance. It took a second for Elisabeth to process the sound. She set down her fork. “Excuse me.”

  “Can I come help Mr. Taggart with you, Lis’beth?” Phillip asked.

  Rhys set down his fork and studied her with a questioning look.

  “Your sister can handle it,” Sam said to Phillip. “Eat your turnips.”

  “The man is here?” Beatrice asked. “In your home?”

  “He was injured defending my daughter and many passengers,” Sam told her. “The least we could do was offer him a place to recuperate. My wife wanted this great big house so we could be a blessing to others. Over the years we’ve had a goodly amount of guests stay with us.”

  Beatrice blotted her lips with her napkin.

  “He was sleeping the last time I checked on him,” Elisabeth told Josie. “I imagine he’s awake and hungry.”

  “I made him a plate,” Josie answered. “It’s in the warmer.”

  In the kitchen, Elisabeth readied a tray and carried it up the back stairs.

  “I could’ve come down,” Gabe said when he saw her. He had managed a sitting position with the pillows behind his shoulders.

  “That didn’t go so well last time.” She set the tray on his lap. He was still fully dressed, boots and all.

  “You knocked me out.” Frowning, he picked up the fork and tasted the potatoes.

  She stood at the foot of the bed. “You’re easier to get along with that way.”

  “You’re amusing, but it’s not safe for me to be unconscious.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Train robbers have friends. And relatives. If word got out that the man who shot their friends was staying here, they might come looking for me.”

  “Nothing will happen to you while you’re in this home.”

  He raised a brow. “Didn’t see any armed guards when I got here.”

  “Our shield and fortress isn’t visible to the eye. Psalm ninety-one assures us that God has given His angels charge over us to protect us in all our ways.”

  He looked at her as though she’d just told him she could fly. “In my experience the only sure thing is something I can see and feel.”

  He stabbed a bite of meat and chewed it.

  “Your limited experience doesn’t change the truth,” she answered.

  Gabe looked at the woman. Really studied her. She was as prickly as they came, opinionated and unafraid of speaking her mind—even if her head was full of foolishness. But she was something to look at, that was for sure.

  He’d thought so ever since she’d walked down the aisle of that railcar, looking for an empty seat and finding onl
y the one beside him. Her hair was the palest shade he’d ever set eyes upon outside a field of summer wheat. Tonight she didn’t have it braided, but gathered away from her temples and trailing down her back like a schoolgirl’s.

  Her delicate features belied her bold statements and cutting barbs, a juxtaposition he rather enjoyed for its uniqueness.

  She was slender, but not skinny, with curves in all the right places. She wore a burgundy-colored skirt with a flounce of some sort in the back. Her fitted ivory blouse was printed with flowers the same color as her skirt and the rounded neck opening revealed the chain that held her gold ring.

  She caught him looking at it and brought her hand up to touch the piece of jewelry.

  “Medicine wore off, and it was awfully quiet,” he said.

  “We were having dinner.”

  He imagined the whole family around a table. “You can go on back.”

  “Are you certain you don’t mind? We do have guests.”

  “Any pretty young ladies?”

  “No, Mr. Taggart. A widow and her son.”

  “A pretty widow woman?” he asked.

  She frowned. “‘Beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.’”

  “From the Bible?”

  She nodded.

  “What about you? You’re pretty.”

  Pink tinged her cheeks, the only indication that his question had affected her. “I prefer to be appreciated for my abilities.”

  “So, you know you’re pretty?”

  “You’re impertinent, Mr. Taggart.”

  “No disrespect intended. Most ladies enjoy a compliment.” He dug back into his meal. “Your father said he had a houseful of women, and seems they’re all good cooks.”

  “Leave your tray on the end of the bed when you’re finished.” She turned and left the room.

  He stared at the spot she’d vacated for a long moment. Her idealism stood firm in the safe cocoon of her protected world, but one of these days when faced with a reality she couldn’t pray her way out of, Elisabeth Hart was in for a big disappointment.

  For some reason he couldn’t explain, he hoped he wasn’t around to see it.

  Chapter Five

  The following morning, Gabe found a pitcher of water outside his door, carried and poured it into the bowl on the washstand. It irritated him that the wound in his side was so debilitating, even to the point of making it painful to raise his arm.

  After washing and shaving, he dressed and opened the door. Minutes later, Elisabeth appeared. “My father has excused me from my duties for a few days in order to look after you.” Her tone relayed her displeasure in the fact. She extended a piece of paper. “I got to the land office early. This is how much you owe.”

  She’d obviously seen the amount, since the paper wasn’t folded or in an envelope. He glanced up, noting her almost pleased expression.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Guess that will take care of my share of the reward money.” Did she think that was all he had to his name? He went to the bureau, took out his packet of money and counted it. He extended all but a few bills. “That’ll cover the taxes.”

  She took the money.

  “One more thing.”

  She met his gaze, and her eyes reminded him of a clear mountain lake.

  “I’m going to need a place to live until I can build.” It was probably going to be a few weeks before he could work much himself, but he could hire someone to get the house started.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” She turned back toward the hall. “I’ll bring your breakfast and then run your errands.”

  While he ate, a dark-haired woman tapped on the open door. “Mr. Taggart? I thought it was about time I came to introduce myself. I’m Josie Hart.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, ma’am. You’re a fine cook, and I thank you for lettin’ me stay here.”

  “You’re most welcome.” She was a pretty woman with a friendly smile and the girth of an expected new life under her white apron. “I climb the stairs as few times as possible during the day, so I wanted to stop by now.”

  “Pleased you did.”

  “How is your injury?”

  “More bother than I’d like, but I’ll be fine.”

  “Elisabeth has gone downtown, so I’ll be listening for your bell, and I’ll have Phillip come if you ring.”

  “Shouldn’t need anything, ma’am.”

  Elisabeth had mentioned her stepmother. That was why Elisabeth looked nothing like this woman…and why she set such store by that ring around her neck. Her own mother had died.

  He knew what it was like to lose a parent. He’d lost both of his when he’d been sixteen and Irene barely ten. He’d tried working two jobs, but it had been no life for a little girl, so he’d hired on with a cattle drive and left his sister in the best place he could find.

  It hadn’t taken long for him to learn there was more money to be earned hunting bounties than punching cows. Before long Irene was in one of the best boarding schools in Pennsylvania and he was earning a name for himself.

  Now nineteen, his sister had been after him to bring her to live with him. In order to do that, he needed to make a new start, make a home for her and leave his past behind.

  Irene didn’t know what he’d done all those years. He’d led her to believe he’d made enough herding cows to invest and create a tidy nest egg. She would never know the truth as long as he had his way. And he always had his way. He’d be the most respectable man she could ask for in a brother, and he’d see to it she found a husband worthy of her.

  If it wasn’t for this bullet hole in his side, he’d be buying lumber and roofing nails right this minute. The frustration of this setback ate at him. He wasn’t used to relying on other people.

  Especially not persnickety women.

  He checked his revolver and tucked it into its holster against his side.

  “My ma sent me for the tray.”

  Gabe turned at Phillip’s voice.

  Eyeing him, the boy picked up the meal tray. “I gotta go to school.”

  Gabe nodded and gave him a silent salute.

  He shouldn’t have been so blasted tired just from getting up and shaving, but winded, he lay back down. He’d been sleeping a short time when footsteps woke him.

  Elisabeth was turning away to leave.

  “I’m awake.”

  She stopped and turned back. She held a sheaf of papers. “This is your deed and your proof of taxes paid.”

  After handing it to him, she opened the curtains and the shutters so he could look over the papers. After a cursory glance, he set them down. “Appreciate it.”

  She looked away and then back. “There are homes for sale here and there. The boardinghouse has an opening. There’s a room over the tailor’s for rent.”

  “I need a little more room than that. A small house would do.”

  “Well, there is one small house. It’s at the bottom of the hill, just down from here, and it’s vacant.”

  “I’ll take that then.”

  “Don’t you want to see it first?”

  “I can hire someone to clean it.”

  “That won’t be necessary. The church owns it and takes care of the upkeep. I’ll let my father know you’ll be renting it.”

  “As soon as the doctor says I can be on my own, I’ll move in. Maybe in a day or so.”

  The time couldn’t pass quickly enough for Elisabeth. She wanted to send this man on his way and get back to her normal routine.

  Two days later, Gabe stood at the open window, staring out at the mountainside behind the Hart home. The day was bright and the scent of pine lay heavily on the air. He squinted at the forested foothills that rose above the grouping of houses. From half a dozen clotheslines, laundry flapped under the sun.

  “You must be restless by now.”

  He turned at the male voice to see Sam Hart just inside the doorway. “You could say that, yes, sir,” he replied.

  “Di
d Elisabeth mention we’re having guests for dinner this evening?”

  He shook his head. Elisabeth didn’t speak to him any more than was necessary.

  “Think you’re up to joining us? I’m sure you need a different perspective.”

  “Don’t want to horn in on your company.”

  “Nonsense. You’re a new citizen to Jackson Springs. It’s time you meet a few townsfolk and let them get to know you. My wife and I enjoy having additional guests at our table.”

  Gabe nodded. “All right, then.”

  That evening Phillip showed up to assist him in dressing, though Gabe was able to prepare on his own. The lad talked nonstop, telling Gabe about a litter of kittens born under their back porch and how he’d been taking scraps to the mother cat.

  Gabe handled the stairs more easily than the last time he’d attempted the descent, and Phillip directed him to the sitting room.

  Sam stood from where he’d been sitting on a sofa beside a matronly woman and greeted them. He thanked Phillip and made the introductions.

  The stout woman offered her hand in greeting and he touched her fingers briefly, ruefully remembering how he’d asked Elisabeth if their guest was a pretty widow woman. “Mrs. Jackson.”

  Getting to his feet, her son gave Gabe the once-over. His brown hair had been cut short and oiled into order with a precise part just shy of the center of his head. The lines from the teeth of his comb were visible. He wore shiny brown boots with a pinstriped brown suit. Not a bad-looking fellow. He extended a hand.

  It came as no surprise to Gabe that Rhys Jackson didn’t have any calluses on his palms. “Any connection to the town of Jackson Springs?” he asked.

  “My father’s father founded this town thirty-six years ago,” Rhys answered.

  He wasn’t overly tall, but he was built sturdily, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. “Where are you from?” Rhys asked.

  “Born in Illinois but traveled of late.”

  “What’s your trade?” he asked.

  “Worked in a machine shop for a spell,” he replied. “I’ve made shingles and built bridges. Even mined salt for a time.”