Finally a Bride

by McDonough, Vickie;

  “Emporia, ma’am.”

  “Isn’t there a sawmill in Emporia?” Luke set his plate down and reached across the table for the butter.

  “Yes, there is. They cut a lot of wood there, but most of the lumber is shipped by train to Houston.” Using his fork, the minister lifted one corner of his meat, which he’d covered with the red-eye gravy her ma had made.

  Intrigued, Jack watched him. His brow crinkled, and he leaned down, as if to sniff his food, then glanced up and caught her watching. Quickly he cut a bite of meat and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed it a few times, and she’d have sworn—if she swore—that he turned three shades of white before he all but turned green. His cheeks puffed out as if he’d belched. A panicked look engulfed his handsome face as he glanced one direction and then the other. Suddenly he leapt from his chair and rushed out of the room.

  “My heavens.” Her mother looked at Luke. “What do you suppose that was about?”

  Luke shook his head and glanced at his plate. He blew out a sigh. “Don’t know, but I’ll go check on ‘im.”

  “If’n he’s done eatin’, can I have his food?” Alan reached over to take the pastor’s biscuit.

  Her ma snapped her fingers. “Don’t touch that. I’m sure he’ll be right back.” Then she glanced over and met Jack’s eyes. Her brows lifted.

  Jack shrugged. “That was the strangest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

  Noah’s stomach swirled and cramped, and he bent over the porch railing and heaved. Once he retched, his belly settled. With his hands spread apart, he leaned on the railing, his head hanging. What a fool he’d made of himself. How could he go back in there?

  “You all right, Reverend?” Mr. Davis stopped a few feet behind him.

  “I’m sorry, sir.” He straightened, pressing a hand to his stomach, and turned. “I guess I should have told your wife that I can’t eat pork. It’s just that I thought your daughter—the middle one—said it was pot roast.”

  Luke smiled. “Abby sometimes gets confused on the meat we’re having. If it looks like a roast, it’s a pot roast to her.”

  Noah rubbed his hand across his mouth, making a mental note to look the meat over better before taking any in the future. “I hate to think I hurt your wife’s feelings. I feel bad about that.”

  “Think nothing of it. Rachel’s run this place for close to fifteen years. She’s used to people having particular tastes or not being able to tolerate certain foods.”

  “I just don’t want her going to any extra effort on my behalf.”

  Luke clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about her. She’s a good-natured woman and wants to please her guests.” He stared at Noah; then his brows dipped. “Have we met before? There’s something familiar about you.”

  Noah’s heart jolted. He wasn’t ready to tell people his true identity. What would the marshal say if he knew who he actually was? Would he kick him out of his home? Out of town?

  A wagon rolled to a stop in the street, and the marshal turned his attention to it. He smiled. “When’d you get back home, Garrett?”

  Noah studied the man in the wagon, grateful for the reprieve. He fully intended to answer the marshal’s question, but he needed more time first. He had things to do in this town—to make recompense for injuries he’d caused in his youth.

  “Afternoon, Luke. I just rolled into town. I suppose you’ve already had your lunch.”

  Luke shook his head. “We’ve just started eating. C’mon in and join us.”

  Noah recognized Garrett Corbett, the older of the marshal’s two cousins. The man glanced down at the mess Noah had made in the grass, then back up. His brows lifted. “Is Rachel trying out a new recipe? Or did Jack cook?”

  Luke chuckled and shook his head. “Neither. This here’s our new parson, Reverend Jeffers.” Noah extended his hand toward Garrett.

  “I’d appreciate it if y’all would call me Noah.”

  “Nice to meet you, Reverend.” Garrett nodded. “Just let me take the wagon around to the freight office and tend to my horses; then I’ll wash up and come back.” He clucked to the horses, and they plodded forward.

  Luke waved and turned to face Noah. “Are you ready to go inside now?”

  Noah hung his head. How could he face Mrs. Davis after his uncouth flight from her table? How could he face Jack?

  “Don’t be worrying so much, Noah. You’re not the first in this house to air their paunch.”

  “I hope I didn’t make your wife feel bad. The beans I ate were delicious.”

  Luke crossed the porch and opened the front door. “C’mon. Rachel will be fine. I’ll explain to her.”

  “If you could show me where a bucket and the water is, I’ll take care of”—he motioned toward the porch rail—”uh … that.”

  Luke shook his head. “No need. I’ll tend to it. Just come on back inside.”

  Noah nodded and trudged across the porch. He hadn’t been here a full day yet, and he’d already made a fool of himself. If only Abby hadn’t said the meat was pot roast, then he wouldn’t have taken any. He hated wasting food, but there was no way he could eat two bites of that pork—much less that large slice he’d taken. He could only hope Mrs. Davis would forgive him.

  Jack watched Noah Jeffers wolf down his food—everything, that is, except his meat. Whatever had bothered him earlier no longer affected him. Perhaps he didn’t like the flavor of the meat, or maybe something had gotten stuck in his throat.

  “When is your next trip to Denison, Garrett?” Her mother pulled a biscuit in half and buttered both sides then handed one to Abby and the other to Emma.

  “I was thinking about headin’ that way in a day or two.” Garrett stabbed a bite of meat and shoved it in his mouth. “Why?”

  The parson turned his head away, looking pale again. Jack glanced down at her slice of pork. Was something wrong with it? She hadn’t noticed that it tasted odd. She cut a bite and lifted it to her nose and took a quick sniff. Fine. No, not fine, it smelled downright tasty. She put the bite in her mouth, relishing its delicious flavor.

  “I have a package that needs to be picked up at the train depot in Denison, and I wondered if you could get it for me.”

  Garrett nodded and forked some green beans into his mouth. “Sure thing. Do you know when it’s supposed to arrive?”

  Jack thought of Garrett Corbett as more of an uncle than her stepfather’s cousin. Even though he was close to forty, he was still a handsome man with blond hair and eyes that often gleamed with mischief. She loved his blue eyes. If only hers were that vivid hue that put her in mind of a robin’s egg instead of being so dark a blue.

  “Yes, it should be there in two days.”

  Luke stared at Ma then lifted his brows. Jack glanced at her mother in time to catch her smothering a grin. What was that about?

  She couldn’t think of anything her ma had ordered. They had just celebrated Luke’s birthday, and nobody else had one for a few months, so it couldn’t be a present. She spent the rest of the meal contemplating that mystery. The reporter in her just couldn’t let it go.

  Alan stood up first. “Can I be excused?”

  “May I,” Abby stated like a little teacher.

  “I asked first,” Alan whined and curled up his lip at Abby.

  “You may both take your dishes to the kitchen,” her papa said. “Alan, fetch a bucket of water and set it on the front porch. Abby, you can help your ma clear the table and clean up.”

  Abby scowled and glanced at Jack. “What about Sissy?”

  Her mother wiped Emmie’s face with the towel tied around the girl’s neck. “You know Jacqueline can’t be on her feet yet. She needs to rest her knee. In fact, she shouldn’t even be downstairs so soon after her accident.” She cast her husband a mock glare.

  Luke shrugged. “She’s all right, Rachel. I’ll make sure she takes things easy.”

  Jack’s mother sighed. “Fine. I suppose it won’t hurt her to rest on the sofa or even sit in a ro
cker on the porch for a bit.”

  Luke grinned and winked at Jack. She couldn’t help smiling back at him. They were shameful to gang up on her ma, especially when she was going to birth a baby in the next few weeks, but Jack had to get out of that bedroom. How else was she going to get a story about the parson?

  She peeked over at him. He was listening to Garrett tell a story about a duck that hitched a ride on his freight wagon. She smiled at Garrett’s animated expression and his arms, which flapped like wings. Emmie giggled at him and lifted her arms up and down.

  “Well, I need to get the wagon unloaded.”

  All three men stood at once. Luke picked up his plate, as well as Garrett’s and Mr. Jeffers. “Have you heard anything from Mark lately?”

  Garrett swigged back the last of his water and set the glass down. “Yep. He and Shannon are talking about maybe moving back here.”

  “Truly!” Jack’s ma hurried back into the dining room. “It would be so nice to see them more often.”

  “I don’t know if they will, but they’re considering it since Lookout is growing so much. Dallas is gettin’ really big now, and Shannon wants to raise the children in a smaller town.” Garrett lifted his hat off the corner of his chair and set it on his head. “I just don’t know if we have enough call for a lawyer here, though.”

  “The closest one I know about is in Denison, and you know that’s several hours’ ride away. Some of the folks who live in the small towns around Lookout may need one on an occasion.” Luke wrapped his arm around Rachel’s shoulders.

  Garrett stretched and scratched his belly. “The food was great, as usual, Rachel. Thanks for letting me invite myself to dinner.”

  “Anytime.” She smiled.

  Garrett held his hand out to the minister. “Nice to meet you, Reverend.”

  “It’s Noah, and a pleasure to meet you, too.”

  “I guess I’d better carry Half Bit back to her room, although I don’t know if I can manage after eating all that good food.” Luke kissed Ma’s head and winked at Jack. “Maybe you could sit in the parlor for a spell until my food has time to settle.”

  Jack bit back a grin. “I could manage that for a while.”

  “Oh! You two.” Ma gently swatted Luke’s stomach. “You’re not fooling anyone with that act of yours.” She pushed away from him and grabbed the bowl of beans off the buffet.

  “Ma, Alan spilled water on the floor and got my shoe wet.”

  Ma rolled her eyes. “I’m coming.”

  Luke reached down and hoisted Emmie into his arms. He nibbled her neck, eliciting a giggle from the toddler.

  A melancholy smile lifted the parson’s lips. He pushed away from the chair’s back he’d been holding on to. “I reckon I’ll go back upstairs and study my sermon some more.”

  Jack jumped up, immediately regretting her quick action as a sharp pain clutched her knee. She tried not to grimace but must have failed because Luke set Emma down and hurried to her side. She gazed back at Noah Jeffers, who stared at her with compassion in his obsidian eyes. “Actually, I was wondering if I could interview you for the town newspaper—the Lookout Ledger.”

  Chapter 6

  Noah followed the marshal as he helped Jack make her way into the parlor. Things would have been a whole lot quicker if Noah had scooped her up in his arms and carried her, but that would hardly seem proper. He paused at the stairway that held his escape and glanced up to the second floor. The last thing he wanted was a newspaper article about him.

  “You’re not thinking of running out on me, are you, Reverend?” Jack’s expressive tone alerted him that she’d had her eye on him and wasn’t about to take no for an answer.

  He resisted tugging at his collar, which suddenly seemed too tight against his throat. Sighing, he strode into the parlor as the marshal slid a chair toward the couch.

  Jack discreetly lifted her injured leg onto the seat and rearranged her skirts. “Would you mind bringing me some paper and a pencil, Papa?”

  “I don’t mind, but be nice to him, Half Bit.” The marshal flashed Noah a teasing grin. “We don’t want the parson leaving town before we get to hear him preach.”

  Noah thought they all might just be better off if he did leave, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Doubt was something he frequently battled. Pete had told him often to not belittle his efforts, because Noah prayed hard and studied God’s Word before preaching a sermon, and if his message was God-inspired, then disparaging himself was also demeaning the Lord. He perched on the end of a chair across the room from the couch where Jack sat, bouncing one leg.

  His gaze ran around the large parlor, but it kept stopping at Jack, no matter how hard he tried to not look at her. She’d matured from a rowdy tomboy who preferred overalls to dresses into a lovely young woman, but the ornery gleam still sparked in her pretty eyes—eyes the color of blueberries. She flipped her waist-long hair, which was tied with a yellow ribbon, over her shoulder. He couldn’t be certain until he saw her in the sunlight, but he thought that it had darkened over the years, looking more brown than red. His fingers moved, as if to reach out and touch her creamy skin, which held the faint hint of the sun. He sighed again and looked out a nearby window. Coming to Lookout had been a bad idea. If only he could convince the Lord of that—then maybe he could hightail it back to Emporia.

  Jack’s gaze flitted to his then back to the doorway. She fidgeted with her skirts and tugged at the cuff of each sleeve. “I wonder what’s keeping Luke.”

  His brows lifted. “You refer to your father by his first name?”

  Jack’s cheeks actually pinked up. “Luke’s been my stepfather for ten years now, but he’s the only father I’ve ever cared for. I guess I sometimes call him Luke because that’s how I referred to him before he married my ma.”

  Noah leaned back, his hands holding on to the arms of the chair. He knew that, but she didn’t know he did. Maybe he could get some answers to his own questions. “So, I’m guessing that you didn’t care much for your real father.”

  Jack’s eyes flashed, and he recognized the spunk that had often gotten her in trouble in past years. She lifted her nose in the air. “I hardly see what that has to do with anything.”

  He offered her a placating smile. “We are who we are because of our past, Miss Ha—uh … Davis.” Sweat beaded on Noah’s forehead at his near-miss. He’d almost called her Miss Hamilton—the name he’d known her by previously. He’d have to watch himself and be extra careful around her.

  Jack’s narrowed gaze pierced him, but he forced himself to sit still and return her stare. The marshal strode back into the room, paper in hand. “Here you go.”

  Jack took the items without breaking Noah’s gaze. His heart thumped harder. The marshal glanced from her to Noah and back. He scratched his hand, then rested his thumbs in his waistband. “You want me to stay, Half Bit?”

  Finally she looked up at her stepfather and offered a cordial smile. “No, thank you. That’s not necessary—that is, unless the parson is afraid to be alone with me.” She wielded her smile like a weapon.

  A bead of sweat trickled down Noah’s spine, but he forced himself not to move. He was not without the means of affecting an unabashed female when the occasion warranted. He planted a smile on his face—his best feature next to his dark eyes, so he’d been told—and when the marshal glanced at Jack again, Noah winked at her.

  Her mouth opened wide, and the marshal spun back toward him, obviously wondering what he’d missed. Noah resisted chuckling and affected a straight face then rubbed his eye. “Your daughter is safe with me, I promise, Marshal.”

  The man stared at him for a long moment then gave a quick nod and spun on his heel, leaving the room.

  Jack leaned forward, her lids lowered halfway, her blue eyes cold as ice. “Are you in the habit of winking at single females, Reverend?” Her snide tone left no doubt that she’d taken offense.

  “I beg your pardon.” He rubbed his eye again, and she blinked. Confusion
wrinkled her brow, and she stared at her blank paper.

  “Um … never mind. I must have misconstrued your actions.” She scribbled something on the paper. “So tell me, Reverend, where do you hail from?”

  “Emporia, like I said at the table.”

  “And have you always lived there?”

  He swallowed hard and stared at the top of her head while she wrote some more. Too soon she glanced up and lifted her brows. His heart flip-flopped at her direct perusal. “Uh … no, not always.”

  “Where else have you lived?”

  He straightened, knowing he’d have to divert her train of thought if he was going to stay truthful—and he fully intended to as much as possible. “I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

  Her mouth quirked to one side in an enticing manner, and he focused on the bottom of her bare foot, which faced him where it lay on the chair. How could her feet be so small?

  “Where did you receive your ministerial training?”

  “From the man who took me in after my father died. His name is Pete Jeffers.”

  Her gaze darted up from her notes. “You changed your last name?”

  He nodded.

  “Isn’t that a bit drastic? I mean, was your original last name so awful you couldn’t abide it?”

  He lifted his brow at her question and turned the cards on her. They were more alike than she realized. “Was your original surname so awful you couldn’t abide it?”

  “What?” Her expression blanked out, and he knew the moment she realized what she’d asked. “Oh dear. I suppose that did sound rather crass.” Her pinks grew rosy, and she chuckled. “My birth name was Hamilton, but after Luke married my ma, I chose to use his surname. It wasn’t my name that was awful, Reverend Jeffers, but rather my father.”

  He’d remembered hearing scuttlebutt about James Hamilton, but the man had died before Noah first came to Lookout. His fist tightened to think that Jack’s father could have hurt her so badly that she’d still be bitter today. “Have you found it within yourself to forgive your father, Miss Davis?”