He released her so suddenly she had to grab the back of the pew to keep from falling. “My past is my own. I’ve changed and am not the man I used to be, Miss Davis. God forgave me of my sins and set me on a new path. If you have a problem with me being the minister here, take it up with Him—or the church board.”
He spun on his heel and marched out, slamming the door.
Jack lowered herself onto the bench. She shouldn’t have pushed him, but she hadn’t been prepared for her strong attraction to him. His arms felt so strong that he could shoulder any burden, yet she sensed she’d hurt him somehow. Would it have been so bad to let him carry her home?
Yes! It would. The whole town would be talking, and he just might lose his job, and she’d lose Tessa’s friendship, such as it was. She found her paper and held it to her chest. How could she face him again?
But even more important, how could she discover what it was in his past that he wanted to keep secret?
Chapter 11
Carly twisted her hands as Lookout came into view. If things went as bad this time as on her last visit, she didn’t know what she’d do. Jobs for unmarried women were hard enough to find, but for her, it was much more difficult. Few people wanted to hire an ex-convict.
She studied the buildings as they drew closer to Lookout. The town had grown quite a lot over the past decade. They drove past a schoolhouse that hadn’t been there before and then the church. Would the members of this congregation be more accepting of her than the last?
Shaking off her worry, she glanced at Mr. Corbett. “How is your arm? I truly didn’t mind driving.”
“It’s nothing.”He gnawed on a stem of dried grass he’d plucked after he’d tied the thieves’ horses to the back of the wagon. “Those fellows still passed out back there?”
Carly twisted around on the seat and studied the two robbers that they’d thrown over the horses and bound. One man’s head was lifted, but thankfully it was turned away from her. The other man didn’t look as if he’d moved a muscle. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t killed him, even though they’d probably planned to rob them. She knew well how individuals with a tainted upbringing could change when God got ahold of them, and she muttered a brief prayer for their souls.
The wagon slowed, and she turned to see the boardinghouse. The light green, three-story home with white trim looked exactly the same. The porch railing, with its white spindles, still encircled the house, and even the rocking chairs survived, awaiting someone with a few minutes to relax. She swallowed hard. Rachel would welcome her with open arms, but what about the marshal? He’d been the one to arrest her and take her to Dallas all those years ago, once he learned she was a wanted outlaw, pretending to be one of the mail-order brides who had come to marry him.
What if he had picked her and they’d married? Would she have actually gone that far? All she’d wanted was the chance to get away from her brother and stop living an outlaw’s life. Her plans to find out about gold shipments had failed, but she’d made some good friends—one in particular. She was counting on that friend to allow her to live in her home for the time being.
Shoring up her nerves, Carly thought about the past. She knew in her heart that back then, she would have married the marshal if given the chance, even with the constant threat of him figuring out she was a member of the Payton gang—albeit a reluctant member. Nothing was more important to her than having a home and people who cared about her. Even her own brother had wanted her around only so he could use her to his advantage. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. At least he could never hurt her again.
The wagon stopped, and she heaved a sigh. Time to find out how things would be. If the marshal was uncomfortable around her, she couldn’t stay. Rachel had saved her life by leading her to Christ, and Carly wasn’t about to cause her strife in her own home.
“What are you so antsy about?” Mr. Corbett set the brake, then looped the reins around the wooden handle.
Carly’s heart leapt into her throat. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”
He grinned, revealing his straight white teeth. “Oh, maybe it was all the squirming you’ve done ever since Lookout came into view. Or maybe it was because you grabbed hold of my arm and wouldn’t turn loose.”
Carly gasped. “I did no such thing.”
His head bobbed up and down. “You did. Wanna see the marks your fingernails made on my skin?” He winced as he moved his injured arm and started unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve.
“That isn’t necessary. I apologize for causing you so much trouble, Mr. Corbett. Thank you for the ride.” She stood and reached over the seat to retrieve her satchel, but when she turned back, he tried to take it from her.
“I’ll carry that.”
“No, please let go. You’re injured, and I’m quite capable of handling it myself.” She gave it a sharp yank, but he didn’t let go.
His interesting lips curved up in a grin that would probably melt the heart of a less-determined woman. This man had interfered in the lives of too many woman. She wasn’t about to let him mess with hers. Such as it was.
“A gentleman always assists a lady.”
Since when were the ornery Corbett brothers gentlemen? Carly tugged again on the handle, confused by his sudden desire to be her champion. Back on the prairie when he’d learned her name, he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She mulled over how to retrieve her satchel from his tight grasp. Surely she could out-tug a man weakened by a bullet wound in one arm. Maybe she just needed to distract him. “So, now I’m a lady? That ain’t what you thought earlier.”
His grin faded, and his gaze turned serious. “That was before you saved my life with your fancy shooting.”
Dread churned in her belly like bad stew. “You ain’t gonna tell no one, are ya?” Carly winced. Whenever she got upset, she tended to fall back into speaking how she used to—before Tillie taught her proper grammar.
His brows lifted up to the edge of his hat. “Why not? That’s something to be proud of. Not many men can shoot that good, much less a woman.”
Much less a woman. For some odd reason it hurt her to learn he was one of those men who thought women inferior. She wouldn’t argue that men were stronger, but she had learned to be clever and resourceful just to survive. He watched her with those intriguing eyes. If he expected her to thank him for his offhanded compliment, he’d be waiting a long time.
She heard the front door to the boardinghouse open behind her, and Mr. Corbett’s gaze darted past her shoulder. She took that moment to give another hard, two-handed jerk, and the bag not only fell free of his hand, but it sailed backward out of hers as well.
“Hey! Watch it.”
Carly spun around from the momentum and nearly toppled across the nearest horse’s rump. She swung her arms, struggling to regain her balance and not fall off the wagon. Mr. Corbett grabbed her arm, steadying her, and she saw Marshal Davis standing in front of the door, holding her bag against his chest, one brow lifted, an odd expression playing on his face. The sun glinted off the badge pinned to his shirt, and Carly dropped onto the bench seat. So much for making a good first impression.
Mr. Corbett chuckled and glanced up at the sky. “I’ve heard of it raining cats and dogs, but satchels? We’d better hurry up and get inside before any more fall from the sky. I’ve already conked my head once today, and that’s enough.” He held his hand toward Carly. “After you, Miss Payton.”
The marshal set her bag in a rocker near the front door and strode forward. Carly’s heart raced as if she’d just robbed a bank and was being pursued by a posse. She attempted to swallow the big lump in her throat, but her mouth was so dry she was about to spit cotton. Rachel’s husband hadn’t changed a whole lot except for looking a bit older. He was still a handsome man, but she’d hardly expected his welcoming smile or the lack of condemnation in his brown eyes.
He stopped next to the wagon and raised a hand. “Rachel’s half beside herself from excitement to see you again. She’
s been baking all morning.”
Steeling herself, Carly allowed him to help her out of the wagon. He released her hand, and she glanced up at him. She’d forgotten how tall he was. Mr. Corbett had to be close to six feet, and the marshal was at least two inches taller. He smiled at her then glanced at his cousin, still standing in the wagon. His smile dimmed as he looked at the two men tied to their horses. “What happened to you, Cuz, and who are they?”
Mr. Corbett hopped down and winced when his feet hit the ground. He grabbed his arm and gritted his teeth so hard that Carly could see his jaw tense. “They shot me.”
“Shot? How bad is it?” The marshal glanced at Mr. Corbett’s arm.
“I’ll make it. I guess they’d planned to rob us, but they didn’t count on—”
Carly cleared her throat, and both men’s eyes swerved toward her. If she was going to be arrested because she used a weapon after the prison warden instructed her to never touch one again, she at least wanted to see Rachel first. “Would you mind if I go inside while y’all tend to those men? I’m anxious to see Rachel.” And to get away from you two.
The marshal nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Miss Payton. I know you’ve had a long journey.” He offered his arm, and she let him help her up the stairs. “Rachel’s been holding lunch until you arrived.”
“Lunch?” Mr. Corbett lifted his nose and sniffed. “Did someone mention food?”
“You’re as bad as my kids.” Marshal Davis shook his head and grinned. “And what’s that on your arm? I didn’t realize pink calico was the new style in arm bands.”
Sticking out his elbow, Mr. Corbett flicked the loose fabric where Carly had tied a knot. His ears were red, but instead of acting embarrassed, he grinned. “Yeah, well, I’m not the only one wearing it. Them two probably need to have the doc look them over.”
Carly resisted shaking her head. The man had been a joker when she’d been here before and never seemed to take anything seriously—except for when she’d told him her real name. He’d been more flustered than a rooster who had seen his last hen served up for someone’s dinner. He hadn’t cracked any jokes then. Still, she owed him a debt. “Thank you, Mr. Corbett, for giving me a ride here, in spite of the fact that you weren’t expecting me.”
The marshal grinned. “That was Rachel’s idea. How’d you like her surprise?”
Mr. Corbett frowned at Carly, then mumbled something about seeing to his horses.
“You don’t like it so much when the joke’s on you, huh?” Chuckling, Marshal Davis grabbed her satchel, then opened the door. He paused and looked back at his cousin. “I’ll take Miss Payton inside and send Alan over to fetch Doc Phillips. Then I’ll help you with those fellows and the team. And I want the doc to check your arm.” He opened the door and pushed it. “After you, ma’am.”
Carly slipped past him, her stomach awhirl, and stepped into the boardinghouse. Fragrant aromas emanated from the kitchen, and she felt almost as if she’d stepped back ten years. The only difference she noticed right off was that the parlor walls had been painted light blue. Several toys littered the floor, as if a child had just hurriedly left the room. The marshal set her satchel on the hall tree bench, then strode toward the kitchen. He disappeared through the doorway, and Carly heard a high-pitched squeal.
Rachel bustled out of the kitchen and chugged down the hall like a locomotive building steam, her light blue eyes sparkling. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.” She pulled Carly into an awkward embrace. Then she stepped back and patted her belly. “Oscar, here, gets in the way of things at times.”
Lifting one brow, Carly stared at her friend. “Oscar?”
Rachel laughed. “That’s what Luke called our first baby before it was born, and it just stuck. They’re Oscar while they’re in my womb, but once they come out, they get a name of their own.”
Carly had never heard of such a thing, but then she hadn’t been around many women carrying babies other than the few who had visited Tillie. “It’s so good to see you again.”
Rachel nodded. “You, too. I’m glad you finally decided to come and stay with us.”
The back kitchen door banged, and a boy charged out of the kitchen and down the hall, followed by the marshal. A girl of about five or six raced after him. Alan and Abby, Carly assumed. They were just as Rachel had described them in her letters.
“Gotta go, Ma. Papa needs the doctor.”
Rachel’s gaze jumped from her son to her husband. “Are you hurt?”
Marshal Davis shook his head. “Not me—Garrett and two men he shot.”
Carly bit her lip to keep from correcting him. Maybe Mr. Corbett would keep her secret, but she doubted it.
“I’m goin’ with Alan,” Abby said.
The boy skidded to a halt. “Nuh-uh. Tell her to stay here, Papa. You said I could go.”
Marshal Davis lifted a brow. “I’m the one who gives orders around here, Son, not you. Take your sister, but hurry back. Your ma has the food ready.”
The boy’s shoulders sagged, but his sister’s grin illuminated the room. Carly smiled at the child. Alan’s medium brown hair and blue eyes favored his ma, while Abby—if she was remembering right from Rachel’s letters—had blond hair and her father’s eyes.
“I’m gonna beat you.” Abby lunged for the front door.
“Nuh-uh!” Alan charged after her, nearly knocking Carly down.
“Slow down and stay clear of the horses and wagons,” Rachel hollered.
Carly watched the two children fight to get out the door first and shook her head. Rachel had written to her about the rambunctious children, but Carly hadn’t believed they were so wild until she saw it with her own eyes. They reminded her of Jacqueline.
“Garrett’s hurt?” Rachel asked. “How bad?”
The marshal glanced at Carly as if asking her to respond. “Not too bad. God must have been watching over him, because the bullet just grazed his upper arm. It’s a deep gouge but should heal all right if Mr. Corbett doesn’t overuse his arm for a while.”
“Let’s sit a minute while you tell me what happened.” Rachel looped her hand around Carly’s elbow and tugged her into the parlor as the marshal headed for the door, eating one of Rachel’s biscuits.
Carly relayed the story, leaving out the part about her shooting their attackers and also the part about Mr. Corbett’s reaction to finding a passenger at the depot instead of a package. If he wanted them to know of his shock, he could tell them.
Rachel shook her head. “I think that’s only the second or third time a Corbett Freight wagon has been attacked before. At least you got the men, so they can’t hurt anyone else. And Garrett truly seems to be all right?”
Carly nodded. “He’s in some pain, but he wouldn’t let me drive the wagon, and he was joking some.”
“That sounds like him. Stubborn as Luke.” Rachel shook her head and blew out an exasperated breath. Then she took Carly’s hands. “I was so sorry to hear about Tillie and how you had to move out of the Barker home. I know you enjoyed living there.”
Carly shrugged and pulled her hands back to her lap. “I do miss Tillie—and the reverend—but I can’t say I miss that town much.”
“Were the people unkind?”
She studied the braided rug at her feet, remembering how many of the church folks shunned her. “Some, but not all.”
Rachel clutched Carly’s hands again, drawing her gaze up. “I’m sure things will be different here. You can start over. I’m so excited to have you here.”
Carly smiled, trying to stir up her enthusiasm to match Rachel’s. “But I must find work, and who’ll hire an ex-convict?”
Blinking, Rachel stared at her, looking confused. “Didn’t you receive my last letter?”
Carly searched her mind, then shook her head. “The last one I got arrived about a month ago. Then your telegram that said, ‘Come.’“
“I wrote you after you told me that it looked like Mrs. Barker was failing. Oh, Oscar is kicking m
e.” She leaned back and rubbed her hand across the right side of her stomach.
Carly wondered if she’d ever get to experience being a mother—to feel her own child move and kick within. At twenty-eight, she was well into spinsterhood. She smiled as she held her hands tightly together to keep from fidgeting.
“Anyway, before Oscar interrupted, I was going to say that I wrote and asked you to come and help me.”
“Of course I’ll help. You know you don’t have to ask after all you’ve done for me. I imagine you must get exhausted tending this big place and cooking and caring for your family, especially now with the baby so close to coming.”
“Thank you. I’ll admit it is harder when I’m this far along in my pregnancy.” She turned and stared out the window, her cheeks pink, as if embarrassed to talk about such a delicate topic. “Jacqueline is a lot of help most of the time, but this week she’s been in bed after … uh … taking a fall. She’s getting up and around some now, but I don’t want to have to depend on her all the time.”
Carly’s stomach growled at the delicious scents drifting through the house, and she placed her hand against it. “Is she still writing stories for the newspaper?”
“Yes.” Rachel pursed her lips. “But that’s not the worst of it. She wants to move to Dallas and write for a larger paper. She doesn’t think I know, but I overheard her talking with her friends one day.”
Carly knew how hard it would be on Rachel to have her eldest daughter move away, not just because Rachel wouldn’t have help, but more so because of Jack’s hankering after adventure and getting into trouble. “I’m sorry. That worries you, doesn’t it?”
Rachel nodded and pushed up out of the chair. “Yes, it surely does. But she’s a grown woman now, and I’ve got to trust God to take care of her.” A smile flitted across her lips. “Don’t tell her, but I’ve been praying the Lord would bring a nice young man to town who will steal her heart and make her forget about Dallas.”
Carly stood and picked up her bag. “And has He?”
Finally a Bride Page 11
