The Brides of Chance Collection
Page 18
“How are you feeling, Mr. Chance?”
He offered her a wobbly smile. “Like I’ve been shot. What happened? I’m obviously not dead. Unless, of course, you’re an angel.”
A beguiling blush darkened her rosy cheeks. “I’m afraid you’re still mortal, Mr. Chance. And I most certainly am, as well.”
A shadow blocked the glow of the retreating sun. The stage master stood over him. “Well, if that bullet had been a little more to the left, he wouldn’t be with us. As it is, he’s going to have a monster of a headache for a few days from that nick.” His gravelly voice held not a trace of sympathy. Like a grizzled Westerner, he stated the simple facts. “Them varmints took off like a couple of scared jackrabbits after you pitched to the ground. Lucky for you they couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a sawed-off shotgun.”
It had nothing to do with luck, he thought, at the same time Miss Worthington said, “Luck had nothing to do with it, Mr. Wayne. God surely had His hand on Mr. Chance.”
Hmmm. He gazed into her suspiciously moist eyes and smiled. She smiled back. “Are you able to get up now?”
He’d rather just stay there forever, close his eyes, and relieve the pain in his head, but he couldn’t take advantage of her generous spirit and soft lap any longer. He sat up again, this time with her assistance. The world spun for a moment. Miss Worthington handed him the wet handkerchief she’d been holding against his head.
“Thank you.”
His gaze locked onto hers, and he felt time stand still. How could he have ever believed himself in love with a woman like Prissy White? He couldn’t even remember what she looked like, except for the ridiculous false blond curls she’d recently taken to wearing. Funny, two weeks ago, he’d found them attractive. But that was before he’d met Miss Worthington. And right now she seemed to be having as much trouble looking away as he was having.
Mr. Wayne stepped forward and offered his hand. “Well, let’s get you back into the stage. I got a schedule to keep.”
Titus groaned as pain stabbed his head. Movement wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but he gritted his teeth and closed his eyes as the stage master hefted him to his feet. Miss Worthington stood on one side of him. He swayed as the world spun. The gentle pressure of her palm heated his back. “It’s all right, Mr. Chance. I won’t let you fall.”
Her gentle, sincere voice made him smile, despite the pain. If he’d been feeling better, he’d have asked her who would hold her up if he started to fall. Instead, he accepted her assistance to the stage. She climbed in ahead of him and then offered her hands while Mr. Wayne helped him from behind. When he was finally settled into the seat, his head throbbed. All he wanted was to lie down and sleep. Since the cramped interior and narrow seat prevented him from doing so, he stretched out sideways as much as possible and slumped against the window.
Mrs. Greene gasped softly. As she had been earlier, she sat next to Miss Worthington, clutching Davy tightly in her grasp. “Oh, I am so relieved that you are all right, Mr. Chance. I just knew that bullet went through your head. I had to bring Davy inside so he didn’t have to see all the blood. He’s very sensitive. I feared for his peace of mind.”
“The bullet only grazed Mr. Chance,” Alisa broke in, much to Titus’s relief. He didn’t feel like talking, as his stomach was beginning to rebel against the jostle of the stagecoach, not to mention the vivid image of his blood spilling on the ground. Thank You, Lord, for steering that bullet away from my skull.
Regrettably, Mrs. Greene didn’t take the hint. “Oh, that is fortunate for you. I once knew a man who—”
Titus closed his eyes against the pain.
“Perhaps we should let Mr. Chance rest.” Titus heard the sweetness of Miss Worthington’s voice just as he drifted to sleep.
He awoke to the same sweet voice. “Wake up, Mr. Chance. We’ve arrived in Reliable.”
His head throbbed, but he smiled. He could get used to waking up to that sound every day. When he opened his eyes, she was leaning forward, concern plainly written in her expression. As he met her gaze, relief replaced concern. His first attempt to sit up straight failed as a bolt of pain sent him back to the seat with a moan.
“Sit up slowly,” Miss Worthington admonished.
It felt good to have a woman fuss over him. And even more so when she placed her hand on his side and gently helped him to an upright position. Gideon’s assessment of things sure had been right. There was nothing like a woman’s touch. Of course, Gideon was a happily married man. Not just any woman’s touch would do. Take Prissy for instance. Her hand tucked inside the crook of his arm had never sent shocks of warmth down his spine. Now, Miss Worthington was a different matter altogether. He could barely remember where he was when he was so close to this woman. And he was almost certain the near-amnesia was due to the sweetness of her touch and not his wound.
Clarity slowly replaced his confusion, and he glanced through the window as the stage rolled to a halt in front of an eating establishment.
“I have never been so happy to see a dusty old town in my life!” Mrs. Greene said, and Titus had to agree with her. The stage master opened the door.
“Everyone out. We’re behind as it is. Other folks are waitin’. There’s dinner waitin’ inside iffen you can pay for it.”
“My, oh my, I am famished.” Mrs. Greene climbed out of the coach and reached around for Davy. “Are you hungry, darling? It’s a good thing Mommy had some money hidden away from those bad, bad men.” She turned to Titus and Miss Worthington. “It was so nice meeting you both. I am sure in a town this size, we will meet again. Say good-bye, Davy.”
“Bye.” The farewell was hardly discernable as the chubby little boy’s attention was averted to the source of food. He yanked on his mother’s hand. “Come on, Mama.”
With a final dimpled smile, Mrs. Greene stepped inside the diner. The dinnertime smells wafting from the building tempted Titus’s stomach. He could only guess how the aroma of roasted meat and freshly baked bread was affecting Miss Worthington.
She looked around, her lip clasped between her teeth, brow furrowed. Titus’s heart went out to her. What was she going to do? Where on earth would she sleep? The sun had set two hours earlier. Even if she were to find work, it certainly wouldn’t be tonight. At that moment, chivalry was born in Titus’s heart. There was no getting around it. He would help her. His heart had already made the choice for him, and there was nothing to do but follow along.
He would need help getting home; there was no question about that. If it was day light, the solution would be obvious. Hire a team and buggy from the livery and appeal to her sense of pity. But no decent woman would agree to spending so much as an hour in the dark traveling out to the ranch. And no decent man would dare ask. As badly as he’d like to find a place to sleep for the night, he knew Miss Worthington couldn’t afford to rent a room, and he was loath to leave her alone.
“Well…” Her shoulders trembled as she took a shaky breath. She turned to him, her lips curving into a half smile. “Be careful not to overexert yourself until that gash heals. And you, um, might want to get out your hanky. You seem to be bleeding again.”
He fished out his handkerchief and pressed it to his temple.
“Good-bye, Mr. Chance. Thank you for your kindness earlier.” She walked away. Heart in his throat, Titus watched her go, trying desperately to think of a way to make her stay.
“Miss Worthington.” He hurried to join her.
“Yes?”
Gulping like a schoolboy who, for the very first time, figures out that girls aren’t a nuisance, Titus clenched his hat tightly. “It would be my honor if you would accompany me inside for a meal.” Holding his breath, he awaited her answer, all the while allowing his mind to think ahead.
Her eyebrows pushed together into a deep frown. “I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Chance, but I cannot accept charity.” She gave a stubborn jerk of her chin. The show of dignity shot like an arrow, piercing Titus’s heart. T
he tremor in her bottom lip as she desperately fought for control beckoned to be kissed away. Though everything in him begged to comply, he knew better.
Charity. She thought that was what he was offering? How did he tell her that he’d been born the moment he looked into her eyes? That the sky was bluer, the air fresher? That all he could think about were her beautiful, fawnlike eyes and silky auburn hair?
She cleared her throat, and he realized he’d been staring. “Good-bye, Mr. Chance. Once again, thank you for your kindness.”
Knowing it was now or never, Titus gently took hold of her arm. “Miss Worthington, I would never insult you by implying you would accept charity.” He pressed his hat over his heart. “The truth is, I’d love the chance to repay your kindness.”
She hesitated, the lamplight reflecting the doubt in her eyes.
“Humor me? Please?”
A smile played across her lips. “All right, Mr. Chance. You’ve talked me into it.”
Relief flooded him. For the next hour and a half he would enjoy her company, during which time he would try to figure out a way to help a woman who refused to take charity.
Alisa was forced to use all her restraint not to slurp the delicious vegetable soup or wolf down warm slices of buttered bread. Slowly, much too slowly, her stomach began to lose the empty ache that had plagued her for two days and two nights. She ventured a glance at Mr. Chance. The gash on his temple still didn’t look too good. “How’s that feeling?” she asked.
“I guess if I said, ‘Like I’ve been shot,’ you’d just think I was trying to make you laugh again.”
Laughter bubbled from her.
“Ah, and I see it worked.”
She’d never met anyone quite like Mr. Chance. A smart, funny man with a heart of gold. She wasn’t so silly as to think he really had asked her to dinner to repay her kindness. He knew she was famished and had no money. So far God had taken care of her, but even she knew that she couldn’t allow Mr. Chance to do anything else for her. Not only was it not proper, but it simply wasn’t fair of her to presume upon his good nature. But she had a suspicion that he felt responsible for her. Though the thought sent a thrill from her heart straight down to her toes, she knew she had to relieve him of that sense of duty before it went too far.
Just as she opened her mouth to insist they part company as soon as they finished their meal, the door opened.
A muffled groan came from Mr. Chance’s side of the table. She arched her brow and stared at him a moment. He sipped his milk but stared at the door over the rim of his glass. Alisa followed his gaze and almost gasped. A young woman with ringlets of blond hair that didn’t look entirely real sashayed into the room ahead of an older couple. She worked the room like a politician, nodding to the men who sat around the four long tables. Every eye watched her, and as far as Alisa could tell, the young woman enjoyed the attention. She batted her lashes and touched shoulders as she passed. Then her eyes lit on Titus. And Alisa. All merriment fled her expression. Her face turned three shades of red, and her green eyes narrowed to slits. She looked like a cat about to pounce.
“Oh no,” Mr. Chance muttered. “She’s coming over.”
“Why, Titus, sweetheart, this is quite a surprise.”
Titus stood. “Hello, Priscilla. We just got off the stage from San Francisco and decided to get a bite.”
“Sit down and eat, you silly goose.” She turned to Alisa, and her ruby lips—was the color stained on?—curved into a sly smile. “He’s such a gentleman.”
Like a queen granting favors, she offered Alisa a slight nod of her head. “I’m Priscilla White. My parents are over there talking with some of the old folks in town. We own the dry goods store. And you are?”
Alisa hesitated. She glanced at Titus, who looked as perplexed as she felt. “Alisa Worthington.” Loving the sound of her name, Alisa smiled.
“Titus, darling, aren’t you going to ask me to sit down? I must admit I am totally famished. Mother ordered me an entire new wardrobe, and it arrived today. From New York! I plumb wore myself out trying things on.” She motioned to the ridiculous pink gown she wore. “Do you like it, Titus? I know you love me to wear pink.”
“Uh, yeah, Prissy. And do sit down.”
Alisa’s heart sank for two reasons. One: This woman obviously had a claim on Mr. Chance. And two: Nothing about Mr. Chance so far in their short acquaintance had indicated that he had such bad taste. Alisa locked in on his gaze. He spoke a silent apology with those warm blue eyes. But some things were beyond apologies. Extending a dinner invitation when one has a prior commitment to another girl, for instance. She glared at him and sniffed her disdain. If she’d been strong enough, she’d have left the plate of chicken, potatoes, and fresh garden peas and told him, “No, thank you.” But her mouth watered at the sight and smell of the wonderful food, so she picked up her fork instead. The nightmare in fake ringlets and frightful pink spoke faster than an auctioneer, paying very little attention to Alisa.
So Alisa shoveled bite after bite into her mouth, making no attempt to follow the conversation.
“And where are you from, Miss Worthington?”
Alisa nearly choked. She glanced up from her plate, met the catlike gaze, and chewed hard. The silence at the table seemed palpable as she swallowed down the bite with a gulp of milk.
Sensing the other girl’s impatience, Alisa couldn’t help but prolong the silence a bit. Deliberately, she dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “I’m sorry. What was the question?”
A long-suffering sigh blew from Priscilla’s lips—which Alisa was now convinced were painted. “I simply asked where you’re from.”
“San Francisco.”
“And what, may I ask, are you doing in our quaint little town?”
Calling this dusty hole-in-the-wall a town was a bit of a stretch, but “quaint” was absolutely laughable. Still, the girl had her. What could she possibly say? My father accused me of killing my grandmother, and I narrowly escaped imprisonment by running away?
Though she couldn’t explain why she did it, Alisa found herself glancing at Mr. Chance for support. He caught her gaze, and the shining armor began to sparkle in the light of the lamp.
He cleared his throat, looked Priscilla squarely in the eyes, and said, “Miss Worthington is coming to work at the ranch.”
Chapter 4
Titus had set a new record. This was the first time in his life he’d ever made two women gasp in horror simultaneously.
“Whatever do you mean, she will be working at the ranch?” Prissy’s eyes had narrowed dangerously. “Miss Worthington hardly looks like a ranch hand to me.”
Miss Worthington’s face turned deep red, and the question in her eyes echoed Prissy’s concern.
Clearing his throat, Titus glanced from one bewildered woman to the other. “Miriam could use the help. She has a pretty heavy workload with all of us men plus Daniel’s two youngsters.”
Finding her voice before Prissy could jump in, Miss Worthington managed to croak, “I don’t understand.”
A smug look flitted across Prissy’s face, and Titus knew she’d caught him in his—if not a lie, then definitely—stretch of the truth. It was obvious Miss Worthington was hearing about her new job for the first time.
“That’s right. I never got around to explaining things to Miss Worthington.”
Prissy’s haughty expression faded to one of humility.
“I should say you didn’t.” Miss Worthington’s frown spoke for itself, compelling Titus to speak up quickly before she could ruin his developing plan. Why not hire Miss Worthington? Miriam could certainly use the help. And he’d rather chew off his arm than leave Miss Worthington to the mercy of the slew of fellas staring at her from around the four neighboring tables.
“Miss Worthington,” he appealed to her, hoping she’d take the hint and simmer down while he explained.
She scowled and sent him an all-right-but-make-it-good expression, folding her arms for emphasis.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. Anyway, Miriam showed up a few months later, not knowing her sister had passed on. Daniel and Gideon wanted to send her right back, but we all voted that her cooking was the best we’d ever tasted, and besides, Polly and Ginny Mae needed a woman’s care.”
“Polly and Ginny Mae?”
Titus grinned at the very thought of his young nieces. “Daniel’s girls. Polly’s four, and Ginny Mae’s not yet two.”
“I see.” She chewed her bottom lip and stared at the table as though trying to gather the information into something that made sense. “I’m afraid I don’t understand—”
“The fact of the matter is that Gideon snatched up Miriam pretty quick and married her before the circuit-riding preacher left to take on his own pastorate. But there are an awful lot of us out there for one woman. This is a rough land and really not fitting for a woman. At least not one alone on a ranch with…all of us.”
“Oh, honestly, Titus.” Prissy’s outburst reminded him of her presence. She turned to Alisa. “What he’s trying to say is that those brothers of his are utter ruffians. Miriam has done wonders taming Gideon, but there are just too many of them for her to handle alone.”
She turned back to Titus as though he should thank her. How could he have ever thought he wanted to marry such an indelicate woman? For all her pink and ribbons and lace, Prissy White had the manners of a bawling calf, and up close to another woman, she wasn’t even all that pretty. That fancy finishing school she’d attended back east had been a colossal waste of time and money. But that was none of his business. He was just thanking the Lord that she’d turned down his proposal. Now he was free to court…
“Miss Worthington. Perhaps I was a mite deceptive in letting on like you were already coming to the ranch to work, but truth be told, we need all the help we can get. We can’t pay much, but you’d have a roof over your head and plenty of food.”