“Thank you!” The young lady grabbed Corinne by the shoulders. “For whatever you’re going to do, thank you. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll help out. I’ll do whatever.”
“I know you will.”
“I’ve got to tell—”
“Don’t.” Corinne grabbed Celia before she escaped. “I can’t promise I’ll be able—”
“Fine, fine. Will you know by tomorrow?”
Corinne rubbed her forehead but stopped with a hiss, dropping her hand back down. “Have her come talk to me after supper, and maybe—”
“Thank you so much.” Celia slipped back out the door, leaving the bell clattering in her wake.
Corinne seemed lost in thought, enough so she probably forgot he was there.
He cleared his throat. “Are you certain you don’t want me to bring in more laundry?”
She turned, her expression not as hopeful as Celia’s had been. “You can if you’d like, Mr. Key, but I’m afraid it’ll be a while before I get to it.”
Didn’t she plan to hire Leah? His extra laundry wouldn’t help her financially if she couldn’t get it done by the end of the month. “Would it be done by next week?”
“I believe so.”
He stayed silent, wondering if she’d explain what was going on, but she didn’t seem interested in filling him in. “Well then, once again, I apologize for the mess I startled you into making, but I hope you have a good rest of your day, Miss Stillwater.”
“You, too.”
Please, Lord, let me walk out of here without too much of a limp.
Once he made it onto the porch, he heaved in the clean mountain air.
While he owned the ranch, he could pay Corinne’s rent anonymously if she was still floundering, but if Matt took over, she’d be on her own.
Corinne could save her place without marrying someone she didn’t love, but could he?
I’d do most anything to keep Matt from kicking me out of my house, but waiting at the end of an aisle for a woman who’d rather march toward a firing squad than me—well, that can’t be one of those things.
Chapter Five
“So, I heard Frank’s selling piglets. You want any? I was thinking of buying them all, but … I’m not sure I can handle … pigs with nine legs that can snort fire.”
“Huh?” Nolan blinked up at his friend Jacob Hendrix. “What’re you talking about?”
Jacob’s lips cocked with amusement as he stood on the boardwalk in front of the mercantile. “I’m surprised you heard. I lost you several minutes ago, I think.”
“Sorry.” Nolan shook his head. He was the one who’d initiated the conversation, but when Jacob had mentioned his wife—as any happily married newlywed would—Nolan had started wondering what percentage of convenient marriages turned out well. “I was just thinking about things I’ve never bothered thinking about before.”
“Who’s the lady?”
“Huh?” Had his mind wandered off again?
“Either it’s a lady who’s got your attention or you’re in a heap of trouble.”
“More the latter. Though it may have to turn into the former.”
“What?” Jacob screwed up his eyebrows.
Nolan blew out a breath. “Do you mind if I ask you a rather invasive question?”
Jacob shrugged, but the confused lines in his face didn’t smooth out much. “I guess it can’t make this conversation much stranger.”
“It’s just that…” Nolan shifted his weight off his fake leg, though it didn’t do much good. “Why’d you marry Annie?”
Jacob frowned as if he were stupid.
“I mean, I know about saving her land and all, but what drove you to it when nothing was on the line for you?”
“You know I’ve always wanted to ranch, and Anne’s a hard worker, so—”
“Be honest. How much pity was involved?” Because that’s what he was afraid of.
Shaking his head, Jacob looked up as if searching for an answer in the wispy clouds. “Sympathy played a part, but I wouldn’t say I pitied her. Did I come across that way?”
“No.”
Jacob narrowed his eyes. “Then why’d you ask?”
“I was only wondering. No real reason. I—”
“So it’s true? You need to marry to save your land?”
Nolan blinked and stiffened. “Who told you that? Mr. Wright? If so, people need to know he can’t be trusted with—”
“No, it was Mrs. Tate.”
“How…?” Nolan frowned. She was the biggest gossip in town, but how would she know? “Surely Mr. Wright wouldn’t have—oh!” He gritted his teeth. “I should’ve known better than to leave a telegram unattended anywhere near her.”
“I have no idea where she got her information, but there’s truth to it?”
He sighed. “My land’s in jeopardy unless I marry, yes.”
Jacob rubbed his chin. “Well, Gwendolyn McGill’s probably your best chance at money.”
“Miss McGill?” He huffed. His own father would’ve believed such a match was beyond him. If Miss McGill couldn’t abide wearing dirty gloves, she’d be unwilling to stand beside a legless man. “She’s never even flirted with me, and she flirts with everybody.”
Jacob shrugged. “She’s not as flighty as she looks.”
Nolan crossed his arms. When had Jacob turned into a matchmaker? “She was gunning for you for years and you were never tempted.”
“I’ve learned she’s not as bad as she seems.” Jacob looked toward the McGill mansion, which sat outside town on a small rise. “She still has her own money from what I’ve heard, and her brother would help you save your land if it’s going to be his sister’s place.”
“Thanks for thinking Miss McGill would even contemplate marrying me, but I’m not after money.”
“You’re not?” He scratched his head, messing up his dark hair. “Then how is your land in jeopardy?”
“In the most ridiculous way possible. My father’s will says I have to get married or the ranch goes to my cousin.”
“Matt? The one who comes up every summer?”
Nolan nodded, gratified to hear the same disbelief coloring Jacob’s voice that had overwhelmed him when he’d first read the will.
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Exactly.” Nolan glanced up at the heavens, wishing his father could be dragged down to explain himself.
“There has to be a way to appeal.”
“Evidently, you can put anything you want into a will, no matter how ridiculous. If there is a way around it, by the time I find an affordable lawyer who’s willing to fight it—because Mr. Wright sure isn’t—the land will be in Matt’s possession. Then if I try to take it back … well, if I lost, I could dig myself into an even deeper hole. You know of any way around a will?”
He shook his head. “My time as marshal was busy enough enforcing laws I knew. I didn’t have time to study the ones I didn’t. So what lady are you thinking of?”
“I’m not thinking of any lady.”
“So no one’s ever caught your eye? Someone in your past you could write and ask if she ever felt the same?”
He waved his hand. “I’m not contemplating marrying for love. If I were looking for anything in particular, it’d be desperation. Why else would a woman marry me on such short notice?”
Jacob pointed down the street with his thumb. “Then what about the laundress?”
Nolan tried not to physically react to that suggestion. Maybe one woman had crossed his mind. “She’s dead set against marrying.”
Literally.
“That’s common knowledge, but everyone knows you don’t want to get married either. Perhaps you two could strike up a deal. Anne seems to think she’s in a lurch…”
Jacob’s words faded as Nolan turned to look in the direction of the laundry.
A deal.
If any woman in town would be more interested in a business deal than a wedding ceremony, it was Miss Stillwate
r.
Here he’d been thinking about how impossible it’d be to ask a woman to give up wedded bliss to save him from poverty, when maybe he didn’t have to offer a real marriage at all. Just two names on a piece of paper—a business deal. Maybe they wouldn’t even have to live together.
“Nolan? Do I have to talk about fire-breathing pigs again?”
Nolan grabbed Jacob’s shoulder. “No. But thank you. I think I’ve come up with a way I can live with this now. Doesn’t matter who I marry.”
“Now, hold up. I’m thinking you need the same advice Bryant once gave me. No matter who you choose, don’t marry a woman who’ll make you miserable. You might not be marrying for love, but don’t rule out the possibility.”
Nolan tried hard not to chuff. Business deals didn’t result in love. “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’ve got to visit the lawyer before he closes for the night.”
“We’ll be praying for you.” Jacob reached out and squeezed his upper arm. “And don’t be rash.”
Getting married within three months to stay financially solvent was the epitome of rash—but his father hadn’t left him any other choice. “Thanks for the prayers and the advice.”
Nolan marched toward the law office. Hopefully Mr. Wright hadn’t left early. He’d not be able to sleep tonight unless he knew if this would work.
Why, he might not even have to know the woman at all—he could marry by proxy. Some old lady who didn’t want to upset her life but could use some money. Neither of them would have to be involved with the other, and they’d both financially benefit. His steps took on a bit of a swagger.
Once at the lawyer’s, he knocked and at the call for him to come in, breathed in deep. “Good afternoon, Mr. Wright,” he said as he walked into the stuffy room.
The lawyer turned from the filing cabinet he was riffling through. “What can I do for you, Mr. Key?”
“You know of any spinsters back in your hometown who’d marry me by proxy? She’d not have to move here, she could stay with her family, and I’d send her money on occasion. That’d be good enough to keep my land, right?”
Eric tilted his head and rubbed his chin.
Nolan’s heart sank. He’d been expecting immediate confirmation.
“Problem is, you’re to follow the intent of the will. If your cousin protested, it could be shown in court you were trying to skirt the law. Like when a couple’s denied a divorce on abandonment grounds if it can be shown they set out to do so together—there’s potential for you to lose. Then without land, you’d be stuck with a wife you promised to care for. Are you willing to gamble on either your cousin not caring or receiving a favorable court decision?”
The odds of his cousin fighting for the land over a technicality were high, if not absolutely certain. As to the court…
And here he’d been excited he’d found a way around his father’s demands.
Seemed not only would he have to find a woman willing to change her name to Key, but one who was actually willing to live as one.
“Miss Stillwater!” Spencer Hendrix burst through the laundry’s front door, red-faced and out of breath. “Doc needs his bandages now!”
Corinne pulled her hands from the hot water and frowned at the pile of bandages the doctor’s wife had dropped off three days ago. “I haven’t started them yet.” She should have, but Mrs. Ellis hadn’t told her it was urgent.
“Then what do I do?” The nine-year-old looked about with wide brown eyes as if clean bandages would appear out of thin air. “Doc’s got two guys who stabbed each other. One’s bleeding real bad.”
Corinne winced and looked around, hoping clean bandages would indeed materialize if she looked hard enough. Laundry wasn’t supposed to be a life and death situation.
So not only had she been unable to come up with a way to help Leah support herself beyond letting her know Mr. Hutton’s clothing needed mending, but she’d now be responsible for someone’s demise? “I don’t know what to tell you, Spencer. I haven’t got them done. I don’t know what to do, either.”
“Mama will.” Spencer rushed back out the door, sending the bell to clanging.
Scanning the full washbasins and piles of laundry around her, she estimated she could get the bandages washed and dried within an hour or two, but that wouldn’t help. She’d have to buy the doctor some bandages. Would the mercantile have enough—or any? But Mr. Owens had already told her he’d no longer sell to her on credit.
She slumped against the counter. How many more times could she fail before the townspeople started sending their laundry elsewhere?
The door whined open, and Spencer and his mother, Annie, rushed in. The redheaded woman came straight toward her and pulled her to stand upright. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”
Corinne shook her head. “It’ll take too much time to wash—”
“You’ve finished my sheets, right?”
“Yes.” But what did that have to do with anything?
“Where?”
Corinne led her behind the counter. “I don’t think this is the time to—”
The moment Annie spied her linens, she pulled off the top sheet and handed it to Corinne, then grabbed a second one and unfurled it. “Scissors?”
“What?”
“You have scissors?”
“Oh, yes,” She turned to get them. “You aren’t going to cut these up, are you?”
Annie grabbed the scissors and started making snips along the top. “Yes, and you’ll help me rip them.”
Corinne forced herself not to grimace. Tearing up sheets would hurt her more than Annie suspected, but she deserved more than pain for failing at her job. “I’ll pay you back for these.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
How could she not? They wouldn’t be destroying the Hendrixes’ linens right now if she’d been on schedule or had come up with a soap that wouldn’t break Annie out in a rash. The doctor had said pregnancies sometimes caused strange symptoms and Annie would likely be able to wash her own clothes again when the baby came, but that’d be a long way off considering Annie’s waistline was still trim. “Well then, I’m doing the rest of your laundry for free until you can do it yourself.”
Annie chuckled, ripped the fabric, and handed both Spencer and Corinne a third of a sheet. “If I needed my laundry done for free, I’d have Celia do it. But I figure it’s a blessing for both you and me if I don’t have to fight with her to get it done to my standards.”
Annie had started on her second strip of cloth, so Corinne grit her teeth and pulled faster.
“Celia has been pretty good lately at helping without a fuss, but she can’t stand washing clothes. She only worked with you last summer because she wanted the money.”
“I’m so ashamed I’m the reason we’re ripping these up.” It wasn’t like the Hendrixes were rich.
“Worry about that later. We’ve got to get these to the doctor.” She ripped off her last strip, grabbed another sheet, and quickly cut snips along its top before ripping more sections.
“Regardless.” Corinne winced as her hands protested starting another strip. “The rest of your laundry will be free.”
Annie set a torn strip on the counter, taking a glance around the shop. “Looks like you’ve got more than enough to keep you busy. You don’t need to be volunteering your services. Celia will have to buck up and do it.”
“Now I feel even worse. Won’t that keep her from helping Leah?” Annie’s daughter had been that woman’s shadow for months.
“Leah won’t mind.” Annie started piling up the strips she and Spencer had finished as Corinne worked on her last two. “Okay, son, run these to Doc Ellis.”
He swooped in to grab Corrine’s last strips and ran out the door.
Corinne let her tingling hands dangle at her sides. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I’ve been swamped—”
“I can see.” The redhead gave her a smile, then unbuttoned her right cuff and flipped it up. “So let’s get to work.”
“It’s all right. Spencer’s supposed to be helping the doctor for another hour, and with the mess in his office right now, he’ll be happy to have him longer. Besides, the rash doesn’t hurt the baby, just annoys me.” Annie had rolled up her second cuff and immediately dipped her hands into the water of the nearest tub full of soapy water.
“But you shouldn’t.”
“You likely shouldn’t either.” She pointedly glared down at Corinne’s hands. “If you can work despite the pain, I can deal with a rash.”
“How did you—?”
“Anyone who takes more than a few seconds to look at you would know.”
Corrine stared at her hands. How quickly she’d become an object of charity when she’d had such high hopes she’d be the one helping others.
She’d been homeless and abandoned twice now, and so she’d set out to work harder, make wiser decisions, and rely on God more fully, so she’d never be in that position again.
Yet, here she was, days away from being destitute again, in need of assistance.
Oh, God, where did I go wrong?
“So what’s the matter with your hands?”
Annie’s voice pulled Corinne from her prayer, and she sighed while stooping to grab a washboard. “Doctor’s not sure, but he believes repetitive motion is causing the tingling and numbness.”
“What can you do about it?”
She shook her head. “He tells me I should quit laundry and get married.”
“Get married?” Annie chuckled. “Never thought I’d hear a doctor prescribe such a thing.”
Corrine took up the pants she’d set to soaking early this morning. “I wish he would prescribe something I could actually do.”
“Why not get mar—”
“Never. Never will I do that.”
The sloshing of water stopped behind her. Once the silence grew long enough, she turned.
Annie’s mouth was scrunched as if trying to figure her out. “I’ve never pried, but I’ve always figured a man broke your heart. But, honey, one man is often far different than another. My first husband was good to me, just like my second, but he was a different sort of man. It took me a while to understand Jacob since I expected him to act like Gregory. Not all men behave the same.”
Pretending to Wed Page 4
