Pretending to Wed

by Melissa Jagears

  After his involvement this past spring with the cattle rustlers, she’d only seen Timothy once after he’d graduated. She’d overheard Mrs. Tate say no one would hire him. She’d assumed Timothy had been sent off to live with relatives.

  “That’s him.” Nolan waved at Timothy who turned to head their way. “If you’re worried about him working for us, don’t be. He’s grateful for the job, so much so, he’s like a completely different person. Much less sullen. And before you think I pay him so poorly he can’t dress himself, he gives most of his money to his mother.”

  “Maybe we could gift him a new set of clothes.”

  “He might accept that at Christmas.” Nolan leaned closer. “Take care not to stare at his face. He’s self-conscious.”

  “I wouldn’t.” How she could empathize at the moment with his blemish-covered face. She touched the bruise on her forehead and turned to look at Nolan, stopping short when she realized how close he was.

  He reached up and gently pulled down her hand. He then smoothed the hair she’d left out of her simple bun to lay more fully across her forehead.

  She stilled as his thumb skimmed over her eyebrow. His fingers, calloused, yet gentle, brushed her hair back to anchor it behind her ear.

  He looked down at her—his gaze entirely too soft. She took a quick step back but his arm was still looped around hers so she didn’t get far.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She started to shake her head, but stopped so as not to mess up her hair. “Nothing to be sorry about.”

  “It doesn’t look that bad.”

  She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Now you’re lying to make me feel better.”

  Nolan stiffened. “I wouldn’t.”

  The young man stopped in front of them and grinned wide. He needed to shave off that scraggly mustache. It did little for his appearance.

  “I’d heard you’d married, boss.” He looked toward her, shoving away the bangs hanging over his eyes. “Even heard it was Miss Stillwater, but I wouldn’t have believed it without seeing her.”

  His eyes glimmered and he reached out to shake her hand. “You must be something. The men said he was dead set against anybody even mentioning a woman they thought would be good for him. Should’ve known he already had his cap set on a lady pretty enough to rival an angel. Took a while to convince you, eh?”

  Corinne couldn’t allow Timothy’s smooth talk to puff her up. He likely would’ve said that to any woman Nolan brought home.

  Though after Matt and Lilith’s treatment of her this morning, maybe flattery wasn’t so terrible. “I bet you say that to all the women on the dance floor.”

  “Naw, I only try flattering the young ones. Mature ladies don’t fall for my lines.”

  Nolan snorted. “You do realize you just completely ruined the compliment you gave her?”

  Tim’s face scrunched in confusion.

  “You called her old.”

  “No, I called her mature.”

  “’Bout the same, I reckon.”

  Timothy swiped off his hat. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Key. I meant those younger than myself. I don’t ever try dancing with anyone—”

  She waved at him to stop. “I think I appreciated the second observation more than the first. I can trust someone who tells me the truth without thinking whether or not they should.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but my mama told me to be kind as well, and I—”

  “What you said wasn’t mean. Sometimes it’s good to be reminded of the unflattering truth.”

  “I’ve not made my mama very proud my whole life.” Tim dragged the brim of his hat through his hand, his eyes now downcast. “I’ve been aiming to try harder.”

  She shook her head to show him there were no hard feelings. “What do you do around here, Mr. O’Conner?”

  “Whatever you or the others tell me to.” He plopped his hat back onto his head. “As pleased as I am to meet you, Mrs. Key, if I’m to keep my job, I better shut my trap and get back to Sal.”

  “Goodbye, Tim.”

  “Ma’am.”

  She couldn’t help but smile as he walked away. The young man’s lowly upbringing, troubled past, and uncomely exterior might have kept others from hiring him, but she’d rather have him around than Matt. The thought of whom made her frown as they started back down the path. “How long do you think your cousin will stay?”

  Nolan’s arm tensed beneath hers. “Not long.”

  “Do you think he’ll find a place near here?”

  “I hope not.” He pointed to a building with a collapsed lean-to barely hanging on to its side. Rolls of fencing, posts, and farming implements were stacked nearby at haphazard angles. “This is it.”

  Her frown deepened. She’d assumed they were going to walk past this building.

  “Sorry about everything piled up. We wanted to build a paddock over here, but haven’t had the time. And we had to pull out our junk to put in your j—I mean, your things. It’s not clean either. I hadn’t expected to—”

  “No more apologies.” She held up her hand and assessed the place. Considering the crumbling chimney bricks, the fireplace might very well be unusable, and was that a hole in the roof? At least it wasn’t as bad as the old barn in the east pasture that was half collapsed. “I had been hoping to work out here.”

  “You can. We’ll do repairs.”

  “I see.” She quickly made a tally of what needed fixing. No wonder he’d been reluctant to part with that hundred dollars.

  He climbed the porch stairs and leaned against the railing. His leg had to be hurting if he was trusting that sun-bleached, splintered wood to hold him up. “We’ll fix the roof first thing so nothing inside gets ruined.”

  “If I can do anything to help, let me know, but I realize the ranch comes first.” On her first tour of the place, he’d told her some of the chores he hoped she’d take over. “I know I’ve agreed to take turns cooking for the men and doing all the household chores—”

  His throat clearing made her hold up a hand to stop him from giving her the “take it easy” lecture again.

  “Yes, yes, I’ll rest enough not to damage my hands, but I’d like to work on improving the chicken and egg production right away—seems like something I could handle. How can I get those hens you told me about to lay in the coop instead of the yard so I don’t have to chase down eggs?”

  He chuckled. “I doubt that’s possible.”

  “Your father thought it wasn’t possible to see you married, and yet here you are.”

  “Yes, here I am.”

  She’d expected to hear some bitterness in his voice, but he seemed pleased.

  Her neck warmed at the soft look he was giving her, the same as earlier when he’d tucked her hair behind her ear. And last night when he’d massaged her pain away.

  If she wanted to survive, she had to stop reacting to him like this.

  She would corral her feelings. Just like she would round up a few headstrong chickens. She must if she didn’t want her heart to be crushed again.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When Corinne went back to scribbling in her notebook instead of gazing out at the passing landscape as they rode into town, Nolan resituated his leg.

  He’d pushed himself too far this past week.

  If only Corinne had taken it easy, he’d have rested some. But it was as if she were afraid he’d deny her the profits he’d promised if she didn’t do all the chores.

  When she’d asked to go into town, he’d hoped that meant he could sit on the bench outside the mercantile and visit with whoever was in town as she shopped. But then she’d informed him she wanted to get her things from the laundry.

  The wagon thumped and bumped over a huge rock, and the groan he’d been holding escaped against his will. He needed to watch where he was going.

  He tried to catch a glimpse of what Corinne was writing. “What are you figuring up?”

  She gave him a quick glance. “Oh, just what to do with th
e chickens.”

  “Would you like my help? I do have some knowledge of livestock.”

  She smiled—a soft smile he hadn’t seen before. She continued to scribble, keeping the paper tilted so he couldn’t see it. “Thanks, but I’m just coming up with possibilities right now.”

  A few agonizing bumps later, she quit writing and stared off into space.

  By unspoken agreement, they’d been pleasantly, but purposely, avoiding talking to each other beyond what was necessary. She couldn’t be a more pleasant houseguest—unlike his cousin. Except he’d never had a guest who slept in his bed. After her disastrous fall, she’d insisted he sleep beside her. Hence why they’d neatly avoided each other, especially in the evenings. For as long as Matt was there, they’d have to room together. He might’ve been banished to the bunkhouse to sleep, but Matt wasn’t leaving the main house until late evening—likely to minimize the amount of time he had to spend with the ‘help.’ And they weren’t too certain Matt wouldn’t show up in the house early in the morning and knock on his bedroom door for any number of stupid reasons. If only he’d leave sooner rather than later.

  But surely Corinne wasn’t working so hard to exhaust herself so she’d fall asleep immediately—afraid he might ask her for something she’d explicitly told him she wasn’t going to give him just because she was in his room.

  Did she not trust him when he said he wouldn’t require that of her? He’d agreed to the “no romance” part of this deal, but it wasn’t his fault Matt was still staying with them.

  Well, perhaps it was. But if he could keep Matt from being an enemy by helping him find a ranch, then maybe his cousin wouldn’t look into ways to take his. Matt would likely sell the place within a year anyway once he realized he hadn’t the work ethic to keep a ranch going.

  Though Matt wasn’t his favorite person, once Lilith left, the man had turned back to his normal self. Still arrogant, but now more interested in puffing himself up in Corinne’s eyes than tearing her down. Lilith’s presence had made him extra unbearable.

  He glanced over at Corinne. The bruise above her brow was now a pale yellow that could be seen every time the breeze ruffled her hair.

  Though everything between them had been platonic—he’d only kissed her forehead that once—there was something comforting, yet unsettling, about falling asleep to the soft breathing of a woman.

  He’d looked forward to it every night.

  How had he not realized how lonely he was? As boss, he’d not let himself get too close to his men. And of course, his father had always been cold. Uncle Matthias visited occasionally, but Matt had been their only regular guest. And though Jacob was his closest neighbor now, their friendship was new.

  But going from lonely to a woman in his bed?

  The last two nights, particular thoughts he tried to suppress kept him from falling asleep.

  Maybe Corinne had the right of it. He needed to work much, much harder so he’d enter dreamland the second he lay down.

  He winced as he tried to readjust his leg. “Corinne?”

  “Huh?” She startled as if awakened from a dream of her own. Had she been sleeping sitting up?

  He held the reins out toward her. Timothy had shown her how to drive the team two days ago. Apparently, she was a quick learner. “Take these for a second, would you?”

  “All right.”

  He stopped short. “Hold on a minute. What’s that?”

  He took her hand and inspected the bright red oval of raw skin that lay between her thumb and finger.

  “Oh, nothing.” She slipped her hand from his grasp and took the reins.

  “The doctor told you to rest your hands. If you’ve got broken blisters—”

  “He said to differentiate movement. Next time, I’ll wear gloves.”

  “And how is your pain?”

  She shrugged. “It’s supposed to go away. Doc said it would once I stopped doing repetitive motions.”

  “Mucking’s the epitome of repetitive motion.” Timothy had chastised her twice this week for doing his job instead of finding him.

  She shrugged again.

  He pressed his mouth shut. Considering he wasn’t following doctor’s orders either, he had no right to order her to stop. He grimaced as they thumped hard into a hole.

  Perhaps Timothy’s boast about her being a natural driver had been more kind than true.

  Once they reached the laundry’s backyard, Nolan helped her down. “I have a few things I need to do before I can help.”

  He waved to Leah, who’d opened the back door, and took his leave, walking off slowly so as not to stress his leg. But with each step closer to Doctor Ellis’s, he had a harder time keeping the grimace off his face.

  The doctor took one look at him from behind his desk and shook his head. “Go straight into an exam room, Mr. Key.”

  Nolan limped inside and let loose a hiss as he climbed onto the table.

  Doctor Ellis came in, without his ever-present clipboard, hands planted on his hips as if he were about to lecture a child.

  “I know you’re not going to be happy with me.” Nolan stripped off his trousers—he’d been through enough examinations to know Doc wouldn’t take his word for the state of his leg. Though it had been nearly eight years since he’d come in with a sore this bad. “I know I’m supposed to take my leg off the minute the flesh gets raw—”

  “Then why’d you come into town? You could’ve sent your wife in if you needed a poultice.” He gathered up his bottles and bandaging cloth.

  “I have to help her load the rest of her things from the laundry.”

  He set his iodine bottle down with a clatter. “You will do no such thing.”

  Nolan kept his mouth shut.

  Doc rolled back the leg of his linen drawers and pulled off the wadded bandage Nolan had stuck to it this morning. “Not good.”

  Nolan sucked air through his teeth. The gentle cleaning he’d expected felt as if the doctor was purposely scouring in order to express his disappointment. “I promise I’ll take my leg off once I get home.”

  “Pearl!” Doctor Ellis walked away and called out the door. “Bring Mr. Key the crutches we have in the supply closet.”

  “I don’t need—”

  “Yes, you do, Mr. Key.”

  Mrs. Ellis walked in with a pair of crutches that looked six inches too short for him.

  “Those crutches are worse than the ones I have at home.”

  “Which you should’ve used for your trip in.” He started applying something so pungent Nolan’s head began to ache.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  The doctor gave him a narrow-eyed stare. “Don’t make me carry you back to your wagon.”

  Nolan scoffed. “You’re too old to do that.”

  “I’m more capable than you.”

  Nolan couldn’t help the sharp inhale at the insult. The man was in his mid-seventies.

  “Sorry.” The doctor’s face softened a touch. “But I don’t give orders for no reason. Do you not remember I told you it’s entirely possible for you to lose more of your leg if you let it get bad? You can’t play with infection. I know the soldiers thought I got some macabre pleasure from sawing off legs, but I never want to do it again.”

  “I understand.” Nolan moved to grab his artificial leg. He might cave to using the crutches, but he wasn’t going to do so with an empty pant leg.

  Doc pushed him back onto the table. “I’m not done with you yet. Lie down, please.”

  Nolan tried to comply without scowling at the old man—or the pain.

  Doc frowned at Nolan’s other leg, and with a hand to his shoulder and the other pressed against his shortened leg, he pushed down.

  Nolan flinched. “That hurts.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. You’re not stretching it enough. How are you sleeping on it?”

  Lately? Definitely not in any of the positions Doc had advised—not with Corinne in his bed.

  “You need to work yo
ur hip back to full extension. It’s also going to need deep massaging.”

  “Fine.” Though considering the last time he’d endured this, he wasn’t looking forward to it. “How often do you want me in?” When Matt was gone, he could go back to sleeping appropriately.

  “Do it at home.”

  “I can’t do it myself.” Even if he could, he’d not be as merciless to his muscles as Doc was.

  “Have your wife do it.”

  “She—” No way was he letting her put her hands on his bare skin, with him stripped to his drawers. “She doesn’t know how.”

  “I’ll teach her.”

  “She doesn’t have time. She’s got too much to do.”

  Doc gave him a funny look.

  “I mean, I don’t want to burden her with more work. Besides…” He narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “Her hands.”

  “She can do the stretches and massaging well enough to get you by between visits. Coming into town every day will take more time away from your ranch than her taking a break from her chores.” He moved back to the doorway. “Pearl! Get Mrs. Key from the laundry.”

  Why did Doc have to keep sending his wife for things Nolan didn’t want? He scooted to the edge of the bed and reached for his leg, but the doctor snatched it before he could.

  “I’m going to add padding to this, and I’m not done dressing your wound.”

  Nolan scowled at the doctor’s retreating back.

  Wait—Corinne was coming.

  He grabbed his trousers and began to wriggle them back on.

  “Keep them off.” Doc turned before heading out the door.

  Nolan’s fingers curled into the fabric. Mrs. Ellis had seen him in his drawers when she helped her husband. However, Corinne was different.

  Not that they’d know.

  Gripping the edge of the padded table, he steeled himself for her getting a good look at his mangled stump.

  Ten minutes later, a flurry of anxious women’s voices filled the waiting room. What had Mrs. Ellis told Corinne to get her that worked up?

  His wife came into the room, her brown eyes wide. Her cheeks were flushed beneath the dirt marks on her face, her blond ringlets mussed. “Is it true you could lose the rest of your leg?”