Julia heard the pain in his voice, and, missing her sisters and brothers as much as she did, she understood his feelings. But she was still not going to accept a proposal for any reason except that he cared for her. Love would come if there was caring. And liking wasn’t caring. Although he seemed to be protective of her, that didn’t mean he cared enough to open his heart.
He hadn’t mentioned a wife before now, which led her to believe he was still grieving. No. Despite her tenuous hold on survival, she would not accept a man she was beginning to care for, only to be a mother to his child. She wanted more from a marriage, and she deserved more.
“I’m sorry, Fletcher. I must refuse you once again.”
He looked genuinely perplexed. “Why?”
How to explain to this man that he already held a part of her heart? That she rose each day excited about spending time with him? That she dreamt of him taking her into his strong arms and kissing her? “I just don’t think we suit.”
“Nonsense. I like you, you like me. More marriages have started with less.”
She studied him for a minute. “Indeed, that’s true. But I want—I deserve—more, rather than less.”
“Julia. I have proposed marriage to you four times. Are you sure? Because I won’t ask again.”
The muscles in her stomach tightened. Was she absolutely certain this was the right thing to do? When she’d stepped onto the train in Lawrence, it had been with the intention of marrying a man she didn’t even know. Except now the stakes were higher. She knew Fletcher and knew her feelings for him. A little bit of her spirit and her heart would wither each day if she grew to love him, and he only viewed her as someone he liked and a caretaker for his daughter.
“I’m sure.”
His lips tightened. “Very well. Let’s leave for church. My carriage is downstairs.”
“You still want to take me?”
“That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”
“I’ll just get the pie I bought this morning from the bakery” Julia balanced the container in her hands as Fletcher opened the door. Taking her by the elbow, he escorted her out the door and down the stairs. She had to hurry to keep up with his lengthy strides.
For some reason Fletcher felt as though Julia had been about to say yes to his proposal before he mentioned Patty Ann. Did she dislike children since she had so many younger siblings?
Perhaps she was one of those women who wasn’t comfortable raising another woman’s child. If he had to place a bet on that, he would be on the side of “not so.” From what he’d witnessed in the short time he’d known Julia, she would not resent his daughter. Maybe she merely didn’t like him well enough to spend the rest of her life staring at him across the breakfast table.
He grunted. Although he was certainly not a ladies’ man, nevertheless he had enough experience with women to know when one was attracted to him. Miss Julia Benson was one of those women. She was far too innocent and unschooled in the ways of flirting to hide her reactions when he touched her or when he’d come close to kissing her in front of her hotel door a few days ago.
No. There was a reason she kept turning him down, but in any event, now he was finished. If she didn’t want to marry him, then fine. He’d gotten along without her up until now and would carry on as the unmarried sheriff of Wickerton from now on. He would get Patty Ann back one day. In fact, soon. He would see about hiring a woman to come in to clean, cook, and look after her.
He didn’t need a wife. Especially one as prickly as this one.
They sat side by side in church, as much room between them as possible in the crowded service. Julia kept casting him sideways glances, but he ignored them as best he could. If she thought he was upset at her rejection, she was sorely mistaken. He didn’t care at all.
Why the hell had she rejected him again?
“I hope you’ll be joining us for the picnic, Sheriff.” Pastor O’Connell held out his hand as they passed through the line after the service. “And who is this lovely lady?”
Fletcher shook the man’s hand and said, “This is Miss Julia Benson. She is new to our town.”
“Ah, is this the young lady I’ve heard so much about?” His eyes sparkled as he regarded Julia, reminding Fletcher that the good-looking preacher was single. Damn, why was a man of God looking at her that way? “Um, we’ll see you later, Pastor.”
“Yes, I certainly hope so.”
“That was a bit rude,” Julia said as he hauled her away.
“What? I didn’t do anything.”
“You practically dragged me away from the man.”
“He’s a preacher, he’s busy. We were holding up the line.”
She shook her head as he hustled her over to the tables that the men had set up and where the ladies arranged bowls and platters of food. “Here, why don’t you help the ladies?”
Staring at him as if he’d grown an extra ear, she opened her mouth to say something when one of the ladies leaned over the table. “Are you Miss Benson? We’ve been quite anxious to meet you. I am Mrs. Stevens, and this is Mrs. Wright.”
The young wife smiled warmly as she indicated the other woman who appeared to be quite a bit older.
“See,” he said. “They want to make friends with you. You’ll like the ladies.” He edged her toward the table.
Julia pulled her arm away. “What is wrong with you?” she whispered.
“Oh, do join us, Miss Benson. You know what they say about many hands make for light work,” Mrs. Wright said.
“I’ll be over with the men who are setting up the chairs.” Fletcher beat a hasty retreat before Julia could take him to task.
Julia found Mrs. Wright and Mrs. Stevens to be very friendly and quite interested in her relationship with the sheriff. She was more than happy to explain her situation as merely a temporary employee at the jail until she could obtain another job.
“Oh, we thought perhaps you and the sheriff…” Mrs. Wright looked almost disappointed.
Julia shook her head. “No, we’re just friends.”
“Hello, Miss Benson.” Julia’s shoulders stiffened at the voice she’d come to despise.
“Mr. Johnson.” She nodded briefly in his direction and busied herself with rearranging the bowls.
“I thought maybe you’d want to join me for lunch.” He lifted a blanket that hung over his arm. “We could sit over there under the tree.”
“Thank you, Mr. Johnson, but I’m afraid—”
“Miss Benson, I would consider it a privilege if you would join me and my mother at our table with the members of the choir. The sheriff whisked you off so fast, I never got to introduce myself.” The young pastor smiled. “I am Reverend David O’Connell.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Pastor.”
“Will you join us?”
“Of course.” Julia scooted around Mr. Johnson and took the pastor’s arm as he escorted her to a table near the front of the church. Several men and women she recognized from the service sat at the table, all of them eyeing her speculatively.
The pastor rattled off a number of names Julia was sure she would soon forget, but she smiled politely nevertheless. Everyone at the table greeted her warmly, and a woman she thought she remembered as Mrs. Davidson passed her a cup of warm lemonade.
Mrs. O’Connell made room for her on the bench. The pastor’s mother looked Julia up and down as if measuring her for a wedding gown. Gracious, women must be at a premium in Wickerton. As Julia settled in between the pastor and his mother, she glanced at Fletcher who leaned against a tree, his arms crossed, scowling in her direction.
“What brings you to our town, Miss Benson?” Mrs. O’Connell leaned in, as if their conversation should not be shared.
What should she tell these people? That she had come as a mail order bride to a man who rejected her, but now seemed bent on courting her? Should she let them know the sheriff had been paying for her hotel and meals? If that wasn’t scandalizing enough, how would they react if she told t
hem she worked in the jailhouse? Perhaps they already knew.
She decided half-truths would work. “I worked in a sewing factory in Lawrence, Massachusetts, that burned down.” Julia stopped as Mrs. O’Connell gasped and clutched her throat, her eyes wide.
“Oh, my dear. Is that how you received the injury to your leg?”
“Mother, please,” the pastor said, a slight blush rising from his collar to his face.
“No, it’s all right,” Julia said. “Actually I was injured in a wagon accident when I was a child. The fire destroyed the factory, but no one was injured.”
“Well, I’m certainly glad of that, my dear.” The pastor’s mother patted her hand.
“When all of us ladies found ourselves out of work, we decided to move from Lawrence and start new lives in other places.”
“How brave of you to come to a new, strange town. Have you no family you could have gone to?”
Julia pulled a lace handkerchief from her reticule and patted the sweat on her forehead at the woman’s inquisition. All eyes were riveted on her, and she was beginning to feel as though she was the afternoon entertainment.
“Mother, I think we should leave off the questions because it appears the ladies are calling everyone to come and eat.” The pastor stood and helped Julia up.
Thankful for the reprieve, she took a deep breath and turned to wave goodbye to the choir members and crashed into a solid object. “Oomph.”
Fletcher grabbed both of her arms to keep her from falling backward. “Sorry.”
“Miss Benson, are you all right?” The pastor looked at her with concern and cast Fletcher a questioning glance.
“I’m sorry, Pastor. I just wanted to remind Miss Benson that I had the café prepare her favorite fried chicken, which I brought with me.”
Julia smirked. “Fried chicken is your favorite, Sheriff.”
“And yours, too.” He glared at her.
The pastor cleared his throat. “Shall we move along?”
Julia took his extended arm. “Certainly.”
The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar manner. Every time she turned around, Fletcher was glaring at whatever man she was speaking with. And, goodness, there were certainly a lot of single men in Wickerton. She’d never had so much male attention in her life. She was rather enjoying it, but more enjoyable was Fletcher’s obvious annoyance with the attention.
Could it possibly be that he did have feelings more than just liking for her? That he wanted her for a wife for reasons other than a caretaker? She didn’t believe that. Although his last proposal was certainly better than the others, he still never mentioned that he cared for her. Really cared. The kind of feeling that could turn into love. His reasons had been that they liked each other, would suit, and he wanted to bring his daughter home.
No. She’d done the right thing. She would just have to set her sights on supporting herself until she met a man who could love her as she deserved to be loved.
She looked up from where she sat chatting with a Mr. Nelson, who owned the livery, to see Fletcher once more barreling down toward her. For once she wasn’t sorry to see him approaching her. The livery owner was a nice gentleman but had spent the entire time talking about his four dogs that he called his “children.”
“It’s getting late, and I need to make my rounds. Are you ready to leave?”
Mr. Nelson was forced to stop talking, giving Julia’s ears a much needed rest. “I will be happy to escort Miss Benson home, Sheriff, if you have duties to attend to.”
Julia hopped up and brushed off her dress. “That’s all right, Mr. Nelson. I find I’m a bit tired and ready to depart.”
He scrambled to his feet and tugged on his bow tie. “May I call on you sometime, Miss Benson?”
“She’s busy,” Fletcher growled.
Julia and Mr. Nelson both stared at him.
“Are you ready, Miss Benson?” Fletcher held out his arm.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nelson, I really must go. It’s been a pleasure.” Fletcher whisked her away before the man could repeat his question.
“Slow down, or you’ll soon be dragging my body across the lawn.”
Fletcher came to an abrupt stop and again had to grasp her arms to keep her from falling. “Sorry.”
Julia wrenched herself free and brushed her skirts. “What in heaven’s name is the matter with you today?”
“Nothing. I just want to get my rounds done.”
“I could have ridden home with Mr. Nelson.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t trust him.”
“What? He seems like a lovely man.”
Fletcher snorted as they reached his carriage, and he turned to lift Julia in. “You don’t know.”
“So tell me,” she said as he strode around and climbed in next to her.
“Too awful for ladies’ ears.”
Julia had to turn away from him to hide her smile. If ever there was a meek and mild man, it was Mr. Nelson. He looked like the sort who would never hurt a fly. But then her humor turned to anger. Fletcher only wanted her so he would have a mother for his daughter, yet he was obviously not happy to see other men paying her attention.
“I have no idea what is wrong with you today, but you’ve been grumpy since we arrived at church.”
“I’m not grumpy, I merely hadn’t noticed until today how many stupid men live in Wickerton.”
“Stupid because they were paying attention to me?”
“Of course not. I don’t care who you want to associate with. Even if they are boring and stupid.” He snapped the reins, and she held on as the carriage rocked and bumped over the ground until they reached the smoother path of the road. Julia had a firm grip on the dash rail to keep from being tossed to the ground.
“I’m sorry I turned down your marriage proposal, but I don’t think we would suit.”
“Ha.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you have no problem working in the jailhouse with me every day. We seem to suit then.”
“Certainly you can’t compare a work relationship to marriage?” She took a deep breath and added, “Although, I suppose there would be no difference to you.”
The carriage jerked as Fletcher pulled on the reins and stopped the horses. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.”
He wrapped the reins around the dash rail and turned to her. “Oh, I may not be the brightest of men, but I know enough that when a woman says ‘nothing’ it means ‘everything.’”
Julia pulled her jacket around her. “May we continue, please? I’m rather chilly.”
“Have you found another job yet?”
“Am I being fired?”
When he didn’t answer, she said, “Never mind, because I quit.”
“You quit?”
“Yes.”
“So you have found another job?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Sheriff.” She raised her chin and stared out at the passing stores.
“Why don’t you just marry me?”
How many times was the man going to propose? Well, as many times as it took for him to say the right words.
“When I marry, it will be for the right reason.”
“What does that mean?”
“Since you don’t know, there’s no reason to tell you.”
He shoved his hat further down on his head and grabbed the reins, smacking the horses to move forward.
Lord, what was she doing? She had no other job. Well, she would find one. She’d met a lot of the townsfolk at the picnic, and someone had to have a job for her.
Someone.
Chapter Six
“Just what in tarnation do you think you’re doing?” Fletcher spun Julia around, almost knocking her off her feet. Anchoring his hands on her shoulders, he glared at her. He couldn’t believe it when
Woody Pringle from the telegraph office told him Julia was working at the Full Bucket saloon. He stormed right over there and sure enough, here she was, dressed in the scanty red satin dress all the saloon girls wore.
Here he’d missed his rounds of the saloons only one night due to a meeting with the town council that went on for hours, and Julia had turned into a saloon girl. The tops of her creamy breasts rose from the low-cut neckline, making his palm itch to stroke the soft skin. The scandalous dress came almost to her knees in the front, and despite her leg issues, she wore the low-heeled boots required for the uniform. She swatted at the feather in her hair that drooped, skimming her nose. “I am working, Sheriff Adams.”
“No, you’re not. Get out of that dress and tell that slick owner, Bazz Markham, you quit.”
Her breasts heaving, causing him to hold in groan, Julia fisted her hands on her hips. “I will do no such thing.”
No matter how hard he tried to avoid it, his eyes kept flicking to the expanse of skin above her dress. His gut tightened at the idea that any man, for the price of a beer, could see Julia in this outfit. Anger swelled up in him, so strong he wanted to punch the wall. “Then I’ll tell him you quit.”
She narrowed her eyes and poked her finger in his chest. “Now you listen to me. You have no authority where I am concerned. I am a free woman. I’m not owned by Mr. Johnson, and I am not owned by you. I can work where I please. And if you interfere in any way with my employment, I will…”
“Will what?”
She bent forward. “I will…buy a gun and shoot you!”
He leaned in, meeting her almost nose-to-nose. “Then I will lock you up, and you won’t be working here.”
“Julia, is there a problem?” Mackinaw, the manager, walked over, giving Fletcher a curious look.
Fletcher rounded on the man. “What do you mean, calling her Julia? Her name is Miss Benson.”
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