The Widow's Little Secret

by Judith Stacy

  The streets of Stanford were busy as ever at midday, as Mattie and Jared left the restaurant. Shoppers crowded the boardwalk and wagons filled the roadway.

  But unlike other times, Mattie realized things were different today. Different, because Jared walked beside her.

  Men nodded to him as they passed and a few women spoke; apparently, the townsfolk had gotten over their initial negative impression of him.

  But being beside Jared meant something else. He was tall and wide and sturdy. People got out of his way. Not simply because of the badge pinned to his chest, either. There was an air of command about him, a strength that couldn’t go unnoticed or ignored.

  Mattie glanced up at him. Though he’d kept up a steady conversation with her since leaving the Cottonwood, and he’d spoken politely to all who’d passed, Jared’s gaze never stilled. He scanned the boardwalk ahead, the traffic that passed, the businesses across the street, taking in everything. Watching for trouble.

  A little tremor jarred Mattie. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so safe on the streets of Stanford as right now at Jared’s side.

  When they reached the Stanford Ladies’ Fashions and Millinery Shop, Jared opened the door. Mattie leaned back, eyeing the sign again.

  “This is Mrs. Dixon’s ladies’ clothing store,” she said. “Did you realize that?”

  “Yes, ma’am, I did.” Jared waved grandly and Mattie preceded him into the shop.

  A display of hats took up about half the store, bolts of fabric the rest of the room. Colors and textures abounded. Boxes of buttons, ribbons and lace were everywhere.

  While most of the women in Stanford, like Mattie, made their own clothing, there were enough ranchers’, mine owners’ and businessmen’s wives to keep the dressmaker busy, to say nothing of the painted women who worked at the parlor house on the outskirts of town.

  Colleen Dixon, the owner, dressed stylishly, her red hair beautifully coifed, came forward. “Why, Sheriff McQuaid, there you are. I was beginning to think something had come up. Good afternoon, Mattie.”

  Though Mattie had never bought clothing here, she’d purchased a number of hats from Mrs. Dixon.

  “I don’t understand,” Mattie said. “Why am I here?”

  “The sheriff has arranged for your upcoming fashion essentials and accessories.” Mrs. Dixon waved her long, elegant hand toward Mattie, wiggling her fingers at her belly.

  “My…?” She gasped sharply as she realized what Mrs. Dixon meant. Mattie turned to Jared, color flooding her cheeks. “You think you’re going to buy my—”

  “Mrs. Dixon, would you give us a minute?” Jared called. She nodded her understanding and disappeared into the back room of the shop. “Now, Mattie, before you get upset—”

  “No.”

  “Please listen—”

  “No!” Mattie folded her arms. “No, you can’t buy my clothing. It’s too personal.”

  “So getting you pregnant wasn’t too personal, but buying clothes to accommodate your condition is?”

  Mattie’s cheeks flamed anew.

  “Just hear me out before you get all worked up,” Jared said. “You’re getting far along now. It won’t be long until you’ll need proper clothes. And at the same time, you’ll be in the middle of getting ready for those Eastern investors. These clothes aren’t the kind of thing that can wait until you have time to make them yourself.”

  Mattie continued to fume. “No, I will not allow you to do this.”

  Jared didn’t say anything for a while, just studied her. “This isn’t about the clothes, is it? It’s not about being too personal. It’s something else.” His expression hardened. “It’s about Del, isn’t it?”

  A man trained in law enforcement, observing, watching, piecing things together, missed little. Mattie saw no reason not to tell him the truth. “I can’t help wondering if you’re being nice to me just to get me to marry you,” she told him.

  “Mattie, I really do care about you.”

  “That’s what Del said.”

  “I want to be with you all the time.”

  “Del said that, too.” Mattie looked up at him. “He said the sweetest, kindest things to me, bought me all sorts of gifts, and after we were married everything changed. Del changed. He wasn’t the man who’d courted me.”

  Jared just looked at her for a long moment, as if thinking hard about what she’d said.

  “If I were in your shoes, I might feel the same,” Jared stated. “But even if you don’t believe I’m sincere in my feelings for you, at least let me help out with the baby. I know it’s God’s way and you can’t help it, but you get to have the baby with you all the time. Can’t you let me take part in this baby, Mattie? Let me do a little something? Let me make the mother of my child comfortable and happy?”

  Her heart melted. And she didn’t want it to melt. She wanted to be strong and noble and declare her independence from him yet another time. This was her life. Her baby. She’d handle everything herself.

  The anger went out of Mattie. Jared looked hurt and sweet and concerned all at the same time. The urge to press her palm to his cheek and soothe him nearly overcame her.

  And the truth was that Jared had a right to participate in what happened with the baby, with her. As much as she didn’t want to think about it, the baby was his, too.

  What’s more, he actually wanted to be involved. Some husbands—in fact, most husbands—kept their distance from the whole process. Mattie couldn’t find fault with what Jared wanted, what he was asking for. Really, when she allowed herself to think about it, the whole idea of his involvement pleased her.

  Pleased her, yes, but didn’t make her lose sight of her situation.

  “Good gracious, Jared, what will the whole town say when they find out you’re buying me these clothes?”

  He gave an exaggerated shrug. “They’ll probably say, ‘what a wonderful husband that Jared McQuaid would make,’ and ‘what’s wrong with Mattie Ingram that she won’t marry him?”’

  She gave him a sour smile.

  “Of course, if you don’t want that kind of talk, you could always—”

  “—buy my own clothes.”

  “—marry me.” Jared smiled gently. “Being married isn’t so bad, if it’s to the right person.”

  “You don’t know that,” Mattie told him.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “You don’t,” she insisted, then turned away. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “Then you’ll let me buy you the clothes?”

  “All right,” she decided. “But this is it. Nothing else. I don’t want you spending another cent on me. Are we agreed?”

  Jared rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Well…”

  At that moment, Mattie knew this was what her own son would one day look like when he was guilty of something. When he’d done something he knew wouldn’t please her. When he needed to confess and didn’t exactly know how.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  Jared pulled on the back of his neck. “Doc Whittaker…I already paid him for taking care of you and delivering the baby.”

  She sighed heavily. “Jared…”

  He squared his shoulder. “I paid for it, and that’s that. I don’t want to hear one word from you about it.”

  “Is there anything else you’ve done and haven’t told me?” Mattie asked.

  “No. That’s it.”

  “All right, fine. So we’re agreed that you won’t do anything else like this?”

  Jared grunted. “Seems like the craziest thing a man could ever say to a woman, but yes, I won’t buy anything else for you.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise,” he said.

  Mrs. Dixon breezed in from the back of the shop. “Are we ready to look at patterns and fabrics?”

  Jared raised a hopeful eyebrow at Mattie. She nodded. “Yes, I’m ready.”

  Mrs. Dixon pulled two gold upholstered chairs up to a small table, where Jared and Mattie sa
t, and brought out an array of fabrics for them to consider.

  “Get whatever you want,” Jared said, when he saw her hesitate. “Get as much as you want.”

  “No sense in buying too much,” Mattie said. “After all, I’m only having this one child. I’ll never need these clothes again.”

  Mattie picked out fabric for a few blouses and skirts, all in dark greens, blues and grays, with Jared sitting beside her, looking at what she pointed to, nodding thoughtfully at everything.

  It felt strange and awkward at first, having him at her elbow, discussing clothing. But he seemed to enjoy it and gave his opinion on most everything. In the end, Mattie grew comfortable with both the clothing and Jared’s presence.

  “Excellent choices,” Mrs. Dixon declared, writing up the order. “Now, Mattie, if you’ll just come in the back room, I’ll get your measurements.”

  As Mattie disappeared into the little curtained area at the rear of the shop, Jared approached Mrs. Dixon.

  “Everything she ordered, triple it,” he said in a low voice. “I know she asked for dark colors, but it will be hot this summer, so make some of her things lighter. And throw in anything else she’ll need—underclothes or whatever.”

  Mrs. Dixon smiled pleasantly. “Of course, Sheriff.”

  Jared paced in front of the window, listening to the soft feminine voices floating from the back of the shop.

  He didn’t like to think about the past. Too much sorrow. Too much pain. Only since he’d met Mattie had he been able to recall what had happened and not have his gut wrenched.

  But right now, at this moment, Jared would give most anything to go back. Not for himself, though. For Mattie.

  He wished he could have met her before Del did. Before Del had hurt her, tainted her view of men, marriage and life. Jared wished he didn’t have all Del’s damage to undo.

  He gazed out on the streets of Stanford, taking solace in his new home, and drew in a fortifying breath. Forging this life with Mattie would only make their marriage stronger.

  A little smile pulled at his lips as he thought about her modest selections of clothing, reasoning she’d have only this one baby.

  One baby.

  He’d be damned if that would be true. Not if he had any say in it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  What if he held the town council at gunpoint? What if he threatened to arrest every one of them?

  Jared walked toward the mayor’s house, ruminating over what he could do to convince the council to let Mattie host that supper. They were all assembled right now, getting ready to go over the town’s business, and very shortly would be hearing proposals from all the restaurants in town.

  Mattie would probably win the supper on her own, with what she had planned. But still, Jared didn’t like leaving it to chance.

  “Evening, Sheriff.”

  He stopped as Abel and Ben waved to him from their checkerboard in front of the mercantile. Since they’d witnessed Mattie berating him, they’d been a little friendlier. “Evening, boys.”

  “You headed over to the mayor’s house?” Abel asked.

  “Yep,” Jared said.

  “Figured you would, what with Miss Mattie being over there,” Ben said.

  Abel squinted at Jared. “You eat already?”

  “I sure did.”

  Both old men nodded sagely. It seemed no one in town didn’t know about Mayor Rayburn’s wife’s cooking.

  “How’s your game—yeow!” Jared grabbed his knee and whipped around as little Chuckie Waldron raced down the boardwalk. Damn, that kid had kicked him again!

  “Get back here!” Jared stumbled along after him, gritting his teeth and cursing at the same time. He was going to get his hands on that boy, and when he did—

  Chuckie darted into the alley. Jared followed, but came up short at the sight of Mrs. Waldron holding the struggling boy by the hand.

  “Sheriff, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I saw what Chuckie did and—oh, Chuckie, please be still.”

  “Settle down!” Jared’s voice boomed, freezing both Chuckie and his mother.

  “Sheriff, I’m sorry.” Mrs. Waldron, young and obviously at wit’s end over her son, pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Please don’t be mad at Chuckie. He hears the older boys talking, pretending to be outlaws, making it sound so glamorous. He thinks he’s some sort of lawbreaker.”

  Chuckie narrowed his eyes at Jared, frowning and glaring, pushing out his jaw.

  “I’ve talked to him, really I have,” Mrs. Waldron said, still holding her son’s hand. “But he won’t listen.”

  “A good swat on the backside would make him listen.”

  “He won’t kick you again. I promise.”

  “If he does, I’m taking matters into my own hands,” Jared told her, resisting the urge to rub his knee.

  “All right, Sheriff, that seems fair. Come on, Chuckie.” As Mrs. Waldron led the boy away, he looked back at Jared and stuck out his tongue.

  Mumbling another curse, Jared left the alley. Ben and Abel craned their necks in his direction, as if they expected him to drag little Chuckie out by his ear and haul him off to jail.

  Jared shook his head. “Looks like I’ve got a real desperado on my hands.”

  Ben and Abel relaxed and chuckled.

  “Better get on over to the mayor’s house,” Abel advised. “You don’t want to be late. Miss Mattie can sure use a friendly face among that bunch.”

  “That’s for dang sure,” Ben agreed.

  Jared hurried on his way, anxious to see Mattie and put the unpleasantness with Chuckie behind him. But an even greater unpleasantness loomed ahead of him on the boardwalk.

  Mrs. Pomeroy.

  Fighting the urge to dart across the street and avoid the woman, Jared drew in a deep breath. He needed to talk to her, and he may as well get it over with.

  “Evening, Mrs. Pomeroy.” Jared tipped his hat.

  Nose in the air, she glared at him and walked by without speaking.

  “Ma’am? I’d like to have a word with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Mrs. Pomeroy stopped and turned ever so slowly, raising a haughty eyebrow at him. “Is that so? Well, Sheriff, you have already made it perfectly clear that you have nothing to say to me or my committee.”

  “Well, that’s just the thing, Mrs. Pomeroy,” Jared said, managing to sound contrite. “I know we got off to a bad start when you and the ladies of your committee came by my office. And I feel terrible about that. Truly, I do.”

  She pinched her lips together. “Is that so?”

  “Yes, ma’am, it is,” Jared said. “And I wanted to let you know that I intend to talk to the barkeep at the Lady Luck and see what can be done.”

  Mrs. Pomeroy’s frosty expression hardened into something of a challenge. “You’ll discuss curtailing their hours? Limiting the number of drinks served? Holding down the noise? Adopting a policy of not corrupting our youth by serving young men?”

  Jared managed a nod. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll talk about all those things.”

  “And you’ll report back to me and my committee?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Still, nothing remotely resembling a smile spread across her face. “Very well, then, Sheriff. Thank you.”

  “Mrs. Pomeroy?” He followed as she headed off down the boardwalk again. She turned once more, raising that same skeptical eyebrow. “I understand you recently bought a brooch from Mattie Ingram. I’d like to buy it from you.”

  A smug smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Is that so?”

  She knew why he wanted it. Plain as day, it was written all over her face. Seemed everyone in Stanford—including Mrs. Pomeroy—knew how he felt about Mattie.

  Now, seeing the look on the woman’s face, Jared figured she’d refuse to sell it to him, just to get back at him for being rude to her and her committee. But to his surprise, Mrs. Pomeroy nodded. “I’ll be happy to sell you the brooch, Sheriff.”

  “Thank you, ma’a
m, I—”

  “After you get the saloon to agree to all the changes my committee wants.” Mrs. Pomeroy gave him a final nod and walked away.

  Jared pulled at the tight muscles in his neck. He’d intended to talk to Rafe Duncan at the Lady Luck and see if anything could be done, but really hadn’t expected the barkeep to agree to Mrs. Pomeroy’s demands. Certainly not all of them. Jared had thought that simply trying would appease her and her committee. But now that wouldn’t be nearly enough.

  “Hellfire…” Jared headed for the mayor’s house.

  By the time he arrived, supper was over, evidenced by the hungry looks of the town councilmen who’d managed to avoid eating much of Mrs. Rayburn’s meal. Jared accepted a cup of coffee, which he nearly gagged on, and took a seat in the parlor with the other men to discuss Stanford’s business.

  “You holding things together all right at the sheriff’s office without an official deputy?” Mr. Burrows, the town banker asked.

  “Doing fine,” Jared assured them. “Billy’s been helping out.”

  “We’ll get you a new deputy as soon as we can,” the mayor said. “In the meantime, we’ve got a few fellas in town who used to help out Sheriff Hickert every now and then. We’ll hire them for duty when the investors get here.”

  Marvin Ford, owner of the Stanford Hotel, read the list of activities planned for the investors, everything from a parade to a performance by the schoolchildren to a tour of the town. The men talked for a while, making suggestions, asking questions, quizzing Jared on what he saw as potential problems.

  Finally, Mayor Rayburn declared it was time to listen to proposals from the local restaurants wanting to host the official welcome supper. The Everettes, who owned the Silver Bell, came in with four of their children in tow.

  When the curtains separating the parlor from the rear of the house opened, Jared shifted in his chair, hoping for a glimpse of Mattie. He’d been by the Cottonwood and helped load the wagon she’d rented for the evening. It had pleased him that Billy had taken charge, easing some of Mattie’s responsibilities.