Penelope touched Augusta’s hand, and her eyes were filled with sympathy. “We got no less than four messages early this morning that you were seen making your way home from this place, before dawn.” Her voice trembled as she spoke the final words, and Augusta waited expectantly to see the woman’s eyes roll back in her head at the very idea of such a thing happening.
“I was here to help Mr. Cleary,” Augusta said quietly. “He was injured and I stopped the bleeding and applied a bandage.”
“On his…” As if the words could not be uttered aloud, Penelope only gestured in Cleary’s direction.
“Yes, on my hip.” His mouth was thin, his eyes narrowed as he faced the visitors. “If you would like to do the honors in my home, instead of at the church, Parson, you can have a ceremony, here and now, for Miss McBride and myself.”
A nod of agreement was exchanged between the two men and Cleary held out a hand to Augusta. “Come here, Gussie. You’re about to become a wife.”
“I didn’t plan…”
“Neither did I,” he said quietly as she crossed the floor to stand before him. “At least not today, not this way. But it doesn’t matter. What counts is that I get to call you Mrs. Cleary, and you get to wear a wedding ring and belong to me.” He leaned heavily on the chair beside him, and his eyes held hers with a look of pleading she could not resist.
Augusta was torn as she faced the prospect of a wedding that held all the elements of a shotgun situation. Her heart ached as she recognized the potential harm to her ladies and the haven she’d created for their benefit, should gossip spread throughout the town.
“Reach into my trouser’s pocket,” Cleary said, his eyes fastened on Augusta’s face. “There’s a small box there.”
“A box?” Her fingers slid timidly to his pocket opening and he shook his head.
“The other side.”
“Oh, all right.” Again she forced herself to press her hand into the length of his pocket, until her finger touched the square container he carried. “Where did this come from?” She turned it in her hand, a small, green velvet box, worn on the corners.
“It was my grandmother’s ring. She left it to me, and told me I should be very choosy about the woman I gave it to. I was going to show it to you last night.” A crooked smile curved his lips, and he covered both her hands with one of his. “She’d be pleased with you, Augusta.”
The words of his approval brought quick tears, and she brushed them away impatiently. “Are you sure?” she asked softly, searching for some sign, some magic moment in which she would know and recognize love in his voice and eyes.
He nodded. “I’m sure. I told you the other day that this was what I wanted for us. I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Well,” the minister said, clearing his throat and adjusting his waistcoat. “I don’t have my book with me, but I think I can recall from memory most of the ceremony.”
He turned to his wife. “Stand over here, Pen. We’ll need a witness.”
Cleary had never paid much attention to the vows spoken during the few weddings he’d attended or been a part of, usually forcing himself to be patient as the words droned on and on. The dancing with pretty girls and the drinking of punch, usually spiked by some friend of the groom, were first and foremost on his mind.
Today he listened, and if the Reverend Young missed any of the essential parts, Cleary did not recognize the loss. He repeated his vows, watched Augusta as she spoke promises on his behalf, and then attended to sliding the ring over her knuckle to be clenched in place as her fingers curled to secure it. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the place where gold and pearls met pale, smooth skin.
“You may kiss your bride.”
The words were welcome, and Cleary circled his wife’s waist with one arm, still holding the chair with the other hand to balance himself. His hip throbbed like a house afire, and his leg ached like the worst toothache he’d ever had. And yet a sense of completion, of coming home, filled his heart, and he gathered Gussie to his chest and bent to bestow his kiss against her mouth.
Cool and chaste, his caress touched her trembling lips and drew away. “Hello there, Mrs. Cleary,” he said quietly, aware of Penelope’s handkerchief coming into play as the lady sniffed and blew with decorum into a lacy square of linen.
“We’re really married.” As if she could not believe it, Augusta turned to the minister. “Is that it? Will you give us a certificate so we can frame it and place it on the parlor wall?”
“Yes, indeed,” he said, smiling brightly now that he’d solved the problem of decency so neatly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the ladies come visiting with gifts one day soon.”
Cleary’s whisper was soft in her ear. “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you. Not until you move in here and live in my house. ‘Cause I’m sure not going to park my carcass in that houseful of women on the other side of town.”
“I’m married.” She’d thought about it all the way home, deciding how best to break the news. Only to decide that the simplest way might be the easiest. And so she repeated the words as five women sat around the kitchen table and stared at her as if they beheld a two-headed monster from the swamp.
“How did that happen?” Honey was the first one to gain her feet and she tugged at her dress as she faced Augusta. “I mean, we didn’t know it was gonna be today.”
“We were kinda talking about a party for you and Cleary,” Pearl said. “But then we decided it might not be too well attended, should we invite any of the townsfolk.”
“The townsfolk I care about live in this house.”
“Well, you’ll have a place in town society now,” Janine said. “I doubt the good folks of Collins Creek will appreciate you hanging around with the lot of us.”
“This is my home,” Augusta said. “Cleary wants me to move into his house, so I’ll probably have to do that, but this will always be home to me. I’ll be here every day. That much won’t change. And we’ll still be finding a future for all of you.”
“How about a party today?” Honey looked hopeful. “I can bake cookies pretty good, and Bertha already has a big ham ready for the oven for dinner, and maybe we can think of a few folks to invite.”
“Cleary’s not quite up to a party, yet,” Augusta said slowly, unsure how much of the man’s situation these women should be aware of. “He’s having a hard time moving around, but a couple of days will make a big difference, I’m sure.”
“Did he get shot, Miss Augusta?” Glory’s eyes were huge as she asked the question. “We only just know that he was hurt and you took him home.”
“Yes.” It might not be wise to give any more details than necessary to these women, but they were not prone to gossip and, except for Janine, none of them were out and about. “He got shot, but the wound is shallow and it should heal fast. It just bled a lot.” Her hands brushed together in a gesture of readiness. “Well, now, let’s get to work. We have a lot to accomplish today. Janine must go to work and some of us will be canning tomatoes from the garden.”
“I’ll dust and run the carpet sweeper,” Honey offered cheerfully. “And I’ve got ironing to do for Mrs. Burns.” She stood and pushed her chair beneath the table, then turned to face Augusta. “Will you be taking Henry with you over to Cleary’s place?”
Honey’s wistful expression was a dead giveaway, Augusta decided. The girl had grown tremendously attached to the dog, and it seemed mean hearted to take the pup from here to Cleary’s place. “No, I think this house needs a watchdog and Henry is attached to all of you already. He’ll stay here. After all, I’ll be here a good share of the time anyway.”
With that matter of business settled, the women scattered in various directions and Augusta followed Glory out the back door. “I’ll take care of the chickens first, ma’am, and then help with the tomatoes.”
“Glory…what do you want to do with the rest of your life?” The girl was slender to the point of being thin, and her dark eyes held painful
memories; yet, there was a hopeful air about her that encouraged Augusta. “Would you like to marry someday, have a family of your own?”
A crimson stain covered Glory’s cheeks. “I don’t think any decent man would want me to have his children. I’m a fallen woman, ma’am, and that’s the truth. About the best I’ll ever do is to maybe cook in the hotel or clean up after folks.”
“Oh, no. Don’t ever think that. There are good men in this world, Glory. I just know that someday one of them will see you and appreciate your fine qualities.”
“I won’t be a slave to a man.” Glory’s chin lifted defensively. “I’ll never let a man hurt me again, or use me—” Her words halted abruptly. “You don’t have the least idea about such things, ma’am. Mr. Cleary is a fine gentleman, and he’ll treat you right.”
Augusta sighed, acknowledging the truth in that statement with a nod. “Yet, I feel driven to help all of you,” she said. “In fact, I’ve been hoping that the other ladies I spoke to in Dallas would show up here before now.”
“Most of the girls are scared to run off. There’s some of them that don’t think there’s any chance for a different way of living.” She lifted her chin and her eyes glittered with pride. “I knew I couldn’t live that way the rest of my life.”
Bertha pushed open the screened door and stuck her head out, calling to Augusta. “There’s a man in the parlor lookin’ for you. Good-lookin’ son of a gun.”
“I’ll be right in.” Augusta smoothed her hair back and brushed at her skirt. “You go ahead and tend to the chickens, and I’ll be back to help you pick tomatoes in just a little bit,” she told Glory.
The man in the parlor was indeed a good-looking specimen, and Augusta smiled as he stepped toward her. “Good morning, Mr. Garvey. What can I do for you?”
He wore a sober look, and his glance toward the doorway told Augusta that privacy was important. She turned and slid the parlor doors shut and faced the banker once more.
“Is Cleary here?” he asked quietly. “I got word that he disappeared yesterday, late in the afternoon, and I haven’t heard from him. I thought you might know where he is.”
“He was here, but he isn’t now.”
“Is he all right?”
She shook her head. “When I left him this morning he was sleeping, but he won’t be up and around for a few days.” Her hands were clasped at her waist and she glanced down as her fingers traced the lines of the ring she wore. Nicholas Garvey’s gaze touched the glistening gold and the muted gleam of pearls, and his eyes narrowed as they swept up to rest on her face.
“I didn’t notice your ring when we met before, ma’am. Is it new?”
“No. In fact, it’s a family heirloom, sir. It belonged to Mr. Cleary’s grandmother.”
“And now you wear it?” His brow rose in silent query. “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“I suspect you’ve already surmised why I’m wearing the ring.” Augusta was enjoying this play of words, suddenly basking in the knowledge that she was a married woman. There was a new confidence in her bearing. She felt…honored seemed a good word to describe her new position in life. Cleary had cared enough to marry her, had given her his prized possession to wear.
“I have to assume you’re a married lady, ma’am. And I’d say congratulations are in order.” He slid his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked on his heels, exuding an attitude of satisfaction. “Now if I could locate Cleary, I’d be happy to offer him my hand and tell him what a fortunate fellow he is.”
“He’s at home. And I’m sure he’d be happy to have you stop by.” She considered that statement for a moment. “Maybe not happy, exactly, given his present state, but if you’ll open the front door and call out, I’m sure he’ll invite you into the parlor.”
“Into the parlor. He’s sleeping in the parlor?”
“I dragged his mattress down the stairs. It was easier than dragging him up to the second floor.”
“I think you’re quite an inventive young woman, but I’m not going to ask you why all that was necessary.” Nicholas was quite dashing when he smiled, Augusta decided. And she couldn’t decide if he were flirting with her, just a bit, or not.
“But do allow me to extend my best wishes on your marriage, ma’am,” he said politely. “May I ask how long you’ve been keeping this a secret?”
Augusta made a great show of looking at her lapel watch. “About three hours now.”
“You were married this morning?”
She nodded. “It seemed like a good idea.”
His smile faded, replaced by a more serious demeanor. “Did Cleary tell you anything? About his trip? Or the results?”
She shook her head. “Apparently there are some things he doesn’t consider his wife should be concerned with.”
“He’s a good man, ma’am, you can be certain of that.”
“If I were not, I wouldn’t be wearing his ring, Mr. Garvey.”
With a pounding like thunder on his front door, Cleary was made aware of a visitor. He struggled to sit up on his mattress and reached to comb his hair back, his long fingers making tunnels in the dark length. “Yes, come on in.” Sounded like a damn bear, he decided, his voice deep and harsh.
“I hear congratulations are in order.” Nicholas stood in the parlor doorway and grinned. “How’d you ever manage that, old man?” He strolled past the dusty tables, across the worn carpet and took a seat on the brocade couch. His hat found a spot beside him and he crossed his ankles, leaning back as he quirked an eyebrow at Cleary.
“Augusta is not the sort of woman any gentleman would hold up to ridicule. She spent the night here, and when the minister came to rescue her from my clutches, I thought it an opportune time to take a wife.”
Nicholas snagged the pivotal point and repeated it. “She spent the night here?”
“Tending to my bullet wound.” Frustration rode each syllable.
The banker sat up straight. “Where? And how?”
“Where? Too damn close to my butt for comfort. As to how, some fuzzy-cheeked deputy with poor aim turned his gun on me while I was riding away. Pretty near shot my horse.”
“Were you exposed?”
“Hell, no. The law was after me. That gang probably thinks I’ve got a record a mile long.”
“Well, we’re about ready to round up the whole bunch of them, and you’ll be out of this altogether. Did you find out their plans for the gold shipment?”
“I gave them the location and told them I’d have a man in the mail car. They won’t be expecting a setup.”
Nicholas smiled grimly. “Will you be ready to ride by then?”
“It’s weeks away. I’ll be fine. Couple of days and this thing should be all healed up.”
“You haven’t told Miss McBride everything, I understand.”
“I haven’t told her much of anything,” Cleary said. “The less she knows, the better off she’ll be.” He shifted to the head of the mattress and leaned on the overstuffed chair behind him. “And you’d better be putting things in place for the next part of this plan, Nick.”
“It’s taken care of. The banking community doesn’t forget the sort of thing you’re doing for us.” He rose from the couch and picked up his hat.
“You’ve got a fine wife. Are you planning on living with her?” Amusement lit his words, and a grin touched his lips.
“Damn right I am.”
“Here or there?” Nicholas’s smile widened as he awaited a reply.
“There’s more privacy here. She’ll be home in time to cook supper. I’m hoping she’ll bring her valise with her.” He considered that idea for a moment and then looked up at Nicholas.
“On second thought, how about dropping by the livery stable and hiring a wagon to go over to pick up all her belongings. Let her know I sent it.”
With a half salute, Nicholas agreed, and in moments the front door closed firmly behind him.
Cleary slid down with care, favoring his hip, an
d contemplated the evening ahead.
“He don’t waste no time, does he?” Pearl watched as the burly gentleman from the livery stable carried Augusta’s trunk down the staircase. Heavy though it was, he’d hoisted it on his shoulder and was passing through the front door on his way to the wagon out front.
“Who? Cleary?” Augusta was flustered and rosy with embarrassment generated by the man who’d told her Mr. Cleary had sent him, and he was to bring her, bag and baggage, to his home.
“Who else, honey?” Pearl’s eyes gleamed as the tall, muscular man came back in the house and shot a considering look in her direction. His feet were heavy on the treads as he climbed back up the stairs, and Augusta hastened to keep up.
He was in the middle of her room, and as she entered he looked back at her over his shoulder. “Just the valise, ma’am?”
“That and a box of books,” Augusta said. “But they can wait until another time.”
The man shook his head. “No, ma’am. Mr. Cleary’s message was that I was to bring everything you owned over to his place. I’ll get the books right now.”
The man was bossy, issuing orders from a mattress in his parlor and expecting everyone to bow to his will. And as she bustled down the stairs behind the behemoth carrying the rest of her belongings, Augusta blew out a breath of exasperation. Love, honor and obey. That dreaded word had been a part of her vows, and she’d glibly repeated it after the minister without a thought as to how soon it would come into play.
“You about ready to ride along, ma’am?” He’d loaded the final bits and pieces contained in her second best valise, Beth Ann having been given the good tapestry bag. Now he awaited her presence on his wagon.
“You’d best go along,” Bertha said placidly. “I fixed a basket for dinner for the two of you. Fried chicken and ham sandwiches and deviled eggs. There’s a couple of tomatoes to slice and a jar of beans to heat up.”
“If I never see another tomato in my life, it won’t be too soon to suit me.”
“Well, your mister likes them just fine,” Bertha said. “Besides, canning tomatoes always makes you sick of ’em. It’s the smell, I think.”
The Texan Page 15
