Anna and Carter stared at Grover with similar stunned expressions. Carter rubbed the back of his neck. "Let me get this straight. You want to marry a bank robber after forging papers that give her a new identity."
"I know it sounds crazy," Grover said.
"Crazy? It sure is that, but crazy isn't the first word I'd use. It's criminal. What spell has this woman cast on you?"
"Tell me you wouldn't have done the same for Anna," Grover countered. "Or Nalin," he added. Nalin was Carter's deceased first wife, Paddy's mother.
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Grover. It doesn't compare. Nalin wouldn't have broken the law. She feared it." A mournful affection crossed Carter's face briefly, as it always did when he spoke of Nalin. "Anna here, well," Carter glanced at her and smiled slightly, "Anna would worry about who would get hurt if she stole money from the bank. She'd think about the bankers' families."
Anna poured coffee into two mugs. "I think it's admirable, what the marshal wants to do. The poor girl sounds like she got stuck with the wrong man. She didn't end up with any of the money, so she's not a real bank robber." Anna handed Grover his mug of coffee and scooped her daughter out of his arms. "I want to help you, Grover. What do you need?"
"Hold it right there, missus," Carter said. "You're not getting involved in this."
Grover held up a hand. "Hear me out, Carter. I only want Anna's bible. Nothing else."
Anna cocked her head. "My bible? What for?"
"Do you have it? I'll show you." Grover took a sip of coffee.
She scrunched her eyebrows together. "I'm sure it's here somewhere. I'll put the baby to bed and look for it in the bedroom." She walked to the room carrying her daughter and returned holding the bible and leading Paddy.
"Has it been fifteen minutes, Pa?" Paddy asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.
Carter glanced at a clock on the wall opposite him. "Close enough, son. But find something to do out here that doesn't involve wobbling your jaw."
Anna handed Grover the dusty bible. He opened it to the first page and smiled. "This is perfect. See? I knew you were from Maryland, and your parents bought this for you when you were young, as good Christian parents do. It has a Maryland address printed on it."
Carter frowned at him. "So?"
"So I want Missy's story to be that she came as my mail-order bride from some other state. Maryland is as good a place as any. She can use this bible as proof. We can even draw out a fake family tree in the back pages like people do. Understand?"
Carter took a drink of the coffee Anna served him. "I understand your brain's been flogged to mush by a pretty piece of calico. That's what I understand."
"No it hasn't. It's a good idea," Anna said. "You can have my bible, Grover. Heaven knows I never read it."
"Anna," Carter said loudly, setting his mug down next to his pipe on the table. "You don't get to make decisions like this without your husband's permission."
Anna's cheeks took on a light pink color. "Don't bellow at me, Carter."
"I hardly bellowed at you. You haven't heard bellowing yet today, but I promise you will if I hear much more of this nonsense."
Grover observed them glaring at each other. He pulled at his collar, feeling warm and uncomfortable. "Look, I don't want to cause disharmony between you two. I won't take the bible if it's that much of an issue."
"No, Marshal. Take it," Anna said firmly. "Carter will come to agreement. Plus we owe you. Don't we, Carter?" She shot him a meaningful look.
That look referred to three years ago when Carter dragged one of his ranch hands to the marshal's jail. The man had attempted to rape Anna and lay into his son, and Carter whaled him to a bloody pulp. Anna convinced Carter not to kill him and instead do the right thing by handing him over to the law, but it was too late. Carter's beating left him with a head wound that killed him two days later.
Grover believed in the law, but he believed in two other things more strongly—common sense and his solid judge of character. It's what caused him not to charge Carter with excessive force, and it's what allowed his willingness to help Missy.
Carter leaned back in his chair and puffed his pipe with a thoughtful frown. "Is your name anywhere on that bible, Anna?"
"No. See for yourself. It can't be traced to me." Anna took the book from Grover and handed it to Carter.
Carter flipped through with both hands, his pipe in his mouth, and stopped on one of the back pages. Taking the pipe out to speak, he said, "What in the tarnation do you call this then, angel?" He held it up and pointed to large letters written crookedly in a child's unsteady hand—Anna Brown.
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I don't remember writing that."
"I imagine not. Looks like you wrote it when you were younger than Paddy." He ripped out the page and crushed it in his hand. He closed the book and held it out to Anna. When she grasped on, he didn't let go, causing her to lift her eyes to meet his. "I'm not pleased with this arrangement," he said before releasing his hold on the bible.
"I'll try to endure your displeasure," she responded with an unconcerned lilt to her voice. She gave the bible back to Grover and grinned at him, appearing delighted that she'd won a battle with her husband.
Carter shook his head and said wearily, "Are you sure you want a wife, Grover? That might be the most addle-headed part of your whole plan."
As he asked the question, his younger son climbed onto his lap and Carter wrapped his arms around him. Anna turned her grin to Carter and let out an amused snort. He winked at her.
"Surer than ever," Grover said. "Thank you both. I know you'll like Missy and understand why I'm doing this when you meet her." He walked to where Paddy sat quietly by his whittled animals. He crouched down. "These are good, Paddy. Real good. Especially the horse. You did a bang-up job with that one."
Paddy's face lit up. He picked up the whittled horse and handed it to him. "You can have it, Marshal."
"That's dreadful generous of you, son. You sure?"
He nodded.
"Come see me at the jail next time you're in town, you hear? I want to know what else you've whittled by then."
Paddy agreed, a huge smile planted on his face. Grover tussled his hair and rose from his crouched position. Carter stood, positioned his toddler on his hip, and walked to Grover.
Resting a hand on his shoulder, Carter said, "You're going to be a real fine father to the little lass, my friend, and a real fine husband. Let me know if you need anything else in this plan of yours. I'll try to be as out-and-out agreeable as my wife next time."
The men shook hands. Grover rode back to town at a trot. He couldn't wait to get home and take the little bank robber into his arms. He'd make love to her, tenderly this time, and hold her all night long.
# # #
Missy and Grover thought out and composed a letter together. They enclosed it in an envelope addressed to Grover with a Maryland return address.
Dear Marshal Grover Huntley,
Thank you for your interest in acquiring a mail-order bride. I understand you heard about me via a mutual friend, Mark Evans, who experienced success using my matchmaking services. I received your information and photograph, as well as your payment, on January 4, 1895.
Based on your desires and qualifications, I have chosen for you a lovely lady by the name of Melissa Jones. Recently widowed while with child, she seeks a good husband who will provide for her and her infant daughter. Although I understand most men seek virginal brides, I assure you of her virtuous character. I need not assure you of her beauty, since you will witness it when she hands you this letter.
I think you will find Melissa Jones pleasing in many respects. She has a winsome way about her, with light hair, and blue eyes. She is a bit thin, but this is because of her recent grief and misfortune. With some care, attention, and proper meals, she will blossom into a woman you will no doubt find highly desirable, if you don't already. She also has a talent for singing and cooking.
I'm new to the matchmaking bu
siness, but I boast a 100% success rate. Melissa Jones is the third woman I have selected as a mail-order bride for a citizen in the west. The previous two are settled and happy, as you no doubt heard from Mr. Evans. I hope you and Melissa will be very happy as well.
Thank you again for your inquiry and payment. Please write to me with an update after you are both settled.
With Warm Regards,
Mrs. Sadie Harris
Next Missy and Grover drew a simple family tree in the back of Anna's bible. They made up names for her husband, parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Melissa Jones' name appeared near the bottom, orphaned and widowed with every other member marked deceased, except for her daughter, whose name appeared right below hers under the name Hannah Lou. They decided to keep Lou as a middle name in case Missy slipped and said her given name out loud by accident.
Missy's silver bird brooch served as one final proof of identity. With her permission, Grover etched into the back the letters L.W. to stand for Lydia Winters, Missy's mother's made-up name, which they'd written in the bible.
Grover ran a hand over his beard. "This ought to do it, darlin'. We'll show these to the preacher, only if he asks, to prove your identity. Then when we're married, you'll take the name Melissa Huntley, and the proof of your identity will be the marriage certificate."
Missy observed the three proofs on the kitchen table—the letter, bible, and brooch. "I hope it's enough," she said.
"It will be. It's more than many people have out here."
"I can't believe you're doing this for me. Why are you, Grover?"
Grover ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her. "I don't rightly know, Missy, but there's something about you, something I didn't know I was missing until I had it. Plus you're easy on the eyes and can cook up some mighty fine chow." He winked at her.
She smiled back at him broadly, happiness lighting her face. "I hope I don't disappoint you, Grover. I'll do my best to be a good wife."
He wrapped her in his arms. "Oh, darlin'. You won't disappoint me, at least not ever in a permanent way. You'll be a good wife, and you'll be a naughty wife, and believe me when I say I'll like it both ways."
Chapter 6 - Married to the Marshal
Missy carried Hannah Lou and struggled to keep up with Grover as he strode down the sidewalk. He nodded to people who passed them, but walked at a quick, determined clip to avoid being stopped and questioned about the woman hustling to remain at his side. Missy noticed the townsfolk eying her. She knew she must stand out in her rags and appear especially disheveled in comparison to the marshal, who looked as sharp as ever in his pressed, clean clothes.
A bell tied to the door jingled as they walked into Dorothy's Fabric and Dress shop. A middle-aged woman greeted them.
"Howdy, Marshal. Who do we have here?" The woman looked at Missy with a mildly disapproving expression.
Grover took off his hat. "Dorothy, allow me to introduce Melissa Jones from Maryland. She's to be my bride. Missy, meet Dorothy Smith, the finest seamstress in Porter."
Dorothy's disapproval turned to surprise. "Lands sakes, Marshal. I didn't know you were lookin' to get hitched."
"No one did. I didn't get the hankering to shout it from Main Street. It's a personal matter."
"Right, of course. I'm tickled for you, Marshal. Welcome to Porter, Miss Jones. Or is it missus? Are you recently widowed?" she asked, looking at the bundle in Missy's arms.
Missy reached out to shake Dorothy's hand. "Please call me Melissa or Missy. Yes, my late husband died of pneumonia when I was pregnant with Hannah Lou here."
"I'm sorry to hear that, honey. Isn't she a pretty one? Not all babies are pretty, even though I always say they are. But with her I mean it." Dorothy offered a smile.
Missy smiled back. "Thank you, Mrs. Smith. And you have so many pretty clothes. Did you make those?" She pointed at the dresses hanging on a rack nearby.
Dorothy's eyes lit up. "Call me Dorothy. I did indeed make those clothes. Looks like you might be needing a dress or two. Am I right?" She stared at the rags that draped Missy's small frame.
Grover positioned his hat back on his head and said gruffly, "She needs three dresses and everything that goes under them, plus new boots, stockings, and a shawl. I'll be leaving you sage hens to your feathers and frills." He turned toward the door.
"No, Grover. That's far too much," Missy protested. She laid her daughter on an upholstered chair next to a selection of bright calico fabric. "I only need one dress and some bloomers, perhaps. These boots will last a bit longer."
"P'shaw! That's more ridiculous than a feathered horse, Missy." He placed a hand on the door handle. "Dorothy, please see to it she gets everything I listed."
"I'd be delighted to," Dorothy responded. She smiled down at Hannah Lou and tickled her cheek.
"Grover, I can't let you. It's too much."
He stood still for a moment, his back facing her. When he removed his hand from the door handle and turned, he wore a scowl. "You can't let me? Is that what you said?"
Missy's eyes widened, surprised by his sudden fierceness. "It's just, I, I thought—"
"You thought it acceptable to argue with my decision, and not just once, but twice. I expect obedience, young lady, not blather. Are you going to question me like that when you're my wife?"
She shook her head. "No, Grover. I'm sorry."
"You will be. Do you want me to thrash you here now or later at the house?"
Missy felt her face flush scarlet. She felt mortified that he made her punishment known to the seamstress. She searched his face in an effort to find the tenderness he showed her before, but she could only see hardness in his features.
"Later," she choked out.
"Very well. I'll be back in a couple hours." He nodded at Dorothy and strode out the door.
Missy put her face in her hands, too humiliated to even look at the older woman.
Dorothy rushed to her. "Oh, honey, the marshal acted a right scalawag. I can't believe he treated you so harshly. It's unforgivable!" she spat. "I've never known him to speak that way to a woman. How could he to his future bride?" Dorothy rubbed her back. "There, there, honey."
"Thank you, ma'am." Missy said, touched to receive a woman's comfort. It reminded her of how much she missed her ma.
"I tell you, I'm shocked by the marshal's behavior. I have a mind to run out there and give him what-for. He should be wooing you, not scolding and spanking you! And to punish you for such small potatoes? He must have a screw loose."
"No, Dorothy. It's okay." Missy smiled. She felt happy suddenly, getting to know a friendly person in town other than Grover. "He's been very kind to me. He probably reckons he should show his authority in public, him being the marshal and all. Plus, he's buying me an awful lot of clothes, so I know he cares about me."
Dorothy grunted. "I suppose that's true. Let's get you dressed then, sugar. When I'm done with you, the marshal will be so flustered by your beauty he might forget to punish you."
Missy felt excited as she watched Dorothy select three dresses for her. Two were everyday dresses, and one was for special occasions. Missy tried on each dress, and Dorothy measured how much to hem them in. Two were very large on her and needed some work done by the seamstress to make them fit, but one hugged her every curve perfectly. It was a light-blue calico frock with white-lace trim lining the collar and wrists. A midnight-blue satin sash wrapped around the waist and tied neatly into a bow in the back. Finally, Dorothy selected some sturdy new boots in her size and helped Missy lace them onto her feet.
"You look wonderful," Dorothy said. "This dress brings out your blue eyes. Let's fix your hair. I have some ribbon that matches the sash."
Dorothy braided ribbons into Missy's hair and pinned the braids around the top of her head in the shape of a wreath. The rest of her golden hair cascaded in wavy tresses around her shoulders.
"Oh, have a look at you." Dorothy stood back and clasped her hands together.
&nb
sp; The bell on the door jingled, and they looked up to find Grover striding in. He stared at Missy for a long while before he cleared his throat and spoke. "Finished?"
Missy nodded. "Yes, Grover."
Dorothy walked behind the counter and folded underclothes, stockings, and a cream-colored shawl into brown paper. She wrapped the paper with twine to keep everything together in the bundle. Tying the knot with a hard yank, she said, "Grover Huntley, seems you need to learn a thing or two about women. You give that beautiful gal a compliment right now or so help me I'll give you tongue-lashing that'll spin your head."
Grover's eyes twinkled as he approached Missy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her. "Darlin', I'd wager you're the prettiest woman in all of Texas. Not a one could hold a candle to you. Your hair looks especially fetching." He ran his fingers along her plaits, then bent to give her a quick kiss. Missy smiled at him, her heart brimming with joy at his compliment.
Grover addressed Dorothy. "Was that to your satisfaction, ma'am?"
She grunted. "I suppose. But I'll tell you something else. You'd better not thrash her for being concerned about your finances earlier. If I hear tell of it, I'll never speak to you again."
Grover's smile widened. "Is that right? I can't bear that thought, so I won't. Besides, even the naughtiest of women shouldn't be punished on their wedding day."
"That wouldn't be today, Marshal. I need to take in and hem her best dress. It'll be ready in two days. Then you can get married."
Grover rubbed his jaw. "I'm afraid I can't do your bidding on that, Dorothy. We're getting married today. I just spoke with the preacher. Missy looks all-to-pieces lovely in this dress anyway."
"But she looks like an angel in the other!"
Missy came to Grover's defense. "It's okay, Dorothy. I'd like to wear the nicest dress, but I'd rather get married today than wait."
"Oh, fine," Dorothy huffed. "You young people are so impatient these days."
Grover paid for the clothes and picked up the brown paper bundle while Missy picked up her daughter, who cooed and observed her mother with blue eyes that matched her ma's.
Missy Meets the Marshal (Lone Star Love Book 2) Page 5
