“We’d love to have you visit.” AJ wandered out of the room with his arm around his old friend’s shoulder.
His pa had his life back. Some wishes did come true. Jackson hoped he hadn’t used up too many. Only time would tell if Jackson and Lily could fulfill his father’s fondest wish.
But in the meantime, Jackson could dream, couldn’t he?
Chapter 23
Two days later, Jackson waved to his pa riding alongside Carl Robertson, as they cantered past them, heading home to Milestone. Jackson flicked the reins and the horses and buggy he’d hired continued toward home also. Everyone was thankful AJ’s matter had been resolved.
Jackson couldn’t be happier to have Lily riding at his side on the seat, safe and happy and smiling. He snuck a peek at her every chance he got. Amanda and Aunt Ruby were huddled together under a couple of quilts on the seat behind them.
“When I spotted you at Benson’s Mercantile in the middle of it all, my heart almost stopped,” he admitted, glancing at Lily.
“I apologize for worrying you. But Amanda and I couldn’t sit by waiting at the hotel to hear from you.” Lily rested her hand on his arm. “We were too worried about you and your father so we snuck out the hotel’s back door near the kitchen.”
Jackson returned his attention to the horses. How deep were Lily’s feelings for his father? She’d grown fond of him, grown fond of all of them. He recalled her mentioning he felt more like a father to her than her own of late. Did Jackson have any chance at all of Lily falling in love with him? He recalled her tender care when his pa had fallen ill after being out in the cold rain.
Maybe he was reading too much into it. Maybe Lily would have done the same for any member of his family. She’d certainly taken loving care of Maudie and her puppies. And initiated their help when his aunt had fainted.
“I couldn’t be more thankful that the matter ended as well as it did,” Lily said.
“I agree totally.” Jackson glanced back at Dixon, tied to the buggy and plodding along behind them, appearing annoyed they weren’t racing across the valley instead. No doubt he and Dixon would have made better time alone, but having started for home early this morning, Jackson and his passengers should still arrive at the Double M before darkness set in. And the women were more comfortable riding in the buggy than on the stagecoach. “How’s my aunt doing?” he whispered.
Lily glanced over her shoulder, then leaned closer. “She’s sleeping. Even those few days’ rest and three meals a day at the hotel revived her tremendously.”
Jackson caught a whiff of Lily’s honeysuckle scent. “Aunt Ruby only packed one trunk before leaving her home when the bank foreclosed. It was kind of Mr. Benson’s wife to arrange with her husband to hold the trunk for my aunt in back of the mercantile while she made plans for the next chapter of her life.”
“I bet her friend would be shocked to learn your aunt intended to include blackmail as part of it.”
Jackson shrugged. “Desperate people don’t make the best decisions for themselves. Once Aunt Ruby finishes grieving under our care at the ranch, we’ll find her a small house in town. Maybe she could help Amanda at the shop?”
“We could certainly use the help.” Lily glanced back at Amanda and her aunt. “The shop is becoming too busy. Can your aunt sew? What we really require is another seamstress.”
“You’ll have to ask her,” Jackson muttered.
Now, if they only would hear something from the Pinkerton Agent, Sawyer Manning. Jackson hoped they could soon put all the turmoil in Lily’s life to rest also. And then perhaps he’d begin work on his next project.
Convincing Lily Watson to marry him.
* * *
Lily closed her store’s front door behind her and inhaled the scent of fresh-baked bread lingering in the air from Carter’s Bakery across the street. She would purchase a loaf from Emily Carter on her way home, but she needed a break from her work in hopes of recovering from the headache caused by the nonstop bustle of activity inside the store. Saturdays were impossible, and she’d thought this day would never end.
Lily walked toward the mercantile, requiring a few staples to replenish their pantry: coffee and a few canned goods topping the list she’d compiled in her mind.
“Wait up, Lily,” Amanda called, lifting her skirts and hurrying toward her. “I’ll come with you.”
“I appreciate the company.” Lily waited for her friend to catch up. “It has certainly been a hectic day.”
“I cannot wait for Aunt Ruby to rest up. We need her help desperately,” Amanda said, breathing a bit heavily from her haste.
“We can’t rush her recovery for fear of a relapse. I’ve seldom seen anyone as exhausted as your aunt. The worry from losing her husband and learning the horrible things he’d done weighed heavily on her mind and nearly ruined her health.” Lily touched Amanda’s arm. “I cannot imagine what would have become of her had we not found your aunt when we did.”
“Despite the blackmail attempt, I can’t fault her.”
“Desperate people seldom think through their actions.”
Amanda nodded. “You couldn’t be more right about that. Look what I attempted with you and Papa. I’ll be forever ashamed of that thoughtlessness.”
“But moving here worked out for the better for me. Your aunt will find a new purpose in life also. Maybe even meet a decent fellow, fall in love, and remarry someday.”
They continued toward the mercantile until approached by a woman wearing a ridiculous hat with bows and ribbons and a dead bird on it and an enormous silk and satin gown more suited to a ballroom.
“Are you Miss Watson?” the woman demanded, looking down her nose.
Lily glanced at Amanda and then met the rude woman’s eyes. “Yes, I am.”
“I heard about you. Coming here uninvited, hoping to marry A. J. McLennon.” She huffed and clasped her hands at her middle. “No wonder the poor man left town without a word to anyone. Escaping from your brazenness, no doubt.”
Lily stood dumbfounded. Where had the woman gotten such a ridiculous idea?
“I blame you for—”
“Just one minute!” Amanda blurted. “Mrs. Landers, your accusations couldn’t be further from the truth!”
The woman turned on her next. “And what were you thinking, young lady? Setting up a shop in town? Breaking your poor father’s heart becoming a common seamstress? I’ve never heard of such stupidity. No daughter of AJ’s should be—”
“AJ gave Amanda his blessing to open her shop. Owning her own business and being an independent young woman at her age shows gumption and bravery and more talent than anyone I’ve ever known!” Lily exclaimed, defending her friend from this shrew who huffed her disapproval again before lifting her nose in the air and strutting down the street in the opposite direction.
“Who was that?” Lily muttered.
“Mrs. Frances Landers, widow to a lawyer who passed away four years ago. She rents out a room or two in her home to unsuspecting travelers, and she keeps herself busy working for the church when she isn’t chasing after prospective husbands.”
Lily’s hand flew to her mouth. “Let me guess. She’s been trying to win your father’s attentions for ages. No wonder she was so annoyed with me.”
“She’s vied for Papa’s attention almost since the day Mama passed.”
“What a horrible person.”
“Ignore her. She doesn’t do well living on her own. I heard that her husband doted on her. She’s most likely looking for someone to wait on her hand and foot like he did. I don’t recall if her husband was ill. The poor man may have simply passed, anticipating the peaceful rest.”
Lily gasped. “I’ve never heard such uncharitable words from your mouth.”
“I know, but Frances Landers irritates me no end.” Amanda’s expression hadn’t changed suggesting she didn’t regret her outburst. “I lost patience with her ages ago. One of the reasons I corresponded with you in hopes of finding Papa a mail-ord
er bride…I feared Papa might actually succumb to her persistence and marry the horrid woman.”
Lily snorted, unladylike. “Perhaps I should marry your father, to ensure he’s spared the pain of a possible marriage to her.”
“Not such a crazy notion,” Amanda agreed, laughing.
Lily turned to enter the Milestone General Store and crashed into six feet of solid rancher. “Jackson, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going and I didn’t see you.”
Jackson stood frowning, his brow creased.
“Is something wrong?” Amanda touched his arm. “Is it Papa? Aunt Ruby?”
Her brother shook his head. “No, it’s nothing,” he muttered and strode toward Dixon. Without another word, he mounted the horse and rode away.
Lily watched him disappear down Main Street. The man seemed troubled. Something wasn’t right, but she hadn’t a clue what it might be.
Chapter 24
Jackson slowly rode Dixon down Main Street, unable to believe what he’d just overheard as he stepped out of the general store. Had Lily been teasing Amanda? Or was the woman he’d fallen in love with still seriously considering marrying his father?
Perhaps he should turn around and go back. Confess that he’d overheard them talking. Confront Lily with this ridiculous idea of a marriage between her and his pa. If she went through with it, she’d break Jackson’s heart and he needed to talk some sense into the woman he loved.
Besides, no one had heard a word from Manning. Everyone in the family had been tossing around the idea Lily should move back to the ranch. Himself included. Lily should return to the Double M where Jackson could protect her. But not so she could marry his pa!
“What would a confrontation accomplish?” he muttered.
Dixon whinnied, then shook his mane as if offering his opinion.
“Exactly. I’m probably better off not knowing Lily’s intentions.”
Approaching the outskirts of Milestone, he halted the horse and listened, certain he’d heard a child crying. Following the direction of the sound, he approached the house to his left and dismounted. Was the child injured? He wound Dixon’s reins around the hitching post near the fence and walked toward the stone pathway leading to the well-kept two-story house. The sobbing grew louder as he moved closer to a tree near the shed.
He spotted a little girl sitting on the grass with her head dropped and resting on skinny bent knees. Her shoulders shook with each sob, and Jackson’s heart broke for the distraught child. The girl bolted to her feet when she heard him approach. Her eyes widened and she appeared ready to run.
“Don’t be afraid.” Jackson halted in his tracks. “What’s wrong? Can I help you?”
She shook her head and shifted her feet. Jackson entertained the idea he’d have to outrun her to learn what was the matter. Because something definitely wasn’t right in her world.
“Where are your parents?” he inquired, softly.
“Mama’s in the house,” she whispered, pointing.
“Let’s have a chat with your mama.” Jackson waited for the child’s reply.
The child brushed several stringy blonde strands of hair off her face. “All right.” She stepped around him then bolted for the front veranda.
Jackson followed the child, his long stride keeping pace as she raced across the grass. They mounted the steps together. Lacy white curtains prevented anyone from glancing in through the window accessible from the small veranda. The girl flung open the front door and scurried inside.
Door left ajar, Jackson rapped on the doorjamb, his sturdy gloves protecting his knuckles from the dry, rough-hewn wood. “Is anyone at home?” he called. He listened intently as the child disappeared down a narrow hallway. “My name is Jackson McLennon.”
A woman he assumed was the child’s mother appeared in the hallway and lumbered toward him. A wrinkled, stained dress hung on her haggard-looking body, and her greasy hair stuck out in disarray. Haunted eyes with dark smudges beneath suggested she’d seen troubled times recently. “Are you all right, ma’am? I heard your little girl crying and stopped to investigate.”
“That was kind of you.” The woman heaved a sigh as the little girl crept up behind her and wrapped small arms around her mother’s middle. “This is my eight-year-old daughter… Vic… Victoria.” Her voice cracked saying her child’s name.
“Are you ailing, ma’am?” Jackson suggested. That would explain the woman’s decrepit appearance. She didn’t look well, her complexion ghostly pale and her eyes red and puffy. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Mama, ask him to bring Daddy back,” the child whispered; a mass of unruly red curls topped the small freckled face peeking out from behind the woman.
“Shush, Victoria. I told you… Daddy’s in heaven with your Granny and Grandpapa. Your daddy can’t come back home. Not ever.” The woman hugged her daughter’s shoulders and bent over to kiss the top of her head. She wavered on her feet for a moment when she straightened again.
“Ma’am, are you Mrs. Cameron? Was your husband the bank manager? The fellow…” Jackson volunteered.
The woman closed her eyes and she tipped her head back. A pained expression appeared on her face and she wavered on her feet again. She opened her eyes and met Jackson’s. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m Nancy Cameron.”
“My condolences, ma’am. I was sorry to hear about your husband’s passing.” Jackson touched her arm and felt her shaking. He recalled hearing about the man being shot during the recent bank robbery. Many citizens figured the bank manager must have startled one of the robbers who panicked and fired his pistol. “What can I do to help?”
“I’m hungry, Mama,” the little girl whispered. Dark brown eyes looked up at him, optimism evident in her gaze.
“Has your mama been feeling too poorly to cook?”
She shook her head. “We gots no food,” she whispered. “And we gots no wood for the stove.”
“Hush,” the woman scolded the child, her eyes filling with fresh tears.
Jackson met the woman’s eyes. Clearly, she was too proud for her own good, or for the well-being of her daughter. “Ma’am, you’d better let me in. We need to talk.”
The woman brushed at her tears. “I won’t accept charity,” she mumbled, but she took a step back and then shuffled down the hallway.
Jackson removed his Stetson and followed the woman into her kitchen, inhaling the house’s musty scent. The floor was filthy and the countertop was littered with unwashed dishes, pots and pans. The woodstove stood in the corner, unlit. Only a few woodchips lay in the wood box on the floor.
“What money your husband left when he passed so suddenly... all of your funds have run out?” He opened a cupboard. Totally empty, not even a can of beans. The child had told the truth about the food and wood situation.
The woman stood beside the kitchen table, wringing her hands. “Most of our money was in the First National Bank. I’ve no idea if the robbers stole it or if some of our funds are still there. Without a new manager… the bank hasn’t reopened.” She took a deep breath. “We had some paper money and a few coins in the house. Not a lot.” The woman wavered on her feet before she slumped onto one of the kitchen chairs.
“But it’s all been spent.” Jackson noticed the woman’s clothes were soiled and the child’s wrinkled dress suggested neither of them had bathed or changed clothes in days, perhaps weeks. Judging by the condition of the floor and their clothing, the woman must be without soap of any kind as well as having run out of food.
“You require wood to cook and to heat water for bathing and washing clothes, ma’am.” Jackson held up his hand when she appeared ready to argue. “I’ll have Reverend Fitzpatrick arrange for food staples to be sent over from the store.”
The woman shook her head.
“I’ll have a couple Double M ranch hands deliver a load of wood.” Jackson strode toward the door. “No arguing, ma’am.”
“But I’ve no way to pay.”
“T
here’s a Benevolent Fund at the church to help you out. And the wood is no charge.” Jackson stood at the door, meeting Mrs. Cameron’s eyes. “You need to get your home in order. And then you’ll be better equipped to find work. Or take in a roomer or two. You require an income of sorts, ma’am.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve no skills.”
Jackson gazed around the small home. “You cook and I imagine, when possible, you keep a tidy home. You do needlework and sew,” he said, pointing to the Singer sewing machine in the far corner of the room. “You have skills, ma’am.”
The woman continued wringing her hands.
“You need a bit of help getting your life back in order. Washing your clothes and putting food in your bellies.” Jackson stuck his Stetson on his head. “Then we’ll see what we can do about finding you a means of supporting yourself and caring for your child.”
Mrs. Cameron’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded. “Thank you. What… what was your name, sir?”
“Jackson McLennon, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. McLennon. Everything happened so suddenly. And then our money ran out.” Her shoulders slumped and she whispered, “I’m lost. I have no idea what to do.”
“That’s understandable, ma’am. But you needn’t be facing this alone. Folks help each other out when assistance is needed.” Jackson touched her arm. “But you need to let folks know that you’re in trouble. That you need a little aid. Not forever, just until you get your feet under you again.”
The woman placed her hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “I’ll do it for Victoria’s sake. She needs to eat. She’s a good girl and she deserves clean clothes to wear and clean sheets to sleep on. And I’ll send her to school again.”
The little girl beamed at the last statement.
“I’ll drop by the church and request Mrs. Fitzpatrick lend a hand and offer an ear if you’d like to talk about your loss.” Jackson smiled at her. “She visited the ranch with the Reverend a few times after Ma passed and talked to us, especially my sister, Amanda. Her kindness helped a lot.”
Canceled-Order Bride (Sons Of A Gun Book 1) Page 17
