by Joyce Armor
He leaned forward. “All right?”
“Yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
He was taken aback. “You’re serious?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So am I.”
“Are you crazy?”
She smiled. “Yes.”
He laughed. “Yeah, me too.”
She sat up suddenly. “I have to find something to wear!”
“We can do it with you in bed if we need to.”
“I am not getting married in bed, Garrett Winslow. Now leave, so I can get ready.”
He stood. “I’ll send Carmen up to help you.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Is everyone up?”
“Just about.”
“Thank you.” She smiled sweetly, squeezing his hand, and he felt something clutch his heart. That was ridiculous. It would be a marriage of convenience. She wouldn’t stay. This country was too hard on ladies, especially her, apparently.
* * *
Clem returned two hours later with a slightly grumpy man of the cloth, who married Garrett and Libby in Jackson’s study, with Jackson, Carmen, Hector and Clem in attendance. Garrett honestly expected Libby to run screaming from the room, telling them all she’d changed her mind, but she didn’t even look worried. She looked almost serene. Frighteningly serene, in fact. That scared him more than anything. Maybe he was the one he thought would bail in abject terror. Oddly, he felt fine as well. Not exactly thrilled, more like cautiously okay. Much more cautiously okay than he had expected to be. He was smart enough to know that telling Libby he felt “cautiously okay” would be a big mistake.
Libby wore her green gown, to which Carmen had manage to add a delicate lace collar. The bride had taken a bath and washed and dried her hair, which Carmen had helped her fashion into a stylish chignon. She was barefoot, since she still couldn’t get a shoe or boot on her right foot and still had a bruise on her face. She looked simple and stunning, nearly taking his breath away.
Garrett wore clean jeans and a boiled white shirt with a black bolo tie. Libby thought he had never looked so handsome. After they recited the vows, Garrett had placed a gold band on loan from Jackson on her finger. She wondered if it had belonged to Elinora, then realized she had probably taken her ring with her when she left. Elinora always was materialistic. During the ceremony, Garrett kissed Libby very sweetly, not with the fervor he had displayed at the picnic, yet she still felt it to her toes. She could barely stand long enough to sign the marriage certificate, however, as her ankle was throbbing.
Garrett noticed her fatigue and suggested she go back to bed. She looked at him almost in panic. He chuckled. “I’ll come up later.”
She nodded. As she started to limp off, something occurred to him. He grabbed her arm and stopped her, turning to make sure no one was close enough to hear. “Though I know you don’t feel that well, I’m thinking for this marriage to be considered legitimate, we need to consummate it after all. Tonight.”
Again, she just looked at him with a blank expression and he felt compelled to continue.
“I know I said we could get an annulment if we didn’t consummate it, but I realized DeJulius will most likely accuse us of concocting a phony marriage to stop him. I believe the sheriff might ask you if the marriage has been consummated. Do you want to lie?”
She looked at her feet for a long time, then looked back up at him. Did she? She certainly had become accustomed to lying, and truthfully, under the circumstances, it would not have bothered her much to lie again. Sharing a bed with Garrett, though? If she was honest with herself, that could be a wonderful turn of events. It just might loosen up his hardened heart. “No, I don’t want to lie.”
“We could still get a divorce. Although it’s not as much of a stigma as it used to be, it still could affect your reputation.”
“And yours.”
“Not as much.”
She smiled, almost sadly. “These aren’t ideal circumstances, that’s for certain.”
“I’ll be up in a little while. You get comfortable.”
She nodded and limped away. Like she could ever get comfortable anticipating that.
He really did not have her figured out, Garrett realized with an odd sense of almost foreboding. Did she have other secrets? As Jackson walked over to Garrett, Carmen followed Libby up the stairs. Why did Carmen look so happy? It’s not as if she had gotten married.
“Congratulations.”
Garrett looked into Jackson’s face. It did not hold a look of irony. “Yeah,” Garrett said, wondering if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.
“Carmen thinks it’s wonderful.”
“I can tell. But why?” Garrett asked.
“She believes you were made for each other.”
“And she knows this because…”
“She says it’s because she knows you, and she can read the heart of Libby.”
“I wish I could,” Garrett said under his breath.
* * *
Carmen walked into Libby’s bedroom as the young woman plopped herself onto the padded seat at her dressing table and perused herself thoughtfully in the looking glass.
“What do you see, señorita?”
“I’m not sure, Carmen. Either a very smart person or a blithering idiot.”
Carmen laughed. “Every woman wants a romantic courtship, which you did not enjoy, but you have married a fine man with a good heart. He has steel around it, though, so you must be patient as you melt it down.”
“He says it is a marriage of convenience.”
“Jes, that is what he says,” Carmen said as she began unfastening the buttons on Libby’s gown. “I think you will be the one to decide what kind of marriage it is.”
She helped the young bride out of her gown as Libby thought about that. Could she really melt Garrett’s heart and have the kind of marriage she only dreamed about?
“And what about señor Jackson?”
Libby’s heart pounded. “What…what about Jackson?”
She opened a drawer and took out her best night dress, which would cover most of her body but was rather filmy and had some lace and a bit of embroidery to enhance it. She removed her chemise and corset, and after donning the night dress, took off her bloomers.
“When are you going to tell him?”
Libby attempted to smile, but failed. Carmen put her hands on her waist and shook her head.
“W…what?”
“That you are his daughter.”
Libby walked over toward the fireplace, where an earlier fire had gone out. Her heart was pounding. “How did you know?”
“You have your mother’s eyes. And you asked a lot of questions about her.”
“Then why doesn’t Jackson see her eyes in me?”
“Men are not as observant as women in matters of the heart. And I am guessing you did not ask Jackson questions about his first wife.”
“No.” She turned back to Carmen.
She sat on the bed and motioned for Carmen to join her. The older woman took Libby’s hands in hers. It was such a comfort. “Tell me about her.”
“But you knew her. You grew up with her, no?”
“Yes, but tell me about her when she was here.”
Carmen looked toward the door, as if she could see Elinora standing there. “She was beautiful and full of life, but she was restless, not suited to ranch life. I think she was not happy here. She was young and spoiled. I believe she cared for Jackson but not enough. Perhaps she thought she could change señor Jackson into something he was not. He was and is a man of the land, just as Garrett is. I think she did not understand him. She wanted pretty things and parties and many people around.”
Carmen stood suddenly and looked back at Libby. “You must tell him.”
“I know.”
“When?”
“I was going to wait until the danger ended, but now it seems…”
“Now it seems time, no, as you enter this new phase of your life?”
Libby took a deep breath and exhaled, puffing out her cheeks. “Yes. Everything got so…so difficult. So complicated. I did not want to deceive anyone. I just wanted to get to know him first and to make sure I would not be under the control of another man like Elias Parminter, my stepfather.”
Carmen gave her hair a few more brushes. “You should start your marriage right. Shall I send señor Jackson up?”
Libby looked at Carmen, her eyes welling with tears, and nodded. Carmen squeezed her shoulders. “It will be all right, chiquita. You have a fine father and now you have a fine husband.”
And a fine headache, Libby thought as she tried to gather up her courage.
* * *
Carmen found Jackson in his study, where Garrett was joining him in a drink of brandy. “Oh, señor Jackson,” Carmen said. “Libby would like to speak to you in her room as soon as it is convenient.”
Jackson, standing at his study desk, raised an eyebrow. Brides did not typically come to him for advice. Or ever, for that matter. “Me? Are you sure? Couldn’t you…uh…?
Carmen smiled mysteriously. “It is you she wishes to speak to.” The woman was enjoying this too much.
Never one to shirk duty, even one as daunting as this, Jackson looked squarely at his cook. She met his gaze with as innocent an appearance as she could muster. Realizing he wasn’t going to get any more information out of her, he nodded and set his glass down on the desk, exchanging a perplexed glance with Garrett, who also looked confused. He headed off as the younger man studied Carmen suspiciously, wondering what that was all about. Was Libby trying to get the marriage annulled already? He had so much to learn about his wife. Wife. It had always been such a dirty word to him. Would it still be? Was he out of his mind?
“You had best give them at least thirty minutes,” Carmen said, ignoring his quizzical look. “Would you like something to eat?”
“No, but I would like some answers,” he said.
She just smiled and swept out of the room. Would married life always leave him feeling so befuddled?
Upstairs, Jackson watched Libby as she shifted from her good foot to her sore foot and stared at her shaking hands as if they did not belong to her. Finally, he took pity on her.
“The wedding night should be joyous. Garrett will not hurt you.”
She giggled, actually giggled she was so nervous. “Oh, I know that. I…I…”
Jackson folded his arms as he leaned against the door frame. “It’s usually best to just say it, Libby, whatever it is.”
She looked at him almost desperately. For a moment, he thought she was going to make a dash past him out the door.
“Well…it’s…I…”
“What is it? It can’t be that bad.”
She looked at her hands again and then back at him. “I…”
He looked at her expectantly.
“If you need more information about the wedding night, maybe Carmen…” Good lord, he was out of his depth.
“No!”
Thank the heavenly Father.
More silence. Then:
“It’s not about that. I…My last name is not Wagoner.”
He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t surprised.
“It’s Parminter. Or at least I thought it was.”
He waited for her to go on, showing no recognition of the name. What was this all about? Was she just trying to avoid the inevitable with Garrett by making small talk?
“My mother was Elinora Parminter.”
He took an involuntary step toward her. “Elinora?”
“Yes.” She saw the color drain from his face and for some reason, it gave her courage. “We should probably sit.” She indicated the two chairs near the fireplace.
He hesitated a moment, then walked toward her. “Let me get a fire going for you.” He knelt down and began building the fire, which gave him a chance to get his thoughts together. He had not heard from or about Elinora in 20 years, since the day she had walked out on him. He had tried to find her for a couple of years and then again when he wanted to marry Reenie, but the Pinkerton agency had been unable to locate her.
“I thought Elinora had died years ago. I tried to find her when I wanted to marry my second wife. A judge in Butte finally declared her deceased.”
“Well, now she is,” Libby said, more sharply than she had intended.
As Jackson busied himself with the fire preparations, his mind quickly turned over the facts.
“And you are almost 21?” he asked, working to keep the tremble out of his voice.
“I am.”
Jackson quickly did the math.
“Are you saying I am your father?”
“That’s what she told me, just before she died.”
She walked to the small escritoire, pulled out the drawer and retrieved an envelope.
He added a log to the fire, then turned and studied her for a long time. She did resemble Elinora. Why hadn’t he seen it before? She handed him the envelope, and he raised his eyebrows.
“My mother asked me to give this to you.”
He stared at it for a moment and then sat heavily, as if his shoulders held the weight of the world. He tore open the envelope, pulled out a folded piece of vellum and read it. Then he looked up at the ceiling and back to the letter before settling his gaze on Libby.
“I didn’t know she was with child. I was on a two-week cattle drive when she walked out on me. She left a note saying the marriage was over and she would never be back.”
“How long were you together?”
“About two and a half months.” He jumped to his feet and began pacing in front of her. “Was she happy?”
Libby mulled it over in her mind. “She was busy and active, which is the life she wanted, I believe, and perhaps she was content with that, but I never thought of her as a happy person.”
“What about you? Are you a happy person, Libby?”
“I try. I don’t give up. I think she did. Do you believe I am your daughter?”
He started pacing again, then stopped directly in front of her as she held her breath. He looked at her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her chin. She had her mother’s eyes but the Butterman mouth and chin. Why, oh, why was he just noticing it now? “Yes.” He opened his arms to her. She hesitated briefly and then lurched into them.
They hugged for a long time and then she stood back.
“I don’t want this to change anything.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated. “I…I do not need a father to run my life.”
“I mean to keep you safe.”
“You would have done that anyway.”
“True. I need some time to digest this. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow. Or later today, as the case may be. And any time you want. Right now you have a husband who is anxious to see you, I’m certain.”
She nodded and he started to leave, then turned back.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I…I wanted to be around you, to find out what kind of man you were, and then things just happened so fast.”
He digested that, then nodded and left.
Chapter 11
When Garrett reached the bedroom, Libby could tell Jackson had not informed him of the bombshell she had dropped on him. If she told him, a little thought occurred to her, it might put off the inevitable for some time. And why did she want to put it off? Who knew? She was the one who ordained this, after all. Another one of those mysteries of life, she supposed.
“Jackson is my father,” she said abruptly, surprising herself at her lack of tact.
Garrett stopped just inside the doorway. “What?”
“Jackson is my father,” she repeated. “That’s why I came here.”
He shook his head. “I knew you were hiding something.”
“I wasn’t trying to be dishonest.”
“What were you trying to d
o then?” he asked, attempting to not be distracted by her white shimmering robe or nightgown or whatever that flimsy thing was.
She sighed, sat down at her dressing table and licked her lips, running her tongue over her bottom lip. He noticed she tended to do that when she was nervous, and his concentration wavered considerably as he watched that unintentionally sensuous act. “Get my bearings, I suppose. I had just left a very repressive, confining situation and did not want to get into another one. I didn’t know anything about Jackson Butterman when I got here. He could have been a bad man, although I knew my mother had liked him. But people change.”
He watched as she removed her hairpins. She dropped them one by one, and they bounced on the dressing table, making little pinging noises that lit up his nerve ends. He stared, fascinated, before realizing he had let a long silence lapse. “How did he take it?” he managed to get out at last.
“Surprisingly well.”
“There’s no doubt?”
“Not in my mind. And not in his, I don’t think. My mother was Elinora.” She picked up the silver brush and ran it through her silky black hair, just for something to do, raising his blood pressure several more points. “He didn’t know about me. They were only married for a short time. My mother left him. I don’t believe she knew she was with child when she left. She told me about him just before she died.”
It was only then that she noticed he was holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. She looked at them, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I thought we could enjoy a toast.”
She smiled beguilingly. “I love champagne.”
It was such an incongruous statement after the seriousness of the previous conversation, he had to smile. It wouldn’t hurt to loosen her up a bit, is what he had been thinking with the champagne. He set the glasses down on her dressing table and poured them each a generous amount, handing her one glass and picking up the other.
“To us,” Garrett said.
