“Howdy, Marshal,” she said, smiling politely at his joke.
“What can I do for you? Everything going alright at the ranch?”
She looked over the top of his head, focusing on the Wanted posters behind him. “Yes, better than alright. That’s why I came in to see you. I wanted to thank you for arranging my job with Heath. Having a home and something to do every day was just what I needed.”
“No need to thank me,” he said, breaking into a rare smile. “But that sure brightens my day. You planning to stay out of trouble from now on?”
“Yes, sir. I talked it over with Heath, and he thinks if I come to town once a week to do errands and have lunch at the restaurant, I’ll be less likely to fall back into my own ways.”
“That’s a fine idea. It’s important to have balance. Not too much work, not too much play.”
She was nervous about what she was determined to say next. “You might think about giving your daughter Sadie some balance,” she said quickly, before she could talk herself out of speaking her mind.
She held her breath. Not too many people dared to criticize the marshal, and she thought he might laugh her out of his office to hear a suggestion from her, considering how badly she’d behaved in the not-too-distant-past, but she felt strongly about the matter.
His gaze sobered, and he frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Willow scowled back at him. “When Sadie came over to help me learn to cook, she was plumb worn out from doing all the cooking and cleaning for six people. That’s a lot of work for a twelve-year-old child.”
Clyde stroked the closely cropped beard on his chin as Willow steeled herself for an angry response. From her experience, most men didn’t react all that well to advice, especially from a woman.
“She’s never complained about it to me,” he said quietly. She detected no anger in his voice.
“Would complaining be in her nature?”
“No,” he said, his voice still soft. “She doesn’t complain. She’s stoic and sensible, like her mother was.”
Willow nodded. “I think she could use some help. That’s all I wanted to say.”
She turned toward the door. Though the task of visiting the marshal had gone better than expected, she still didn’t like being inside the jailhouse. It brought up too many bad memories, and she was eager to leave.
Clyde stood and rounded his desk. “Thank you for stopping by, Willow. I’m pleased to hear how well your job with Heath has worked out.” He walked her to the door. She reached out to shake his hand, and he enclosed it in a friendly grip.
Willow walked outside and breathed in the fresh air. As she meandered away from the jailhouse, she spotted the mercantile owner Charles Campbell holding a wriggling, cursing boy by his collar and dragging him toward the jailhouse.
“Let me go!” the boy shouted, and swung an angry fist. The fist didn’t connect, and Charles continued to march him forward. That’s when the boy sank his teeth into Mr. Campbell’s arm, but that too failed to slow the progress made toward the marshal.
Willow shook her head and resumed walking down the wooden walkway, grateful she was no longer getting dragged to the marshal for some offense. She wondered what would happen to the boy. He didn’t look familiar, so she guessed he was probably from out of town. It might be difficult for the marshal to track down his folks.
As she neared her next destination, the seamstress’s shop, she marveled at how much her life had changed. She was about to purchase two new dresses, as well as the underclothes Heath hadn’t known to purchase when he’d bought her the first dress.
Before, she would have thought the errand vapid and useless, but now she thought about how nice she would look for Heath. She’d come to learn it wasn’t vain to want admiration, and she would be delighted if she saw a twinkle in his eyes every day when he looked at her.
When Willow walked into the shop, Victoria Davis was arranging a selection of feathered hats by the window. The two of them had grown up together and had even been friends when they were very young, but now they had little in common besides being of the same age.
Victoria looked Willow up and down so quickly that her eyes barely flickered, but Willow didn’t miss the contempt in the smile that followed. Most people thought they were better than Willow because of her poor means and improper manners.
Willow had given up caring about that long ago, so it surprised her to feel a sudden longing to be looked at with respect by another woman. Standing there under Victoria’s practiced eye made her feel apprehensive, and she wished she’d chosen to wear her trousers instead. If she wasn’t even trying to look pretty, she couldn’t be hurt by people’s derision.
“Hello, Victoria,” Willow said. “Nice weather today, isn’t it?”
“Indeed,” she responded, flashing a smile. “And I must say that dress looks splendid on you. Mr. Wolfe chose well.”
Willow breathed a sigh of relief at her friendly response, and she wondered if perhaps she’d been mistaken about the look of contempt. “Thank you. It was a generous gift, but I’m afraid Heath didn’t think to buy any undergarments. That’s why I’m here. Also, I want to buy two more dresses for everyday wear.”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “You call him Heath, do you? That seems very familiar.”
“I thought so too at first, but he asked me to call him by his given name the very first day I started working for him. I suppose he wanted us to be friends.”
“And are you… friends?” she asked, looking at her strangely.
“Yes,” Willow answered, growing uncomfortable with the questions. She turned her attention to a neatly folded assortment of petticoats and reached out to touch the sturdy cotton material. “Do you think one of these would work under this dress?”
“Certainly,” Victoria replied. “You could buy one petticoat for each dress or only one to go under them all. It depends on how much you can spend.”
“Heath didn’t give me a limit, but I don’t want to take advantage.”
“My, but isn’t he generous?” Victoria replied in a singsong voice. “How about you choose a couple everyday dresses, and then you can decide about the petticoats? I’ll go pick out some drawers for you, if you like.”
Willow nodded. “Yes, thank you.” She moved to the brightly colored gingham dresses and examined each one carefully, becoming so consumed with the task she almost forgot Victoria was in the store. She remembered a time long ago when her mother had taken her to this very place—back when Victoria’s mother had done all the sewing—to pick out a readymade dress.
As a child, she remembered being bored and unhappy, wishing she could return to her games outside and bemoaning that she was a girl who had to wear such constricting garments. Her mother gave up on trying to get Willow to be interested in girlish matters and eventually made her trousers like she requested.
Her eyes stung, thinking about her mother, who hadn’t forced Willow to be someone she wasn’t. Willow wished her mother were alive to see her now, wearing a dress and shopping to purchase more. More than that, she wished her mother could see her with Heath. No one else in the world would be happier for her.
“Finding anything?” Victoria asked from directly behind her, causing Willow to nearly jump out of her skin.
“Too many things,” Willow responded with a short laugh. “But I’ll only purchase these two.” She pulled out the dresses that had caught her eye and handed them to the seamstress.
“I took the liberty of picking out two shifts for you as well as drawers. Did you decide on how many petticoats?”
“Let’s go with three,” Willow said. If Heath gets rankled by the amount of money I’ve spent, I can return some of the merchandise, can’t I?”
“Yes, that wouldn’t be a problem.”
Willow followed Victoria to the other side of the store. The seamstress walked behind a long counter and folded the clothing meticulously, with expert skill. “You know it’s funny,” she said. “Heath must
be looking for someone who is very different from his wife to warm his bed.”
Shocked, Willow said, “What do you mean?” It surprised her that Victoria had guessed the nature of her relationship with Heath, but she supposed it wasn’t too much of a leap. Everything about Willow projected that she was in love, and Heath buying her clothes indicated he had the same feelings for her.
Victoria shrugged. “Only that Rose Wolfe was so sophisticated, and you… Well, I shouldn’t have to pretend that you are too, should I?”
“No,” Willow said, trying not to feel bruised by the comment. Victoria was right, after all. Sophisticated would not be a term to describe Willow, by any stretch of the imagination.
“Sometimes men need to find themselves in the arms of someone different, before finding the next woman to marry. It helps them heal. Most men visit the brothel, but Heath is too upstanding for that, of course.”
Hurt bloomed into a humiliation so great it struck Willow dumb. Before stepping foot in Victoria’s shop, she’d been certain that Heath’s intentions toward her were respectable, even if his love for her had seemed too good to be true. But after hearing the seamstress’s words, doubt niggled its way into her mind.
Victoria didn’t seem to notice or care about Willow’s anguish. She continued to talk, and in doing so, managed to twist the knife she’d so adeptly lodged into Willow’s heart. “I thought when he was ready to move on, he might ask me. Not long ago, he noticed that I was struggling to untie the top of my dress. He got me over to a private place and assisted. I saw in his eyes he wanted to kiss me, but he lost his nerve. I’m not surprised. He was still grieving his dead wife. I must admit I’m surprised he’s courting you, but it does make sense when I think about it.”
Willow kept her face expressionless, not wanting to give away how much Victoria had shaken her. She paid for the goods with Heath’s money, but she didn’t plan to keep them.
On the buggy ride home, she silently berated herself for not listening to her own fears. Her gut and her wit had kept her alive in the years since her mother’s death. But like a fool, she’d ignored both and fallen in love. Of course a man like Heath would never want to marry a woman like her. How could she have been so stupid?
Chapter Seventeen
When Willow arrived at the ranch with her bundles of clothes, Heath was still out on the range. She said goodbye to the foreman’s daughter who was minding the children, fed the children a quick supper, and then found solitude in her room. She threw the bundles of clothes in a corner of the floor and stripped out of her green dress, adding it to the pile.
Tears streamed down her face as she stepped into her trousers and pulled her work shirt over her head. She scoffed at herself in the mirror as she plaited her loose hair into a braid. She had been many things in life, but a simpering, lovesick fool had never been one of them until recently, and she would never be bamboozled again.
The words she would say to Heath formed in her mind. She needed to end the courtship before he did, thus retaining a modicum of pride. She was heartbroken, but she was also resolved.
Upon hearing the front door to the cabin whine open, Willow squared her shoulders and gritted her teeth, deciding she might as well get what she had to say over with. Heath’s footsteps grew louder; he was heading to her room. She opened the door to see him standing there about to knock, his knuckles suspended in the air.
His smile vanished the instant he saw her. He surveyed her appearance. “Willow… Are you not well? I thought you were going to town today.”
“I went to town.” A surge of anger flowed through her. How dare he use her to make himself feel better about losing his wife?
His eyes searched hers. “And you didn’t buy the dresses?”
“They’re over there,” she answered, waving dismissively toward the pile in the corner.
Heath glanced at the scattered packages and returned his focus to her. “I see. What’s the matter?”
Willow looked at his concerned face and steeled herself for what needed to be said. “Nothing is the matter, but I no longer wish for you to court me.”
Heath’s eyebrows lifted with surprise but then lowered into a scowl. “What happened in town, Willow?”
“Nothing,” she lied. “Only I had some time to think, and I don’t believe we are right for courtship. I’ll continue to work here if it’s all the same to you. I would miss the children if I left.”
Heath glared at her with such a withering expression, she actually took a step back. He used that opportunity to come into her room. He closed the door behind him without removing his gaze from her face. The door’s slam caused her to jump.
“And when did you come to this decision, exactly?”
“After I bought the clothes. But Victoria said it would be no problem to return anything I don’t end up wanting. Perhaps you could take all that back next time you go to town. I prefer my current attire anyway.” Turning, she walked stiffly to the bed, where she sat. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to rest. I’m plumb tuckered out.”
“After you bought the clothes,” he mused in a thoughtful tone. He looked up to the ceiling and raked his fingers through his hair. He then settled both hands on his hips and looked at the floor, kicking a nonexistent pebble with the tip of his boot.
Willow’s belly flipped. Despite her anger toward Heath, her attraction toward him hadn’t faded, and seeing him looming there like an angry, wounded bear threatened to disarm her. “Please leave,” she said, trying to sound strong, but her words came out as a pathetic whimper.
Heath glowered at her. “I will leave after you tell me what the devil is going on. I’m missing a piece of this puzzle.”
“It doesn’t matter, Heath. Just go away.”
He remained, observing her. When she glanced at his face, she saw that he looked angrier than ever.
“Willow, I’m going to ask you again, and this time I expect an honest answer. What happened in town to make you doubt your love for me, or mine for you?”
Hearing him speak of love caused angry, hurt tears to spring to her eyes. He made no move to comfort her, and instead waited for an explanation.
It was clear he wasn’t going to leave unless she gave him the reason for ending the courtship. She supposed it didn’t matter if he knew. He was the one who should feel ashamed, not her.
She related her conversation with Victoria. She told him that the seamstress’s words had made sense to her, since it was odd that out of all the women Heath could court, he’d chosen a troublesome orphan who was nothing like his late wife. “You shouldn’t have bedded me,” she continued, her anger piquing. “I know I’m not good enough to be your wife. I know I’m only hired help and a charity project you worked out with the marshal, but I’m still a person. I have feelings.”
“Anything else?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“No, that’s it.”
He dropped his hands from his hips. “I listened to you. Now how about you listen to me?”
“Fine,” she said. “Talk all you like. It won’t change anything.”
“We’ll see about that.” He paced from one side of the room to the other, then stopped abruptly and pointed an accusing finger at her. “I’ll have you know, Willow McAllister, that once again you’ve aimed your gun and fired before knowing which direction your gun should point.”
She knew he referred to her mistaken guess about why the marshal’s children had run away. “I didn’t have all the facts about the runaways,” she argued, “but I have the facts now.”
“You don’t. You didn’t know my Rose, and Victoria Davis didn’t know her either. Your whole belief that our courtship is a sham is based on what you think you know about Rose.”
“But, but I know she was nothing like me,” Willow stammered, disliking the sound of her higher-pitched voice. “She was sophisticated and well-mannered. Of course you want another woman like her, since you loved her so much.”
“Yes, she was well-mannered,
” Heath agreed, “but she was much more than that.”
“I don’t understand, Heath,” Willow said, feeling defeated and more confused than ever.
“No, you don’t. That’s obvious,” he scoffed, “but maybe instead of believing whatever Victoria Davis told you, you should believe what I told you. I told you I love you.”
Willow looked out the window, trying hard not to succumb to her tears. She wanted to believe him, but it still didn’t make sense to her.
“You are, in many ways, a lot like Rose was,” Heath said, his voice softening. “You’re surprising and witty, you’re kind and nurturing to the children, and until a few minutes ago, I thought you had grown to believe in me. Those are all qualities Rose had, and I value them more than knowing which fork to use at the table.”
His words washed over her, giving her hope that she was wrong.
“Your lack of trust hurts me, Willow. I thought we were past that. Remember when you said everyone thinks I’m a gentleman, and I said you know otherwise?”
She nodded, sniffling.
“That’s because you know more about me than I choose to share with anyone else. That’s what love is, don’t you think, when two people know each other intimately?”
Willow could hear the hurt in his voice, and in that moment she understood. If he didn’t love her, there was no way she could cause him such pain. Before, Willow hadn’t known it was possible to feel ashamed and relieved at once. She couldn’t find the words to express both her sorrow and her happiness. She buried her head in her hands.
The only sounds were the wind whistling outside and the ticking of the clock on the wall. Heath said nothing further. She could feel his gaze on her, disappointed and angry, and she wished she could climb under the covers of the bed and hide there forever.
“I should have known,” she said, dropping her hands from her face. “You’re not like any other man I know, so why should I think you would prefer a traditional woman? I’m such a fool.”
Bringing Trouble Home (Lost and Found in Thorndale Book 1) Page 11