Romancing the Bride

by Melissa Jagears

  A quick thump and a splash. “Come in.”

  Biting her lip, she entered, her hands strangling the clothes in her hands. At the sight of a wet Jacob sitting in the tin tub, she bit her lip even harder. She’d always thought her kids were cuter when wet—their clumped lashes appearing fuller, their hair smooth and glossy, their eyes a’sparkle.

  She didn’t know what to think of the marshal, with his wildly-mussed hair dripping water onto his shoulders and bare chest.

  His eyebrows raised.

  She forced herself to quit gawking and dropped her burden onto the solitary chair. Without a backward glance, she left, closed the door, and mumbled, “Hope those will do.”

  The washroom had been steamy, but not so much as to cause the sweat trickling down her neck. She wiped the droplets away and fanned her face. Supper. Supper needed attention.

  In the kitchen, Leah was stirring the pot on the stove. Or rather, scraping the pot, taking into account the burning smell.

  “Leah?”

  The petite brunette startled and then glanced behind her. “I smelled something burning. When no one answered the door, I thought I’d come in and check.” She scraped the spatula against the side of the pan, releasing caramelized onions. “I think it’s still edible.” She laid down the utensil and looked at Annie. “Where were you?”

  Flames of fire leapt into Annie’s cheeks. No chance Leah would miss the dark blush that must be covering her entire face.

  Leah’s mouth puckered and her eyes sparkled. “Never mind.”

  “It’s not what you’re thinking,” she said in a rush.

  At Leah’s frown, Annie grabbed her apron and gave it a good twist. “It’s not because I—well, I wouldn’t be ... not while ... I mean, I’m just embarrassed you caught me being irresponsible.”

  Leah gave Annie’s shoulder a squeeze and winked. “It’s all right to be distracted by your husband.”

  Annie grabbed a towel and moved to open the oven door to check on her bread. Perhaps sticking her head in a hot oven would make her flushed face seem more reasonable. “No, I was, just uh, taking care of laundry.”

  “Of course you were.” A smile played at Leah’s lips as she surveyed the room, her hands behind her back. “Goodness, this place is the cleanest I’ve ever seen it.”

  “Thanks.” Annie rubbed the sore spots on her hands where the excessive amount of time they’d rubbed against each other in soapy water had taken its toll. “I’ve spent two weeks giving it a thorough scrubbing. A tired body makes for good sleep, you know.”

  More importantly, dreamless sleep.

  Annie returned to her stew to remove anything burnt. “I’ve got one more room upstairs to do which won’t take long.” She pictured the small storage room with not much storage in it. “Then I’ll start on a garden. I’m hoping to get something growing in every square inch of the backyard.”

  “No doubt you can. I’ve seen your gardens.” Leah grabbed a kitchen chair and untied her bonnet strings. “Too bad you can’t work on mine. I’ve a talent for turning things brown.”

  “I’d be happy to help with yours. Would you like something to drink?”

  Leah shook her head and ran a bonnet string repeatedly through her hand. “I didn’t mean to ask you to give up your free time to work on my garden. It was just wishful thinking.”

  “But I’d like to. I need to keep busy.” Annie grabbed bowls.

  “Why?” The tone of Leah’s voice was probing.

  Annie shrugged before setting the bowls down and grabbing glasses.

  Leah remained quiet until Annie glanced toward her.

  “You have to invest time here, Annie. Busyness won’t make the situation you find yourself in go away.”

  Annie avoided looking at Leah as she arranged Celia’s place setting. If Leah could tell she was avoiding Jacob by simply volunteering to help with her garden, what else might she know? Could she trust the woman with her jumbled up emotions? The ones that made her feel bad? The ones that taunted her? “But I shouldn’t have gotten into this situation in the first place.” Her voice came out raspy. “I thought I’d heard from God and felt His peace, but now I think I was simply trying to fix things on my own.” She sniffed. “And landed myself in an even bigger mess.”

  “How so?” Leah’s incredulous tone made Annie shrug.

  Taking a quick glance through the dining room door to make sure Jacob wasn’t approaching, Annie faced Leah, and whispered, “I’m in a loveless marriage without my ranch. How could my situation be worse?”

  Leah snorted and shook her head. “You could be destitute on the street at the mercy of men of lesser caliber.”

  Annie couldn’t look at Leah. It figured she’d not understand. Her life was perfect.

  Scooting closer, Leah leaned her head in an attempt to get Annie to look at her. “Have you thought that maybe you did feel God’s peace, but His plan wasn’t yours, and so the resisting you’re doing now is what’s making you miserable?” She stood to put an arm around Annie. “Whether this is what you envisioned or not, find out how God wants to bless you here, in this house, with this man.” She rubbed at a smudge on Annie’s sleeve. “Don’t run from His blessings to wallow in dirt.”

  Annie looked away and swallowed thickly. But what if it felt wrong to accept such blessings?

  Chapter Twenty

  Jacob tromped down the stairs after retrieving another set of pants. The pair Annie had given him had a torn inseam. Judging by the way she’d looked at him, or rather, tried not to look at him in the washroom, wearing those trousers to the table would’ve made her extremely uncomfortable.

  A smile tugged at his lips.

  Shy, awkward, uneasy—all signs of beginning attraction, right? Was she noticing things attractive about him, like he was noticing about her? And not just how hard of a worker she was—as he’d suspected she’d be—but the way she ran her fingers down the side of her long, graceful neck when she was lost in thought, the small, but womanly curves that stood out when she didn’t wear all black.

  And her tendency to flush just might be his undoing.

  If the children weren’t soon to return from school, he might’ve left on those pants she’d brought just to see her color all the way to her hairline again.

  He shook that thought from his head and whistled a nonchalant tune. Too early to flirt like a rascal. He’d stick with his smooth and charming plan until he’d successfully lured her into his arms and kissed the daylights out of her at least once, and then he’d tease her mercilessly every chance he got to see that pretty shade of pink on her face.

  The smell of burnt food twisted his mouth into a pinched pucker. Maybe one could go wrong cooking with onions and garlic. He relaxed his face so she’d not think him ungrateful for her attempt and stepped into the kitchen.

  Leah was standing beside Annie with her arm encircled about his wife’s waist. The two women were such opposite images. Lean next to curvy, reserved beside vivacious.

  But what was Leah saying to make Annie frown so?

  “Ho there, Leah.” Jacob glanced about the room. “Is Bryant coming for supper?” Though he’d like to see his friend, Annie’s mood always soured in his presence. Maybe that’s why she looked uneasy.

  Leah’s lower lip jutted out like a disappointed child’s. “No, he’s been working late at the office lately. I won’t bother starting supper for another hour.” Her twinkling eyes overshadowed her pout. “So I came to help Annie with hers. Sorry I burned it.”

  Annie’s head snapped toward the shorter woman, and her eyebrows scrunched in the middle.

  What was Leah up to? “Could we convince you to join us? We could send you home with leftovers for Bryant. That is, if Annie made enough.” Female chatter at the table would be a good thing. Perhaps Annie would join in. “The children will be here any second.”

  “No, but thank you.” Leah grabbed her bonnet off a nearby chair and sighed. “I miss having children in the house. If you ever decide to have
a honeymoon, let me know. We’d be more than happy to accommodate Celia and Spencer for a week or two.”

  The exposed bit of his wife’s neck turned pink.

  “Or just a night—whenever you feel like it.”

  His wife’s neck exploded into the color of a fiery sunrise. Even better.

  Of course, he wasn’t too certain his own face didn’t match hers at the moment.

  Bustling out the door, Leah flashed one last glittery beam over her shoulder. “See you two Sunday.”

  Annie grabbed a serving spoon but dropped it. The utensil clattered across the stove before she retrieved it again. “Leah didn’t burn supper. I did.” She had yet to look at him.

  Jacob leaned against the kitchen doorjamb, perusing his wife’s figure. Since she seemed determined not to turn around, he was in no danger of getting caught. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve massacred plenty of meals. Can I help with anything?” He surveyed the table and glanced at the clock. They normally didn’t eat for another half hour but everything appeared ready. “Where are the kids?”

  Annie glanced his direction without quite meeting his gaze. “Good question. It’s past time for them to be home.”

  Barely, by just about five minutes.

  She glided out the back door and leaned over the railing as if arching around to see past the church would bring them home quicker. “Spencer! Celia!”

  What had the women been talking about that had made his wife so flustered? If it was anything like what Leah had hinted about on the way out, well, maybe he’d ask Leah to drop by more often.

  He joined Annie on the porch and laid his hand on the small of her back. His fingers wandered to the curve of her tiny waist, but she tensed, so he let his hand drop.

  Slow. He was supposed to go slow.

  He settled back against the porch post. “Celia’s been coming home later and later. I doubt she’s within earshot.”

  “Yes, but Spencer—he’s usually underfoot the minute school lets out.”

  Yes, and the second the boy bounded in, the less chance he had of keeping Annie’s attention. “Has Celia been back in time to help you with supper at all this week?”

  Annie played with a thick wooden splinter jutting from the rail. “No.” Her shoulders slumped. “And she’s no longer responding to me. I think—” She peered up at him with her deep-golden eyes. “Maybe your ... uh, our strictness is driving her away.”

  He clamped his mouth shut lest he ruin whatever seemed to be starting between them.

  He turned to stare past the low backyard fence where the neighbors’ children were playing in the alley. Celia didn’t like obeying him, true, yet she did so. But if she was ignoring Annie when he wasn’t around, the girl was obviously taking advantage of his wife’s leniency. How to get Annie to see? He gritted his teeth. Learning to be a father at the same time as a husband was tricky.

  A loud whooping noise preceded Spencer running pell-mell across the backyard. The boy grabbed the porch column, swung wide, and barreled around him and into Annie, seizing fistfuls of her skirt. “Save me!” He buried his face in the fabric. “Celia’s going to kill me!” Heavy wheezing garbled Spencer’s words, but the jolly glint in his eyes told Jacob the boy had enjoyed whatever he’d done to enrage his sister.

  Celia stomped into the backyard from the alley, looking as if she were sitting upon a roiling pot but was determined to keep the lid on even if it burned her backside.

  Annie crooked a finger at her daughter.

  The gangly girl blew out a breath and then traipsed through the yard as if she hadn’t a care in the world. She nodded at him and Annie but kept her gaze off Spencer, who shook with mock fright. “I’ll help with supper after I wash up, Ma.”

  Jacob humphed, and Celia faced him, one eyebrow raised as if daring him to state the obvious—she was too late to be of any assistance.

  “It’s already done,” Annie said.

  Celia shrugged and strutted toward the door, but a second before disappearing into the house, she shot a deadly glare at her brother, still hiding in his mother’s skirts.

  “Spencer.” Annie dropped to stoop beside him and smoothed his mussed cowlick. “Why is Celia mad at you?”

  Spencer leaned to peer through the open doorway where Celia could be seen at the sink. “I can’t tell you.”

  That so? Jacob pushed off the post. “Spence—”

  “Well, then, you get in there with your sister and wash up.” Annie turned Spencer by his shoulders and gave him a push toward the door. She followed the boy in, shaking her head.

  Jacob sighed. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ignore figuring out what was going on between the siblings, but right now, it might be more trouble than it was worth.

  After everyone settled around the table, Celia offered a benign prayer before the overcooked food made its rounds. The potatoes were surprisingly underdone despite being burnt, but the seasonings were good.

  “I’m sorry about the stew. You can pick the burnt bits out without offending me.” Annie was looking down at her bowl, frowning as if the ingredients had come from the compost pile.

  “Still tastes good.”

  She looked over at him for a second, then pulled the butter dish toward her. “Thanks, but I’m sorry that I got ... distracted.” The familiar creep of pink climbed above her collar.

  So the bathing incident had caused the food’s sad state? He couldn’t help but smile.

  “When are you going to figure out how to get our land back, Marshal?” Celia spoke around a mouthful of food. “We’ve been here too long already.”

  He lost his smile and glared at the girl.

  Her belligerent expression faded—a little.

  Annie cleared her throat and handed a slice of bread to Spencer. “I’ve been wondering if you’ve found somewhere else to run our cattle. Crawford expects rent next week, but I think someone else might keep them cheaper. I know you didn’t expect to still be uncertain about the status of the ranch, but I don’t want to waste money.”

  Though he wanted the land back too, couldn’t she have asked him about other things when she finally decided to talk? “I haven’t had time to look into it.”

  Celia’s spoon froze in front of her mouth. “Why not? We need to get the ranch back before whoever bought it gets comfortable.”

  “Hush, Celia.” Annie wiped her mouth. “You’re being rude. Besides, we may never be able to set foot on our ranch again.” She picked up another slice of bread but did nothing with it but pick it apart.

  For the next few minutes, he ate to the sound of silverware clanking and Celia huffing.

  After Annie had finished tearing her bread apart and suddenly frowned at the mess she’d made, she turned to Jacob. “So, um, how was work?”

  Did she not remember the reason he’d come home early for a bath? “I’m thinking that wouldn’t be appropriate table talk.”

  Her eyelids fluttered. “Oh, yes.”

  Spencer’s chair screeched across the floor, and he leaned across the table, his eyes sparkling. “Why? What did you do? Catch a bad guy? Have a shootout?”

  Jacob worked to relax his face, trying not to smile at the boy’s animated reaction. “No, nothing that exciting.”

  Or that worthwhile.

  “Running after bad guys might seem exciting.” Annie buttered another piece of bread. “But sometimes tedious labor can better reveal a man’s true character. Those who work hard and without complaint in the most arduous, demoralizing circumstances are the people who can be trusted to be there for you no matter what.” She peeked at Jacob, giving him a slight nod, and then slid the bread to Spencer.

  Though she’d turned away, he couldn’t help but grin at her.

  It had taken a few weeks to get the encouragement he’d wanted from her the day he’d lost the rustlers’ tracks, but he was happy she bestowed it now.

  “So you won’t complain when I ask you to do dishes tonight, right?”

  Spencer frowned before he chomped do
wn on his new piece of bread. “No, Mama.”

  Though her compliment had puffed his chest a little, did he deserve it?

  Jacob stirred his stew, looking for anything burnt he wanted to take out. He certainly tried to keep from complaining about his job, but he did grumble about it often—though mostly to himself.

  Annie didn’t complain about her lot either—at least not to him. But what if during the night when he’d heard her sobbing, she hadn’t been mourning her losses, but crying about having to be here?

  He put down his spoon. Seemed burnt onions did ruin the whole pot.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jacob threw a stick at the young black and white sow wallowing in the mud on the creek shore. “Get up!”

  Bristles grunted and rolled over. Her pudgy body had defied his every attempt to nudge her out of her comfy hole.

  He grabbed the largest sandstone he could lift and threw it in the water beside her, drenching them both.

  Snorting, Bristles rocked herself onto her feet. Thankfully she didn’t seem to want another shower and waddled off. In the wrong direction.

  Jacob scratched his unshaven jaw and frowned at the stubborn, mud-speckled pig.

  He’d done what he’d set out to do—find Levi Crawford’s pig—and she’d definitely not been stolen. Crawford had probably claimed such in hopes of avoiding a fine if she showed up in town.

  Jacob scrambled up the muddy bank, wiped his boots clean in the grass clumped along the creek’s ravine, then headed toward town. He hadn’t time to corral people’s ornery livestock. He’d inform Crawford of Bristles’s whereabouts and be done with it.

  In front of the Joneses’ and Hochstatlers’ houses, Jacob tripped where the men’s sidewalks butted up against each other. He stomped on the upturned bricks next to Hochstatlers’s nice boardwalk but they wouldn’t budge. He took out a pad of paper and left Jones a notice on his front door.

  Forging his way across town to the livery, Jacob tried not to look too closely at anybody else’s sidewalks.

  Hang sidewalks—dirt and grass were plenty good enough to walk on. Maybe he could rally the citizens into petitioning the council to revoke the sidewalk regulations. He knew every person who’d be in favor of it—he had listened to their grousing every time he handed them a warning or fine.