The Anonymous Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 1)

by Vickie McDonough

  “Ewww. That’s disgusting.” Rachel crinkled her lip. “You didn’t eat one, did you?”

  Jacqueline’s eyes twinkled. “No, but if they’d dared me to, I would have.”

  “Don’t let those boys talk you into doing something you don’t want to do.” Rachel stared at her child. How could such a pretty young thing be a tomboy? Why couldn’t she love dresses and hair bows instead of pants and hanging around with rascally boys? She was young and naive, and Rachel had to protect her from the wiles of men—and boys. She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “Sweetie, women have to be cautious around men. They’re different than us. You can’t relax and let down your guard with them.”

  Her daughter looked over her shoulder, innocent blue eyes staring at Rachel. “Ricky and Jonesy are my friends.”

  “Friends sometimes...” How could she explain that even friends could hurt you to get what they wanted? She sighed. That was no topic for a ten-year-old.

  Rachel picked up a towel and dish and started drying. As soon as they were done, she could take her mending outside and sit down for a while.

  “Ricky says there’s a new marshal in town.”

  Rachel closed her eyes and willed strength back into her bones. So, her work wasn’t over for the day. The marshal always took his meals at the boardinghouse, and in return for her work, which included cleaning the little house next door and doing the marshal’s laundry, the town would pay her an additional forty dollars per month. The extra money would be a blessing, but it added to her busy workload. Why hadn’t the mayor let her know a new marshal was coming today? “We’ll need to go over and make sure the house is ready for him.”

  “Now? You cleaned it two weeks ago, and nobody’s been there since. What’s there to do?”

  “Plenty. Dust, air out the place, put clean sheets on the bed. I wonder when he’ll start taking his meals here.” Rachel got a bucket and put a clean cloth in it. She’d have to run over and take care of things right away. Since the marshal was already in town, he’d probably be sleeping at the little house next door tonight. Her mending would just have to wait until tomorrow.

  “You sure you don’t want me to stay here so I can greet new boarders if we get any?”

  Rachel smiled at her wily child. “Good try, but this won’t take too long.”

  Jacqueline moaned but left her apron on and followed Rachel out the kitchen door.

  At the Sunday house, as it was called, Rachel left the front door open. “Raise a few windows to let some fresh air in. I’ll make the bed. You dust and then run outside and gather some wildflowers if you can find some nearby.”

  Jacqueline moaned halfheartedly but perked back up. “They say the new marshal is some kind of cavalry hero.”

  “Well, that’s good. He should be well qualified to guard our little town if he’s been a soldier.” Rachel snapped open a clean sheet, enjoying the fresh, sun-kissed scent, and made the bed. She topped it off with a colorful bear’s paw quilt she’d made the year after James had died.

  The Sunday house, with its large, single room and the roof that slanted down on the back quarter of the house, giving it a lean-to look, reminded her of the type of home that she and Luke might have had if they’d married. The kitchen area had been turned into the bedroom, since the marshal didn’t need to cook. If he was a tall man, he may have to duck to avoid hitting his head where the ceiling slanted over the bed. A parlor of sorts was set up in the main area with a settee, a rocking chair, desk, and table big enough for two people to eat at. The cozy place would be much better than staying in the jailhouse as early Lookout marshals had done.

  Buying the Sunday house when the German owners moved farther south to be near their kinfolk and donating it to the town had been one of the nicer things the Hamilton family had done.

  Footsteps sounded outside on the porch. Rachel’s gaze darted around the tidy room. Everything was in place except for the flowers. She was glad that she’d come on over rather than waiting until tomorrow.

  Jacqueline swiped the window sill and looked up. She tucked the dust cloth behind her and scurried over to stand by Rachel. “I saw the mayor.”

  “You’ll find it’s quite a nice home,” the mayor’s voice boomed through the open door. “A German farmer built it about ten years ago. His family stayed here when they came to market on Saturdays. They spent the night and stayed for church before going home on Sunday afternoons. It’s called a Sunday house, and it’s the only one in this part of Texas, but I heard tell there are lots of them in the hill country.”

  Rachel wrung her hands together and resisted rolling her eyes. Surely the marshal had better things to do than listen to the history of the Sunday house. She wished there was a back door so that she and Jacqueline could slip out, but she needed to meet the man anyway since he’d be taking his meals at her boardinghouse.

  The door squeaked, and Mayor Burke strode in. “Well, howdy there. I was coming your way next.”

  The marshal seemed to hesitate just outside the door. Finally, he stepped inside. Rachel grabbed hold of the bedpost; her pulse took off like a race horse at a starting line. Luke’s eyes widened, and then he schooled his expression.

  “You’re the new marshal?” Jacqueline’s voice rose to an abnormal pitch.

  Luke eyed her daughter and then stared at Rachel. She shifted her feet, trying not to squirm. She had longed to see him again for so many years, and here he stood.

  “I don’t guess any introductions are needed since you two have known each other since you were in diapers.” The mayor chuckled and glanced at Luke. “Guess you noticed there’s no stove here. Did I mention you’ll be taking meals over at Rachel’s boardinghouse?”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed; a muscle ticked in his jaw. “That won’t be necessary, mayor. I can fend for myself.”

  The skin on Rachel’s face tightened at the irritation in Luke’s voice. Her knees gave out, and she dropped onto the bed, then realized where she sat and jolted back onto her feet, clinging to the bedpost.

  Mayor Burke raised his hand. “No need, Marshal. Meals are part of the deal, and Rachel is one of the best cooks around. She’ll take good care of you.”

  Luke’s lips pursed, as if he doubted the mayor’s words.

  “My ma’s the best cook in this whole town.” Jacqueline hiked her chin as if daring him to disagree.

  “We should be going.” Rachel’s heart fluttered like a cornered rabbit’s. How could she bear seeing Luke three times a day and dining with him? Evidently he didn’t favor the idea either, since he looked as if he had eaten a sugarless rhubarb pie.

  Eleven years ago, she’d pleaded for his forgiveness when she told him she had married James, but he’d said then he’d never forgive her. Over the years, she’d prayed for him and hoped he’d found it in his heart to pardon her for hurting him so much, but by the glare in his eyes and his hardened jaw, she knew the truth. He hadn’t forgiven her, and he never would.

  Ducking her head, she took Jacqueline’s hand, and they skirted past the two men. At the door, she halted and forced herself to face Luke. She cleared her throat, hoping her voice didn’t warble. “Breakfast is at six thirty.”

  CHAPTER 4

  “Howdy, cuz.” Garrett gave a welcoming nod.

  Luke stopped next to the Corbetts’ freight wagon and eyed several crates of supplies Garrett was tying down on the buckboard. “Looks like you’re off again.”

  “Yep. We’re taking this load to Snake River Ranch. Be gone a couple of days.” He tossed the end of the rope across the wood to Luke. “You’ll look out for things around here while we’re gone, won’tcha?”

  After securing the rope, Luke pulled to make sure it was taut. He grinned. “With you two hooligans gone, the town is bound to be as quiet as a funeral.”

  Garrett slapped him on the back. “Just keep thinking that way, and one of these days some real outlaw is gonna get the drop on you.”

  Luke shook his head. “Where’s that rascally brothe
r of yours?”

  His cousin jutted his chin toward the other side of the street. “Over at the café. Polly’s packing up a meal for us.”

  Luke walked around the stout draft horses, checking the rigging. He didn’t need to, since both his cousins took excellent care of their animals, but it gave him an excuse to hang around for the moment. He hated seeing the brothers leave town again. Spending time with them helped keep his mind off other things.

  Garrett lifted his hat and plowed rows in his blond hair with his fingers. His blue eyes stared back without the glint of amusement they often held. “How’s it going with Rachel?”

  Luke’s gaze darted sideways at the unexpected change of topics. He hadn’t told them how difficult it was being around Rachel. “Don’t see much of her.”

  “Aren’t you taking your meals at her boardinghouse?”

  He shrugged, not wanting to admit the extremes he’d taken to avoid seeing her. “I usually take my plate home or to the jail.”

  Garrett shook his head. “James is dead, and Rachel’s available again. What are you waiting for?”

  Luke narrowed his gaze and clenched his jaw. Why couldn’t Garrett leave well enough alone? “You know why.”

  His cousin’s hat lifted as his brows rose. “All that happened a long time ago. She’s a beautiful, young widow, and there’s no reason you two couldn’t get hitched now.”

  “There are a wagonload of reasons.” Luke straightened.

  “Well, if you’re interested in her at all, don’t wait too long. A local rancher named Rand Kessler has been comin’ calling on her regularly.”

  Luke flinched at the thought of another man courting Rachel, but she was a beautiful woman of marrying age. It was to be expected. So why did it bother him so much?

  “Y’all have a safe trip.” He strode away, not giving Garrett a chance to say more. In the two weeks that he’d been home, both cousins had tried to get him to reconcile with Rachel. But they didn’t know how much he’d loved her and how deeply her betrayal had gutted him, leaving him a shell of a man. If he couldn’t trust the one woman he would have died for—the woman who was supposed to be his bride—how could he trust any others?

  Joining the cavalry had been the only thing he could think of to keep him away from females. And it had worked for the most part.

  He forced his jaw to relax. If he kept clenching it like he had the past few weeks, he’d need to visit a dentist soon. Maybe then he’d be worth his weight in gold. He chuckled and surveyed Main Street as he walked toward the boardinghouse. He lengthened his stride as he neared it, turning right onto Bluebonnet Lane. Next door to Rachel’s home rose a huge white house with tall columns supporting the porch overhang. He’d heard that the banker who’d taken over after James Hamilton died lived there, and beside it, not quite so huge but still twice as big as any other house in town was Polly and Dolly’s home. He shuddered at the pale pink color. What would entice a person to insult their home by painting it the color of a little girl’s Sunday dress?

  He shook his head. Who was this Rand Kessler fellow? Maybe he should make the rounds of the local farms and ranches and introduce himself. Yeah, that was a grand idea.

  Turning right again, he made his way down Apple Street. The houses on this street were smaller, and many were not as well cared for as those on Bluebonnet Lane. He tipped his hat to a woman whose name he didn’t know as she walked toward him. He recognized her as the wife of a local rancher. She was tall but not nearly as pretty as Rachel.

  He uttered a growl and clamped his jaw down again. How was he supposed to get her out of his system when he saw her every day?

  Forcing his mind on other things, his gaze shifted toward the end of the street where the old shack that he’d grown up in used to be. The vacant lot now served as a garden. At least someone was getting some use from the property. Just by looking at the land, you’d never know a fire had burned down his home and killed his mother. He should have returned then, but by the time he received the news, his ma had been buried a month. Maybe if he hadn’t left home, she’d still be alive. He tried not to hold on to too many regrets. They rubbed blisters on his emotions.

  A mangy dog darted out between two houses and limped across the street. Someone yelled, and a rock whizzed dangerously close to the poor creature. The two youths he’d chased from the creek the day he arrived in Lookout dashed across the street after the critter. Jack charged after them, trying to keep up.

  Luke pursed his lips tight and marched toward them. The boys, so focused on picking on the poor dog, didn’t notice him at first, but Jack skidded to a halt. Her panicked gaze zipped toward her friends, who, seeing Luke, ran off between two houses, and back at him. Suddenly her expression softened. A stick thumped to the ground behind her.

  “Why ... afternoon, Marshal Davis. Fine day, ain’t it?” Jack’s wide smile and lightly freckled nose made her look sweet and innocent.

  The little imp. “Not so fine a day for that dog you and your friends are harassing.”

  “I wasn’t chasing the dog.”

  Luke lifted his brows. “A lawman can generally tell when someone’s lying.”

  Jack stomped her foot. “I was chasing those boys, not that dog. He cain’t help it if he’s hungry and muddles things up searching for food. People oughtn’t be mean to critters.” She lifted her pert little nose in the air.

  This coming from the kid who tossed a rock at his horse? Luke squatted, giving her the benefit of height. “That’s right. The good Lord gave animals to man to help him. It’s our job to take care of them, and in return, they become our companions and make our jobs easier. He doesn’t like it when we mistreat them, and neither do I. Stop throwing rocks and sticks, you hear me, Jack?”

  “But I wasn’t gonna throw it at the dog. Honest, Marshal.”

  Luke studied her pleading, dark blue eyes, so different from Rachel’s. They begged him to believe her. Maybe she was telling the truth. “We don’t throw things at people, either. You can hurt them, too.”

  The girl had the sense to look ashamed and nodded. “Can I go now?”

  “Yeah.” He wondered if his speech had done a lick of good. How could feminine Rachel end up with a girl who dressed like a boy and even wanted to be called a boy’s name? He shook his head. What did he know about raising young’uns?

  Tracking the dog, he found the mongrel sniffing at the trash barrel behind the saloon. The yellow mutt’s ribs showed, and his skin hung loose. Luke needed a dog about as much as he needed a pink house, but he couldn’t let the poor creature starve to death or be treated cruelly by others. “C’mere, you ugly thing.”

  The dog hunched down then trotted ten feet away. He looked as if he’d like a friend but was afraid to trust. Luke sniffed a laugh. “I know exactly how you feel.”

  Luke kicked through the trash, looking for something to tie around the dog’s neck. Not finding anything, he marched up the boardwalk to the freight office. His cousins kept rope for tying down their freight and wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to a few feet of it. Pulling out his knife, he whacked off a ten-foot length from a large roll. Hurrying back, he hoped the dog was still there and that the boys hadn’t found him. He fastened a noose on the move and had it ready when he rounded the corner.

  At first he didn’t see the critter, but then he found him lying under one of the few trees in town. Luke tiptoed toward him, the rope ready. The dog sniffed the air, saw him, and stood, looking ready to bolt. Luke couldn’t blame him after the way those kids had treated him. He tossed the rope and caught his target on the first try. The dog yipped and shied away, pulling up the slack and causing the noose to tighten around his neck.

  Luke grinned. Maybe he’d just roped a new friend.

  ***

  Garret drove the team away from Snake River Ranch. Without the weight of the heavy load, the wagon jostled more, but the horses were able to move faster. They should be home to Lookout by evening.

  The morning sun broke over the h
orizon, chasing away all shadows of night. He pulled down the brim of his hat as his mind wandered to their next shipment. Maybe it was time to hire someone to help with the deliveries so they could keep the office open all the time. But that would mean not traveling with his brother, and he’d miss that. He and Mark shared a bond that many brothers didn’t.

  Garrett peered sideways. How Mark could read a book while the wagon dipped in and out of ruts in the road, he’d never know.

  Too bad Luke had taken the marshal’s job, or they could have hired him. He’d fit right in.

  “Why do you suppose Luke decided to come home after all these years?” Garrett nudged Mark in the shoulder to draw him out of his book.

  “Huh?” His brother glanced up, his mind obviously still in the story. After a moment, his gaze cleared. “What did you say?”