The older of the two women smiled. Though pretty in her own right, her average brown hair and pale blue eyes made her look plain next to the younger woman with the wild, sorrel-colored hair.
The older woman set her bowl on the porch and stood, smiling. “I’m Rachel Hamilton. Can I help you?”
Carly nodded. “I’m Ellie.” Oh, what was that name? “Uh ... Blackstone. Ellie Blackstone. I need a room for a few days—just until I can make arrangements to marry Marshal Luke Davis.”
CHAPTER 17
Rachel clutched the nearest porch post as her mind swirled with disbelief. Not another bride! Whatever was going on?
“Saints preserve us.” Miss O’Neil muttered something in Gaelic, and she leaned forward, holding her face in her hands. Suddenly, she jumped to her feet, the bowl of beans falling to the floor and scattering all over the porch. With the back of her hand against her mouth, she dashed into the house.
Miss Blackstone’s light brown eyes widened. “Goodness! Does she always react to strangers like that?”
Hating to be the one caught in the middle of all this, Rachel stooped down and gathered her thoughts along with the beans. How could this happen? How do I tell her, Lord?
“Well ... you gonna answer me?” Miss Blackstone tapped her foot on the ground. “Evidently something I said flustered her, but I cain’t figure out what.”
Setting the beans aside, Rachel held out her palm. “Please, won’t you have a seat for a moment?”
“I’m tired and would like to freshen up in my room before I meet the marshal. You do have a room available?”
“Yes.” Rachel forced a smile. “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is it?” Miss Blackstone flopped down, albeit reluctantly. “Spill the beans.”
If the topic hadn’t been so serious, Rachel would have laughed at the women’s obvious effort to lighten a tense situation. Sucking in a steadying breath, she stared up at the soft blue sky. “There’s been a horrible mistake.”
The young woman straightened. “What do you mean? Marshal Davis ain’t already married, is he?”
Rachel clenched her hands together. “No, not exactly.”
“How can a body be not exactly married?”
“He’s not, but two other women have recently come to town expecting to marry him.”
“What!” Miss Blackstone lurched to her feet and kicked her satchel. “How is that possible? I came a long ways and won’t have some namby-pamby stealing my place as the marshal’s bride. He is an honorable man, ain’t he?”
Rachel stood. “Oh yes, he surely is, but it seems his ornery cousins played a trick on him.”
“But I’ve set my sights on marrying up with him.”
Reaching out, Rachel touched Miss Blackstone’s shoulder, but the other woman sloughed her hand away. Miss Blackstone narrowed her gaze, and her light brown eyes glinted.
“I’m terribly sorry for your inconvenience,” Rachel said. “I’m hoping Luke will demand that his cousins make restitution for any expenses you’ve incurred and for your inconvenience.”
Her visitor hiked up her chin. “I ain’t come all this way just to be turned out. Where is the marshal? I got me a few words for him.”
“Like I said, it wasn’t his fault. Luke knew nothing until the other brides showed up.”
Miss Blackstone studied her. “That’s twice you’ve referenced my future husband by his given name. Just what’s your stake in all of this?”
Rachel clasped her hands together and tried to hold her ground. She was a peacemaker—didn’t like conflict—and Miss Blackstone seemed more determined to acquire Luke for her husband than even Miss Bennett. “We grew up in Lookout together. I’ve known Luke most of my life.”
The newest bride pulled off her bonnet, revealing glistening black hair, and fanned her face. With her lightly tanned complexion and snappy eyes, she was a lovely girl if one didn’t take into account her pushy attitude. “That stage driver called you Mrs. Hamilton, so that means you’re married, right?”
“Was married,” Rachel said. “I’m a widow.”
Rather than saying she was sorry for her loss, Miss Blackstone narrowed her gaze and stared at Rachel as if she, too, were a competitor for Luke’s affection.
“Have you set your cap for him?”
Rachel thought back eleven years to when she’d been seventeen and had eagerly looked forward to marrying Luke. She’d loved him so much and never had eyes for any other man. If only...
Rachel shook her head. “No, that’s not an option.”
Miss Bennett stared down Main Street. “Could you take me to talk with the marshal?”
“Don’t you want to get settled in your room first?”
She shook her head. “No. I need to know where things stand.”
Rachel sighed inwardly. “Let me put these beans away and set your carpetbag inside. Would you care for a drink of water?”
“Afterwards.”
Rachel hurried to the kitchen, wondering about Miss Blackstone. Her speech and manners seemed gruff, but she dressed nicely. She set the bowl of beans on the counter and thought about the other two brides upstairs. How could things have gotten so out of control? What were those Corbett brothers thinking?
“They weren’t, and that is a fact,” Rachel mumbled. Those two had done many foolish things in their lives, but this one took the cake.
Maybe she and the new bride should pay the Corbett brothers a visit, since the low-down hooligans had yet to come and apologize or make restitution. Rachel reached out and clutched the doorjamb at the new thought that struck her weak-kneed. If there were three brides, could there be more to come?
Outside, Rachel crossed the street with Miss Blackstone beside her. She didn’t know what else to say to calm the woman. Her new boarder was obviously upset. Who wouldn’t be? How would Rachel respond if she found herself in a similar situation?
Her mind swirled with thoughts as her quick steps ate up the ground. She stomped up the boardwalk steps and ran smack into a solid body coming out of the bank. She was shoved sideways, colliding into Miss Blackstone, who grabbed a post, or she would have fallen into the street. The man grabbed Rachel’s arm before she, too, fell, and righted her.
“Where’s the fire, Rachel?” Luke stared down with a half grin on his handsome face.
She spun back toward him, irritated that her heart pounded from having rammed into him. Max squeezed out the door and past Luke’s long legs. The mutt sniffed her hand, looked up and whined, then scurried back into the bank. Rachel’s frustration burned like the heat of a flat iron and had probably scorched the poor dog’s snout. She stepped forward and wagged her finger under Luke’s nose. “There’s no fire, but there’s about to be a murder.”
The humor left Luke’s face, and his gaze dashed past her, probably to Miss Blackstone. Rachel noticed the bank teller and president staring at them from inside the bank, and she grabbed Luke’s arm, pulling him out of the doorway. “Marshal Davis, meet Ellie Blackstone, your third bride.”
Confusion wrinkled his brow. He opened his mouth but nothing came out for a moment. “What?”
“This woman has come to town to marry you. Imagine that.”
Miss Blackstone smoothed her dress and squared her shoulders, eyeing Luke with a mixture of apprehension and the determination of a hungry huntress suddenly spotting an eight-point buck. Her expression softened, and she scurried up close to him, smiled, and held out her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Marshal.”
Luke, ever the gentleman, tipped his hat to her and shook her fingertips. “I’m right sorry about all this, ma’am.” His gaze turned to steel as he glared at Rachel. “Lawman or not, I just may help you string up those two scoundrels. Let’s go see what they have to say about this.”
***
The glass in the window rattled when Luke yanked open the freight office door. His irritation nearly bounced off the wooden walls, and his cousins were lucky he hadn’t jerked the door clear o
ff its hinges. He allowed the two ladies to enter before him. The new bride—Miss What’s-Her-Name—brushed up against him, stared unabashedly into his eyes, and gave him a sultry smile.
She was pretty all right, like the other two brides, but this one had a worldly quality that set the lawman in him on alert. Or maybe he was just fearful for his bachelorhood. Even though she looked no older than the other brides, this woman’s expression spoke of experience—but just what kind of experience, he wasn’t sure.
Luke rubbed the back of his neck and for the first time wished he’d never quit the cavalry and returned home. Life had gotten so complicated. I could use some help here, Lord. What’s to be done about all these brides?
Max lumbered in after the ladies, and Luke shut the door. The dog flopped down near his feet. Mark stared up from his desk, where he’d been doing paperwork. The color drained from his face as his gaze landed on the stranger.
“Where’s Garrett?” Luke asked.
Mark nudged his head sideways. “Out back, packing up the wagon. We’re getting ready to head out on a delivery run again.”
“Get him,” Luke ordered.
“You’re not going anywhere, Mark Corbett.” Rachel pressed her hands flat on his desk and leaned over, glaring at him. “You and that up-to-no-good brother of yours are to come over to the boardinghouse right now and discuss what you to intend to do about this disastrous situation.”
“But we’re just about to leave to make deliveries.”
“Not until we get some answers.”
Luke nearly chuckled at the stunned look in Mark’s eyes as mild-natured Rachel turned into a she-bear. Luke strode into the back room, out the open rear door, and onto the porch. Garrett set a large crate onto the buckboard that already had a team hitched to it. A copse of trees shaded the area, giving it a serene setting totally at war with the fire raging within him. Did the brothers think they could make a quick escape and get out of talking with the brides?
Garrett smiled. “Come to help?”
Luke snorted. “Not hardly. You’ll never guess who just showed up in town.”
His cousin’s eyes lifted as if he were deep in thought; then he refocused on Luke. “That pickpocket you were after?”
“No, but I’ve got something else that might interest you.”
Garrett pulled a bandanna from his rear pocket and wiped his face and the back of his neck. “No foolin’? What is it?”
“Another bride.”
His cousin’s blue eyes had a blank stare for a split second before they widened. Red crept up Garrett’s neck to color his cheeks and ears. “Uh ... you don’t say.”
Luke rammed his hands to his hips. “I do say. Now get in here. We’re going over to Rachel’s to discuss this situation.”
“But we’ve got deliveries to make.”
“They can wait,” Luke ground out each word, making sure Garrett realized the seriousness of the situation.
His cousin nodded and climbed the stairs. He grabbed another crate, and Luke glared at him. “I’ve got to at least get the wagon loaded and tied down, or I’m likely to lose all of this freight to some kids or a bum.”
Luke wanted to argue, but although Lookout was a peaceful town and most folks were the decent sort, there were always a few families that were hard up and wouldn’t mind stealing to put food on the table. He grabbed a crate, descended the steps, and slung it onto the buckboard.
Garrett hauled another crate off the porch, and after a few minutes of working in heated silence together, he tossed a rope across the top of the wagon to Luke. “So, is this one as pretty as the others?”
“Black hair and unusual, light brown eyes.” Luke didn’t mention his concerns about the woman. Maybe he was overreacting. Could be she just looked hardened because she was angry over the situation.
“That doesn’t tell me much.” Garrett grunted as he pulled the rope taut and tied it.
Luke dusted off his hands and rested them on his hips. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough.”
“Yep.”
Garrett walked in front of his horses and patted each one on the head. “I’ll be back soon, girls.” He strode toward Luke and hopped up the steps. “You know, that means there’s enough of them brides for each of us to have one.”
Luke gave his cousin a playful shove but couldn’t help grinning when Garrett walked into the office in front of him. He shook his head. This was no laughing matter, but his cousins had a way of seeing the up side of every situation. Why couldn’t he be less serious and more like them?
Rachel glared at Garrett then Luke. “Took you long enough. Did you have to chase him down and haul him back?”
“Nope, he came of his own free will.” Luke lifted his hat, swiped his hand through his hair, and glanced at the new bride. “These two yahoos are my cousins, Garrett and Mark Corbett.”
“And this is Ellie Blackstone,” Rachel said. “Now, let’s head back to the boardinghouse and sort through this mess.”
Garrett grinned at Miss Blackstone and opened the door. Mark hurried around his desk and offered her his arm. She glared at the two men then marched past them and took hold of Luke’s arm. “I traveled here to marry the marshal, and that’s what I aim to do.”
Luke swallowed the cannonball-size lump in his throat. “But I—”
Rachel held up her palm. “Save it for the boardinghouse. You can tell all the brides at once, and that way you won’t have to keep repeating yourself.”
Suppressing a sigh, Luke followed Rachel to the door with Miss Blackstone attached to his arm. He held his hand out, indicating for the third bride to go first. She released her hold and, with a flounce of her head, strode out the door.
He dreaded the confrontation ahead. Why couldn’t things have gone along nice and quiet like when he first arrived? Being around Rachel again had been hard enough, and they seemed to be moving toward a passable friendship, but now she was angry with him, and he didn’t like how that felt. He glanced at his cousins, and his own anger simmered. How could those ornery brothers put him in a situation like this? What could they have been thinking when they wrote to so many women?
He was knee-deep in turbulent female emotions and had no clue how to get free of the muck. He moved closer to Rachel. She had a good head on her shoulders and didn’t buckle during hard times. Maybe she could be the voice of reason in this trying ordeal.
Luke ran his gaze around town, making sure all was quiet. As he’d expected, several groups of people had gathered, and he knew exactly the topic of their conversations. Everyone watched Luke, his cousins, and the ladies like a group of Indians surveying a blanket full of beads and trinkets. They were the news of the day. Shoot, three brides coming to marry one man was probably the hottest news they had all year. No wonder they were curious.
Jenny Evans, the newspaper editor, exited her office door just as Luke passed by, as if to emphasize his point. She fell into step with him, albeit taking three steps to his one.
“So tell me, Marshal, how does it feel to have so many women wanting to marry you?” She held her pencil poised above a pad of paper, awaiting his response.
He grunted.
“Am I to take that to mean you’re not happy with the situation?”
He kept his face straight, watching the bank president step out the door of his establishment. He nodded to the man he’d just spoken to a short while ago. “Mr. Castleby.”
“Ignoring me won’t change a thing, Marshal. I intend to get my story.” Miss Evans hurried to keep up, her breath running short.
“There’s no story here, ma’am.”
“I beg to differ. What’s going to happen to those brides? There are three of them now—am I correct?”
Miss Blackstone tossed a snappish look over her shoulder.
Luke shook his head. News traveled faster than a prairie fire in the small town. His footsteps stopped echoing as he stepped off the boardwalk onto the dirt street. “That’s right,” he finally answered.
Luke halted, and she sped past him, slid to a stop, and turned back. He might not want to comment on the situation, but neither did he want his character defamed. “For the record, Miss Evans, I didn’t write to any of the brides. I knew nothing about them before they arrived in town.”
Her wide gray eyes stared up at him. “Well, someone must have. How else would they have known about you or known to come to Lookout?”
The Anonymous Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 1) Page 16