Margaret Brownley, Robin Lee Hatcher, Mary Connealy, Debra Clopton

by A Bride for All Seasons

  “I don’t want you to go,” Eddie cried out.

  The sheriff frowned. “Miss Parker has to leave.”

  Eddie glared up at his uncle. “She’s only leaving because you’re making her.”

  “That’s not true.” Garrett reached for Eddie’s arm, but the boy pulled back and took off at a run, disappearing into the milling crowd.

  Mary-Jo felt terrible. She never meant to cause the sheriff trouble. “I’m sorry,” she said, then without thinking she laid her hand on his arm.

  He glanced at her hand before lifting his gaze to hers.

  She pulled her hand away. “I never meant—”

  “You better hurry,” he said, his voice taut. “You don’t want to miss your train.” With that, he spun around and hurried away. Tearing her gaze from his retreating back, Mary-Jo walked toward the train on lead feet.

  That night Mary-Jo walked up the boardinghouse steps to the dark porch and knocked on the door. A light shone in the window and that was a good sign.

  The door opened a crack and a nose as long as a crow’s beak was all she could make out. “May I help you?” It was a woman’s voice and even her thick guttural accent couldn’t hide the disapproving tone.

  “Yes, I wish to speak with the sheriff,” she said. “I was told he lived here.”

  The door opened all the way, revealing a gray-haired woman in a lace cap and a long dressing gown. Sharp gray eyes assessed her. “You’re the woman who wore the yellow dress to Mr. Garrett’s funeral.” Without allowing Mary-Jo time to confirm or deny it, she added, “It’s late.”

  It was a little after eight, but the woman made it sound like the wee hours of the morn. “It’s important that I speak with him.”

  The woman hesitated a moment, then invited Mary-Jo into the house with a nod of her head. She pointed to the parlor and waited for Mary-Jo to sit before climbing the stairs.

  Mary-Jo straightened her skirt and folded her hands on her lap.

  Footsteps on the stairs almost made her lose her composure. She debated whether to stand or stay seated. In the end the choice wasn’t hers to make. The moment the sheriff’s tall form filled the doorway, she jumped to her feet without thinking.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you, but I was worried about Eddie,” she said in one breathless sentence.

  Surprise suffused his face. “I thought you’d left town.”

  “I couldn’t leave without knowing he was all right.” He was, after all, Daniel’s son. “I stopped by your office and your deputy said you were still looking for him. I thought he might have gone to the cemetery, but he wasn’t there and . . . I couldn’t find him anywhere. I looked for him all day . . . all over town. And he never returned to the house.”

  “He’s fine. He’s asleep.”

  Relief rushed through her. “Praise the Lord.”

  They stood staring at each other. The dainty furniture and delicate knickknacks looked absurd in contrast to his height and powerful build. The only sounds were the steady tick-tock of the long case clock and the pounding of her heart.

  “I . . . I won’t keep you,” she stammered. She reached for her reticule.

  He reached out his hand. “Stay.”

  Her eyes widened. “You . . . want me to stay?”

  “It’s not all that late. Please have a seat.” He strode into the room.

  She sat on the edge of the floral-print settee to accommodate her bustle, and he sat in a nearby wingback chair.

  “I’m so happy to hear that Eddie is . . . where he belongs,” she said, filling in the rather uncomfortable silence that stretched between them.

  “He doesn’t think he belongs here with me.” He rubbed his chin. “I didn’t expect to have to raise a child, at least not under these circumstances.”

  “He . . . said you’re his only family.”

  The sheriff nodded. He talked about his deceased parents and growing up in Kansas; she told him about her amazing sewing machine.

  “I planned to start my own business once Daniel and I were married.”

  “The town could use a dressmaker.” He studied her. “Eddie told me you lost a friend during the war.”

  She lowered her lashes, not sure how much or little to say. “My fiancé,” she said at last.

  His eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry . . .”

  “So am I.” She took a deep breath. “What do you call a woman like me?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “When a woman loses a husband, we call her a widow. What do you call a woman who loses a fiancé? Who loses two fiancés?”

  “I have no idea,” he said, and the sympathy in his eyes unnerved her.

  She quickly changed the subject. “Eddie told me you fought in the war too.”

  He looked surprised, then pleased. “I didn’t know Eddie knew that about me.”

  “I reckon we’d both be surprised at how much Eddie knows.”

  “Maybe so.” He studied her. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the war. It must bring back painful memories.”

  “The war’s over,” she said.

  “But the memories remain.” Raw pain shimmered in the depth of his eyes, but whether from memories of the war or grief for his brother, she didn’t know. Probably both.

  “You and Eddie are very much alike,” she said.

  “How so?”

  “You both have strong feelings about what you believe in. The only difference is, Eddie hasn’t yet found a cause.”

  “Never thought Eddie and I shared anything but a slight family resemblance,” he said.

  “Not so slight.”

  He gazed at her with an intensity that made her blush. For the first time she noticed the intriguing cleft in his chin.

  The clock began to gong, reminding her of the lateness of the hour. “I . . . I better go.” She slipped the chain of her reticule over her wrist. “I have an early train to catch.”

  “Let me take you back to my brother’s house.”

  She hesitated. She still felt like an intruder whenever she entered Daniel’s house and yet what choice did she have? “I hope you don’t mind, but I left my belongings there earlier.”

  “I don’t mind and Dan wouldn’t either. And I’ll sleep a lot better knowing you have a place to stay.”

  His concern for her welfare made her feel all cozy and warm inside. The emotion left the moment the chimes began to slow.

  She jumped to her feet. “You better wind the clock.” Her voice was edged in panic, but it couldn’t be helped. If he didn’t hurry, the clock would stop, and that meant death.

  He gave her an odd look but said nothing as he rose. He opened the clock’s glass door and turned the key. “There,” he said, closing the cabinet. He frowned. “Are you all right?”

  With an uneasy glance at the clock, she nodded. The chimes continued all the way to nine. “I’m just tired, is all. It’s been . . . a hard week.”

  A big yellow moon hung in a star-studded sky as they walked to Daniel’s place. The wind that had swept through town the day before had stopped, leaving the air cool and delicately scented with sweet verbena.

  “Tell me about Eddie’s father,” she said as they walked along streets lined with shuttered establishments.

  “What can I tell you? Things always came easy for Dan.” They walked past a sleepy farmhouse and newly tilled fields before he continued, “He could read by the time he was three, and he was successful at everything he did.”

  “Must run in the family,” she said. “A war veteran and sheriff. That’s pretty impressive. I say you’ve both gone and done your parents proud.”

  “My parents were pacifists.” His voice was without bitterness or rancor, but she detected a strain of resignation. “My way was never their way.”

  “But your brother’s way was,” she said, reading between the lines. “I reckon they never figured out that every family needs a warrior.”

  He flashed a smile and his teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Afte
r what I saw in my office yesterday, I venture to guess you’re the warrior in your family.”

  She smiled too. It seemed like she had been fighting all her life just to survive. “I guess that makes us two of a kind.”

  “I don’t think you and my brother would have made a good match,” he said.

  She turned her shoulder, trying not to let on how much his words hurt. Finally she found her voice. “I guess he needed someone with more learning.”

  There was a long pause. “I . . . uh,” he began. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t think he’d know what to do with a wife who wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.”

  She glanced at his face, but it was too dark to read his expression. “Guess we’ll never know, will we?”

  “Guess not.”

  They arrived at Daniel’s house. Not even the moonlight penetrated the dark, and he insisted on going in first.

  “Be careful of my sewing—”

  A thud and groan met her words.

  “Are . . . are you all right?” she cried.

  For an answer the light came on. He seemed all right and relief rushed through her. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have left it there.”

  He stood her machine upright. “No problem.” He hesitated, and she had the strangest feeling he was reluctant to say good night or perhaps that was only wishful thinking on her part. “Are . . . are you still planning on leaving town?”

  She nodded. “In the morning.”

  “I’ll pick you up and take you to the train station.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I’d feel better knowing you made the train safely,” he said.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

  They gazed at each other for a moment and a warm glow rushed through her.

  As if to catch himself from staring, he blinked and quickly headed for the door. “I . . . I better let you get some sleep. Good night.”

  “Good night.” She stood at the threshold, not wanting to see him go. “Unlucky,” she called after him.

  He swung around to face her. “I’m sorry?”

  “That’s what you call a woman who loses two fiancés. Unlucky.” And with that she closed the door.

  MOVING A MOUNTAIN HAD TO BE EASIER THAN GETTING Eddie out of bed and ready for school. Garrett was sure of it.

  “Should have called you Mule,” he muttered as he coaxed the boy downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast. Most of the other boarders had already left for the day, so it was just the two of them.

  Garrett scooped flapjacks and sausage onto a plate from the buffet and set it on the table. He pointed to a chair. “Hurry or you’ll be late.”

  Eddie sat and pushed the plate away. “I’m not going. I hate school.”

  Mrs. Hoffmann walked in with a pot of coffee in her hands. “Huch! In my day, talking back to my vater . . . my pa . . . would have gotten me a whupping.”

  “He’s not my pa.”

  Mrs. Hoffmann opened her mouth to say something but Garrett stopped her with a shake of his head.

  She snapped her mouth shut, set the coffeepot on the buffet, and walked back into the kitchen, clucking with disapproval.

  Eddie stared at his untouched plate. His lips stuck out like a buggy seat. Garrett filled a cup with coffee and sat opposite him.

  Sipping the hot brew, he watched the boy over the rim of his cup. Invisible walls were always the hardest to penetrate, but somehow he had to find a way. He owed his brother that much, at least.

  “Eddie, I’m sorry about your pa.” He set his cup down and rubbed his forehead with both hands. “I’m also sorry I yelled at you. I don’t know much about kids. I’ll need your help in figuring out what I’m supposed to do.”

  Neither his apology nor his plea for help made Eddie lower his hostile glare. “You’re not supposed to be mean.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Or be mean to my friends.”

  “If you’re talking about Miss Parker, I apologized to her. I even offered to take her to the train today.”

  Doubt flickered in Eddie’s eyes. “She’s still here?”

  “Yes, she is. Instead of leaving town yesterday, she stayed and looked for you.”

  Eddie jumped up from his chair. “You have to make Miss Parker stay. You gotta! Pleeeeeeeeease.”

  Make her stay?

  “I can’t make her do anything.” He certainly couldn’t make her stay, but the shining hope on Eddie’s face made him want to try. That and the memory of her moonlit eyes.

  “I can . . . I can ask.” What in blazes was he thinking? Why would she even think about staying? There was nothing here for her now that Dan was gone.

  “You . . . you will?”

  Garrett blew out his breath. Now look what he’d done—given the boy false hope. Still, he didn’t want to spoil the sudden rapport between them, however tentative. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to ask. But if you don’t hurry, you’ll make me late and there won’t be time to ask her anything.”

  Eddie picked up a sausage and shoved it in his mouth. Garrett was tempted to reprimand him but decided there would be time enough later for teaching proper table manners. First, he had to earn the boy’s trust.

  He thought of something Miss Parker said. “You and Eddie are very much alike, you know. You both have strong feelings about what you believe in.”

  “I might get her to postpone her journey for a day or two,” he said. “But it’s going to take a lot more to get her to stay longer.”

  Eddie grabbed his hat and coat and the strap that held his schoolbooks together and raced for the door.

  “Why the sudden hurry?” Garrett called.

  “Maybe if I go to school and get a one on my ’rithmetic test, Miss Parker will stay for good!”

  Garrett grimaced. If he couldn’t talk Miss Parker into staying, Eddie wouldn’t believe another word he said. But what could he possibly say to keep her in town?

  Not wanting to be late for her train, Mary-Jo stood in front of Daniel’s house to save time, her sewing machine and carpetbag by her side. It was cold and she walked back and forth to stay warm.

  The sheriff arrived promptly at eight as promised. He set the brake on his wagon and hopped to the ground.

  She greeted him with a smile. “Morning.”

  He returned the favor. Their breaths formed white plumes in the cold air, but his crooked smile brought a warm flush to her cheeks. As quickly as it came, the smile left his face and he looked so serious she feared that perhaps Eddie had run off again. He picked up her sewing machine, but instead of placing it in the wagon he stood holding it.

  “Do you mind if we talk for a moment?” he asked.

  “I suppose. Is Eddie—?”

  “He’s fine. He’s at school. Determined to get a good grade for you.”

  She clasped her gloved hands together. “That sure is good to know.”

  He shifted his weight between the heels and balls of his feet and seemingly made no effort to fill in the silence that stretched between them.

  “What do you wish to talk about, Sheriff?” When he still hesitated, she added, “Please feel free to speak your mind.” She didn’t mean to be impatient, but she did have a train to catch.

  He set the Singer down and pulled off his hat. “I was wondering if . . .”

  “Yes? Go on.”

  He clutched his hat to his chest. “I was wondering if . . .” He cleared his throat, made a face, and looked as helpless as a man about to face a firing squad.

  She tapped her foot. He really did need to do something about that throat of his. “Yes, you were wondering?”

  “I was wondering if you’d marry me?” He said it so quickly that at first she thought she’d misunderstood.

  Realizing he was serious, her mouth dropped open. Had he suddenly sprouted two heads she wouldn’t have been more surprised. “I—I . . . don’t know what to say. We don’t even know each other.”

  “Ye
s, I realize it’s sudden, but you didn’t know Dan either.”

  “Yes, but we wrote for several months.” For all the good it did, since that no-good, lying catalogue owner took it upon himself to edit their letters.

  “I don’t expect you to marry me right away. We can take our time getting to know each other.”

  “You mean you want us to write to each other?”

  He grimaced as if the very thought was distasteful. “I thought it would be easier . . . if you stay here.” When she made no response, he continued, “I’ll be a good husband to you, and I know you’ll make a great mother.”

  Mother! “Bless my soul, that’s what this is about. You want me to take care of Eddie.”

  He put his hat on and adjusted the brim as if biding for time. “I admit my first consideration is Eddie, but if I wanted just a nursemaid I would hire someone. The boy needs a real home. With a ma and a pa.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something? My pa’s a gambler and I don’t have much learning.”

  “You have what the boy needs.”

  She was still puzzling over what he meant by that when he continued, “All I’m asking is that you consider it. We’ll know in a couple of weeks if it’ll work out.” He paused for a moment. “A month at the most.”

  She chewed on a nail. It wasn’t like she had a lot of options. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll stay. If by the end of a month you decide the thought of marriage appeals to you, we’ll have a proper courting.”

  What he offered was tempting. On the other hand . . . “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “Then you can go home as planned.”

  It was a startling offer, no question, and if the plan failed, she’d be in a heap of trouble, money-wise. She had a train ticket, nothing more.

  “I don’t know—” It wasn’t just mothering someone else’s child that worried her; she couldn’t imagine herself a law-man’s wife.

  “Miss Parker, all I’m asking is that we get to know each other . . . see if there’s anything we can build on.”

  “Well, I—”

  “One month,” he persisted. “Thirty days. Please. I’ll pay your expenses. What could it hurt? If nothing else, it will allow me time to figure out how best to care for the boy.”