Second Chance Brides

by McDonough, Vickie;

  It was like a message from God. Yes, she was wet and mangy as a stray dog after a thunderstorm, but God had brought her through the storm without a scratch. Yes, she was stuck in Lookout, but God had provided room and board for her through the Corbetts. But she couldn’t live off of them forever and maintain her dignity.

  What she needed was a husband. Her thoughts turned back to Dan Howard. Yes, he was strong and fairly comely, but was he a man she could spend the rest of her life with?

  She shook her head, knowing the truth. She wanted a man with more standing in town than the livery owner. A man who didn’t smell like horses when he came home each night. No, Dan Howard wasn’t her idea of the perfect husband.

  Rachel Davis added the final batch of potatoes to the stew and stirred it with the long, wooden spoon Luke had carved for her. She’d used her largest kettle and hoped it would be enough to feed the hungry mob cleaning up the town. Of course, once Jacqueline spread the word for folks to come and eat at the boardinghouse, other women would probably bring food here as well. Feeding folks at the boardinghouse just made sense with her having the biggest table in town, but even then, they’d have to eat in shifts or over at the café.

  Footsteps sounded behind her, and she smiled. Luke ran his arms around her waist and tugged her back against his solid chest. He leaned down and nibbled on her earlobe and ran kisses down her neck. Finally, he sighed and rested his chin on her head. “Some wedding day, huh?”

  Rachel turned in his arms and laid her head on his chest. “Certainly not the way I’d imagined our special day, but at least nobody will ever forget it.”

  Luke chuckled. “You’re right about that. I’m just thankful nobody was hurt too bad.”

  “It amazing that there weren’t any deaths, considering how fast that twister pulled together and attacked the town.”

  Luke brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “I’m sorry, Rachel. I wanted this to be the happiest day of your life.”

  “It is. Don’t you know that? I married the man I’ve loved all my life. Nothing can ruin that.” She smiled up at her handsome husband. “I still can’t believe we’re actually married.”

  “Oh, believe it.” He leaned down and melded his lips to hers. At first, he was gentle, exploring, but then he became more urgent, staking his claim on her. And she didn’t mind one bit. The back door slammed shut, and she and Luke jumped apart like a courting couple caught spooning instead of newlyweds.

  Jacqueline’s eyes widened, and she grinned. “Caught you smooching, didn’t I?”

  Rachel snickered as Luke’s ears turned red. “You might as well get used to kissing in front of our daughter. You are her pa now.”

  Luke’s mouth tilted up on one side, doing funny things to Rachel’s insides. Oh, how she loved this man. A man she had thought would never be her husband. But God had worked a miracle and moved mountains of persistent regret and refusal to forgive.

  “I like the sound of that—Pa.”

  “Me, too!” Jacqueline hurried over and wrapped her arms around both of them. “I wanted you for my pa almost since the first time I met you.”

  Luke pulled back from their embrace and cocked one eyebrow at Jacqueline. “From the first time? I seem to remember nearly getting drowned in the river the first time we met.”

  Jacqueline giggled. “Well, maybe it was when you adopted Max.”

  “Where is that ol’ mutt, anyway?” Luke asked.

  “Where do you think? Hiding in the jail. All that tornado ruckus scared him half to death.”

  Reluctantly, Rachel pulled away and stirred the stew again. The aroma of beef, onions, and other vegetables filled the air, blending with the scent of biscuits baking in the oven. “You two scoot on in to the dining room and set the table. I want things ready when folks start coming in to eat.”

  Luke shook his head, but his eyes glimmered. “Not even married three hours, and she’s already bossing me around.”

  “Might as well get used to it,” Jacqueline said. “She bosses me around all the time.”

  Rachel laughed with her daughter and husband. For far too long, this house had lacked joy and laughter. In spite of all that had happened today, she felt giddy. Tonight her dreams would come true, and she would be Luke’s wife in all ways.

  She walked to the back door and stared up at the clearing sky. The cool temperatures that followed on the coattails of the storm were giving way to the normal August heat. A bead of sweat trickled down from her right temple, and she swiped it away.

  So many forces had worked to keep her and Luke apart, but the storm had come too late. She was Mrs. Luke Davis, and nothing could change that now. Rachel grinned up at the sky. “Thank You, Lord.”

  Leah stood in the hallway, wishing she could shrivel up and blow away like a piece of dust. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop—to see the marshal kissing Rachel or to overhear their private moments with Jacqueline. She’d only come to see if Rachel needed any help before venturing back outside to aid in the town’s cleanup.

  Though truly happy for Luke and Rachel, Leah couldn’t help feeling disappointed that she wasn’t the one married. She longed for a home of her own and a husband coming home each night, but after helping Ma tend ten younger brothers and sisters, she could well do without the child. She never wanted children. They were so much work, and a woman never had a moment to herself when she had a brood of young’uns. But what man would marry a woman who didn’t want to bear him children?

  Luke and Jack were in the dining room, rattling silverware and plates as they set the table. Leah backed up a few steps, hoping the floorboards didn’t creak, then walked to the kitchen door, making her footsteps sound louder than normal. She cleared her throat. “Um…I was wondering if you needed some help.”

  Rachel spun around from the pot she was stirring and smiled. “That would be nice, Leah. I wouldn’t normally accept your help, since you’re a guest here, but with the wedding and then the storm…well, I hadn’t planned to cook today, but it seemed the thing I could best do to help. People will need to eat after all their hard work cleaning up the aftermath.” She blushed, as if she hadn’t planned to make a speech.

  “I don’t mind helping. I thought I’d go back outside and work some more after changing clothes, but I’d prefer not to get all muddy again.”

  Rachel, still in her wedding dress, glanced around the near-spotless kitchen. “Hmm…the stew isn’t ready, so we can’t dish it up yet.” She snapped her fingers. “Why don’t you check on Shannon and see if she needs anything. She badly twisted her ankle running during the storm and is resting in the parlor. Then you can slice the pies. I made extra so I wouldn’t have to bake for the next few days since…um, well, since I was getting married.”

  Leah smiled. “Congratulations. It was a very nice wedding.”

  Rachel chuckled. “Thanks, and wasn’t that party afterward something?”

  “I’m sorry your reception was ruined by the storm.”

  Rachel shrugged. “At least most everybody had eaten their cake.”

  Leah studied the ground a moment, curious about something but reluctant to ask. A table covered with a lacy cloth had been used to hold gifts from the townsfolk. The table had been piled high with handmade towels, table coverings, jars of food, baskets of fresh produce, and even a ham or two. She hated the thought of all those things being destroyed in the storm. “What happened to all your gifts?”

  “Most things were spared. Folks grabbed an armful as they raced into the church. Only a few jars of beans were broken. It was awfully kind of folks to think of those gifts at a time like that.”

  Leah nodded. “People in Texas seem friendlier than where I’m from.”

  Rachel moved over to a bowl that held dough and started rolling it out. “Texas is a rough land, even in this modern time. People here stick together and help their neighbors. It’s how we survive against the odds.”

  “Well, I’ll just check on Shannon now.” Leah slipped back into the dim hallway
. Rachel hadn’t said anything about her or Shannon moving out of the boardinghouse, but it must be uncomfortable for a newlywed to live with the two women who had been vying to marry her husband.

  Glancing in the door to the dining room, she saw Jack race around the far side of the table and stop, grinning back at Luke, eyes gleaming. “I’ve got the last fork, and you can’t have it.” The girl’s singsong voice sounded playful and teasing. One would never know she’d taken cover from a nasty storm less than an hour before.

  Luke growled and lunged for the child. She squealed and ran back into the kitchen. “Save me, Ma!”

  Leah shook her head. Such playful nonsense would never have been tolerated in her parents’ home. With so many mouths to feed and her father a poor farmer, everyone was expected to work. Hard. There was little time for fun.

  She stopped in the doorway to the parlor. Shannon lay on the sofa with one arm over her eyes. Her boot had been removed from her injured foot, which looked swollen even from across the room. How would she manage to get up stairs this evening when it was time to retire?

  Leah tiptoed into the room, not wanting to wake her friend if she was sleeping. They’d been opponents, both competing for Luke Davis’s affection. She hadn’t treated Shannon very nicely in the past, mainly because she’d been so desperate to win the bride contest, but now they were in the same wagon.

  A floorboard creaked, and Leah froze. Shannon lifted her arm and looked out from under it. She smiled, though pain creased the young woman’s forehead and dulled her normally bright eyes.

  “Rachel asked me to check on you. Do you need anything?”

  “That’s kind of you, but I’m fine.”

  Leah glanced at Shannon’s ankle. It looked twice the size it should be. “Does your ankle hurt much?”

  “Oh, ’tisn’t too terrible.”

  Shannon attempted to sit up. She grimaced and stared at her ankle. “’Tis a fine kettle of fish I’m in.”

  Leah rushed forward to help her. “I imagine in a couple of days your ankle will be almost back to normal.”

  “Aye, you’re probably right, but I had decided to accept the Corbetts’ offer for a ticket out of town.”

  Leah felt her own eyes widen at the woman’s unexpected declaration. She dropped in a side chair. “But where would you go? I thought you had no relatives in America.”

  Shannon pressed her lips together until they turned white. “I don’t, but ’tis so awkward here now that Rachel has married. Don’t you think?”

  Leah nodded. “Yes, but Luke and Rachel are good people, and she runs this boardinghouse. They will have others staying with them and sharing their table most of the time.”

  “Aye, ’tis true. But not the women who competed to marry her husband.”

  Leah wrung her hands together. Shannon was voicing the very same thoughts that she’d had ever since the day Luke announced that Rachel was the woman he loved. “What else can we do besides bide our time until we find someone else to marry or some kind of employment?”

  Shannon shook her head. “You could return home to your family.”

  Leah stiffened her back. “That’s not an alternative.”

  The pretty, auburn-haired woman’s gaze flickered from Leah to across the room and back. “If I’m not stickin’ my nose where it doesn’t belong, might I ask why you can’t?”

  “It doesn’t matter. I just can’t.” Leah stood. “If there’s nothing you need, I’ll go help Rachel.” She spun around and scurried from the room like a rat caught raiding the pantry. She should have just told Shannon the truth—that her father had for all intents and purposes sold her to a creepy old man. If she returned home, she’d be expected to marry Mr. Abernathy. She shuddered, just thinking of his leering gaze and the white hair that grew from his ears and nostrils. No, she’d rather marry an Apache than that old curmudgeon.

  CHAPTER 4

  Mark snapped the pencil in half and tossed it across the room. The pieces clinked against the window, drawing a curious glance from a passerby. He exhaled a frustrated sigh. “How am I supposed to tally the ledgers and do bookwork if I can’t write? Seems like the doc could have left more than just my fingertips free of this wretched cast.”

  “Patience, patience.” Garrett propped his feet on his desk and sipped his coffee. “I’ve been saying it for a while: We need to hire some help.”

  “I thought you wanted to hire someone to lend a hand with deliveries, not the bookkeeping.”

  “Well…that changed when you busted your wrist. We could get someone to work in the office, and you can keep going with me on deliveries.”

  Mark harrumphed. “Fat lot of help I’d be. I can’t lift freight until this heals.” He held up his hand with the cast on it.

  “You can drive the wagon while I sleep.” Garrett grinned.

  Mark tossed a paperweight at him. Garrett dodged it, flailing his arms like a young bird trying to fly, and fell out of his chair. Mark chuckled for the first time since the storm.

  Garrett sat on the floor, his arms on his knees, and shook his head. “You’re sure in a foul mood, brother.”

  “You would be, too, if you only had one hand to work with.” Mark knew he was being a cantankerous grump, but he could use a little sympathy. The problem was, Garrett wasn’t offering any. His brother had no idea how hard it was simply to do feats like getting dressed, shaving, or tending to his daily needs. Mark had just about decided to grow a beard. He’d nicked himself four times shaving today. Too bad Lookout didn’t have a barber.

  Garrett righted himself in his chair and sipped his coffee again. Mark strode over to the coffeepot, carrying his cup. He stood staring at the pot for a second before he realized he couldn’t lift it and hold the cup at the same time. He smacked his cup on Garrett’s desk, drawing a raised brow from his brother, and then poured his coffee. The fragrant aroma wafted up, calming him.

  “I could have done that if you’d asked me to.”

  Mark scowled. “I’m not totally helpless.”

  Garrett grinned. “I noticed you managed to eat just fine with your left hand. Learning to write shouldn’t be all that hard.”

  Mark ignored him and studied the map on the wall behind Garrett’s messy desk. A pin was stuck in each of the surrounding towns where they delivered the freight they picked up in Dallas once a week. They’d been two kids from a poor family—two kids who’d pulled plenty of pranks and practical jokes—but they had realized Garrett’s dream of starting a freight company and had built it into a successful business. In the beginning, the townsfolk had bets going on how quickly the Corbett Freight Company would fold up, but by the time he and Garrett had grown up and the business started taking off, the brothers had gained the respect of the town.

  Respect was something Mark cherished. He’d had none growing up. Their father had drunk away what little money he made, and their mother took in laundry and cleaned the saloon just to get by. Mark liked having people look at him with respect in their eyes, but he knew he didn’t deserve it.

  And he was soon going to have to face facts. He no longer wanted to be in the freight business. He had dreams of his own. Dreams that had been squelched but refused to go away. He just had to figure out how—and when—to tell his brother.

  Shannon closed her book and stared out the parlor window. The morning sun shone bright, and few traces of the storm still remained other than the damage to the buildings and trees. Boards covered most of the window openings she could see, and piles of broken wood and debris still littered the lot where the mercantile had been. Sweat trickled down her chest and back. Though only midmorning, the temperature was sweltering enough to sear bacon on an anvil.

  After two days, her ankle was better, but she still had to stay off her feet a while longer per the doctor’s orders. Walking was difficult, but she far preferred the pain to having Luke Davis carry her up and down the stairs, not that he wasn’t capable of doing so.

  “Silly lass.” She heaved a sigh, reminding
herself that he was no longer a free man. All her hopes and dreams had been placed on marrying him, but it wasn’t to be.

  She flipped open her book, and the wrinkled page of a letter stared up at her. Shaking her head, she knew it was foolish to write such a missive, but doing so had helped her in a small way. She glanced around the room, even though no one was there other than her. The wooden furniture gleamed with the fresh waxing it had received yesterday, and dust had not yet had a chance to settle and dull the shine. Two matching settees sat on opposite walls with a quartet of side chairs sitting at angles to the settees, and several small tables helped fill the room. A piano, not used since she arrived, sat looking as lonely as she along the far wall.

  Smoothing open the letter, she stared at the words. What kind of person wrote a letter to a dead woman?

  Dear Mum,

  I miss you so much and wish you were here. I miss your smiles, your hugs, and kisses on my cheek.

  You won’t believe this, but I’m in Texas now. ’tis such a grand, wild state, Texas is. Cowboys fill the streets, sometimes hooting like banshees and firing guns, but the marshal quickly confiscates their weapons and gives them some cooling-down time in his jail.

  Shannon twisted her mouth up, disgusted with herself. The marshal, again. Shaking her head, she continued reading.

  Lookout—’tis such an odd name for a town—is small compared to some of the Texas towns I traveled through on my way here from Louisiana. Things are so much drier than in our homeland. I miss the green of Ireland.

  There’s a high ridge across the river where outlaws and later soldiers used to watch for their enemies, so I’ve been told. That place is called Lookout Ridge and is where the town’s name comes from. There’s a river west of town that flows to the south. Then it makes a sharp turn at the ridge before traveling eastward. A pool formed there, and the townsfolk use it as a swimming hole when the water is deep enough. I have not been, though ’twould feel grand on a hot day like this one. Thankful for fall, I’ll be.