A Match of Sorts

by Lucette Nell

“Then I suppose I’ll have to take the house.”

  “Good choice. I think we’re done here.” He winked at her.

  “I’ll throw out this water.” Grace grabbed the bucket and hurried to the door that led to the stairs down the back wall of the church.

  

  Grace relaxed against the wall and drew a breath. Caleb winked at his daughters all the time. It shouldn’t fluster her. Above, furniture scraped and she tilted her head to watch the window. She’d treaded dangerous territory before, tracking outlaws or runaways day-after-day, but getting involved with a widower and two grieving little girls was unstable and unfamiliar turf. And only a temporary endeavor. A ruse. And despite being the noblest job she’d ever tackled, she had no place in Caleb’s world. She toted a gun and hog-tied runaways. No blue-eyed preacher could fool her heart. She needed to leave. Before the hole in her heart grew any more.

  “Pull yourself together.”

  Caleb only needed her in order to fool his father-in-law. He was playing a part and expected her to play hers. She’d be silly to care for a man who would never fancy her. Her heart needed guarding against any fragment of love from wedging itself into her life.

  The strike of boot heels dragging down the stairs drew her attention and she straightened from the building and tugged at the stained apron.

  “You all right?” Caleb frowned.

  The breeze whipped his hair into a tousled mess. With the top button of his shirt undone; she caught a peek at the dark, curly hair at his chest. Her heart banged against her ribs.

  “Fine.”

  “Is it your arm?”

  She glanced at her hand gripping her stinging bicep. “No. I needed some air.”

  “You sure?” He took the empty bucket from her hand.

  “Positive.”

  “Thanks for helping me clean out that mess.”

  “It was nothing. The least I could do after I’ll be using your room.”

  “I think it’s time to change that bandage.” His smile was tiny and swift, and he motioned to the house. “And I need a cup of coffee.”

  Never one for strong drink, she might’ve preferred something a little stronger than mere coffee to drown the unwelcomed butterflies in her stomach. She walked next to him, unsure why his hand on the small of her back frizzled her insides. Her boots crunched on the frost that had gathered on last night’s snow. She’d faced blizzards, bandits, and even a grizzly once. A preacher should hardly affect her.

  8

  Attending church was something Grace preferred to avoid. Yet, here she was, being dragged down the aisle by two little girls.

  When Caleb prayed at mealtimes, his prayers had been short and to the point. What were his sermons like? It didn’t matter. Playing temporary fiancée, and darkening the threshold of church for the man who’d saved her life was a small price to pay.

  Like the few churches Grace entered in the past, this one was a small and humble wooden building. A trio of glass windows lined both long sides. Rough-hewn benches flanked the sanctuary on either side of the only narrow aisle. A hushed murmuring filled the building. The scent of leather and soap toyed with her nostrils.

  Grace gritted her teeth and followed Ellen down the aisle, aware of the attention her presence drew. She might as well be a prisoner walking her last steps to her execution by the two cutest executioners with braids down their backs.

  Unfamiliar faces nodded at them.

  One woman smiled at her before she returned to her conversation with the man at her side.

  “Relax.” Ellen smiled as she stopped at a pew.

  Relaxing was close to impossible when every gaze in the building seemed to be glued on Grace. Unarmed and dressed in a practical and plain blue dress, Grace felt vulnerable.

  “This is where I sit. But you’re more than welcome to sit anywhere you’d like.” Ellen’s pew was the third from the front. If Grace was several inches shorter, it would’ve been a good spot to disappear into the crowd.

  “We’ll join you.” She followed Abby and Libby and slid into the pew Ellen indicated. Tempted to unbutton the pearl button at her throat, Grace smoothed her hands on her skirt and fought the urge to slither down the hard bench. Sure would’ve been grand if she could dissolve into the worn floor beneath her feet. She drew a breath, and forced herself not to take a peek at the pews filled to capacity with people.

  “Is it always this full?”

  “It’s full up today since most heard the news of Caleb’s mail-order-bride.” Ellen winked at her. “Don’t get me wrong, Caleb’s a good preacher. He’s a natural, but I imagine everyone’s just curious to see you.” Ellen waved at an elderly couple who moved into a bench on the opposite side of the sanctuary.

  Caleb took his position at the front of the small church. He smiled when he spotted her, and she dropped her gaze to her fists. “Good morning. Good morning,” he repeated until the room was brought to a hush. He took the hymnal. “Let us stand and raise our voices to our Lord.”

  Good gravy, there was that dimple again.

  A twig of a woman with graying hair began pumping the small organ.

  The congregation rose and sang several hymns, and then a prayer followed.

  Instead of closing her eyes, Grace studied her surroundings. She peeked at the man standing as straight as a steeple at the pulpit. Wasn’t it against some kind of law for a preacher to be so darn perfect? His dark hair was smoothed back and still damp. She’d experienced that handsome widowers attracted husband-hunters. And aside from his looks, he doted on his daughters. How many women would be eager to pick up the pieces of his feigned broken heart when Grace left?

  The prayer was followed with an inspiring message about God’s ability to provide a haven in times of storms. Caleb’s preaching lacked the spatting and hollering of the circuit riders Grace was familiar with. He used his regular calm and contained voice throughout, the kind of voice that enticed and invited a person to listen. When he completed his message, everyone rose to sing the final hymn, and then Caleb said the closing prayer.

  Outside the church, despite the gray clouds and frosty breeze, people gathered in small groups. Some families ambled toward their wagons. Several men clustered around Caleb where he held Abby’s hand.

  Grace glanced at the parsonage before a tug at her skirt drew her gaze to Libby. The child lifted her hands, wiggled her fingers but didn’t utter a word. Grace scooped her up and perched her on her hip.

  “Come on. I want to introduce you to my mama and sister.” Ellen hooked her arm through Grace’s. “Papa had to go, but you’ll meet him soon.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Grace balked. The less people she met, the better. It made forgetting easier.

  Once again, she was stunned at the strength her pretend, almost sister-in-law possessed as she was dragged along toward the duo of women dressed in pretty and impeccable dresses. When they spotted Grace and Ellen with Libby approaching, they smiled. Introductions were made, and Grace shifted Libby to her other hip.

  “Seems you’ve earned little Libby’s approval,” Ellen’s mother, Mrs. Stewart, said as she smiled at Libby.

  The little girl rested her head on Grace’s shoulder, and Grace gritted her teeth against the sting in her arm. Darn the wound.

  “You must come for tea soon.” Mrs. Stewart smiled.

  “Thank you. That would be nice.” About as nice as wearing a corset. Tea. Quilting. Gossiping. Nothing that interested Grace.

  “Ellen said you were pretty, but I didn’t expect this.” Melanie, Ellen’s younger sister grinned, her gray eyes sparkled. “No wonder Caleb’s infatuated with you.”

  “Melanie Stewart,” Mrs. Stewart gasped, her face growing red.

  “It’s true, Mama.” Melanie tilted her chin. “I saw the way his gaze found you and lingered.” She leaned forward as if she meant to share a secret. “And I bet Miss Preston’s just green with envy.”

  Ellen hid her smile behind her hand, but a giggl
e escaped.

  “Melanie, that’s a horrible thing to say.” Mrs. Stewart wagged her finger at Melanie.

  “It’s true. Mama, what does that woman know about raising two little girls?”

  The ground shifted beneath Grace.

  “She’s only interested in Caleb because he’s the parson.” Melanie adjusted her cloak.

  “My daughter has a habit of saying whatever pops into her mind.” Mrs. Stewart shook her head, her face still bright red.

  “I hope you’ll help with the preparation for the Christmas Eve celebration.” Melanie nudged Grace’s ribs. “We sure could use the extra help.”

  “It’s a yearly tradition,” Mrs. Stewart explained. “We decorate Main Street and walk from the church to town square, singing Christmas carols.”

  “And we’re not nearly done with all the decorations.” Melanie tugged at the fur lining her cloak. “We stored most of the decorations in the hotel that burned down, so we had to start over.”

  “It’ll be fun. And the girls love helping as well.” Ellen slipped her arm through Grace’s.

  Grace glanced at Caleb and found Abby watching her. Before Grace could look away, Abby waved. Grace returned the gesture, and Caleb twisted to investigate what had drawn Abby’s attention.

  

  Caleb risked a glance at Grace. He’d been afraid she wouldn’t come to church. He’d been afraid she’d bolt after the service. Yet she’d sat there, back ramrod straight. She turned out a better actress than he’d expected.

  “Today went well.” Ellen passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to her husband, her smile bright.

  In the background, fire crackled in the hearth. The aroma of roast chicken hung heavy in the small dining room.

  “Better than I expected.” Luke scooped a generous amount of mashed potatoes onto his plate. “It’s the fullest church has been all winter.”

  “I imagine we all know why.” Ellen inclined her head at Grace. “Sorry, Caleb, this time it had nothing to do with your handsome face.”

  “I can live with that.” Caleb held up his hands and when he smiled at Grace, her spine stiffened as though his smile caused her indigestion. Not the response he’d hoped for, but enough to remind him that this was merely a job for Grace. Like all those before, she aimed to do it well and cut all ties once completed. The moment she left, Cedar Grove and Caleb Brennan and his daughters would be shoved from her mind.

  “I’m sure you can.” Ellen passed another bowl to her husband.

  Caleb stifled a grunt. Most residents made the trip to church despite the temperature for an opportunity to scrutinize his mystery fiancée. And though the attention was expected, it didn’t bode well with him.

  “You looked real pretty today, Miss Grace,” Abby said, tilting her head.

  “Thank you, Abby.” Grace’s knuckles whitened around the serving spoon.

  Pretty seemed an understatement considering how the blue dress emphasized Grace’s pale hair and complimented her hazel eyes and tanned skin.

  “Did you know blue is Daddy’s favorite color?” Abby’s smile broadened.

  “No. I did not know that.” Grace kept her gaze on her plate.

  “It’s true.” Abby nodded. Her twin braids bounced on her shoulders. “He used to pick bluebonnets for Mama all the time.”

  “Why don’t you eat your food, sweetie, before it gets cold?” Ellen tweaked Abby’s chin.

  “Are you all right?” Caleb offered Grace the bowl of green beans.

  “I’m fine. When did you say your father-in-law’s arriving?”

  “I sent him a wire yesterday.” He added more green beans to his plate when Grace didn’t take the dish from him and set it down beside the mashed potatoes. “The moment he contacts me, I’ll let you know.” Caleb bit into a crispy chicken leg. The savory herbed flavor burst on his tongue.

  “According to my deputy, Willie Pratt is working on a nearby ranch.” Luke speared a piece of meat with his fork.

  “Which ranch?” Grace gripped her fork until Caleb expected it to bend.

  “I’ll be riding out to the spread tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be coming with you. And the bucket-brain better still have my Sharps.”

  Luke held up his hand. “I’d prefer to go alone.”

  “I don’t care what you prefer. I’m going with you. He stole my Sharps—”

  Caleb cleared his throat.

  “And he owes me five hundred dollars. I’ll smash his—”

  Caleb’s hand rested on her shoulder and Grace stopped her words.

  Libby and Abby gaped at her. A part of Abby appeared interested, but Libby looked on the verge of tears.

  “I’m more than equipped to handle Mr. Pratt, Miss Blackwell.” Luke paused, a heaped forkful of mashed potatoes poised close to his mouth.

  “I don’t think it’ll be safe for you to go with Luke.” Caleb cut Libby’s meat into bite-sized pieces.

  “For goodness’ sakes. I’m not a baby. I don’t need to be swaddled.”

  Caleb recoiled.

  Grace exhaled. “I’m sorry. Being treated like an invalid makes me churlish.”

  9

  “I want hair like yours, Miss Grace,” Abby announced as Grace pulled the brush through the mass of dark hair that tumbled onto slender shoulders and down a small back.

  “You have beautiful hair, Abby.” When the strands were free of snarls, Grace gathered it at the nape of Abby’s neck and separated it into three equal parts.

  “But how will people know I’m your daughter if I don’t look like you?” Abby sat crossed-legged on the bed and twisted back to fix her incredible blue eyes on Grace.

  It seemed a herd of longhorns bucked behind Grace’s ribcage. Her throat scratched, and she glanced at wide-eyed Libby. The little girl lowered the lace-edged handkerchief she was never without to her lap.

  “We’ll just have to tell them.” Grace’s voice quivered. Where the heck was Caleb? Hadn’t he explained anything to his daughters? With trembling fingers, Grace tied the braid with the ribbon.

  Abby raised her chin, the corners of her mouth quirked up. “All right.”

  Grace touched one of Libby’s silky curls. “Do you want me to braid your hair as well?”

  Libby bit her lip and glanced at Abby. When her older sister nodded, Libby scurried over to take Abby’s place in front of Grace.

  With prickling eyes, Grace repeated the action on Libby’s mass of hair, taking longer due to the multitude of unruly spirals.

  Libby pressed the white fabric against her chin.

  “That was Mama’s handkerchief.” Abby hurried to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer. “I have one too.” She lifted an identical, square lace-trimmed cloth and hurried back to the bed to show Grace. “See, that’s Mama’s name.”

  The initials M.J were embroidered in precise cursive stitches on one corner.

  “I can still smell Mama. She smelled like flowers.” Abby stretched her arm, the cloth gripped in her tiny fist inches from Grace’s nose. “Smell it.”

  Grace leaned down and caught the faint fragrance of jasmine.

  “Why is everyone hiding in the room?”

  Grace started at Caleb’s voice at the door, and her gaze found his before he could blink the emotion from his eyes. He folded his arms and leaned his shoulder against the jamb. After raking his fingers through his hair one time too many, thick strands now flopped across his forehead, hardly giving him the appearance of what she imagined a preacher should look like.

  “They asked me to braid their hair.” Grace stood and set the brush down on the small table beside the bed. It wasn’t as if Caleb was an enormous man, but his presence reduced the size of the room to a woodpecker’s nest.

  He straightened with a smile. “It’s time for prayers and then bed.”

  Nodding in unison, the girls knelt beside their bed and said their bedtime prayers.

  “Daddy, do you think Moose can come and play?”

  Moose? Grac
e frowned.

  Caleb ruffled his hair. “I don’t know, princess. It’s pretty late.”

  What were they talking about? Time for her to go to bed. As it was, she’d overstayed her welcome, imposing on family time.

  “Oh, please, just for a second.” Abby gave a pout of a smile.

  Caleb roared like a cougar with stomach pains.

  Grace leaped back, startled, her heart hammering.

  Squealing in delight, Abby scrambled under the covers. Libby followed suit.

  Grace flattened against the wall, not at all certain of what was to come.

  He made a show to stomp across the floor, before snatching the quilt from his giggling daughters. As he tickled them, he reduced them to shrieks and flailing arms and legs.

  Unfamiliar warmth filled Grace.

  “Help us, Mama!” Abby flew from the tousled bed and threw herself at Grace’s legs.

  

  Grace stared at the dark ceiling. Wind whispered through the leafless branches at the window. Moonlight slanted across the bed, bathing her in silver light. Of all the stupid things she’d done in her life, this topped everything. She drew a ragged breath.

  What exactly had happened since Willie knocked her in the head? The blow must’ve jarred something she’d kept down for years. When she’d agreed to help Caleb, she wasn’t prepared for the way his daughters would affect her…or her heart. It sparked her childhood dreams of motherhood, long buried. Since taking up her gun and solitary life, she’d long ago given up the thought of a family of her own. But now, she was in a pact, and there was no going back. Riding out of Cedar Grove might remove her from Caleb and his daughters’ lives, but where did that leave her? Back to her lonely life in the saddle and back to tracking outlaws, back to belonging nowhere.

  She rubbed her forehead. A humorless laugh escaped her. The freedom of her old life had lost its charm. Part of her urged her to leave now before it was too late. Leave, while both her heart and pride were still intact.

  The floor creaked and twisting her head, she caught the white specter before it disappeared behind the door. Libby. For a moment, all that filled the silence was the usual night noises. Then Libby peeked around the edge of the door.