Duncan rose and pulled her to her feet. “You’ve some thinking to do. I’ll walk you home, and after you’ve thought on it and prayed o’er it, you can tell me whether you’ll allow me to court you.”
“You’ve given me a garden full of flowers. You’ve laughed at my jokes, complimented my cooking, and walked me to church. You made that pretty journal for me.”
The side of his mouth pulled. “The design on it—”
“The interlocking rings that form the four seasons and friendship?”
“Aye. Well, tradition also says the design stands for a love that has no beginning or end.”
“You’ve had feelings for me since then?”
“E’en before then.”
And I was jealous because I thought he wanted Jenny. How could I have been jealous if I didn’t love him and want him to love me in return? “What more is a man supposed to do to pay a woman court?”
Duncan brushed his thumb back and forth on her wrist. “He has to win her heart.”
“You have, Duncan. I love you, too.”
Then and there, he got down on one knee. Holding her hand as if she were a princess, he looked up at her. “I want to do this right.”
“Oh, Duncan!”
“Quiero compartir todavia de mi vida contigo, mi amorada.”
Tears filled her eyes. “I want to share all the days of my life with you, my beloved one.” He’d gone through the trouble of learning how to say something romantic to her in Spanish.
“¿Me se casará usted? ¿Será usted mi esposa?”
“Oh yes! I’ll marry you. I’d love to be your wife. Te amo, Duncan. I love you.”
Mama’s lace mantilla flowed gently around Carmen as she knelt at the altar beside Duncan. The golden band Duncan had just slipped on her finger gleamed in the candlelight. He kept her right hand in his while the pastor read the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians from Duncan’s father’s Bible. The pastor then asked God’s blessing on their marriage. After the prayer, Carmen joyfully accepted Duncan’s assistance to rise. He wasn’t helping her because of her leg; she knew his actions stemmed from affection. She smiled up at him.
“Duncan Gregor,” the pastor said, “you may greet your bride.”
Just as Rob had done with Mercy, Duncan freed a length of Gregor tartan from his waist and began to gently drape it over her shoulder. She remembered the Gregor tradition was for the groom to recite the romantic Burns poem. Duncan’s tender smile told her he would mean every word of it.
“Como la feria usted es, mi chica bonita,” he began.
Her lips parted in amazement. Spanish. He was reciting the love poem in Spanish!
“Tan profundamente son yo;
Y adoraré usted de todos modos, mi querida,
Hasta que todos los mares vayan secos.”
After those precious words, Duncan drew her close and gave Carmen her very first kiss. It was worth the wait.
To Do
JUSTICE
Chapter 1
I’ll be leaving in the morning.” Chris Gregor waited until supper ended to make his announcement. No use spoiling a good meal with the inevitable conflict that would ensue.
Rob gave him a piercing look. “You gave me your word you wouldn’t set foot in the Thurber mines again.”
“And I won’t.”
Mercy patted Rob’s arm. “Your brother wouldn’t go back on his word. He’s a Gregor. Will I need to pack a meal for you, Chris?”
“You rest.” Carmen gazed pointedly at Mercy’s pregnant tummy and started to rise. “I’ll do it.”
“No, but I thank you for the thought.” Chris looked at his family. He’d always watched out for his younger brothers, but they were both married men now. Duncan had just moved in across the street after marrying Carmen, and Mercy was expecting her second child. No one needed him here.
But he had a job to do.
Duncan chuckled softly. “I’m thinking Chris is going to try to sneak away ere Mrs. Kunstler comes to pay a call again. He’s fearing for his reputation.”
Everyone laughed; Chris glowered.
“Come now, Chris.” Rob plucked little Elspeth from her high chair. “No use in you being sour o’er a joke. We all think it endearing, how the woman keeps droppin’ by with a treat to thank you. After all, you did deliver that strapping baby boy out to her cousin and his wife.”
“Aye, and I rue the day.”
Again his family laughed, but their laughter died out when he didn’t join in. He gritted his teeth. “I should have been here that day.” Until now, he’d never spoken the thought aloud.
The only things filling the air were Elspeth’s babbling and the lingering aromas of pork chops and coffee. Chris stared at the center of the table and repeated himself. “I should have been here.”
“You couldn’t have saved Connant.” Rob handed Elspeth off to his wife. “They shot him straight through the heart.”
“If I had been in town instead of playing stork, Connant would have acted differently. He had no one he could count on to back him up or cover him.”
“Other men responded.” Mercy’s voice sounded soft and low.
Her tone might have been for Elspeth’s comfort, but Chris suspected she’d used that voice to soothe him. It didn’t work. Matters were far past words; the time had come for action. Instead of getting mired down in suppositions and conversation, he said what he needed to. “I’m becoming a Texas Ranger.”
“No.” Rob glared at him. “I barely managed to pry bullets out of the other men and keep them alive. I dinna need another patient—I need my brother!”
Jaw hard, Chris said, “My mind’s made up.”
“You’re out of your mind!” Rob snapped.
Duncan shook his head. “Vengeance belongs to the Lord, Chris. Dinna take it into your own hands.”
“Justice. That’s what I’m seeking. An eye”—he pounded his fist on the tabletop—“for an eye.” He repeated the action.
“We need a sheriff here,” Carmen said quietly.
Shifting Elspeth to her shoulder, Mercy started to sway from one side to the other. “Having you here with us is a blessing, Christopher. I feel safe knowing you’re close-by.”
“No one is safe—not with Whelan and his gang out there.”
“So once Whelan is captured, you’ll be done with this nonsense?”
“Nae, Rob. I willna. Not too long ago, Dalton and his gang terrorized Kansas. Evil men exist. ’Tis an unchanging fact. Get rid of Whelan and his followers, and the devil will make pacts wi’ other men.”
“My wife is right.” Duncan slid his hand over Carmen’s. “We do need a sheriff here. You’ve the heart of a warrior, Chris. But there’s every bit as much valor in protecting our friends and neighbors as there is in chasing after the devil’s brigade.”
Chris stood. “I made my decision.”
“We promised Da we’d all stay together.” Rob stared at him. “You gave your word.”
“Aye, and I’m not breaking it. I’ll still be in Texas. Be assured, I’ll come ‘round often enough for you to grow heartily sick of me. I swore an oath today to serve as a Texas Ranger. As Mercy said, Gregors keep their word.”
Duncan’s features remained taut. “I’ll not pretend to like your decision, but I’ll honor it. You hae my support.”
Carmen nestled into Duncan’s side. “And our prayers.”
Chris dipped his head in acknowledgment. He’d already thought this through and knew Duncan would respect his decision. Rob might well take a few years to get around to accepting it. Nevertheless, Chris looked to him.
Rob’s heated glare could have sterilized his medical instruments.
Tension crackled between them, but Chris stood his ground. Lord, I dinna want to leave at odds with my brother. Soothing words are his talent, not mine. Even so, I’d take it as a favor if You’d give me something to say.
Rob shook his head. “If I wouldn’t have to patch you up afterward, I’d be tempted to beat
you to a bloody pulp.”
“I’d be bloodied, all right.” Chris paused a second. “But the blood would all be yours. You’d break your fingers and lose all the skin on your knuckles after the second blow.”
“You arrogant—”
“Confident, not arrogant.” Chris folded his arms across his chest.
“You’re brothers.” Mercy’s voice held both censure for their scrapping and a plea for them to make peace.
Carmen laughed. “The Gregor men bellow and bluster, but they’d never come to blows. Duncan even told Jenny so. Isn’t that right, Duncan?”
“ ’Tis true. I did. Fretting’s not good for the bairn, Mercy. Dinna let this upset you.”
Chris faulted himself for having broached the topic in front of his sisters-in-law. Gentle women oughtn’t be caught between warring men. Rob slid his arm around his wife’s shoulders and drew her into the shelter of his side. ’Tis wondrous how he loves Mercy. As soon as that thought flashed through his mind, Chris knew God had given him the way to make peace with his brother.
“Think back on the day Da passed on. Are you remembering how we read from his Bible on the Anchoria’s deck?”
Duncan and Rob both nodded.
“Micah 6:8. ‘He hath shewed thee, O man, what is good; and what doth the Lord require of thee, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with thy God?’ We made a pact that day to live that verse because God mandated it and because ‘twould be a tribute to Da. Rob, ’tis undeniable that you love Mercy.” Chris turned to Duncan. “And you—you and Carmen walk in step with the Lord and serve Him in the kind and gentle ways. Justice is left. Aye, ’tis, and I’m to fulfill that mandate. As a ranger, I’ll do justice.”
“You could do justice as the town’s sheriff.” Rob’s molars might crack if he gritted his teeth any tighter.
“Mollifying you ’tisna what I’m called to do.”
Resignation stamped Rob’s features. “You’re going, no matter what I say.”
“Aye. You hae your calling. I hae mine. I’m doing what I must.”
“Then God go wi’ you.”
The tension knotting Chris’s neck melted away. “Aye, I’m counting on Him being with me. But I’m also relying on Him to stay here and keep His hand on the lot of you.”
Color streaked the dawn sky as Kathryn “Wren” Regent left her shack and headed for Hepplewhite’s Emporium. The clopping of horse hooves caused her to halt at the boardwalk and shove her glasses up a bit. An enormous, dust-covered man rode into town. He squinted at the buildings lining the street, then nickered softly to urge his mount onward.
Two men followed after the large man. He’d shackled their hands behind their backs, tied rope around their waists, and half dragged them toward the jailhouse.
A bounty hunter, Wren decided. Judging from what she’d overheard her brother say, bounty hunters weren’t any more law-abiding than the criminals they chased. It wasn’t her business, though. She ducked her head and hastened to Hepplewhite’s Emporium.
Every morning she drew a steadying breath before unlocking the door. Hepplewhite could have posed as an ogre in a child’s book. Uglier on the inside than he was on the outside, he filled her days with misery and strife. But what I have is better than anything I’ve ever had before. She shoved the key into the lock and gave it a savage turn.
Wren hurriedly went to work preparing breakfast. She soon set a plate of biscuits and gravy and a slab of ham in front of Hepplewhite. She always ate as she cooked so she wouldn’t have to join him for meals. While he slurped his coffee and belched over the plate, she set out the spittoons she’d polished the night before, dusted shelves, and cleaned the glass display cases. Washing the breakfast dishes stripped the ammonia smell from her hands, but that was part of the routine she’d created. Now she could handle yards of fabric without spoiling them.
Her shop took up the back corner of the emporium. Though Hepplewhite owned the bolts of cloth, spools of thread, lace, ribbon, and buttons, Kathryn owned the sewing machine. The Singer was her pride and joy. With it, she provided for herself.
The morning passed quickly. A bachelor brought in a shirt that needed a new button. Another brought socks that needed darning. Old Widow Marsby toddled in to get her new petticoats, which Wren discreetly slipped into an empty sugar sack.
Around those little tasks, she put the finishing touches on Ella Mae Tolliver’s dress. Made of gold, water-stained taffeta, the gown was a nightmare to work on. The fabric wanted to fray, so Wren painstakingly candled the edge of each piece to fuse the threads. If that weren’t enough, Mrs. Tolliver ordered that thin black braiding be stitched onto the skirts in an ornate pattern. That detailed embellishment took days of work, but Godey’s Lady’s Book could easily feature the resulting garment. Mrs. Tolliver would be in tomorrow, so Wren sewed jet buttons down the back of the garment.
The bell over the mercantile door clanged, and Mrs. Tolliver trundled in. Kathryn swiftly took one last stitch, knotted the thread, and snipped it. “Mrs. Tolliver.” She stood. “I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow.”
“You were wrong. I distinctly recall telling you at church Sunday that I’d come on Thursday.”
“Today’s Wednesday,” Hepplewhite announced. He and Mrs. Tolliver were cousins, and they shared the exact same ugly disposition. Both were tall, blocky, and had mean-looking dark eyes and a permanent sneer. Once they started quibbling, Kathryn turned away and shook out the gown.
“Well, don’t keep me waiting all day.” Mrs. Tolliver snatched the dress from Kathryn’s hands. “It’s taken you long enough to get this done.”
Defending herself wouldn’t do any good. Kathryn knew the minute she so much as opened her mouth, Mr. Hepplewhite would suddenly remember Ella Mae was his kin. The last thing Kathryn wanted was to trigger his temper. Instead, she motioned toward the screen.
Mrs. Tolliver swept past her and declared, “It’s taken you so long to finish this dress, the price should be discounted.”
Wren didn’t reply. The contract for the dress rested in the top drawer of the treadle machine’s stand. The cost and date were clearly stipulated, and she refused to budge. She couldn’t afford to. Mr. Hepplewhite made her pay for every spool of thread and inch of fabric out of her own pocket whenever she started a project. He also took 30 percent of the price she charged her patrons.
The emporium’s bell jangled once again, but this time the bounty hunter filled the entire doorway. He scanned the store as he stepped inside. Kathryn’s heart jumped as he started toward her.
“Hey, Wren!” Mr. Hepplewhite leaned on the pickle barrel. “Git movin’ and make my dinner!”
After several muttered comments and a lot of bumping around, Mrs. Tolliver emerged from behind the screen, yanking at the cuff of her gown. “You can wait, you old goat. Wren has to alter this at once. It’s abysmal. I’d be ashamed to be seen in it at all!”
“She ain’t gonna stay on to do her stitchin’ iff ‘n she don’t make me grub quick-like. ‘Sides, Ella Mae, you can’t much expect her to fit you into anything less than a tent. You ain’t lost anything you put on ‘tween babies.”
The bounty hunter came to a stop about five feet away. For being such a big man, he walked with the lithe grace of a cougar. He took off his hat and waited patiently. Since she’d seen him earlier, he’d managed to dust off and wash up. Now his hair was wet, so she couldn’t determine whether it was black or a deep sable. Silvery blue-gray eyes gave him an air of aloofness.
Mrs. Tolliver continued to splutter and cluck over her gown.
The stranger jutted his chin toward her. “Ma’am, I think that’s a fine gown. I was in Chicago just a week ago, and none of the fancy society matrons wore anything that would put yours to shame.”
Ella Mae stopped midtirade and gave him a withering glare. “Mind your own business.”
“As a matter of fact, I came in to do business with the young lady. Her reputation—”
My reputation!
Wren’s mouth went dry.
“Wren!” Hepplewhite bellowed.
The stranger shot her a bolstering smile and continued on as if he hadn’t been interrupted, “—is well known. I need to get a shirt.”
In the background, the ringing sound of metal dropping on a hardwood floor failed to drown out a nasty stream of oaths. “Wren! You ain’t even seen to the spittoons yet!”
“I did. The Clancy boys came by for eggs—remember?”
Hepplewhite snorted. “Gal, you gotta git me my food! My ribs are rattling!”
Mrs. Tolliver struggled with the waist on her dress. “You were intentionally mean-spirited when you made this. You tried your hardest to make me look fat!”
“Wren! I’m gonna starve!”
Wren took a deep breath. “Mrs. Tolliver, if you give me another day, I’ll work on your gown. Sir,” she paused and shot a wary look at the bounty hunter, “I have to cook. If you’ll but wait, I’ll gladly give you my portion.”
His face darkened. “If you’ll forgive me, ma’am, you look like a stiff wind could take you clear to the coast. I’d far rather see you eat whatever you’re fixing. Go on and see to things. I can look around.”
“Thank you, sir. Mrs. Tolliver, do you need help with your buttons?”
“I’m not a lackwit! I can take care of myself!”
Mr. Hepplewhite slouched over. “Gal, I done tole you, you gotta work to keep yer space. Yer long overdue for dinner, and I full well ‘spect pie after supper tonight. And see to them spittoons again.”
Wren’s shoulders sank with weariness.
“What are you a-standin’ there fer? Go cook!”
“Yes, Mr. Hepplewhite.”
The storekeeper grabbed her arm and glowered. “I want somethin’ good. None of them chicken an’ dumplin’s or chicken stew.”
“Other than the ham for breakfast, you’ve allowed me only one chicken to feed us for the week, Mr. Hepplewhite.”
“Don’t get snippy with me!” He let go, reared back, and smacked her across the face.
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