“Perhaps he hasn’t come to town. That’s if Mrs. Wilson isn’t imagining things.” Abby straightened her skirt. “Some of the older women living alone on the outskirts of town are skittish at times.”
“Is there anything to the missing chickens?”
“A fox, maybe. Whether it’s two legged or four is for you to determine.” She smiled and folded her hands primly in her lap.
Every time Abigail shifted position, a breeze carried a delightful whiff of roses to Josiah’s nose and teased loose strands of hair from under her hat. He clutched the reins to keep from reaching over and tucking the hair behind her ear. What he couldn’t figure out was why she had folks calling her Abby. That was for girls in short skirts. Abigail Melton was all woman.
He didn’t know why he’d asked her to come along. The pretty woman was nothing more than a distraction, but he’d once again spoken without thinking. Now, here they sat, him as tongue-tied and clumsy as a newborn calf. Especially after her sister’s statement the night before. He really should’ve thought things through before saying he and Abigail were engaged. Now, all he could think about was what if they really were?
Would marrying a self-assured woman such as her be a bad thing? He studied her out of the corner of his eye. He’d always figured if he were to get hitched his wife would stay home and tend the house and young’uns. He doubted the lovely lady next to him would be content with such a simple life.
“When you find that husband you’re looking for, do you intend to resign as mayor?”
She frowned. “Not unless the town votes me out of the position. Why? Do you feel as if I do a poor job?”
“Not at all. I was raised that a woman’s place was in the home. What about when the babies come?”
“The war changed many things, Sher—Josiah, including a woman’s role. No longer can we sit back and let the men handle things. If we’d done that, Turtle Springs would be nothing more than a ghost town.” She glanced across the prairie. “The women own this town now. We’re willing to form partnerships with the men we choose to marry, not be their servants.”
It was a lot for Josiah to digest. Women who wanted to wed, but not give up their careers. “Doesn’t seem natural to me.”
She whipped her head around to face him. “Whyever not? Look at the town, Josiah. We’ve prospered. We’re just tired of going it alone. Goodness, do you think all the men will have the same mindset as you?”
He shrugged. “I guess you won’t know until you interview them.”
“I suppose.” She shrugged. “Turn right at the fork in the road.” She didn’t speak again until she told him to turn left at a barn full of woodpecker holes.
They stopped in front of a cozy white-washed cabin. Laundry flapped on the line. Chickens scurried across the yard. A mule bayed from a corral. The homestead looked well-kept despite the absence of a man.
Josiah set the brake and hopped down, then hurried to help Abigail from the wagon. “Go fetch Mrs. Wilson while I scour the perimeter.”
“I’m here.” The woman appeared from around the back of the house. “No need to go fetching anyone. I’ll show you where the scoundrel has been peeking in.”
Josiah exchanged an amused glance with Abigail then followed the plump woman to the back of the house.
“Right there.” She pointed to a window. “He watches me cook. It’s quite unnerving.”
“Maybe he’s hungry.” Josiah studied the ground, finding the telltale marks of a man’s boot in the dirt around some rose bushes.
Mrs. Wilson put her fists on her hips. “Single woman can’t go offering food to a strange man at her window, now can she? Should I set him a plate outside like I would a stray dog?” She glared. “I want you to hide in those bushes and catch this person red-handed.”
“I didn’t bring my horse, ma’am. How do you expect me to get back to town?”
“You can borrow my mule.”
The woman wasn’t to be dissuaded. “Can you make it back to town all right?” he asked Abigail. “I promised to return the wagon as soon as possible.”
She grinned. “I’ve been doing so for years. I’ll come back for you. I’ll ride your horse back and lead mine.”
“You’ll waste your entire day doing that.”
“Nothing better to do than watch you catch a scoundrel.” She hurried back to the wagon. “See you at sundown.” With a saucy grin and wave, she drove off, leaving him standing helpless in Mrs. Wilson’s yard.
“Come in and have some tea,” the woman said, opening the back door. “Don’t worry. I won’t make improper advances. I’m old enough to be your mother. I might even fix you a bite to eat.”
Not one to turn down a free meal, Josiah bounded up the steps. By sundown, he had a full belly and his ear talked off. Now, he waited on the front porch for Abigail to arrive. When she did, leading his horse, rather than riding as she’d said, he rushed to meet her.
“Your horse is evil. He tried to bite me when I moved to climb into the saddle.” She handed him the reins. “We should hide these two, right? It’s about suppertime.”
“You’re staying?” Josiah swallowed, hard. She was going to hunker down in the bushes with him?
“Of course, I am. I thought you understood that.” Leading her horse to the small barn, she said, “Come on, now. I can smell stew brewing.”
Before he could think of reasons to send her on her way, he and Abigail were crouched low in the bushes opposite Mrs. Wilson’s kitchen window. Josiah couldn’t remember the last time he was in the dark with a woman.
“Stop fidgeting. He’ll hear us.” Abigail slapped his arm. “I swear, you’re like a child on an ant hill.”
He didn’t feel like a child. Her presence made him feel very much like a man.
Crunching leaves alerted him to someone else’s presence. He stilled as a rail-thin man stepped into the light spilling out the kitchen window.
“I know him,” Abigail whispered. “That’s Horace. He’s been in love with Mrs. Wilson for over ten years. Ever since her husband died, if not before.”
“Is he harmless?”
She grinned, her teeth gleaming in the light of the moon. “He’s always trying to steal a kiss from her every Sunday after church.”
Josiah chuckled and stepped into the yard. “Mrs. Wilson! Come on out.” He motioned to the man to stay. “We’ve found your peeping tom.”
“Why, Horace Tindal. What in tarnation …”
“I just want to watch you. You’re a sight to behold cooking at that stove.” He hung his head. “There wasn’t any need to call the law.”
Mrs. Wilson sighed. “You scared five years off my life. Come on in and have some pie.” She turned to Josiah. “I reckon you can go now. I guess the only way to get this man to leave me alone is to marry him.”
Chapter 4
Two weeks after the oh-so-romantic gesture of Horace Tindal—Abby’s heart still fluttered at the thought—men were swarming into Turtle Springs. One of them might possibly be her future husband. Her heart skipped at the thought.
She caught sight of Josiah entering the restaurant. A pity, really, that he was adamant about not getting married. If he were, she’d choose him. He cut a fine figure and was the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on. If only he weren’t so … well, surly and prone to false tales. She still couldn’t convince the townsfolk their engagement was nothing more than a joke.
“Abigail, a moment please,” a woman’s voice called behind her.
She smiled and greeted Jane Ransome. “Hello, Jane. It’s a lovely day.”
“I have a question that I want a straight answer for. Are you, or are you not, engaged to the sheriff?”
“We’re not. It’s a ruse he concocted to keep women from hounding him.” Was it possible Jane was interested? “Have you set your cap for him?”
“Perhaps.” Jane’s dark eyes flashed. “He fits my requirements perfectly.”
If Abby did want to marry Josiah, which, if she were
honest, she wasn’t adverse to, she didn’t stand a chance against the beautiful Jane. “He’s said he intends to never marry, but I wish you luck.” She thrust out her hand.
Jane returned her handshake. “Thank you for your honesty.” With a swish of her skirts, she strolled away. Head high.
Abby’s gaze drifted back to the restaurant. Still, she was tempted to follow Josiah in order to share a pot of coffee. But, to do so would only encourage the town’s gossip. She sighed and unlocked the door to her office, casting a quick glance to the sign in the window that told auditioning men to sign up inside.
She smiled and pushed the door open. Everything was going according to plan.
Before she could sit at her desk, a line of men had formed, all in a hurry to sign a piece of paper agreeing to the terms of the audition. Abby stood behind her desk, her smile never fading, as the men bombarded her with questions.
“How long we got with each gal?”
“Can we kiss ’em?”
“Can we get hitched right away if we’re chosen?”
She raised her hands. “Gentlemen. You’ll have fifteen minutes with each woman. No, you cannot touch them in any way. The sheriff will be present at all times to ensure you behave yourselves. The time frame of getting married is up to you and your prospective bride.” She guessed several of the women would prefer a time of engagement, but who was she to say?
Satisfied with her answers, the men signed the agreement and drifted away, their excitement filling the town with more energy and hope than it’d had in over a year.
“You look quite pleased with yourself.” Josiah leaned in the doorway.
“I am.” She looked up from the petitions in front of her. “Or, at least, I was.” She waved a sheet of paper at him. “The men just started arriving and already somebody is asking that the saloon be reopened.”
“Yeah, so?” He stepped inside and seated himself behind the desk across the room. “Some men like their drink after a hard day’s work.”
“Very few of them are working, Sheriff.” She frowned. “Reopening the saloon will only cause problems. Some of them will drink to excess.”
“Then, I’ll lock them up.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “I don’t imbibe myself, but can’t fault another man for his tastes. What I can do is make sure no man enters the audition that had even a sip of whiskey that morning.”
She sighed. “I’ll think about it.” She didn’t like it, not a bit, but would try to see the good in reopening. She glanced again at the petition and set it aside, taking note of the signature. Mr. Franklin Harper … good luck finding a wife in Turtle Springs.
“Maybe he isn’t looking for a wife,” Josiah said. “Not every man wants to hitch his wagon to a woman.”
She wasn’t aware she’d spoken her thoughts out loud. “Perhaps.” She riffled through the other petitions, setting aside the ones requiring a closer look. “I’m heading out for a few minutes. I’d like to observe the type of men arriving in town from the front window of the mercantile.”
“Best snooping place in town?” He stood and crooked his arm.
“The very best. Plus, Ma needs some supplies.” Her arm in his, she allowed Josiah to lead her across the street. With men swarming the sidewalks and staring her way, she was more than glad to have the sheriff’s assistance. Once safely ensconced inside the mercantile, she handed the clerk her list then planted herself in front of the window.
Men of all ages and sizes strolled up and down the wooden sidewalks. Some wore beards; some were clean shaven. Some wore fine clothes; others wore patches. All were clean and nodded at each group of women who passed. Good. They seemed to be on their best behavior. She could only pray they would remain that way. “Thank You, God, for helping me with this plan.”
“Are you sure it was God’s idea?” Josiah’s whisper, as he leaned close, tickled the hair at the nape of her neck. “Or your desperate attempt at finding a man to help you run this town?”
She really needed to learn to keep her thoughts from escaping her lips. “Of course it was God’s idea. I prayed for a solution and this came to me.” She glanced up, his face unnervingly close to hers. The scent of his shaving cream, clean and crisp, teased her senses. His blue eyes lured her like a bee to honey.
“Abigail? Mayor?” Josiah smiled, long and slow. She didn’t seem to be regretting his impulsive statement about their engagement at the moment. Rather, she seemed enraptured by his charms. His gaze landed on her lips. He chuckled and pulled back before he acted. “Folks are staring.”
“What? Oh!” She put her hands to rosy cheeks. “Must you toy with me so?”
“Part of the act, darling.” He winked.
“It isn’t becoming of the mayor to act like a love-starved girl still in short dresses.” She patted her hair in place and moved to the counter. “Thank you, Chardy. How are the boys?”
“Fine. A bit rowdy at times, as boys are.” She grinned. “I’ll add these to your tab.”
“Thank you.” Abigail turned back to Josiah. “I’ve had enough of watching the men for one morning. I’m headed home for lunch, if you’d like to join me. Lucy will be at school, but I’m sure my mother would love to have you.”
Josiah glanced at the crowd out the window. He really should be monitoring the town, but the sparkle in Abigail’s eyes decided for him. That and the delightful whiff of rose water he’d caught when whispering in her ear. She sure didn’t smell like any mayor he’d ever met. “I’d be delighted.”
“Wonderful. First, we need to stop by the jail. I want to see firsthand that you are ready for … visitors.”
“Is that what you call them? Hmm.” He guided her to the sheriff’s office and opened the door. “Both cells have a cot and a chamber pot. That’s all a body needs.”
“My mother will provide the meals, if needed.” She speared him with a sharp glance. “I’m trusting you to keep the women safe, Sheriff. No tomfoolery with these men. If they break a law, they get locked up. Plain and simple.”
“Are the laws posted somewhere?” He perched on the corner of his desk.
“They should be. I’ll have a list written up by nightfall.” With a tilt of her pert chin, she headed back outside, leaving him to follow as if he were her obedient watchdog.
Shaking his head, he did as she expected. Why? He had no idea. No other gal in all his life had him tagging after her. Ever. What was it about Abigail Melton that had him disregarding his vow to stay away from women? The more time he spent with her, the less he wanted to stay away. The thought scared him more than if he faced three armed men.
“What’s wrong?” Abigail stopped and stared into his face. “You’ve gone quite pale. Are you ill?”
He shook his head. “Just thinking scary thoughts.”
Her brows drew together. “Whatever for?”
“No reason. Sometimes, they just come to me.”
“You’re a strange man, Sheriff. Perhaps it’s aftermath of the war.”
“Perhaps.” He put his hand on the small of her back, guiding her up the stairs to her house. Shock vibrated through his palm and up his arm. Some might think Abigail on the skinny side, and tall for a woman, his hand almost spanned the entire width of her back, but he thought her just right. He stopped and watched her climb the last few steps alone.
She turned, a questioning look on her face. “Are you coming? I seriously think you should see a doctor.”
No doctor could cure what ailed him. “I’m fine. Just hungry.” He bounded up the steps.
She tilted her head, studying him. “I’m worried about you. We need you now more than ever. We can’t have you falling ill.”
He quirked his mouth. “I’m ready for whatever this town can throw my way.” Almost. He was ready for anything besides the lure of a lovely woman.
She made a noise that clearly said she didn’t believe him. “Maybe a good meal will help.”
“That must be it. I skipped breakfast.”
“No, you di
dn’t. I saw you enter the restaurant this morning.” She propped a fist on her hip. “Why are you lying?” She placed a hand against his forehead. “You feel a little warm, and you aren’t acting at all like yourself. Come lie down in my bed.”
Tarnation, the woman wasn’t helping! Her touch and mention of a bed might very well send him into heart palpitations. What he needed was a dunking in a cold creek and a serious conversation with God, who, it seemed, had a sense of humor.
“I, uh …” He sighed and followed her into the house. Lies, no matter how small, only got a man into more trouble. Best to keep his head down, his gaze off Abigail, and his mouth shut.
“Josiah.” Lucille took his face in her hands and kissed his cheek. “You seem a little flushed. Sit. I’ll pour you some lemonade.”
“That’s exactly what I need.”
Abigail sat across from him and shook her hair free from its bun. “Oh how I wish I were young like Lucy and could let my hair hang free.”
The woman was pure torture. Josiah ducked his head and closed his eyes. Lord, what are You doing? We had a deal. No marriage for me. If war raised its ugly head again during Josiah’s lifetime, he intended to fight. A country’s freedom should be protected, no matter the sacrifice. He couldn’t marry for that very reason. He didn’t want to be a man that left his wife behind to possibly become a widow.
Look at Turtle Springs. Dozens of women left behind to fend for themselves. No, it was best he stick to his resolve.
He gratefully accepted the lemonade and concentrated on not gulping it. Anything to keep from watching Abigail put her hair back up. When she moved to help her mother bring the food to the table, he heaved a sigh of relief.
Keeping his heart from falling for Abigail was going to be the hardest challenge he’d ever faced.
Chapter 5
I haven’t seen much of the sheriff lately,” Ma said, putting two strips of crispy bacon on Abby’s plate.
“I guess he’s busy with all the new arrivals.” Abby sure was. Men tromped in and out of her office all day long. Some skipped the audition sign-up sheet and proposed to her outright. Not one of them met her fancy. What if her efforts were nothing more than a waste of time? What if all she’d done was get the hopes up of the women in town? She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. What if she’d brought nothing but men wanting to take advantage of women? Gracious! What to do?
Seven Brides for Seven Mail-Order Husbands Romance Collection Page 3