Almost as quickly as those stubborn curls had escaped from their imprisonment, they were whisked back with her slight fingers and quickly worked into a soft braid that hung down the length of her back. He liked it better that way. He could never understand why some women would grow such beautifully long hair and then wear it all day tightly wound and hidden at the back of their necks. Laurellyn had worn her hair down loose often enough. She knew he liked it that way, and though he knew that she didn’t, she would wear it down to please him.
Looking back at Miss Grey, he realized she was handing him his coat. He reached across and took the coat from her hand, but made no move to put in on. He looked thoughtfully at Miss Grey and soon realized he was being rude not to respond to her polite thanks.
“It was the least I could do, Miss Grey, seeing as I was the cause of all your troubles.”
Jillian considered arguing with him about whose blame this awkward situation truly was, but she was extremely tired and hungry, not to mention that her head was still throbbing incessantly. She was ready to leave the station.
“Listen.” Dalton’s face suddenly became serious. “I know this has all been terribly difficult for you. I didn’t mean for things to go so wrong.” He paused. “I would understand if you . . . well, if you’ve changed your mind about our whole arrangement. I could buy you a ticket home and rent a room over at the hotel for you until the train comes back through.”
Jillian felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. He wanted her to leave. She must have embarrassed him beyond forgiveness. Maybe he thought she would be more attractive, though she had specifically described herself as plain. She hadn’t wanted him to have any preconceived notions of what to expect. When he hadn’t stopped writing, she had assumed he wasn’t concerned with her appearance.
Sighing, she considered herself for a moment. Even though she wasn’t the most beautiful woman, she knew she wasn’t horrible to look at. Besides, their relationship would be purely platonic. No, it mustn’t be her looks that concerned him. Something else was bothering him.
The thought suddenly occurred that maybe he was worried about the children. The way she had acted! He must have decided that she would not be a good choice for a mother. She should try to explain why she had acted so out of character. But would he think she was begging him to keep her? The thought made her cringe. She thought of the children again and felt a tug at the corner of her heart. She couldn’t leave. She didn’t understand why, but she already loved this man’s children and felt a need to protect them. Surely they were expecting her. She couldn’t disappoint them.
“I see no reason to sever our agreement, unless—” Jillian paused to gather her courage, “—unless you feel the need to do so.” Instinctively, she closed her eyes to try to shield herself from his reply.
Dalton was torn. A part of him wished she had agreed to go back home. Already he was fighting to keep thoughts of this woman from his mind, thoughts that were crowding Laurellyn’s space in his heart. Still, there was another part of him that feared if he allowed her to go, it would be one of the biggest mistakes he ever made. The children needed her, were waiting for her. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt that somehow, despite his frustrations about his attraction to her, this woman was meant to come into their family.
He had felt it as he had read her letters, when she wrote of her home, her loving family, and the mother she greatly admired. It was as though Laurellyn had whispered her blessing to his heart. How could he deny that? How could he stand here and hope Jillian might leave and go back for his own selfish reasons? Dalton knew he could sustain himself with thoughts of Laurellyn, but what about little Lisa and Brenn? They didn’t remember their mother. They needed a woman to love them, nurture them, and help them grow. Jenny, whether she knew it or not, did too.
All doubt was suddenly washed from his mind and from his heart. Dalton knew. Yes, he knew, without a doubt, that even though Jenny would fight against her, Miss Jillian Grey would be the one that would heal his oldest daughter’s heart. Dalton smiled and reached over to unburden Jillian of her bag.
“No, Miss Grey, I have no objections.” He looked around. “Well,” he paused. “Maybe I do have one objection.” Dalton saw Jillian stiffen slightly. “I object to spending one minute longer than I have to in this blasted train station!” She visibly relaxed then, and he smiled again, a little wider this time. “Now, if you will kindly point me in the right direction in order to collect your trunk, we can be on our way.”
Dalton walked to the middle of the platform. The station was at this point entirely vacant with the exception of the ticket clerk, who was still scowling at them from behind his glass window. The only other exception was the one single, solitary, and very lonely looking trunk sitting unattended in the middle of the platform. Despite all that had happened, Jillian couldn’t help but smile as well.
Four
Jillian sat alone in the wagon out in front of the jailhouse, hungry and still weakened from her ordeal. She shuddered to think of the man in plaid who was locked up inside. Dalton had promised he would only be a moment. Jillian immediately felt a surge of fear when Dalton first mentioned the delay. The sheriff had made it plain that they were to stop in at the jailhouse before they could go to the courthouse. Dalton quickly explained that the sheriff had agreed she could wait in the wagon while he took care of everything. He had told Jillian that he felt the need to explain their circumstances to the sheriff in order to shed some light on everything that had happened at the station. Aside from the fiasco with Mr. Fitzgerald, she wondered what the sheriff must think of her. Mail-order brides were not uncommon, but still, she had to wonder what others thought about her for choosing to become one.
Jillian breathed in deeply. She couldn’t believe she was finally out in the fresh air again. It had been almost two hours since her train had arrived. Jillian’s stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since she had eaten. She wished she had thought to pack something to nibble on just in case. The apple she ate on the train was long gone, yet she didn’t feel comfortable mentioning her plight to Dalton. She was sure he was anxious to get home. They had already lost a lot of time, and she was sure that no matter what time they finally did get home, there would be chores waiting for him. She prayed her stomach would not give her away.
The moment Dalton entered the jailhouse, his good mood instantly faded away, and he felt himself getting angry again. The man nicknamed “Chuckles” sat glaring at him from his jail cell. Dalton resolved to make this meeting as quick as possible. That man made his skin crawl, and he wanted to be done with him and this whole business. The sheriff greeted him from behind his desk.
“Howdy, Mr. McCullough, I’ve been hopin’ you’d be arrivin’ soon. I’m needin’ to get home early today, and I’m wantin’ to be finished with this here whole train station business. Me and the missus are expectin’ company come mornin’, and she has a list as long as my arm here that she’s a-wantin’ me to get done tonight. So iffin’ you don’t mind comin’ right on over and takin’ a look at this here report, we’ll get on with it. Then, if everythin’ looks to be about how you remember it all happenin’, just put your ‘John Hancock’ right here and yer soon-to-be wife’s right there.” He pointed to where he wanted Dalton to sign.
Dalton picked up the book and read the account. It all seemed accurate, so he first signed his name and then wrote ‘Miss Jillian Grey’ on the other line. He laid the book back down on the sheriff’s desk. The sheriff closed it and stood up, extending his hand to Dalton. Dalton took his hand.
“Well, that’ll do,” the sheriff said and placed his free hand on Dalton’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for coming by. Oh and . . . ” he gave Dalton a sly look and then a wink, “congratulations on the upcomin’ nuptials!”
“Thank you, Sheriff,” Dalton said as the sheriff shook his hand heartily before releasing it. He turned to go, pausing briefly to look back once more at Chuckles. By the lo
ok of sheer hatred in the man’s eyes, Dalton knew he had made a true enemy. Even though the man was less than formidable, Chuckles had no scruples, and such a man was capable of anything. As Dalton stepped out through the door, an ominous feeling came over him despite the warmth of the day. He felt a shiver run down his spine.
A sense of nervousness assaulted Jillian as soon as Dalton pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the courthouse. The ride from the jailhouse had been short, and they hadn’t talked much. Jillian felt that something was bothering Dalton. She didn’t know what had gone on inside the jailhouse, but when she saw him approach the wagon, she thought she saw his body tremble slightly.
He didn’t jump down from the wagon right away. Instead, he sat for a moment, absentmindedly twisting the reins in his hands. Jillian thought again of the offer he had made in the train station. Maybe he was having doubts again. She felt like he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Just as she was gathering the courage to address him first, her stomach beat her to the punch and growled loudly.
The noise startled Dalton out of his deep contemplation, and he looked up. “You’re hungry.” It was a statement, not a question. Dalton tried to think when she would have last been able to eat. The train ride from Chicago was a long one. There would have been a few stops in between, but only one long enough to get anything to eat. That would have been about four hours before her arrival time. With the ordeal at the station and the stop at the jailhouse, he knew he had to add at least another two. Six hours was a long time to go without something to eat, and that was if she had indeed eaten since Chicago. Once again today, he was guilty of being thoughtless. “There’s a café across the street. The courthouse is open for a little while yet. Why don’t we have something to eat first?”
Jillian was embarrassed at her stomach and its obnoxious protest, but she knew it would be foolish not take him up on his offer.
“That would be nice, thank you. I must admit it has been a while since I have eaten,” she said gratefully.
Dalton helped her down from the wagon. Jillian struggled to keep the surprised look off her face when he took her hand. She was having trouble dealing with the thrill that went through her every time he even brushed against her. She wasn’t accustomed to riding in a wagon and was jostled around a bit before she figured out that if she held onto the seat with one hand on either side of her, she could manage to keep her balance somewhat. Even then, she felt tingles pass through her each time she was haphazardly thrown into him.
The café was larger than she had expected for a town this size because the building doubled as a hotel. The smell of food that assaulted her nose when they stepped through the doors started her mouth watering instantly. She felt the pains in her stomach increase in ferocity as her body demanded immediate attention. The restaurant didn’t have many patrons. Anyone coming from the station to dine would have already eaten and gone home. This proved fortunate, because they were served a pleasant home-style meal in an adequate amount of time.
When they both finished eating, neither of them made any immediate motion to leave. Dalton was nervous. Ever since they’d left the jailhouse and the vile man within, Dalton had tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling that had come over him.
He looked over at Jillian. Full color had now come back into her face, and, other than looking a bit uncomfortable, her health looked completely restored. He knew, though, that the bruises and blow to her head would pain her for some time.
She had been hungry, he could tell, and he couldn’t avoid the new feelings of guilt. No wonder she had fainted earlier in the station! The situation had been emotional enough, but then to add to that the lack of sustenance . . . Dalton knew it wasn’t a good combination, especially for a woman. He was intensely relieved that she appeared to be recovering.
When he noticed Jillian fidgeting in her seat slightly, he realized that he wasn’t doing much to help repair her already negative view of him. She was most likely starting to wonder whether he could hold an intelligent conversation by now.
“Thank you for the meal. I do feel much better,” Jillian said suddenly, offering him a slight smile. She paused a moment, giving him a chance to respond. When he said nothing, she continued, though her voice was a little less confident this time. “I suppose we ought to get over to the courthouse.” She looked down at her hands and Dalton stood up quickly.
“Yes, of course. You must be tired from your journey, and I am sure Aunt Betty will be starting to worry by now,” he agreed.
“I am anxious to meet the children.” She smiled beautifully when she mentioned them, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Yes, the children will be anxious, as well. The drive home will take us about two hours.”
Dalton swallowed hard, his nervousness suddenly increasing. They still had an important task to do before they left town. He came around the table, helped Jillian with her chair, paid for their meal, and thanked the hostess for the fine service before they headed out the door and back across the street.
Jillian worked to steady her breathing as they walked slowly toward the courthouse. She knew the ceremony would be simple—just Dalton, herself, a justice of the peace, and whoever was called in to witness the ceremony.
She suppressed a slight, unexpected feeling of disappointment. It’s better this way, she told herself. Something more would almost seem a farce. She knew Dalton would honor and care for her and provide for her needs, but his obligations ended there. Both of their hearts were closed, and love would not be the reason for their union here today.
Dalton could tell Jillian was trying to keep herself calm, simply because he was trying to do the same. He was also trying to hold back the thoughts of Laurellyn that were fighting for their rightful place. He would not dishonor Jillian by thinking of his first wife while they were being married. He might never be in love with her, but he would owe her a great deal one day, especially where his children were concerned. He could start right now by paying her the proper respect she deserved.
With newfound resolve, Dalton walked up to the courthouse and held the door for Miss Jillian Grey—for the last time. The next time they walked through these doors, she would be Mrs. Dalton McCullough.
Five
Dalton tried to find the smoothest parts of the road. He knew wagon rides could be hard on a woman, especially when it was her first time riding in one. Jillian hadn’t written too much about her family’s financial situation, but the way she had struggled at first to keep her balance told him that she must have been used to riding in a carriage, not a wagon.
The first part of the road home had been unusually rough. He hadn’t paid much attention to it on his way to the train station that morning—he had been in too much of a hurry to notice. Eventually the road got better, and when he glanced over at Jillian, he could tell she was relieved. It wasn’t long after that she began to nod off.
Dalton looked down at her head now resting on his shoulder. Her head felt heavy there, if only for the weight of the emotions he was again fighting. He noticed that her face looked troubled as she slept, not peaceful as it had in the train station when she lay unconscious. He wondered what was going through her mind.
The wedding ceremony hadn’t been much. He felt sorry for her. Surely, it wasn’t the wedding she might have dreamed of as a young girl. Jillian suddenly sighed in her sleep as though agreeing with his unspoken thoughts. A twinge of guilt shot through him as he remembered what a special and glorious day it had been when he had married Laurellyn. As he pondered for a moment on that beautiful spring morning, it felt just like it had been yesterday.
Neither Dalton nor Laurellyn wanted a big wedding. They invited mostly family and a few close friends. Walking into the church, the first thing Dalton noticed was all the flowers. “Of course,” he thought. There were so many different kinds, most of which were wildflowers. No wonder she had made him wait until May to marry her. He imagined there was not a wildflower left in any meadow or garden for miles
.
He walked to where Reverend Jenkins was waiting for him at the front of the altar. The reverend’s wife, Mrs. Jenkins, began to play the piano. A few short moments later, the doors to the church opened again. The next moments were trance-like for Dalton. He no longer noticed anything else in the room. The piano had even become silent to his ears. All he could see was the vision of his love standing before him. Laurellyn and her Aunt Betty had worked on her dress together for months. He was sure it was beautiful, but all Dalton could see was her face smiling at him as she slowly walked down the aisle on her Uncle Ned’s arm.
His sweetheart was so beautiful. A wreath of woven flowers adorned her hair, and her cheeks were flushed pink with the excitement of the moment. Dalton stared into Laurellyn’s smiling eyes and mouthed the word “forever” before they both turned and faced the reverend.
They were coming to the outskirts of Uncle Ned and Aunt Betty’s farm. Dalton pushed the memory back to its treasured place in his mind. He wondered if he should wake Jillian up before they arrived to give her a minute to compose herself. He was glad she had been able to nap, even though he had felt uncomfortable with her being so close.
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