The Lassoed by Marriage Romance Collection

by Bell, Angela; Breidenbach, Angela; Carter, Lisa

McKinney poked Jack’s shoulder with his fork, leaving a streak of gravy on Jack’s clean white shirt. “Well, is it true?”

  Jack motioned to his mouth full of stew.

  “Humph.” McKinney leaned back in his seat. “You tellin’ me you married the prettiest girl in all of Doniphan County, and you’re here keeping an old man company?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Does she know you’re skipping your wedding night?”

  “She will understand.”

  “Almost thirty years old and not a lick of sense.” Shaking his head, McKinney buttered one of Mrs. Sturgis’s prized rolls. He handed it to Jack. “Sop up the gravy with that.”

  Jack did what he was told.

  Forks scraped the pans as they ate.

  He’d never believed in love at first sight. He had, in fact, known Coral since the day she was born, his mother acting as midwife when she and Jack had come across Mrs. Davies alone in her buggy on the road to town. He’d grown up hearing stories about the greedy, immoral Davies family, wealthy owners of the largest orchard in northeastern Kansas. A thousand acres. Two-thirds the size of the Kent orchard due to their thievery.

  Something changed in him this morning after he’d made his vows.

  In a jail.

  While wearing mud-stained clothes.

  After having little sleep and even less food.

  A good lawyer could argue he hadn’t been in his right mind, and still wasn’t. As he’d listened to Coral stumble through her promise to love, cherish, and honor him until death did they part, he realized he wanted more than her forgiveness for the past. He wanted more than her not hating him anymore. He’d wanted more than to believe she’d silently begged him to rescue her when Hiram had tried to grab her arm. What he hadn’t been sure of was what more he wanted until he kissed his bride.

  Jack swallowed the stew despite the tightening of his throat.

  He wanted Coral.

  As his wife. Until death did they part.

  He wanted her to want him, too.

  Want didn’t come near to describing how he felt about being with her tonight. Coral was his wife, married in the eyes of the law and God even though they hadn’t married in a church or with a preacher. A license with both their names lay on the bed where he’d tossed it before taking a bath and changing clothes so he could pay calls on the Zeizers and McKinneys. He shouldn’t feel guilty for the thoughts he’d struggled to not think since their kiss. She was his wife. He shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to—

  “You’re looking mighty peaked,” McKinney said, leaning over the table. He touched Jack’s forehead with the back of his cold hand. “Warm. You didn’t catch something in jail, did you?”

  “I think I did,” Jack muttered.

  It wasn’t love, but it could become love. Strangely, it wasn’t the condition of her heart that troubled him most.

  She wanted to leave Wathena.

  He didn’t.

  And he didn’t want her to leave, either.

  Jack laid his fork next to the empty pie plate. “I’m in a pickle.”

  “Go on.” McKinney wiped his pan with the last of his bread.

  “Coral and I didn’t marry because we wanted to. We were under duress.”

  McKinney’s bushy white brows rose. “Who was duressin’ you?”

  “Judge Swayze.”

  “Swayze?” he echoed, his voice tinged with skepticism. “Nah, there isn’t a man in Kansas with more integrity. That’d be breaking the law.”

  Jack’s shoulders slumped as he let out a long, tired exhale. He quickly summarized the events leading to the mud fight—Hiram’s return, Coral falling into the mud, and the subsequent arrest and night spent in jail. He omitted his suspicions about her hearing loss.

  “Well,” Jack said, “now do you see?”

  “Misdemeanor or marriage,” muttered McKinney. He pushed back from the table and walked to the potbellied stove keeping a copper coffeepot warm. “That’s duress, all right.”

  Jack gathered up the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink as McKinney filled two clay mugs. “There’s more.”

  “Good or bad?”

  “Depends on how you look at it.” Jack took the proffered mug. “Before Swayze boarded the train, he pulled me aside. According to the law, duress at the time of consent voids a marriage, since one’s consent must be voluntary. On that grounds, Coral and I can get an annulment. No harm, no foul.”

  “He forced you to marry then told you how to get”—McKinney looked incredulous—“unmarried?”

  “Seems so. Why would he do that?”

  McKinney shrugged.

  It made no sense. Swayze was as forthright as they came. He wasn’t the kind to manipulate, flatter, withhold information, or resort to any chicanery to get his way. If anything, the man had made a flippant remark in his frustration with the situation and wasn’t sure how to backtrack once Coral and Jack agreed to marry.

  McKinney leaned against the counter. Jack mimicked his action. They finished their coffee in silence, Mrs. McKinney’s soft breathing the only noise in the two-room cabin.

  Jack set his empty mug in the sink. “I’ll go pump water and clean these up while you crack a few windows.”

  McKinney looked to the room where his wife had slept peacefully since Jack had given her medication for the pain. “Sixty-three years ago I took Eugenia as my wife. I pledged to comfort, honor, and keep her, in plenty and want, in joy and sorrow, in sickness and health until we are parted by death.”

  Which Jack expected would happen tonight.

  “Vows are easy to make.” McKinney’s voice was rough. He patted Jack’s back. “What’s stinkin’ hard is staying with the one you married when you’re under duress.”

  “Coral doesn’t want to be married to me.”

  “And in ten, twenty, thirty years she still may not want to be married to you.”

  “Meaning?” Jack asked impatiently.

  McKinney refilled his mug. He placed the copper kettle back on the stove. After a long moment of silence, he said, “Not all marriages begin with love. Many don’t end that way.”

  Jack said nothing. He could sense take-it-from-me advice coming along.

  McKinney’s eyes narrowed. “What you do every day after the wedding determines how the marriage will end. Women like it when we talk and share our feelings.” He shrugged. “It’s your choice to see this marriage as a blessing or blunder,” McKinney added before sipping his coffee.

  Blessing or blunder. As long as they shared a perspective, all was well. When their views differed—

  Jack shook his head. “Even if this marriage could be a blessing to me, it’s not to her,” he retorted, his voice betraying his frustration. He shoved away from the sink and walked to the window, staring into the starry night. “Coral’s hell-bent on leaving Wathena. An annulment is the best thing I can give her.”

  “Why don’t you ask Coral what she wants?”

  Jack let out an irritated little snort. She’d been quite clear in what she wanted. He headed outside to fill a bucket with water. He had to do the right thing, despite his feelings for Coral. And because of them, too.

  Coral jolted awake. She glanced around the living room, lit only by the moonlight streaming through the east windows. The lamps had been extinguished. Her teacup no longer on the coffee table. The book she’d been reading lay in the middle of the cream and burgundy couch. A quilt from her bedroom lay across the lap of her white lace dress. According to her wristwatch, it was twenty-three minutes after four.

  If it’d been Jack who’d found her asleep, he would have woken her.

  It had to have been Mrs. Byers. Maybe Mr. Byers, too. While she was as much an employee as they were, since the day she moved in with the Swayzes, the Byerses had treated her like she was an extension of the house. Another thing entrusted to their loving care.

  When Jack hadn’t returned for supper, they’d been the first to suggest he had a justifiable reason for b
eing gone on their wedding night. If he wasn’t with the McKinneys, he could be with the Zeizers. Mary’s twins could have decided to arrive a month early. Or maybe he had to go on an emergency call. Thus was the life of a country doctor.

  He had good reasons for not returning.

  He wasn’t shunning her.

  No, that was for her parents to do, which infuriated Mr. Byers as much as his wife each time he brought it up. The Byerses were good people who wanted the best for her. God had blessed her with them, and with the Swayzes. She wanted to believe He’d blessed her with Jack, too.

  “Oh, I’m such a hopeless optimist,” she murmured to the empty room.

  Coral blinked at the hot tears to keep them from falling. She stood, draping the quilt over her arm. She carried the book to the half-wall bookcase and laid it next to the parlor lamp. A doctor had to attend to his patients first.

  He wasn’t avoiding her.

  No matter what her heart said.

  Chapter 5

  A wounded deer leaps highest.

  EMILY DICKINSON

  Labor Day ~ 6:23 p.m.

  Jack ran a hand through his hair then replaced his hat as he waited at the Swayze front door. It’d been a long night and morning, with comforting McKinney and then assisting with the burial. Against his thigh, he tapped the manila envelope containing the annulment papers. With everyone in town for the parade, he hadn’t been able to discreetly visit the district attorney until the floats and carnival were being dismantled.

  The door opened.

  The Swayzes’ housekeeper, Mrs. Byers, looked over the wire spectacles perched on the tip of her pert nose. “Good afternoon, Dr. Kent. Where’s your gift?”

  “Gift?”

  “You could’ve at least brought flowers after deserting her on her wedding night.” She shook her head with a tsk, tsk.

  Jack had no response. He’d been working. Coral understood.

  Mrs. Byers reached across the threshold to pat his arm. “There, there. I know you had a rough night with Eugenia’s passing. That you are here now is all that matters. Our poor girl’s been overwhelmed all day. It’s good you finally showed up. Ladies started arriving at nine, bringing gifts, offering well wishes, inquiring where the groom was.”

  “I thought it was proper not to call on a newly married couple until after the said couple sent wedding cards welcoming visitors.”

  “It’s also proper for parents of the bride to host a reception following the wedding,” she retorted, her disapproval evident, “which occurred in a jail. Etiquette must be adjusted in circumstances as this.”

  “Coral’s best interests are my primary concern.” His answer seemed to mollify her.

  She stepped back to give him room to pass. Jack entered the reception hall and immediately removed his hat. The house smelled like a flower shop. Voices and sounds of clinking china came from the living room.

  “This way,” Mrs. Byers said, motioning him to follow.

  Jack had taken two steps when he glanced into the dining room on the left. He did a double take. Ribbon-wrapped boxes covered the damask cloth draped over the table, as well as on two temporary tables near the front window. On the sideboard sat two folded quilts, a floral arrangement in a crystal vase, and a small crate that looked to hold four wine bottles, which he doubted. Doniphan was a dry county. Had to be cider vinegar. Another crate on the floor held rosebushes ready to be planted. Next to it were two rolled-up rugs. The number of gifts were beyond what anyone would give in celebration of an anniversary. They were more like ones for—

  Dread settled like a rock in his stomach.

  He and Coral had been married a day and a half. How had anyone had time to purchase or make a gift? He’d wager everyone had been watching or participating in the parade. Coral would have attended. If any altercation between a Kent and Davies had broken out, he would have heard about it by now.

  “Dr. Kent,” came Mrs. Byers’s soft voice.

  Jack gripped the manila envelope tightly and followed her to the living room. They stopped at the threshold. She took his hat and said something about crumpets and cucumber sandwiches. Jack absently nodded. Coral sat on the left side sofa, a prettier picture he’d never seen. On her head was a straw hat with an oversized red ribbon. Her red-orange hair lay in a fat curl over her shoulder looking more vibrant against the white of her shirtwaist. In the lap of her blue skirt was a sleeping white French bulldog pup oblivious to the dozen women wearing grandiose hats, giving marital advice, and taking tea. From where Coral was sitting, with the ladies in front or on her right, she was in the ideal spot to hear whoever spoke to her.

  “You don’t say,” Coral said, her blue eyes sparkling with merriment. “I’ve never heard that story about Jack before.”

  Jack could see Coral smiling as she sipped tea. A genuine smile that reached her eyes. She’d known these women all her life. They seemed to genuinely care for her. And if the number of gifts were any indication, the town was supportive of their marriage. The real question was—

  Were any of those gifts from a Kent or a Davies?

  He’d wager not a one was.

  Mrs. Sanderson, who wrote the social column for the Weekly Republican, was the first to notice him. “Speak of the devil.”

  Every lady turned his way, all voices fell silent.

  Pink eased up Coral’s neck and cheeks, making her porcelain skin glow. The way she looked at him, with an unveiled joy that he’d come back, literally stole his breath. It was the very look he wanted to see on his wife’s face. Jack never wanted to tear his eyes away. He was fairly certain his heart stopped beating.

  “Well then,” Mrs. Sanderson said, “I’m satisfied. Let’s go, ladies.”

  The women joined in paying salutations to Coral, who stood and accepted every hug, even with the sleepy-eyed pup cradled in her arms. Once they finished with Coral, they made their way to Jack with orders he take good care of his bride. Soon the living room had emptied of all but them.

  “Cute pup,” Jack said to break the silence.

  Coral raised the pup to her shoulder. “Isn’t she adorable? Mr. Byers found her this morning in a wicker basket along with a note of congratulations for the happy couple.”

  “We can’t keep a dog.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because our marriage is null,” Jack said. He turned and caught the tea tray before it slid from Mrs. Byers’s grasp.

  Coral sat silent on the end of the sofa. Null meant having no legal binding effect. If what he said was true, then they didn’t need death to part them.

  They only needed an official declaration of nullity from the court.

  Jack carried the tray into the living room and sat it on the coffee table. He took a seat on the sofa while the Byerses sat in the two high-backed velvet chairs. As he ate the fruit salad, crumpets, and miniature cucumber sandwiches, he fielded Mr. and Mrs. Byers’s questions about consent and duress, detailing the specifics of what the district attorney told him. While they had entered the marriage with good will, openness, honesty, maturity, and emotional stability, their action hadn’t had full free will because of external pressure.

  They’d been under duress.

  Thus null.

  Thus void.

  Coral hadn’t entered the marriage with openness and honesty, either. Though she was sure he had diagnosed her partial deafness, she had not informed him of her handicap. She should have. She’d had the time in the thirty minutes prior to the wedding. Her embarrassment had stopped her.

  She didn’t need to be embarrassed.

  Her family knew. They were supposed to love and accept her, but after losing her hearing in one ear, her father had only increased his belittlement, treating her like she was stupid and less of a person when she didn’t hear what was said. Meals with the whole family together often ended in hot tears—hers and her mother’s—until Coral learned not to draw any attention to herself. When she moved in with the Swayzes, no Davies questioned her decision. No one b
egged her to come home.

  No one cared.

  Unable to bear the sudden warmth in the room, Coral stood. “Excuse me, I need to…”

  She hurried out of the room, across the reception hall, and into the dining room before any tears could fall. She gripped the edge of the cloth-covered table. Breathed deep. Blinked. She looked to the left. Then the right.

  Oh my.

  Her mouth fell open. Eyes widened.

  Good gracious, there had to be two hundred gifts. At the very least. When had the Byerses set up the tables? Coral didn’t know. She’d been occupied with entertaining the constant stream of visitors. Had there been that many to call? Impossible. Half of the gifts had to have come from Wathenans who delivered them and left without saying a word. Had to.

  But why?

  The pup squirmed and whined. Coral placed it on the wooden floor, and it darted immediately to the living room, back into the wicker basket near the opened French doors. Coral returned her attention to the dining room table. Near the edge, in a basket, stuck between jars of preserves was an envelope with Inez Potter’s elegant script.

  Dr. and Mrs. Jack Kent

  She reached for the card, only to draw back. Inez was too kindhearted to include a spiteful note, yet she couldn’t bear to read Inez’s words wishing them joy and happiness. Were things different, Inez could be the one looking at a card like this one—same inscription yet in Coral’s penmanship. Inez should have married Jack instead. Inez had feelings for him. Inez loved living in Wathena as much as Jack did. Most of all, Inez wasn’t a Davies who would have to force Jack to choose between his family and his wife.

  Inez still had a chance for a future with Jack, once this unfortunate, not-of-their-full-free-will marriage was nullified.

  Every gift in the room had to be returned. Even the pup.

  An announcement would need to be placed in the papers. Coral drew in a sharp breath. Mrs. Sanderson! Tonight, before anything could go to press, the society columnist had to be notified. What if she’d already made telephone calls to other papers in the county? Coral would have to contact them, too.

  Dishes clattered.