Flip yanked off his hat and rolled the brim. The tall, thin rancher sported a moustache nearly as wide as his face. “Yeah, I kinda felt sorry for them gals. So ya think they’re willing to marry someone else?”
Mark narrowed his eyes and glared at his brother. What was Garrett doing? He climbed off the wagon and stretched the kinks from his body, then ambled toward the porch. A dipper of cool water would taste good about now.
Flip nodded. “Mark, good to see ya.”
“You, too. Mind if I grab a drink from your well?” Mark smiled at Flip, then cast a warning glance at Garrett.
“Help yerself. I just hauled up a fresh bucketful.” He pointed across the yard to the well, as if Mark hadn’t already spotted it.
The screen door creaked, and Flip’s mother, Lucy Anderson, walked out carrying a tray covered in cookies, cups, and a coffeepot. Mark swung around and headed back to the porch.
“Mornin’, boys. Come have a sit-down and take some refreshment.” Mrs. Anderson set the tray on the porch table and started pouring coffee. After serving the men, she poured herself a cup and sat down. “I heard you talkin’ about them gals. I sure wish that my Flip could marry one of ’em.”
Flip turned beet red and seemed to be studying the porch floor as if something was wrong with it.
Garrett chuckled. “Well, maybe we need to figure out a way to get him together with them so they can meet face-to-face.”
Lucy stared out toward the pasture, where several dozen head of short horn cattle grazed. “Hmm…I could invite them leftover brides out here for dinner. Maybe one of ’em would take a shinin’ to my Flip.”
“Ma, that don’t hardly seem proper, inviting two unmarried women clear out here.”
“And one of them has a twisted ankle. She hurt it during the storm.” Mark wasn’t sure why he’d come to the boardinghouse brides’ defense, but it didn’t seem right that everyone was talking about them.
“Yeah, it’d be better if you went to town, Flip. Maybe what you boys need is to have a shindig of some kind so’s the local bachelors could meet them gals.” Lucy helped herself to another sugar cookie. The older woman’s faded blue eyes twinkled. “I’d sure like to see my Flip married before my foot’s in the grave.”
Flip’s head jerked toward his mother. “Don’t talk like that, Ma.”
“I’d just like to know someone was taking care of you after I’m gone, that’s all. And I’d sure like to see my grandkids.”
Flip jumped up so fast the coffee cups rattled. “I reckon I ought to head back to the barn. Got a horse with the colic. Need to keep my eye on her.”
Mark held back a chuckle. Seems like he wasn’t the only man who didn’t want folks matchmaking him.
They said their good-byes and returned to the wagon. Mark climbed up beside his brother, well aware that the wheels were churning in Garrett’s mind. “What are you thinking?”
Garrett slapped the reins down on the horses’ backs and yelled, “Heeyup!”
The wagon lurched forward, groaning and creaking. Once back on the main road, Garrett leaned his elbows on his knees, allowing the reins to dangle in his fingers. “I’ve been ruminating on some ideas.”
Mark’s stomach clenched. What was Garrett up to now? Whatever it was, he wanted no part of it.
“What do you think about starting up a social on Saturdays? Have some ladies fix food, have some music and dancing?”
“Why?” Mark’s voice rose higher than intended.
Garrett’s gaze darted in his direction. “So we can get those gals married off. That’s why.”
Mark leaned back and crossed his arms, shaking his head. It might sound like a half-decent plan, but something was sure to go wrong. “That’s a bad idea, brother. You best leave well enough alone.”
“Nope, I think it’s a great idea. We’ll get unmarried men to come, and sooner or later, someone’s bound to catch the eyes of them gals.”
“Have you considered that it will cost money to hire musicians? And you can’t expect the women to come and bring food for free all the time. If you did something like that, you’d need to hire Polly to cook, most likely. Besides, there are dozens of unmarried men, and just those two gals. Doesn’t sound like much fun for either side.”
“Hmm…” Garrett rubbed his chin with his thumb and forefinger. “You’re probably right about the food. But the single men around here are desperate. They won’t care if they only get one dance with a pretty gal, but maybe we could invite folks from other nearby towns and ranches. Maybe some of the ranchers will bring their older daughters. You’re right. We’ll need more than the two boardinghouse brides for the men to dance with.”
“I’m warning you. This is a bad idea.”
“Aw, stop your fretting.” Garrett glanced at him and grinned wickedly. “Don’t forget about your surprise.”
Mark heaved a sigh, and his mind raced. He had forgotten, and from the look in his brother’s eyes, he had a feeling he wouldn’t like this surprise much.
Shannon practiced walking around the parlor using a crutch the marshal had borrowed from the doctor’s office. The long branch had a nub halfway down where her hand rested, and though the V under her armpit had been wrapped with fabric, she still found it uncomfortable. But if she was going to work at the freight office, she had to get mobile.
Her skirt snagged against the long stick, making forward progress difficult and throwing her off balance. A chuckle sounded behind her, and she took several small steps in a half circle until she was facing the other direction.
Rachel smacked her husband on the arm. “Don’t you dare laugh at her.”
The marshal pressed his lips together for a moment. “Sorry, but I think that crutch is too long.”
“Well, cut it down to fit her.” Rachel glared at Luke playfully with her hands on her hips.
He shook his head. “I can’t. It belongs to Doc Phillips.”
“Well, I don’t see how Shannon will manage that bumpy street when she can barely get around the parlor.”
Shannon stared at the newlywed couple. Rachel looked pretty clothed in her brown work dress with tiny yellow sunflowers on it. A fresh apron covered the garment, and her long brown braid fell down over her shoulder, hanging clear past her waist. Dressed in black pants and a medium blue shirt, Luke stood next to her, staring down at the stick that held Shannon upright.
Truth be told, she didn’t like the crutch, but the marshal had been so nice to fetch it for her that she hated to say so. She tried again and managed three steps before she lost her balance. She reached for a nearby table and missed.
“Oh!” Rachel squealed.
Shannon’s hand brushed the arm of the settee, but she missed it, too, and landed on the floor. Pain clutched her ankle and hand, but it was nothing compared to when she first injured her leg. She tried to push up from the floor, but her long skirts had wrapped around her legs, and she was stuck between the settee and coffee table legs.
How humiliating!
Hurried footsteps sounded behind her, and she closed her eyes. Could things get any worse?
“Are you all right?” Rachel leaned toward Shannon’s face.
“Aye, but I do feel quite foolish.”
“Do you mind if Luke helps you up?”
Shannon shook her head. “I’m tangled in my skirts.”
A quick knock sounded, and Shannon peeked through the table legs. Garrett Corbett strode in. “Mornin’, folks.”
Heat raced up Shannon’s cheeks. What would her new boss think?
His eyes widened, and he hurried forward to help Luke assist her up. Back on the settee, she rearranged her skirts and avoided looking at anyone. Would they all think her a clumsy fool?
Rachel picked up the crutch. “Shannon was trying this out to see if she could walk with it.”
Garrett grinned. “Uh, let me guess. It didn’t work.”
Luke stood beside him chuckling, and Rachel glared at her husband.
Garrett forc
ed a straight face. “Have no fear, I brought the wagon.”
Warmth flooded Shannon’s cheeks again. He didn’t even think she could walk a few hundred feet. She thought about the crutch again. Well, perhaps he was right. But if she couldn’t walk that far and rode the wagon to work, she’d be stuck at the freight office, dependent on the Corbett brothers—and that was the last place she wanted to be. Wasn’t that why she’d accepted the position of employment in the first place? So that she could support herself instead of relying on them?
“Maybe she should wait a few more days before starting work,” Rachel said.
Three sets of eyes fell on Shannon, and she resisted the urge to squirm. She’d already lost almost two nights’ sleep worrying over working with Mark Corbett. If she didn’t start today, she’d only worry more. “Nay, I’ll ride in the wagon.”
“Are you sure?” The concerned look in Rachel’s eyes warmed her. Made her feel as if someone cared about her.
“Aye.”
“Great. Then let’s go.” Garrett strode toward her and swooped her up without asking permission.
Shannon wrapped her arm around his neck and sat up stiffly. These Americans were uncouth and did as they pleased without so much as a by-your-leave. She thought back to being in Mark’s arms when they were running from the storm. She’d actually liked him carrying her. Liked being close to him. Then why was she so nervous about working in the same office?
Garrett helped her up to the wagon seat, and she climbed aboard and sat down. Rachel reached up her hand and laid it on Shannon’s arm while Garrett walked around the front of the wagon. “I’ll come down in an hour or so and make sure things are all right.”
“That’s not necessary, but I thank you. I’m sure I will be fine.”
“It’s no trouble at all.” Rachel smiled, winked, and stepped back. “Don’t let those yahoos boss you around too much.” Shannon finally smiled. “I won’t.”
“Hold on.” Garrett lifted the reins and smacked them down on the horses’ backs. “Heeyah!”
The wagon lurched forward and then settled. Shannon held tight to the side and gazed at the remains of the store. Boards that were long enough to be reused had been stacked along the property line. A half-dozen men and women were sorting through the last of the rubble. “’Tis a sad sight.”
Garrett looked to his left and nodded. “Mark and I brought in a load of lumber from Dallas yesterday. Got another couple of trips to make, and then there will be a store raisin’.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“It’s just like a barn raisin’ except we’re building a store. Since it’s the only one in town, we need it to survive, so everyone’s chipping in to help.”
They passed the remains of the Fosters’ home, and Shannon wished there was something she could do to help the older couple. A man tossed a bucket of water into the dirt road, and one of Garrett’s horses jerked his head up and snorted. The wagon creaked down Bluebonnet Lane, then veered left onto Oak Street. They passed a number of houses before reaching the end of the road, where they made two quick left turns and ended up on Main Street. The boardinghouse rose up in front of her at the far end of the street. It surely was a lovely building with its soft green color and white trim. The porch practically begged people to stop and sit in the matching white rockers. Perhaps later she could do that very thing, but now she had to concentrate on learning her new job.
“Whoaaa.” Garrett pulled the wagon to a stop and set the brake. He hopped down, patted each horse on the forehead, and muttered something before coming around to help her down.
Shannon’s stomach swirled. She’d never worked in an office before. Aye, she could keep it clean and tidy once her ankle healed, but Garrett had said something about helping Mark with the recordkeeping. How would she know what to do? Was Mark even agreeable to teaching her or letting her work with him?
Surely if he’d not been, Garrett wouldn’t have hired her. Yet she had a hard time believing Mark would assent. Even though he’d come to her rescue during the storm, he didn’t seem to favor her for some reason.
Garrett lifted her down and held her steady. “Guess I should haul you on inside.”
Balancing her weight mostly on her good leg, she broke from his gaze and looked around. The marshal had left the boardinghouse and now stood outside his office, talking to several men. Two ladies exited Dolly’s Dress Shop and walked toward them, talking and laughing.
“Perhaps you could walk on my weak side and offer support.” She eyed the women, who’d suddenly taken note of her and Garrett.
“Mornin’, Mrs. Mann. Mrs. Jenkins.” Garrett tipped his hat to them. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
Both women smiled at the handsome rogue, then turned suspicious glances in Shannon’s direction. Fortunately, they continued on past the newspaper office and turned in to the bank.
“Curious ol’ biddies. You know they’re just fit to be tied wondering why you’re here with me.”
Shannon’s mouth turned up in a grin. Aye, she could imagine. She knew the two ladies were quite the busybodies, from their visits with Rachel at the boardinghouse.
“Shall we?” Garrett’s brow lifted.
Shannon gently put weight on her twisted ankle and grimaced, not so much from the pain but from the fear that it would hurt. Garrett wasted no time, and hauled her up in his arms. He grunted as he carried her up the stairs from the street to the boardwalk, and Shannon was sure she’d never regain her dignity.
Garrett fumbled with the door handle, then shoved it open, and stepped into the freight office. She glanced around and noticed right off that one desk was immaculate while the other was quite the mess. The tidy one had to be Mark’s. He always took time to dress nicely and combed his hair, whereas Garrett seemed like a ragamuffin, with his mussed hair and his clothing often wrinkled.
Mark entered from a side room. His eyes went wide, and his mouth dropped open. Shannon realized Garrett still held her.
Mark’s gaze narrowed as he took in his brother holding her. “Please tell me you didn’t run off and marry her’“
CHAPTER 7
Jack baited her hook, tossed it into the water, then sat back against a tree and waited for a bite. She plucked a strand of grass and leaned to her left, where her good friend Jonesy had fallen asleep in the warmth of the August sun. Holding back a laugh, she stuck the stem under Jonesy’s nose and tickled him. His loud snores shifted to a series of grunts and gurgles, and he reached up and rubbed his nose without even opening his eyes.
Jack giggled and sat back.
“Why do you continue to pester him? His pa probably worked him like a plow mule since sunup.” Ricky, her other best friend, picked up a rock and tossed it to the far side of the river.
“How come he got to come fishin’?”
“’Cause his pa had a hankering for fish for dinner.”
“Well, his loud snores are scaring them all away.” Jack stared out at her fishing line, wishing for a bite.
“Nah, it’s probably just too hot for them to care about eating.” Ricky yawned and stretched. The summer sun had darkened his skin and turned his blond hair white. “So how do you like having the marshal for a pa, Jacqueline?”
Jack shoved Ricky in the arm. “Don’t you call me that.”
“Your ma told me to.”
She leaned back, keeping a hold on her pole. “I don’t care. I hate that name.”
“Why? I think it’s kind of pretty, for a girl.”
Jack swung her gaze back to meet Ricky’s dark blue stare. Was he teasing her? His thick hair hung over his eyebrows and almost into his eyes. He was nice-looking, for a boy. “You really think so?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, I guess.”
Jack gazed up at the sky and considered that. She’d never once thought her given name was pretty, and she still preferred Jack, but it was nice to know someone liked her name.
The arms of the sun reached through the canopy of trees
overhead, touching the river with its light. The quiet water rippled on the gentle breeze, but the heat still made her hot. She swiped at a river of sweat tickling her cheek. They ought to be swimming instead of fishing, but her ma would have a conniption fit if she swam with the boys.
A proper lady never swims with gentlemen, she’d said. But then, Jack knew she was far from a lady—or being proper for that matter. It seemed that women had so many rules they had to abide by while men got to do whatever they wanted. Why couldn’t she have been born a boy?
Jonesy’s snores grew louder, and she gave him a shove. “Hush up! I cain’t hear myself think.”
He murmured something in his sleep and rolled over with his back to her. Maybe now he’d be quieter.
She thought about her new pa and smiled. Things sure had changed since he’d married her ma.
“What’s so funny?” Ricky asked.
“Aw, nothing. I was just thinking about all that has changed since my ma married Luke.”
“Like what?”
She sat up straight and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I got my own room now. It’s the yellow one upstairs, where that outlaw stayed.”
“That must be nice. I share a room with my two little sisters. At least I got my own bed. Jonesy shares one with his two little brothers.”
She leaned toward her friend. “I’ve got a double bed.”
“All your own?”
“Uh-huh. I like it. Ma don’t put her cold feet on my legs no more.”
“That’s no problem these days, as hot as its been. I get all sweaty at night, even with the window open. Half the time, I take my quilt and lay it on the porch or in the hay loft ’cause it’s cooler to sleep there.”
Jack nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’d try it, but Ma wouldn’t let me if she knew about it. She’s such a worrywart.”
Ricky stretched and rubbed his belly. “Maybe she won’t feel so much that way once her and the marshal have some kids.”
Jack bolted up. Thoughts of little brothers and sisters bounced around in her mind. “You think they will?”
Second Chance Brides (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 2) Page 7