by Linda Broday
CHAPTER THREE
Jericho stalked the distance to the house at the end of town, Mary’s accusation pounding in time with his steps. Your fault… Your fault… The words kept pace with him all the way to the front walk of his home.
He’d purchased the fanciful two-story Victorian from Helen Sabin, a recently widowed minister’s wife. He’d been in need of a house, though this one was much bigger than he’d planned on buying. Still, he’d understood the woman’s need to return to her family and did the only thing he could to help. As far as he was concerned, the reward money for bringing in that particular outlaw couldn’t have been put to a better use.
As he neared, he saw the Olander twins from next door were pacing the stuffed-shirt politician up the crushed-rock walk as they pretended to help unload the wagon. Good. The man deserved some of the eight-year-old boys’ brand of torment for what he’d done to Mary. She was a good, generous, beautiful woman, and Mr. Mansfield and the citizens of Thankful didn’t deserve her.
The memory of her, eyes blazing with righteous anger, her silky golden hair falling from its pins to brush her smooth jaw, had him smiling. When he realized his expression irritated the politician, he grinned a little wider. “’Bout done, boys?”
The twins spun around in unison. “Yessir, Mr. Hawken. We carried in a lot of boxes and stuff.”
“I can see that and I know the gentleman appreciated your help. I’ll finish up here. Did you do what I asked?”
When the boys turned identical mud-brown eyes to the painted slats of the porch floor, he arched one eyebrow. “You’d best be getting to it, then.”
“Yes, sir, Marshal.” They headed for his garden to water and pull the weeds, tasks he’d assigned as punishment for breaking down a chunk of his fence.
“Marshal Hawken.”
Jericho heard the recognition in the politician’s voice and wondered if planting his fist in the man’s smirk would make Mary any madder.
“My apologies. I didn’t realize who you were.” The horse’s ass stuck out his right hand. “Horace Mansfield, sir, mayor of Thankful, Missouri, and the president of our school board. I didn’t know you were acquainted with Mary.”
Somehow her name of this man’s lips sounded scandalous. “If you are referring to Miss Henry, I’m only watching out for the daughters of her brother.”
“Of course. I understand completely. Our Mary can be quite, um, persuasive.”
That was it. Jericho moved into the man’s face. “Explain yourself before I do what I’ve been wanting to do since the moment I saw you.”
“Well, after she hounded the fine man that was her fiancé, following him to Thankful and forcing him to leave town instead of taking up his position as teacher, she convinced the school board that she was a suitable replacement. Imagine.” He clucked his tongue in what Jericho guessed was supposed to be shock.
“Are you saying she wasn’t suitable?”
Suddenly Mansfield seemed to comprehend the danger he was in from Jericho’s temper. “No, no. Mary was an adequate teacher. Yes, quite adequate. The students certainly seemed to enjoy her tutelage.”
“Then why let her go?” That was the answer he’d been waiting on when Mary had stepped between them.
“It is a private matter, Marshal, that I will not discuss with you.”
Without another word, Jericho went to the wagon and hefted a box. The faster he got Mansfield on his way, the sooner he could get an answer from Mary.
By the time the wagon was empty and Mansfield was only a bad memory written in road dust, Jericho’s front parlor was half full of crates and trunks and he was longing for a cool spot to sit down. Instead, he trudged up the stairs to the bedrooms. He’d opened curtains and windows in the two empty bedrooms to allow in some fresh air when he heard the chatter of little girls coming up his walk. For a moment he imagined them to be his girls, his family. An old wound split open in his heart, one he thought had scarred over for good.
“Mr. Jericho. Mr. Jericho.”
Georgia and Carolina chorused his name as they skipped up the front walk. He leaned out of the window over their heads. “Up here. Come in, ladies.”
Jericho watched until they disappeared under the porch roof, Mary’s pretty blue dress swaying with every step. Yes, they would make a beautiful family.
What the hell was he thinking? Maryland Henry blamed him for everything that had happened to her and her family. She was a brand of trouble he just didn’t need.
“Whacha doin’ up here, Mr. Jericho?”
Jericho actually jumped at the sweet voice coming from right behind him. Lord, when was the last time anyone had snuck up on him, let alone a tiny tow-headed angel? “I’m airing out your bedroom, Miss Carolina. Do you like it?”
“My bedroom?”
“Yours and Georgia’s and Ginny’s.”
Her blue eyes saucer-round, she squealed in delight and rushed from corner to corner, touching furniture, smoothing little fingers across the blue and violet quilt on the bed. “My very own?” Long honey lashes fanned as she blinked up at him. “It’s so pretty.”
He tapped a finger to the tip of her nose. “Not as pretty as you, though.” When she slipped her little hand into his, he turned to lead the way—and came face to face with Mary.
“Why did you have Mr. Mansfield bring my things to this house, Mr. Hawken?”
“I thought you could live here. There’s plenty of space.”
“And this room is mine and Georgia’s and Ginny’s.” Carolina grabbed Georgia’s hand and dragged her over to look at the quilt.
“Hers and…?” She looked around and he imagined she was making note of all the neglect he’d heaped on the poor house. “What is she talking about?”
“You need a place to live and there’s plenty of room here.”
“Live here? Whose house is this?”
“Mine.”
Mary’s eyes rounded in a grown-up imitation of Carolina’s and she backed up a step. “We can’t stay here. It isn’t proper.”
“I won’t be here. As soon as I get a few things from my bedroom…” He trailed off, feeling the heat of embarrassment climbing his cheeks. “Excuse me, ma’am.”
Mary smiled, just a slight lifting of the corners of her mouth, but it seemed the sun shone a bit brighter for it. “No harm done, Mr. Hawken. But—”
“I’ll be fine with Matt—Sheriff Tate, for however long you need to stay. He rattles around alone in more space than this. And I’ll be back on the trail soon.”
“But I wouldn’t dream of putting you out. It just isn’t right.”
He took her elbow and pulled her into the hall, away from the girls. “Neither is what Mansfield and his cronies did to you.” He glanced over his shoulder to be sure they were still alone. “I can’t fix what happened, but I can sure as hell give you a place to live until you decide what to do.” The tension stealing into his shoulders hinted at how much he wanted Mary to be here, in his house.
Jericho gestured to the room across the hall. “That’s another bedroom, so you’ll be close to the girls. I’ve never really moved in, so you go ahead and do whatever you like to the rooms. If you need anything, paint, furniture, whatever, I’ll pay for it. Just go to the General Store and tell Martin what you want.” Jericho led her into a larger bedroom. “I figured you could share this room with Ginny; or, if you want some privacy, the girls can all fit into the other one.”
“I—” Mary put a little space between them, forcing him to release his hold on her arm. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Yes would be a good answer for me.” He tried a smile, hoping she couldn’t see how much he wanted her to accept his offer.
“Why?”
Because he owed those girls. Because they shouldn’t have to suffer anymore for his mistakes. Because, with laughter and a smile, she and those beautiful children had resurrected a dream he’d thought as dead as his love for the woman who’d betrayed him. Since he couldn’t say any of those th
ings, he shrugged. “Why not?”
“Mr. Hawken, I couldn’t possibly—”
“Come and look, Aunt Mary.” Georgia took her hand and tugged her into the room at the end of the hallway. His bedroom. “There’s a well and a garden. It’s so pretty. May we please live here?”
She glanced from Georgia to Carolina and back before meeting his gaze. “I—” Her sigh fluttered the feathers curling from their perch on her hat. “I don’t know yet, sweetie. Why don’t you two go explore the back yard?”
Jericho grinned as the girls skipped out into the hallway. It was good to hear children in the house. When he turned back to Mary, she’d finally realized where they were.
“This is, um.” She delicately cleared her throat. “This is your room. Your—bedroom.”
He tried concentrating on the poorly made bed, the dust, instead of how good she looked standing there. “It’s the only room in the house I really use. But I’m happy to move out of here, too, if you and the girls need the space.”
“No, no. That isn’t necessary. You’re already being more than generous.” She looked out the window, at her hands, the floor, his collar—anywhere but his face, or the huge bed that dominated the room. The soft color that flushed her cheeks made her seem even prettier.
“Once I grab a few necessities, I won’t come into the house without your invitation, Miss Henry, if that’s what’s concerning you.” He glanced at the girls as they ran toward the steps. “Careful going down, ladies.”
He turned back to Mary to find her studying him. “You love children.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then why aren’t you married with some of your own?” The blush that followed her rushed words bloomed across her cheekbones like a sunrise.
Jericho opened his mouth to brush off her question, but found he couldn’t. Something insisted she deserved the truth. “I planned to have a family by now. I was engaged. I’d accepted a post as U.S. Marshal for this territory and promised to send for Julie as soon as I found a place to live. I came to River’s Bend because Matt was here. We’d all grown up together and I thought having a familiar face around might make it easier when I was gone from home. But before I could return to Philadelphia to bring her here, she got tired of waiting. She decided to travel with a family coming this way. She and their eldest son were swept out of the wagon crossing a swollen river.” He went to the window to look out over the rolling hill of grass leading away toward the river. “Everyone assumed they’d both drowned.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Hawken. I didn’t mean to bring up—“
“I blamed myself.” He spoke over her words, wanting to get it all out. “Upholding the law was all I’d ever wanted to do, but I could have taken a post back east. If I hadn’t insisted on being a U.S. Marshal in some remote part of the country, if I’d stayed in Philadelphia and taken the job her father offered, she’d be alive. So I quit.”
“You resigned your position?” Mary touched his sleeve, a gentle brush of comfort.
“What kind of lawman was I if I couldn’t even protect the woman I was going to marry? I turned my badge over to Matt and swore I’d never take up the law again.”
They stood quietly for a moment, staring out the window, each lost in thought.
“Now you hire yourself out as protection to others coming west.”
Jericho hesitated before nodding. “If I can save one person, one family, the heartache… Unfortunately, I’m not always successful. That’s something I have to live with.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to ease the stiffness. To avoid giving voice to the rest.
Mary brushed elegant fingers along the polished wood of the window frame. “I owe you an apology.”
“No, ma’am, you don’t.”
Mary faced him, her shoulders back and chin up, her blue eyes as bright at the afternoon sky. “I’ve been unfair, blaming you for what happened to Penn. Ginny told me what really took place out there.” Tears glittered for a moment before she blinked them away. “If not for you, they would have died trapped beneath that wagon.”
“Ginny’s resourceful. She’d have gotten them out somehow.”
“The point is, she didn’t have to. When Virginia told me about that day, what they’d lived through, what she’d heard, I realized how close I’d come to losing all of them. You’ve given me a precious gift, Mr. Hawken, and I’m grateful.”
She paused, as if collecting her thoughts. “I know you couldn’t have saved my brother, even if you’d been there. You might not wear a badge any longer, but you’re still helping others, and that’s honorable work.”
Her words were a knife to his gut. He didn’t feel honorable, not after what happened to that wagon train. Though he didn’t plan to say them, the words poured out. “The person I told you I saw in that town, the night before your brother was killed? It was my fiancée. Julie was there.”
Her shock was obvious. “Your fiancée’s alive?”
“I didn’t believe it at first, thought too many nights on the trail had affected my eyesight. Then she spotted me, and I knew.” Jericho leaned a shoulder against the window frame. “It took some doing to get close, since she didn’t want to talk to me, but I managed. Julie finally admitted that she hadn’t wanted to marry me, so she ran away. The night she supposedly drowned, she’d run off to marry the man who’d disappeared with her.”
He straightened when she joined him at the window, her soft, womanly, scent surrounding him, drawing him in and clouding his judgment. Gripping his hands behind his back to keep from touching her, he hoped a little distance would help break the spell.
“But you’d already purchased this house for her.”
“Not for her, exactly. More for the family I thought we’d have together. After what happened, I considered selling, but I like River’s Bend. It’s a good house, built to last, but it needs a family in it. I hope you’ll consider living here, at least until you decide what to do.”
For long minutes, Mary watched the girls playing in the garden before she nodded, coming to a decision. “I believe Mr. Mansfield’s visit was a blessing. Thankful is not a welcoming town. The girls and I will be better off somewhere else. Until I determine where that is, and how I will support them, I’d like to stay in River’s Bend.” She offered her right hand. “I accept your offer. We’ll take good care of your home, Mr. Hawken.”
When Mary went to inform the girls of her decision, he let himself relax a little. If she’d pressed for more details of the attack he’d have told her the rest of it, the real reason her brother was dead. Crossing the room, he began gathering up what he’d need. There was pitifully little to pack in the saddlebags he pulled from under the bed. In one he put a spare shirt, tooth powder and brush, and a few personal items. The other he filled with all the spare ammunition he owned. He could live without another clean shirt, but not the cartridges and shells. An empty weapon would get a man killed.
With the bags full and tied, he hefted them over a shoulder and joined the ladies in the garden, where Mary named each plant as the girls took turns pointing.
“What’s that one?” Georgia sniffed at the tall spidery leaves and curled up her nose at the scent.
A slight frown formed between Mary’s delicately curved brows.
“Dill weed,” he supplied, stepping off the porch. “Mrs. Sabin, who lived here before me, used it for those.” He pointed at thick vines growing along one long edge of the garden.
“Pickles!” Carolina shouted.
Jericho laughed. “They sure were once Widow Sabin got done with them. Right now, though, they’re just cucumbers.”
“When will they be pickles?” the girl demanded.
Mary leaned over to lift Carolina’s chin with one elegant finger. “As soon as I get done with them.” She smoothed the child’s hair then held out a hand to her and Georgia. “We should get back to help Martha with lunch.”
“I’ll hire a wagon in the morning and move the girls’ belongings. I imagine Marth
a can round up some of the ladies to help set this place to rights. I didn’t realize how dusty everything had gotten.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hawken.” Mary led the way and he fell into step behind. While Carolina held onto Mary’s hand and tried to jump away from her own shadow, Georgia dropped back to slip her tiny fingers into his palm.
“It’s a very big house, Mr. Jericho. Why can’t you stay here with us?”
“Well, honey, it isn’t proper for a man to live with ladies that aren’t his wife and daughters.”
“Then get hitched to Aunt Mary and we’ll be your daughters.”
Her simple words stunned him. Or was it the image of them as a family that nearly knocked his boots from under him? He scooped the girl off her feet and settled her slight weight in his arms. “Honey, it isn’t that simple.”
She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, her brows furrowed in thought. “But Aunt Mary needs a husband.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard Miss Bittner telling Doc Bittner.”
“I don’t think that’s what she meant.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, sending her blond curls bouncing. “Doctor Bittner said it was a real sorrow that Miss Henry couldn’t retain her position and Miss Martha said she was better rid of those people and what she really needed was a husband. A woman as pretty as Mary Henry would very soon have her own children to teach and wouldn’t need a school.”
He was torn between laughter at the accurate imitation of Martha Bittner’s German accent and shock at the conversation the girl had overheard. He settled for trying to look stern. “You know better than to eavesdrop when adults are talking privately.”
“It wasn’t private. I was on the back porch shelling peas so Miss Martha could cream them for dinner and Doctor Bittner came into the kitchen with some fresh bread someone had given him as payment for a stitch or two.”
“Did he know you were there?”
Jericho had the feeling Georgia would be scuffing her toes in the dirt if her feet were touching the ground. “Miss Martha did. Though she might of forgot ’cause I’d gone upstairs for my apron and went out the front door to smell the flowers and then around to the porch.”