by Jodi Thomas
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking. I’m comfortable with you. Both of us are over a quarter of a century old and haven’t found anyone to marry. What are the chances we will? From now on it’s a downhill slope. So here we are, stuck with each other. We might as well have two weddings tonight.”
“Your proposal is very flattering, Duncan. I can’t imagine why so many girls have turned you down over the years.”
He ignored her comment. “Now think about this, Rose. You wouldn’t even have to change names. I’d make a good husband to you and no matter where I traveled or how long I was gone, I’d always come home to you. That’s what you are to me, dear, sweet Rose, you’re my home.”
When she didn’t answer, he kissed her hand. “Don’t answer me now. If you want to take an hour to mull it over, I understand. I don’t want to rush you into anything. In fact, that’s one thing I like so much about you. You put some thought into everything you do. You’re great at all the things that make a wonderful wife. You can cook and run a house. Hell, you can run the ranch. Everyone loves you, and if you ask me, you’re far better-looking than that glass princess friend of yours. You’re always a lady and good at nursing the injured. That’s important in my line of work. Hell, I’m never going to find a woman to measure up to you. Think about it.”
Rose fought the urge to kick him. “I don’t have to think about it. Good as you make it sound, the answer is no.”
“But—”
“Let me put it in words you’ll understand. Hell, no.” She sat up so she could look down on him. “Duncan McMurray, I not only don’t want you as a husband, I don’t even want you in my family. From this day on, don’t even tell people we’re cousins. No blood runs between us, but now that I’ve shot a few men it doesn’t seem all that hard. If you ever suggest marriage again, I’ll use that last bullet on you.”
“Now you’re just being stubborn.”
“Well, when did I stop being perfect?” She folded her arms to keep from thumping his head.
“About the time you turned me down. I was just being nice. You’re going to grow old and spend your days baking and sewing and wishing you’d married me. Hell, woman, we both know you love sleeping with me. We might as well be in the same bed for the rest of our lives.”
She scooted to the edge of the bed. “I’m getting the doctor. You must have been shot in the head and we didn’t notice because of all that mess of hair. It’s no wonder a woman doesn’t step out with you. They’re probably afraid of what might crawl out. Haven’t you ever thought of getting a haircut?”
“All I did was ask a question!”
The doctor poked his head in the room. “Am I needed?”
Both the McMurrays yelled, “No!”
Before he could close the door, Rose added, “You might stand by, Dr. Atamear. As soon as I find a gun, Duncan is going to need another bullet removed.”
The doctor closed the door mumbling something about waiting until he heard gunfire before he’d return.
She stormed around the room, throwing things.
“What is the matter with you?” Duncan leaned back. “You’ve never acted like this. Have you gone completely mad, Rose?”
“Well, maybe it’s about time I did get mad. Really mad. If being efficient and calm gets me a marriage of convenience, maybe it’s time I threw a few fits.”
“You don’t have to take my proposal like some kind of insult.”
She stopped and glared at him. “I don’t have to take it at all.” She stepped out the balcony door onto the rainy little covered walkway. The thought crossed her mind that she should yell for Stitch to come toss Duncan off into the garden as he’d offered to do for August Myers. Maybe all men are good for is smashing the rosebushes below.
Looking down, she yelled, “I hate roses!”
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement from the end of the balcony. When she turned, she saw Stitch walking toward her.
“You all right, miss?” he asked in his low, rich voice.
“No, I think I’m cracking up.”
“Things will settle down,” he offered. “They always, eventually, do.”
She shoved wet hair out of her eyes. “Stitch, would you be able to buy me a gun belt that fits around my waist? I want one that has two holsters and two pistols. Not the huge ones, but something small that I can handle easily.”
“I know a shop that could fix you up, but it’ll cost you.”
“I’ll pay whatever. Just tell Hallie to give you what you think you’ll need. When we move Duncan to the train tonight, I want to be well armed. Those two kidnappers were the dumbest outlaws in the world not to have opened my coat and checked for a gun. I won’t be so lucky next time.”
“You think there will be a next time, miss?”
“Yes.”
“Me too. If all the folks who want to kill you people could vote, you could get elected governor.”
Rose smiled. “You have a way about you, Stitch. You always manage to make me feel better. Promise you’ll never ask me to marry you.”
He laughed. “I’m too old for you, miss. You need a man who can fire those cheeks with passion, not anger.”
“I fear he doesn’t exist.”
Stitch moved away, but she thought she heard him mumble something about such a man already being in her bed.
Chapter 29
Stitch moved, as always, unnoticed through the streets. He took care of plans for leaving even though he knew he wouldn’t be going with them. Deep down he knew he should stay near Killian and that meant leaving, but there was no way he could travel with the judge and remain undetected. If the newly married couple did see him, they’d think he was hunting them. To them, he was nothing but a stranger.
He bought the tickets and moved boards into the train car so he could make a swinging bed for Duncan. He’d seen one once at the Yankee hospital he’d been shipped to. It was just ropes and boards, but it swayed with the movement of a train or wagon making it easier on someone who was hurt.
By the time he had it rigged up, it was almost dark. He needed to check on Victoria and Killian before he went back to his post on the balcony outside Rose’s hotel room.
The bakery was dark. A ranger was watching the door, but he didn’t see Stitch slip into the coal chute. From there, Stitch moved across the bakery kitchen knowing if he accidentally hit something, he’d be dead before he’d have time to explain.
Silently, he moved up the little stairs off the kitchen to the boarded-up door. Peeping through the cracks, he saw Killian sitting at the table. The exhaustion he wore on his face did not make him look like a man about to marry the woman he loved.
Maybe he was worried about Myers finding her. Maybe he’d changed his mind and didn’t know how to back out. Killian wasn’t a ladies’ man. In the years Stitch had watched him he’d never seen the judge step out for the evening. He was polite to women, even the ones in saloons, but he never climbed the stairs with one.
Stitch felt helpless. For the first time there was nothing he could do to help. Killian had made his own bed here and a ghost of a brother couldn’t even offer advice.
“I think we should talk about things, Victoria.”
“What things?” She moved into the kitchen whirling around. “Do you think this dress is still too short? I could have Hallie take it down another half an inch. I wish I could get into my trousseau, but my father made me swear I wouldn’t open a single trunk until after I was a married lady.”
“I think the dress is fine,” Killian said without bothering to notice what she was wearing. “Hallie, would you excuse us a minute?”
“Of course, Judge. I need to go downstairs for some thread anyway.” The rather chubby maid left them alone.
Killian stood and waited until Hallie was gone, then said, “Victoria, we need to talk about important things. Things people about to be married discuss.”
“Like what?” she said, still not giving him her full attention
.
“Like money and kids and where we’ll live. Like are we going to have a real marriage or is this just a show to get you out of this mess? I can handle it either way, but I have to know from the start.”
She looked up at him and smiled. “A real marriage, I think. Do you think Rose would let us have Hallie as a housekeeper? She’s really wonderful. I think I could manage being a proper wife if I had someone who could help me.”
Killian tried to get her back on track. “What do you think a real marriage is, Victoria?”
“You’ll pick where we live. I’ll decorate the house. You’ll go to work and I’ll run all that happens in the home as well as do all the shopping. At night you’ll come home and sometimes we’ll have dinner alone, but other times we’ll go out. No matter where we live, we’ll go out, promise me. I don’t think I could live someplace where I didn’t have a social life. And we’ll have to travel to Austin now and then. I always want to visit my mother’s grave.”
“Who handles the money?”
“You will. When I marry, my trust goes to you. You’ll give me a nice allowance and I’ll do my best to spend it. I like spending money, but it’s not something I have to do.”
“Of course.” He fought to ask what he wanted to know. “What if all the money disappears—will you leave me?”
“No,” she answered. “I think I will like being married to you, Killian. Did you know that in the two years since we met at the cemetery you’ve never once yelled at me? I think that speaks well of the husband you’ll be.”
Killian tried again. “And will you sleep with me?”
She shook her head, giving his question little thought. “I don’t think so, Killian. I’ve always slept alone. You’d probably keep me awake.”
With that she walked out of the room. Stitch watched Killian pace for a minute, then take off down the stairs.
Victoria stepped back into the kitchen looking for him as if he were a necklace she’d misplaced. “Killian?”
She stomped her foot. “Why is that man always disappearing?”
“He’s uncertain,” Stitch answered.
Victoria looked around. “Shawn, is that you?”
Stitch didn’t answer for a long while. It seemed far too odd to be pretending to be a ghost. Having Killian talk about his brother the ghost was one thing, but hanging around talking to people was quite another.
Finally he said the only thing he thought might help. “Killian doesn’t want to sleep alone.”
“Really,” Victoria said, but footsteps sounded on the stairs before she could ask more.
Killian walked back in the little kitchen. “I shouldn’t have left. That’s no way to work things out. If we’re going to have a prayer of making this work, we’ve got to talk about more than the hem on your dress.”
Victoria moved up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Would you like me to sleep with you when we’re married?”
Killian looked at her and smiled. “Yes, I think so. I think I’d like that very much.”
She kissed his cheek. “Then I will.”
He caught her hand and pulled her gently against him. “Do you know what sleeping with me means?”
“Of course.”
He kissed her mouth before the words were completely out.
She settled into his kiss and Stitch decided he probably shouldn’t be watching. As he began to move away he heard her whisper, “Promise to kiss me every night.”
Stitch smiled, deciding Killian was too busy kissing her to answer.
As he moved down the stairs, he figured it might be time to give up his ghosting job. Killian was going to have his hands full and Stitch had a feeling there would be no more night drinking.
Chapter 30
Second Avenue
Abe used his umbrella as a cane as he moved across the street in late afternoon shadows. He’d used it enough that he’d learned to trust his weight every other step. Maybe he should think about buying one of those fancy canes with the gold knobs like Sam Houston always carried. No one called the man a cripple when he’d been shot fighting for Texas independence.
Out of breath, Abe made it to the door of the schoolhouse. He paused a minute, trying to think about what he planned to do. If he went inside, it would change things, maybe forever, and things seemed to be changing every day lately. He almost missed the days and weeks of calm sameness but not nearly as much as he’d miss Sara Norman if she was gone from his life.
Setting his jaw for whatever blow came, he opened the schoolhouse door without knocking. He figured his heart was doing enough pounding to be heard a half block away.
Miss Norman stood when she saw him, but she didn’t move from behind the desk. “Mr. Henderson,” she said more in the way of stating a fact than in greeting. She’d worn her gray suit today and seemed to blend in with her surroundings.
He walked halfway across the room and braced the umbrella against his bad leg. “Miss Norman, I’ve come to ask if you’d like to attend my friend’s wedding tonight. It’s nothing fancy, but I’d like you there with me if you’re willing.”
“I have papers to grade.” She looked down at the stack of papers on her desk.
Abe didn’t speak. He had no intention of asking again or begging. It wasn’t his way. “Well, then,” was all he could think of to say. He dreaded the walk back across the street.
She met his gaze before he had time to turn. “I’d be honored to accompany you, Mr. Henderson. I’ll make an exception and not work tonight.”
He nodded once and turned to leave. At the door, he stopped and looked back. “I don’t know the time, but I’ll pick you up at the boardinghouse.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He closed the door and walked back to his store.
Once inside, he dried off and told himself the request went well. He could have made small talk, but he’d never been good at that. She’d said yes and that was all he’d gone across the street to hear.
Walking to the front of the store, he looked out at her working. He didn’t like talking to her and he guessed she felt the same. Abe had never had much to say to anyone, including Killian. There were times when they spent an hour drinking coffee without saying much to each other.
Abe remembered back to his childhood. His parents rarely talked to each other, much less him. When he’d come home hurting and barely able to move, his mother would deliver his meal at night, then climb the stairs and eat hers alone. At first he’d spent the days in his study behind the shelves reading. Sometimes he could hear people talking, but his mother never said more than was necessary. She always believed visiting slowed the buying down. She’d come in with lunch not to talk but to explain the books while he ate. By the time he could stand, he knew every detail of the business and had taken over the daily bookwork of ordering and accounts.
His mother never questioned him or thanked him. After all, he was just doing what was expected of him.
Abe watched Miss Norman as she stood and pulled on her coat. The need to hold her almost buckled his knees.
She closed up the schoolhouse and rushed across the street to his store. Abe was alone. No one had been in the store for two hours. Henry was out making a delivery, and Killian and the two rangers had taken Victoria back to the hotel.
Miss Norman blew in with the wind. For a moment he thought she’d changed her mind and was coming to tell him, but she was laughing as she shook the rain from her wool shawl.
“I’m glad you’re still open, Mr. Henderson. I thought I’d buy a new scarf to wear tonight.” She smiled at him with that tight little smile of hers.
He moved almost formally to the shelf that held all the scarves he carried. As she looked through them, he didn’t say a word. He wanted to see her hair down, not up and covered.
“May we speak frankly, Miss Norman?”
“Of course, Mr. Henderson.” She didn’t look up at him. After all, here in the open, they were little more than strangers.
“The wedding w
e’ll be attending will be small, but Killian is my best friend and I’m standing up as witness.” He paused, thinking how he’d kissed her so tenderly, but now he hesitated to ask a favor. “I’m honored to do so. He’s a fine man.”
“Yes,” she said, finally looking up at him.
Abe got to the point. “Would you be willing to help me pick out a wedding present?”
She smiled then. “Of course, Mr. Henderson. I’d love to.”
A few minutes later the postman, a large fellow named Stanten, came in for his nightly cigar. Abe excused himself with a nod to Miss Norman and rang up the postman’s purchase while she shopped for just the right gift.
Stanten seemed to want to visit, probably to have time to smoke his cigar before he made it home to the missus. There had been another woman murdered in the back alleys of Hell’s Half Acre. “Third one,” the postman said loud enough for Sara to overhear. “It’s getting to where the streets aren’t safe. They say whoever did it didn’t even rob her, just beat her to death. No one knows who the poor thing was.”
Abe didn’t want Sara to hear the details so he tried to change the subject, but Stanten wanted to talk.
Five minutes passed before Sara put one of the quilts on the counter. Abe ordered them from a woman he thought was a real artist with a needle.
For a second, her eyes met Abe’s and he nodded his approval. Then, without a word, she picked up her new scarf and handed him a dollar.
Abe wanted to tell her not to pay. He’d gladly give her it for a gift, but he guessed she wouldn’t take it, not with Stanten watching. He gave her the change and wrapped the scarf in paper. “Thank you, Miss Norman.”
“You’re welcome,” she said as she headed toward the door.
Henry was coming in and stopped to hold the door for her in a polite, impersonal kind of way.
“Miss Norman,” the postman called. “Let me give you a lift to your boardinghouse. Tonight is not a night to be walking.”
Abe didn’t want her to go. He wanted to lock up and pull her back into his study, but he said nothing as she hesitated, then finally agreed to the lift.