Carson's Christmas Bride (Hero Hearts; Lawmen's Brides Book 3)

by Natalie Dean

  Chapter 3

  When the stagecoach stopped to let off the passengers who were getting off at Newton, Texas, the town before Knox Mills, Sarah cajoled the driver into letting her go into the hotel to freshen up. He grumbled that it would delay them, but when she bestowed upon him a full-lipped smile that sent her cheekbones soaring and made her emerald eyes gleam, he faltered and said that he supposed a few minutes wouldn’t make much difference either way, and no doubt the horses would be glad of a rest.

  Sarah thanked him in the lilting Charleston accent that sounded like her words were as soft as rose petals. When he saw her struggling to lift her carpetbag, he insisted on carrying it to the hotel for her. “Thank you so much,” she said. “You see, I’m going to meet my husband in Knox Mills, and I want to look my very best.”

  “Ma’am,” he said as they approached the hotel desk where the clerk had sprung to attention when he saw Sarah, “your very best must be a spectacle of beauty because you surely couldn’t look any finer than you do now.”

  “You flatter me, sir. If all men in Texas flatter like you do, I shall be quite overcome.”

  Somehow, the hotel clerk was willing to allow her to use a room, without paying for it, for the purpose of freshening up, and the driver carried her carpetbag up the stairs, reminding her that when she was ready to leave, she was to send him word and he would carry it back to the stagecoach for her.

  In the room, Sarah washed her face in the basin that the clerk had sent up. There was not time to change her dress, but she thought that her light green poplin frock was holding up very well. She retied the ribbon of her hat and surveyed herself in the mirror. Satisfied with her appearance, she left the room after dabbing on her favorite gardenia scent.

  She was the only passenger left on the stagecoach. The passengers had been very kind and very interested in her story, marveling that she had come all this way to marry and carry on missionary work in Texas. Now that she was alone, she felt trepidation creeping in. It had been easy to sound confident and assured when she was talking to others, but in solitude, as the horses’ hooves pounded the ground, every step bringing her closer to her husband, she was aware of uncertainty.

  What if—

  Then she tossed her head. There was no “what if,” she told herself. There was Dr. Graham Boone, the town physician, waiting for her to join him in the work that she was meant to do. This was why she had left Charleston. Her fate was here.

  The stagecoach pulled to a stop. The door opened, and the driver stood in front of her, his arm out to help her down. “You tell me where to take your things, ma’am,” he said as she alighted.

  “I . . .” her gaze fell upon a tall young man with a scowl on his face. “Excuse me, sir, but I was to have been met by Dr. Boone. Can you tell me where I might find him?”

  “I’ll take you to him,” the young man said, sounding as if he were not at all pleased to do so.

  “Sir,” Sarah said in a forbidding tone made all the more effective because it was delivered in a velvet Charleston accent, “I am sure that I have no wish to put you out.”

  “I’m just following orders,” he said.

  The stagecoach driver looked as if he were not at all sure of what to do. “See here,” he said. “This lady has come a long way to meet her husband.”

  “I said I’d take her to him, didn’t I? Come over here, I’ve got a wagon hitched up.”

  It was of course disappointing that Dr. Boone was not present to greet her, but as he was a doctor, Sarah reminded herself, that his hours were not his own. A physician could not indulge his own wishes when patients needed him. She smiled at the stagecoach driver and thanked him fulsomely for his kindness. “And your courteous manner,” she said. “You have been a true chevalier.”

  The stagecoach driver wasn’t at all sure what a chevalier was, but he knew it was something good and he also knew that the young man standing beside the wagon to help the lady up wasn’t no chevalier. He put her trunks in the back of the wagon and tipped his hat once again. “Best of luck to you, ma’am,” he said. “You now, young man,” he said, “you see that she comes to no harm.”

  Carson’s dark eyes fixed the driver as if his gaze were made of bayonets. “I’m a U.S. Deputy,” he said. “If she comes to harm, it won’t be from me.”

  Somewhat reassured that her escort, although sullen and disagreeable, was a lawman, Sarah gave her gloved hand to the stagecoach driver. “Thank you again for your care,” she said. “I’m sure I am in very good hands.”

  Carson slapped the reins against the horse, who responded immediately. Sarah, who had not been expecting movement, grabbed onto her hat.

  “You might have let me know,” she said frigidly, “that you were ready to depart.”

  “What the devil did you think we were doing?” Carson demanded. “Your bags were in the back and I was holding the reins. Did you think we were stopping for tea?”

  “There’s no need to be rude,” she said

  “I’m not rude.”

  “Are all men in Texas like this?” she inquired.

  Carson started to answer, then held his tongue. It wasn’t this girl’s fault that his pride was singed at being reprimanded in front of Justin Ward, or that he’d been ordered to be there when she arrived, as Benjamin had taken on the task of dragging the drunken doctor out of the saloon and delivering him to his cabin, where, Jack decided, he could be cleaned up and made fit to meet his bride. It was beyond Carson’s understanding that lawmen were now in the business of arranging weddings. Justin had been sent to fetch the preacher and bring him to the cabin so that everything would be proper; he hadn’t looked any more pleased at his assignment than Carson was with his, but he hadn’t demurred.

  Smallpox. A runaway slave. Comanches. And here he was, Carson thought, bringing a bride to her husband. She was too pretty to be wasted on the likes of Graham Boone, in Carson’s opinion. He stole a side glance at her. She was looking straight ahead, ignoring him, but she sure did have a beautiful profile, Carson thought. Skin that looked as soft and creamy as if she bathed in morning dew, and thick, long, dark eyelashes that lent her features a beguiling, sleepy gaze. There wasn’t much that could usually be said about noses, in Carson’s experience, but hers was dainty and pert. She had full lips of a deep shade of pink that reminded him of a dusky rose, and he’d spied a dimple in her cheek when she had thanked the stagecoach driver with a smile that made a man wish he could just sit and stare at her all day long. Her hat covered most of her hair, but what he did see beneath the curved brim was as black as his own, but glossy and shiny as if she’d managed to capture sunlight in the dark tresses.

  Too pretty for the likes of a drunk like Boone, he thought. But if people wanted to marry, that was their business. He wasn’t for marrying. He liked women and women liked him back, but he wasn’t courting anyone, and he wasn’t ever getting married.

  Forgetting that she was irked by him, Sarah asked, “Are we almost there?”

  “Another twenty minutes,” Carson said.

  “So far from town?”

  “This isn’t far,” he said.

  “It seems very far to me.”

  “That’s because you’re not used to Texas.”

  “I am from South Carolina,” she said. “Charleston.”

  “I’m from Tennessee,” he said. “Originally.”

  “I don’t know anyone from Tennessee,” Sarah said.

  She sounded to Carson as if she thought it wasn’t worthwhile knowing anyone from Tennessee. “I suppose that, compared to you Charlestonians, Tennessee folks seem like a rough lot.”

  “I could not venture to say. Whereabouts in Tennessee were you from?”

  “It’s a little town along the Mississippi,” he said. “You won’t have heard of it. It’s not a fine city like Charleston.”

  Sarah did not think there were any cities quite like Charleston, but that did not signify, as she had chosen to leave the city of her birth. She did not wish to se
em rude to this lawman; no doubt his rough ways and unfriendly demeanor came from the nature of his work. Such labor would make a man hard-edged, she guessed. There must be any number of villains in Texas; it was, after all, a wild and untamed place, so the stories said.

  “I am looking forward to living in Texas,” she said.

  “Knox Mills isn’t like Charleston either.”

  Really, he was determined to be a lout. “I am aware of that,” she said, her words coming forth like frozen syllables. “I am looking forward to the change.”

  That sounded odd to Carson. Why would a proper young woman choose to leave the elegance of a big city like Charleston to come to Knox Mills, Texas?

  “I hope Knox Mills meets with your approval,” he said.

  “I am very sure that it will!” Aware that her voice sounded shrill, and Mother had always told her that a lady never, ever allowed her voice to reflect a state of heated emotions, Sarah added, “I have wanted to see Texas ever since I nursed the soldiers who were wounded in the war.”

  “You nursed soldiers?” he said, incredulity plain in his words.

  She didn’t look old enough to have nursed anyone. She looked like she’d only be a few years out of the schoolroom herself. Despite her obvious youth, she had that Southern belle look that he recalled from his youth in Tennessee; it was the poise of a woman who knew she was beautiful and desirable and that, if she chose to, she could wrap a roomful of men around her little finger. Well, maybe she could do that with other men, but he was immune to that siren call, Carson thought. Pretty she was, he’d give her that, and he didn’t mind looking at her. But marrying . . . not that he wanted to marry her. She was marrying drunken Graham Boone, but that was her choice.

  Chapter 4

  Sarah tried to conceal her dismay, but the sight of four children in their shabby best, their faces scrubbed, their expressions dour, was daunting. Not, however, as daunting as the appearance of Dr. Graham Boone, whose suit was rumpled and hair tousled, his hat askew and his breath, frankly, reeking of spirits.

  “My dear,” he said, “how pleasant it is to finally see you. As you can see, my children are eager to meet you.”

  Four faces, not at all eager, stared at her. Dr. Boone was a widower; no doubt his children missed their mother, who had perished in the town’s smallpox epidemic that summer. But . . .

  “You did not tell me,” she said, struggling to keep her manner calm, “that you had children.”

  “Did I not?” he asked. “How could I have forgotten that?”

  “How, indeed?” she asked, her intonation imperious.

  Boone’s façade slipped, and he glowered at her. “I’m sure I mentioned them,” he said. “You must not remember.”

  Benjamin and Carson exchanged glances. This wasn’t going well. Justin would be arriving any minute with the preacher in tow and what Reverend McCallister was going to think of this when he came to perform the marriage, Carson couldn’t even begin to guess.

  Benjamin stepped forward. “The preacher will be coming soon,” he said. “To marry you,” he added when no one responded.

  “I cannot possibly marry Dr. Boone,” Sarah declared.

  Boone shifted and turned to her. “What do you mean,” he demanded, “that you can’t marry me?”

  “You have not presented yourself truthfully. You did not tell me about your children. You are clearly intoxicated. I will not marry a man who lies and is a drunkard.”

  “You—" Boone called her a name that, in Texas, was not an acceptable form of address for a respectable lady. Benjamin stepped forward, but as Boone raised his hand and struck her face, it was Carson’s quick movement that stopped him from hitting her again. When Boone struggled to release himself from the deputy’s grasp, he was met by Carson’s fist. Boone fell to the ground.

  “You’re under arrest,” Carson said to the man laying supine at his feet. Together, he and Benjamin hoisted the limp Boone and placed him in the back of the wagon.

  As the men got into the wagon, Sarah asked, “What—what are you doing? I am returning to town, too! I am not marrying this man!”

  Benjamin raised a hand. “We’ll let Reverend McCallister know that his services aren’t needed,” he assured her.

  “But I can’t stay here.”

  She could not fathom why the two men exchanged glances when it was quite obvious that she could not remain where she was and she would have to get on the very next stagecoach.

  The deputy jumped down from the wagon. “I’ll take care of this,” he said.

  Benjamin nodded. “I’ll take Boone back to jail.”

  Back to jail? Sarah heard the words. Back to jail sounded as if her intended husband had been there recently.

  “I don’t understand,” she protested as the wagon drove away with its unconscious passenger ignominiously handcuffed in the back.

  “Nothing to understand, ma’am,” Carson said. “But since you’re here, and you came here with the intention of marrying Boone, I guess you’ll be taking care of these children.”

  The four faces, united in disapproval, met her horrified gaze stolidly.

  “I can’t,” Sarah said. “I’m very sorry, but I’m not at all equipped to deal with this.”

  The deputy gave her an appraising glance that began at her eyes and traveled down her entire body in a manner which she regarded as quite indecent. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Just because I am a woman does not mean that I am prepared to be a mother to four children.”

  “Hey, kids,” Carson called. “Why don’t you go play? You’ve been standing so long in your Sunday best, but I’ll bet you’re ready to shuck those duds and get back into your everydays. Go ahead, now.”

  The children scampered into the cabin as if he had uttered a magic incantation that transformed them from stiff miniature adults into boys and girls again.

  “It’s like this, ma’am,” the deputy said to her. “These children shouldn’t be left alone. Their father—well, you’ve seen what he is. You can see that they need care.”

  “I have never looked after a child in my life,” she said to him, “and I am not at all prepared to look after four of them. You have seen how they regard me. They are quite hostile.”

  “They just lost their mother less than three months ago,” Carson said. “You can understand why they’d be hostile to someone taking her place.”

  “He did not tell me he had children,” Sarah told him. Surely he would understand. “I came here to nurse and to do missionary work, not to take on the care of four children.”

  “It seems to me, ma’am, that taking care of four children would count as nursing and missionary work.”

  He sounded entirely too much like Mary with those words. “They are not my children,” she said, straining to be patient. “I have no ties to the children of the man I refuse to marry.”

  “Where are you planning to go? Back to Charleston?”

  Was there a jeering note in his voice? She had begun to reply that yes, she would be returning home, but she suddenly realized that if she did so, her family’s predictions would be true and she would have failed. She would never again have such a chance to make her own way in the world as she had now. “No,” she heard her voice say, “I am not returning to Charleston. I intend to remain in Knox Mills.”

  “Then you might as well stay here. The cabin is clean and the children could use a bit of mothering. They’re good kids.”

  It didn’t matter whether they were good or the devil’s own, she thought. She had not been brought up to rear children.

  “Ma’am,” Carson said. “I reckon you’ll have no trouble finding a husband in Knox Mills.”

  She started to thank him for the compliment, but he went on to say, “After the smallpox epidemic this summer, there’s a fair number of men who were left widowed. They’ll notice you right fast.”

  “I suppose they have children that need minding,” she snapped.

  Carson
grinned. “They do. Married folks and children seem to go together. These kids are good. They know how to take care of themselves. Their pa is going to be spending some time in jail; in Texas, a man who hits a woman is almost as low as a horse thief. While he’s in the jail cell, you can stay here.”

  “I—I don’t know what to do,” she said as he turned to leave.

  “You’ll figure it out,” he replied, walking away with an easy gait, his long legs making short work of the distance.

  “Wait! Are you walking back to town?”

  “I can’t fly now, can I?” he said without turning around.

  “But it’s so far!”

  “It’s not far in Texas,” he laughed.

  Sarah turned around. Lined up in front of the cabin, this time wearing what the Deputy had called their ‘everydays’, the children stared back at her.

  Sarah managed a smile. “Well, children,” she said. “I suppose we should introduce ourselves. I am Sarah Baker. What are your names?”

  “You’re not our mother,” the tallest boy told her.

  “No, I am not, “she said, “but as I am here, we might as well make the best of it. Do you have names, or should I address you by number?”

  Silence. The children continued to stare at her, four identical freckled, unsmiling faces with blue eyes that reminded her of the water in Charleston Harbor during wintertime, cold and blue and forbidding. “Very well,” she said. “You shall be One,” she pointed to the eldest boy. “You are Two,” she told the eldest girl. “Three,” to the younger girl, “and Four,” to the littlest boy. “If we manage nothing else, we shall at least perfect your arithmetic. One, if you will assist me, we will bring my trunks into the cabin.”

  The oldest boy obliged as if he were not ready for the rebellion of defying an adult. With a qualm, she told him to bring the trunk into their father’s bedroom. It was not a room she intended to share with Dr. Boone, but it was where she would sleep while she remained here. They brought the second trunk in; the youngest boy following along as if he wanted to help.

  “Thank you,” Sarah said, brushing her hands. “Now, I am quite parched after the journey. Have you any lemonade in the springhouse?”