The Cowboy's Honor

by Amy Sandas

“It won’t take a minute,” Dean said as he once again led the way into the judge’s chamber.

  Exactly as yesterday, the judge sat at his large desk behind stacks of paperwork. He looked up at their entrance, showing only mild curiosity at their return.

  “Mr. Lawton, Mrs. Lawton,” he said in a gravelly drawl. “What can I do for you today?”

  Courtney nearly flinched at being addressed in such a way. The term made this marriage seem that much more real, as ridiculous as it was, and momentarily threw her into a panic that stole her voice.

  Dean was not similarly affected. “We need an annulment.”

  The judge stilled. Bushy brows dropped dramatically over his eyes, and his thin lips pressed into a harsh line. His sharp gaze jumped back and forth between them, taking in their appearance and their manner, which was clearly one of discomfort and impatience. Then he released a breath that was somewhere between a sigh and cough as he leaned back in his chair.

  Meeting Dean’s eyes, he said, “No.”

  Courtney was stunned by the denial. Of course, the judge would grant an annulment. He couldn’t just refuse, could he?

  Her attention flew from the judge to the man beside her. Her husband appeared more irritated than stunned as he took a step forward, his body tall and tense. “What do you mean no?”

  “I mean, Mr. Lawton, that I will not grant you an annulment. You came in here yesterday all fired up and demanded a civil union. I performed that union. You then took your bride home. Why the hell would I allow an annulment the very next day?”

  The rising frustration in the man beside her was almost palpable.

  Courtney felt only a growing sense of disbelief. What kind of place was this where a man married a stranger off the street and a judge could refuse to do his civic duty?

  “We didn’t suit.” The words were low and forced through gritted teeth.

  “You can’t know that after less than one day.”

  “Excuse me…Judge Wilkerson, is it?” Courtney asked as she also stepped forward to once again stand beside the man who was currently her husband. She needed to do something to end this farce. “I am afraid this situation was actually a bit of a misunderstanding.” She smiled and gestured toward her husband as she continued. “We both made some erroneous assumptions yesterday that led to the union of which you speak. We are simply here today to rectify that situation. We should not have married in the first place.”

  The judge sat quietly as she spoke. When she finished, he reached for a small case set at the edge of his desk and withdrew a thick cigar. Bringing it to his nose, he took a long sniff before meeting her gaze across his desk.

  “Whatever they were, the circumstances that brought you here yesterday don’t change the current situation. You two are married. Husband and wife. And I will not tear that union asunder on a whim. We have far too few weddings in these parts—too few women—to take such a thing lightly.”

  “But, Your Honor—” Courtney began before her argument was cut short by the judge rising to his feet.

  “I will give you one month. One month to discover if you might suit after all. Take your bride home, Lawton. If you still do not want each other after four weeks’ time, come back and I will dissolve the union.”

  “Judge—” Dean started.

  “That’s my final word,” the judge stated sharply. “Now go. I must prepare for my next meeting.”

  “Your Honor—” Courtney tried again, but Dean grasped her firmly by the elbow. When she looked up at him, he gave a short jerk of his head. He led her from the room with long strides, past the clerk and out onto the boardwalk. Courtney practically had to run to keep up with him and finally managed to free herself from his grip once they reached the street.

  “Hold on just one moment, Mr. Lawton,” she said as she spun around to face him. “Tell me he did not mean what he just said.”

  Dean stood there with his eyes narrowed and his jaw tight. His words were hard and heavy. “He meant it.”

  “That cannot possibly be ethical. Or lawful.”

  “Ethics don’t matter. And Wilkerson is the law. If he says four weeks, then that’s what it is.”

  “Well, we have to change his mind. We have to explain. We have to go back in there,” she finished as she started to step around him and march right back into the judge’s office.

  She was brought up short again by Dean’s hand around her arm, gentle but firm. “It won’t do any good. Any more arguing on our part is likely to extend the duration.”

  “Would you stop doing that!” she shouted as she shook off his hand. Her breath was getting tight. She pressed her hand to her sternum and tried to breathe deeply—a difficult task with her cinched corset. “I will not,” she stated in a fierce whisper. “Stay married. To you.”

  “We’ve got no choice,” he replied, his voice low but still tight with his own angry resistance.

  Courtney shook her head in denial. “I do not accept that,” she stated emphatically.

  “You have to,” he countered.

  “There must be a way.”

  His expression darkened to one of frustration. “Wilkerson ain’t one to be circumvented.”

  “It is ludicrous.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  Knowing he didn’t want this any more than she did, she found his acceptance infuriating. The hopelessness of the situation was like a weight pressing her into the earth. Her instinct was to push back, to fight it. “I do not want to be your wife.”

  He stepped toward her again, the look on his face dark, his tone harsh when he spoke. “I sure as hell don’t want to be your husband. But for four weeks, that’s what we are, so get over it.”

  Courtney’s chest heaved as anger replaced her quiet panic. “You did this. You and your heavy-handed, thoughtless actions. I came out here to finally feel free, to make my own choices in the world. And now I am trapped in this situation with you due to no fault of my own. By no choice of my own. I will not just get over it.”

  “Then you’d better start planning for the next four weeks to be a living hell.”

  Her eyes widened. “Is that a threat?”

  “It’s whatever you make it, princess. I’ve gotta go pick something up at the post office, and then we’re heading back to the ranch. I’m not gonna waste any more of my day arguing with you about something that can’t be changed.”

  He didn’t bother waiting for her to respond. He just turned and walked away, leaving Courtney standing there with at least a half dozen people staring at her from the boardwalks and doorways nearby.

  Lawton didn’t seem bothered by all the attention they’d garnered, if he’d even noticed it, but Courtney was far too ingrained with the desire to avoid scenes and scandal at all costs. The little audience made her flush bright with embarrassment. Straightening her posture, she lifted her chin as she swept her gaze over all of those still staring at her.

  One by one, they glanced away.

  Grateful to no longer have anyone witnessing her growing uncertainty, she almost allowed her shoulders to drop a little. But then her gaze lit on a decoratively painted sign across the street. Her breath caught as she was hit with a delightful burst of inspiration.

  With a half smile forming on her lips, she grasped her extra-long skirts in both hands and started across the dirt street to a quaint little corner shop with large windows displaying ready-made dresses and bonnets.

  It was about time she had something to wear other than this cursed wedding gown. And her dear husband was going to foot the bill.

  Chapter Nine

  It took Dean more than an hour to find her. And by then, his frustration was high.

  When he retrieved the package his brother had actually sent him to pick up from the post office, he understood what his brother had meant about Dean knowing it when he saw it. The postmaster opened the
crate so Dean could verify the delivery. Inside was a baby cradle in a similar design to the one their mother had used for them.

  He’d carried the heavy crate back to the wagon, only to find that his bride had not heeded his instruction. She was nowhere about.

  First, Dean went to the boardinghouse, thinking she’d head there in an attempt to set some distance between them. That wasn’t an option for them, however. Judge Wilkerson stated she was to go back to the ranch with Dean. If he found out she had gotten a room in town instead, the old man was likely to extend their marriage by another week. It was the kind of man he was.

  Dean cursed himself, as he had about a thousand times since yesterday. The consequences of his rash and misguided decision just continued to multiply.

  When Mabel at the boardinghouse told him she hadn’t caught a single glimpse of a redheaded woman in a wedding gown, he strode down the street to the restaurant. Maybe she had stepped inside for a bite to eat. They had left the house without breakfast. It would have been a reasonable assumption to think the woman might be hungry.

  She wasn’t there either. And hadn’t been seen.

  After leaving the restaurant, Dean stood on the boardwalk and scanned up and down the main road through town. He was sorely tempted to forget about the woman and just head over to the saloon for a much-needed drink. But that would only delay things, and he had to get back to the ranch. This was the second day now that he’d had to leave his responsibilities to come to town.

  He might have caused this blasted situation, but he’d be damned if he’d allow it to be stretched out any longer than absolutely necessary. The woman was going to have to learn that if she wanted to make it through the next four weeks as painlessly as possible, she’d have to stop being so damned contrary and just do things his way.

  And right now, all he wanted to do was get out of town and return to the ranch.

  Where the hell did she go?

  He checked the bank, the church, the general store, and the dentist’s office.

  Hot, tired, and frustrated, it wasn’t until he circled back around toward the wagon that he caught sight of the dressmaker’s shop.

  The shop had opened a couple of months ago, and he couldn’t imagine it had gotten much business, with so few women in the area. But today there happened to be one more.

  Sure enough, when he ducked in through the doors and heard the chatter of female voices coming from the back of the store, he recognized the cultured tones of his bride. He gingerly made his way past a little sitting area arranged with curved and cushioned chairs upholstered in a pale-pink shade. A crystal vase holding full-blown roses stood on a slim-legged table, and the shop was filled with the flowers’ scent. As he sidestepped past elegant displays of ribbons and lace samples, the phrase “a bull in a china shop” came to mind. He’d never felt so large and physically awkward.

  But he forged on.

  Stacks of cloth bolts in various colors, patterns, and fabrics covered two long worktables near the back of the store. A familiar pile of white froth had been tossed onto a nearby chair.

  Beyond that stood a folding privacy screen that effectively concealed the only other two occupants in the shop—his wayward bride and, presumably, the dressmaker.

  “Here is another one I’ve almost finished,” the dressmaker said. “I can alter it to your measurements easily enough. It would make a wonderful day dress. Very pretty, but practical enough for life on a ranch.”

  Hit with the realization that his bride was dressing and undressing just beyond that flimsy screen, Dean came to a sudden stop. The muscles in his thighs tensed as unwelcome heat shot through his insides. He ground his back teeth and chased away the unwelcome physical reaction.

  She was just a woman. One with a fiery temper and an uppity attitude who happened to be stuck in his life for the next four weeks. Nothing more.

  “It is pretty,” his wife replied softly. There was a note of reluctance in her voice. Likely, she was fighting her disgust over the plainer fashions worn by the women of these parts. She wasn’t going to find anything with near the elegance of the creation she’d shown up wearing.

  His bout of lust back under control, Dean crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the post beside him. He didn’t relish having to wait for the woman in this den of femininity, but he wasn’t about to let her out of his sight again until the ink was dry on the annulment paperwork.

  “I’ll take this one as well,” she stated after another minute.

  “As you wish, Mrs. Lawton. I will have it delivered with the rest of your order as soon as it’s properly altered. And you’re sure it’s all to be billed to the Lawton Ranch?”

  The sound of fabric sliding over skin reached Dean as the dress was removed.

  “Indeed. As I said, it’s my husband’s wedding gift to me. I can’t very well be expected to manage as a proper Western wife if all I have to wear is my wedding gown.”

  The smugness in her voice was not lost on Dean, and he clenched his teeth against refuting her claim. He’d had enough of making a fool of himself today. If she wanted to charge a few frocks to the ranch, so be it. If it’d assure her cooperation, it was worth the cost.

  “But don’t you want to keep it at least? It’s so lovely that it could become a family heirloom.”

  “No.” The reply was swift and flat. “The gown has no value to me. You may resell it or take it apart and refashion it into something else. Whatever you wish.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lawton. It is rare to be in possession of something so fine. I have a hundred ideas for it already.”

  “You are more than welcome. I suppose I will wear that blue one there, since it is finished and fits me near enough. The rest should be ready in a few days?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Lawton. I’ll have the dresses and the undergarments you requested delivered to the ranch as soon as they are ready. I’ll work day and night.”

  There was a further rustle of fabric and shifting movement as his wife finished dressing. When the dressmaker stepped to the screen and started to pull it back again, her attention was directed toward her customer, so she did not see Dean standing only a few steps away.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Lawton. I’ve only been in town for a couple months, but I will admit I was starting to despair of having any real customers. I was honestly considering returning to St. Louis when you walked in this morning.”

  “My pleasure. You have done me a great service today, Mrs. Grainer. I am sure the ladies about town will soon realize what lovely dresses you offer, and your shop will become quite popular. Give it time.”

  “I hope you’re right,” the woman replied as she turned around and jumped a clear foot as she caught sight of Dean. “Oh my word,” she gasped.

  “What is it?” Vivid green eyes in a fair face framed by slightly mussed red hair peeked around the edge of the screen. Her lively, curious expression shifted instantly into tight annoyance. “Oh, it is my husband. I can see how his harsh visage could cause a fright.”

  “Hello, Wife,” Dean replied. “Doing a little shopping?”

  She smiled then. Brightly and beautifully. The change made her lips curve in an attractive bow and brought a sparkle to her eyes. It was the light of mischief, but it affected Dean all the same as the tension tightened his muscles and that unwanted desire returned with a vengeance.

  “Why, yes I am,” she answered cheerfully as she stepped out from behind the screen. “I was certain you wouldn’t want your wife to go on with nothing to wear.”

  He lowered his chin, breaking eye contact.

  The sudden picture flashing through his head of her having nothing to wear did not help his current state one bit. To combat it, he intentionally noted that she was wearing a dress in robin’s-egg blue with draping skirts and a plain, fitted bodice. The dress was a far cry from her wedding gown in terms of fanciness,
but it was still more elaborate than what most women in the area would be wearing.

  “I will just get this order finished up. Would you like me to start a line of credit, Mr. Lawton?” the dressmaker asked.

  After an awkward moment passed while he didn’t answer, his wife spoke up. “That would be lovely, Mrs. Grainer. Thank you.”

  Mrs. Grainer stepped away, leaving the two of them alone.

  Dean’s gaze fell to her feet, peeking from beneath the flounced ruffles decorating the hem of her new dress. “New shoes as well,” he muttered.

  She lifted her skirt a couple inches and turned her foot this way and that to show off the serviceable brown leather short boots. “I couldn’t very well be expected to continue wearing my slippers.”

  Dean didn’t like the way the little glimpse of her slim ankles made his stomach clench. “And you’re putting it on the ranch’s credit.” His words were low and graveled.

  “I am,” she replied defiantly, bringing his attention back to her pert face. “I figured it was the least you could do since you haven’t even deigned to offer an apology for your actions yesterday.”

  Dean clenched his teeth. She wasn’t wrong.

  He should apologize. He knew it.

  But it was a helluva lot easier to just pay the damn dress bill.

  “Did it occur to you that I might not have the money to spend on a new wardrobe?”

  Her eyes widened. Obviously, it hadn’t. “No, actually. Umm…do you have the funds?”

  His reply was stiff. “It’s a little late for concern, but yes, I do.”

  “Then all is well,” she replied with a ready smile.

  He realized with some surprise that her cheerfulness was not put on. She was smiling in earnest.

  “What the hell put you in such a happy mood?” he asked.

  She gave a little shrug. “Shopping always has a way of turning the worst days brighter. Don’t you think?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s too bad for you. I have decided not to dwell on what cannot be changed. If I am to be stranded here, I am going to make the most of it. In four weeks’ time, the marriage will be as if it had never existed, and I will continue on my way as planned. I came out west for an adventure, and that is what I am going to have. It might as well start now.” Her eyes tipped up at the outer corners as she met his hard stare. “You may remain harsh and angry over the unfortunate circumstances we find ourselves in. I honestly expect nothing less from you. I, however, have decided to get over it.”