Finally a Bride (12 page)

Jack moseyed into the store and searched the building, disappointed to find it empty except for Mrs. Morgan. She was certain she’d seen the parson enter when she’d glanced out her bedroom window a few minutes ago. There was nothing particularly odd about a minister going into a mercantile, but her reporter instincts sensed Noah Jeffers was up to something.

“Morning, Jacqueline.” Mrs. Morgan smiled. “It’s good to see you up again. I hope you’re feeling better after your fall.”

Jack grimaced at the mention of her plummet off the mayor’s roof. She’d been halfway surprised he hadn’t marched over to her house to lecture her about respecting people’s property. The fact that he hadn’t confirmed in her mind that he was working on some big plan for the city. She just had to discover what it was. She leaned against the counter and took the weight off her injured leg. “I’m still a bit sore, but I’m getting better. Thanks for asking.”

“If you’re looking for Tessa, she isn’t here. She ran out the door, mumbling something about needing to go to Penny’s for a while.”

“No. Actually, I was wondering…. Didn’t Noah Jeffers come in a little while ago?”

Mrs. Morgan nodded, picked up a feather duster, and started swiping the cans of vegetables on the shelf behind the counter. “Yes, he was here about ten minutes ago. Bought a few things and left. He’s a nice young man, and quite handsome with that dark hair and eyes, don’t you think? Tessa can’t quit talking about him.”

Jack wasn’t about to admit that she did indeed find Reverend Jeffers attractive, much to her consternation. Shouldn’t a minister be plain looking so a woman wouldn’t waste time dwelling on his features instead of his message? Why, the man had even invaded her dreams. How was she to fight something like that? Forcing her frustrations aside, she smiled at Tessa’s mother. “Yes, she made it clear to Penny and me that she intends to marry him.”

Mrs. Morgan’s blue eyes widened. “She never said a thing about that to me. Isn’t it ironic that I just gushed about her attributes to the parson?”

Jack pursed her lips. The poor man hadn’t been in town two days, and the Morgans already had him in their sights. At least she hoped she was no longer in Billy’s. A shudder wormed its way down her back.

Mrs. Morgan paused. “Tessa told me that you don’t plan to marry Billy.” She nibbled her lower lip and stared out the door. Finally she met Jack’s gaze again. “I can’t say as I blame you, although I was hoping to welcome you into the family. Billy has always been a handful, and now that he’s far bigger than me, I don’t know how to handle him.”

Jack shifted her feet, uncomfortable talking about Billy with his mother. From the day the Morgans first moved to town, she’d known Billy was a wild child. He seemed to pick up where Butch Laird left off when he left town. She hadn’t been very kind to the lonely youth. She’d thought Butch a big bully but had had second thoughts after she’d talked to him once. It seemed the boy who stank like pigs wanted to make something more of his life than his father had. What had happened to him?

She shook Butch from her mind and refocused on Billy’s mother. The poor woman looked to be at her wit’s end. “Maybe you could get Reverend Jeffers to talk to Billy. There’s not all that much difference in their ages, I imagine.”

Mrs. Morgan’s expression brightened, and she stood taller. “Why, that’s a wonderful idea. Do you think he’d do it?”

Jack shrugged. “I don’t know why not. He seems nice enough.” Secretive, but nice.

“I may come over and talk to him this evening, if you’re sure he won’t mind.”

“It’s part of a minister’s job to counsel folks who need help, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Morgan nodded. “Yes, I do believe it is.”

A shadow darkened the doorway, and Christine Morgan glanced past Jack, her face erupting into a brilliant smile. The woman—who had to be in her late thirties—reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then licked her lips. She dropped the duster on the floor and quickly shed her apron.

Interesting.

Jack slowly turned to see who had so effectively snagged the woman’s interest that she’d primp and grin like a school girl. A tall cowboy stood in the doorway, his gaze equally riveted to the store clerk’s. Jack smelled a romance in the making.

Mrs. Morgan hurried toward the door. “How can I help you, Mr. Kessler?”

Jack ambled down an aisle and paused in front of the ready-made dresses. She picked up the hem of a dark rose calico and pretended to be studying it. A person with better manners would leave and give the lovebirds some privacy, but she wouldn’t become a full-time reporter if she didn’t do a little snooping. Besides, neither Mrs. Morgan nor Mr. Kessler seemed to notice she was still there.

Something tickled the back of her mind, and she struggled to grasp hold of the thought. Suddenly, as if someone had turned on one of those electric lights she’d read about, the memory was revealed: Rand Kessler had once asked her ma to marry him—so she’d heard. Then she remembered that he used to come around for a while but had stopped after Luke returned to town.

Jack eyed him over the skirt of the dress. She’d heard Garrett talk about him over dinner before. The man owned a large ranch a few hours’ ride from Lookout, if she was remembering correctly. She dropped hold of the dress and fingered the trim on a dark green one that she actually liked. Pants were still her preference, but she rarely got to wear them now that she was grown up. Her ma nearly had apoplexy the last time she’d donned them, and that wasn’t a good state for a woman carrying a baby to be in.

Mr. Kessler must have suddenly remembered his hat, because he yanked it off. His tanned cheeks and ears had a reddish cast to them. He was nice looking for such an older man. Jack guessed him to be in his mid-forties—far too old to come courting.

“It’s a pleasure to see you in town mid-week, Mr. Kessler.” Mrs. Morgan leaned back against the counter, flashing a wide smile at him.

“I … uh … had some business to tend to at the freight office, but Garrett wasn’t there.”

“I saw him ride out earlier this morning, just as I was opening the store. Must have gone to pick up something, because his wagon was empty.”

Mr. Kessler shrugged. “Don’t matter none. I just left him a note.”

“Oh well, good thing your trip wasn’t wasted.”

A smile tugged at one corner of the man’s mouth. “It’s never a waste when I get to see you, Christine.”

“Oh!” Mrs. Morgan fanned her face with her hand. “What a nice thing to say.”

“It’s just the truth, ma’am.” He curled the rim of his hat and glanced down.

Jack grimaced. If things got any more syrupy, she just might retch. Why did perfectly normal people become fools when romance came calling? Even big, tough ranchers who would never back down from a fight or could break the wildest bronc became sweet like honey when they fell for a woman. Would a man ever act like that toward her? Did she even want one to?

A movement out the window and across the street snagged her attention. She strained her eyes to see who was walking toward her, past the mayor’s house. Her pulse picked up its pace. Noah Jeffers! What reason would he have to walk between houses? Most normal folks stuck to the boardwalks. The sun reflected off something under his arm. He ducked down—or did he bend to pick up something? Then he turned onto the alley and disappeared behind the bank. Intrigued, Jack started to follow but held her ground, hating to miss out on whatever happened in the store.

“I was wondering. Would you … ah … consider going with … ah … me to the social this Saturday? That is if you’re not going with someone else already.”

Sucked right back into the blossoming romance, Jack abandoned all thought of following the minister. How much trouble could a man of God get into, anyway? She lowered the skirt of the green dress, wishing she had something to write notes on. If Mrs. Morgan didn’t answer the man fast, Jack feared he’d be buying a new hat before he left.

Mrs. Morgan’s hand flew up and rested on her chest. “Why, I’d be delighted, Rand.”

The grins on their faces reminded Jack of when her ma and Luke had first gotten married.

Mr. Kessler slapped his crumpled hat back on his head. “That’s great. I’ll pick you up a little before six, and I’d like to purchase a bag of that horehound candy and another of the lemon drops.”

With his difficult chore over, Mr. Kessler seemed business-minded once again. Mrs. Morgan bagged the candy and set it on the counter, quoting the price. He dropped several coins into her hand and pocketed one bag of candy and handed her the other. “This is for you. I recall how you mentioned that you loved lemon drops.”

Mrs. Morgan clutched the surprise gift to her chest. “Why, Rand, that’s so nice of you. I’m much obliged.”

He nodded, spun on his heels, then stopped just outside the door and glanced back. “See you on Saturday.”

Mrs. Morgan watched the door for a long while then lifted the bag of candy with both hands and held it to her nose. She closed her eyes, and Jack imagined she must be inhaling the tangy scent of the hard candy. After a moment, the store owner hurried to the back room, and Jack took that opportunity to dash out the door. When a pain charged up her leg, she slowed her steps and carefully made her way across the dirt road, dodging the horse flops.

The newspaper was due out tomorrow, but if Jenny hadn’t filled up all the space, just maybe she could post a brief vignette about shopping for love in the mercantile.

Noah hurried down the street, thankful that nobody was out and about, then skulked past the east side of the mayor’s house. As he passed under a window, he could hear a woman humming. His heart quickened again. He ducked down, scurried past the window, then slowed his steps as he came to the back of the house. The Burkes had a large back porch, and Mrs. Burke had often left her pies on a table there to cool. They’d been much too conveniently located within easy reach for a poor boy who never got to eat home-baked goods. Noah winced, remembering the two pies he’d stolen from that same porch.

Pulling the note and a dollar from his pocket, he glanced around again, then tiptoed across the grass and onto the porch.

He all but dropped the pie plates on the table with the note and dollar, then hightailed it back across the yard and onto Bluebonnet Lane. He quickly headed for the church. His heart thrummed, matching the thumping in his ears, and he licked his dry lips. His legs wobbled like jelly. Peering over his shoulder, he was relieved not to see anyone following him.

Never had doing a good deed felt so … devious.

One down, about a dozen more to go.

Chapter 9

A
fter picking up a load of supplies for Dan Howard, the livery owner, Garrett drove the wagon back toward home. His passenger hadn’t uttered a single word for the past hour. At least she wasn’t one of those gabby gals who yakked a man’s ear off.

He’d never admit it to anyone, but he rather liked having a pretty female by his side. At some time or another, he had started thinking more about settling down and starting a family, and at nearly forty, he couldn’t afford to wait much longer. He actually envied Luke and Mark. Both were married and had children, while he’d been content to work and have fun in life. But living alone wasn’t fun anymore.

And did he want to leave this world one day and not leave behind children—his legacy?

He let the idea simmer in his mind. Yeah, he was ready to marry. The problem was there was no woman in Lookout who snagged his attention enough that he’d want to spend the rest of his life with her.

The woman beside him gasped, and he reached for his rifle. Her hand shot out and grabbed his arm. “What is that?”

Pulling the rifle into his lap, he scanned the prairie but saw nothing except grasses and colorful wildflowers waving in the light breeze. “I don’t see nothin’.”

She tugged on his sleeve, sending tingles up his arm. He shook them off as if they were pesky flies and followed the way her finger pointed. “Over there. I’ve never seen a bird so blue. What is it?”

Garrett relaxed, hearing the trill of the bird that sat twenty feet away atop a bush. He’d half expected she’d seen an outlaw. He’d encountered few of them during the years he’d been hauling freight, but you never knew what to expect, so he had to stay alert. “That’s an indigo bunting.”