Finally a Bride (16 page)

The marshal set her bag in a rocker near the front door and strode forward. Carly’s heart raced as if she’d just robbed a bank and was being pursued by a posse. She attempted to swallow the big lump in her throat, but her mouth was so dry she was about to spit cotton. Rachel’s husband hadn’t changed a whole lot except for looking a bit older. He was still a handsome man, but she’d hardly expected his welcoming smile or the lack of condemnation in his brown eyes.

He stopped next to the wagon and raised a hand. “Rachel’s half beside herself from excitement to see you again. She’s been baking all morning.”

Steeling herself, Carly allowed him to help her out of the wagon. He released her hand, and she glanced up at him. She’d forgotten how tall he was. Mr. Corbett had to be close to six feet, and the marshal was at least two inches taller. He smiled at her then glanced at his cousin, still standing in the wagon. His smile dimmed as he looked at the two men tied to their horses. “What happened to you, Cuz, and who are they?”

Mr. Corbett hopped down and winced when his feet hit the ground. He grabbed his arm and gritted his teeth so hard that Carly could see his jaw tense. “They shot me.”

“Shot? How bad is it?” The marshal glanced at Mr. Corbett’s arm.

“I’ll make it. I guess they’d planned to rob us, but they didn’t count on—”

Carly cleared her throat, and both men’s eyes swerved toward her. If she was going to be arrested because she used a weapon after the prison warden instructed her to never touch one again, she at least wanted to see Rachel first. “Would you mind if I go inside while y’all tend to those men? I’m anxious to see Rachel.”
And to get away from you two
.

The marshal nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Miss Payton. I know you’ve had a long journey.” He offered his arm, and she let him help her up the stairs. “Rachel’s been holding lunch until you arrived.”

“Lunch?” Mr. Corbett lifted his nose and sniffed. “Did someone mention food?”

“You’re as bad as my kids.” Marshal Davis shook his head and grinned. “And what’s that on your arm? I didn’t realize pink calico was the new style in arm bands.”

Sticking out his elbow, Mr. Corbett flicked the loose fabric where Carly had tied a knot. His ears were red, but instead of acting embarrassed, he grinned. “Yeah, well, I’m not the only one wearing it. Them two probably need to have the doc look them over.”

Carly resisted shaking her head. The man had been a joker when she’d been here before and never seemed to take anything seriously—except for when she’d told him her real name. He’d been more flustered than a rooster who had seen his last hen served up for someone’s dinner. He hadn’t cracked any jokes then. Still, she owed him a debt. “Thank you, Mr. Corbett, for giving me a ride here, in spite of the fact that you weren’t expecting me.”

The marshal grinned. “That was Rachel’s idea. How’d you like her surprise?”

Mr. Corbett frowned at Carly, then mumbled something about seeing to his horses.

“You don’t like it so much when the joke’s on you, huh?” Chuckling, Marshal Davis grabbed her satchel, then opened the door. He paused and looked back at his cousin. “I’ll take Miss Payton inside and send Alan over to fetch Doc Phillips. Then I’ll help you with those fellows and the team. And I want the doc to check your arm.” He opened the door and pushed it. “After you, ma’am.”

Carly slipped past him, her stomach awhirl, and stepped into the boardinghouse. Fragrant aromas emanated from the kitchen, and she felt almost as if she’d stepped back ten years. The only difference she noticed right off was that the parlor walls had been painted light blue. Several toys littered the floor, as if a child had just hurriedly left the room. The marshal set her satchel on the hall tree bench, then strode toward the kitchen. He disappeared through the doorway, and Carly heard a high-pitched squeal.

Rachel bustled out of the kitchen and chugged down the hall like a locomotive building steam, her light blue eyes sparkling. “I’m so glad you’re finally here.” She pulled Carly into an awkward embrace. Then she stepped back and patted her belly. “Oscar, here, gets in the way of things at times.”

Lifting one brow, Carly stared at her friend. “Oscar?”

Rachel laughed. “That’s what Luke called our first baby before it was born, and it just stuck. They’re Oscar while they’re in my womb, but once they come out, they get a name of their own.”

Carly had never heard of such a thing, but then she hadn’t been around many women carrying babies other than the few who had visited Tillie. “It’s so good to see you again.”

Rachel nodded. “You, too. I’m glad you finally decided to come and stay with us.”

The back kitchen door banged, and a boy charged out of the kitchen and down the hall, followed by the marshal. A girl of about five or six raced after him. Alan and Abby, Carly assumed. They were just as Rachel had described them in her letters.

“Gotta go, Ma. Papa needs the doctor.”

Rachel’s gaze jumped from her son to her husband. “Are you hurt?”

Marshal Davis shook his head. “Not me—Garrett and two men he shot.”

Carly bit her lip to keep from correcting him. Maybe Mr. Corbett would keep her secret, but she doubted it.

“I’m goin’ with Alan,” Abby said.

The boy skidded to a halt. “Nuh-uh. Tell her to stay here, Papa. You said
I
could go.”

Marshal Davis lifted a brow. “I’m the one who gives orders around here, Son, not you. Take your sister, but hurry back. Your ma has the food ready.”

The boy’s shoulders sagged, but his sister’s grin illuminated the room. Carly smiled at the child. Alan’s medium brown hair and blue eyes favored his ma, while Abby—if she was remembering right from Rachel’s letters—had blond hair and her father’s eyes.

“I’m gonna beat you.” Abby lunged for the front door.

“Nuh-uh!” Alan charged after her, nearly knocking Carly down.

“Slow down and stay clear of the horses and wagons,” Rachel hollered.

Carly watched the two children fight to get out the door first and shook her head. Rachel had written to her about the rambunctious children, but Carly hadn’t believed they were so wild until she saw it with her own eyes. They reminded her of Jacqueline.

“Garrett’s hurt?” Rachel asked. “How bad?”

The marshal glanced at Carly as if asking her to respond. “Not too bad. God must have been watching over him, because the bullet just grazed his upper arm. It’s a deep gouge but should heal all right if Mr. Corbett doesn’t overuse his arm for a while.”

“Let’s sit a minute while you tell me what happened.” Rachel looped her hand around Carly’s elbow and tugged her into the parlor as the marshal headed for the door, eating one of Rachel’s biscuits.

Carly relayed the story, leaving out the part about her shooting their attackers and also the part about Mr. Corbett’s reaction to finding a passenger at the depot instead of a package. If he wanted them to know of his shock, he could tell them.

Rachel shook her head. “I think that’s only the second or third time a Corbett Freight wagon has been attacked before. At least you got the men, so they can’t hurt anyone else. And Garrett truly seems to be all right?”

Carly nodded. “He’s in some pain, but he wouldn’t let me drive the wagon, and he was joking some.”

“That sounds like him. Stubborn as Luke.” Rachel shook her head and blew out an exasperated breath. Then she took Carly’s hands. “I was so sorry to hear about Tillie and how you had to move out of the Barker home. I know you enjoyed living there.”

Carly shrugged and pulled her hands back to her lap. “I do miss Tillie—and the reverend—but I can’t say I miss that town much.”

“Were the people unkind?”

She studied the braided rug at her feet, remembering how many of the church folks shunned her. “Some, but not all.”

Rachel clutched Carly’s hands again, drawing her gaze up. “I’m sure things will be different here. You can start over. I’m so excited to have you here.”

Carly smiled, trying to stir up her enthusiasm to match Rachel’s. “But I must find work, and who’ll hire an ex-convict?”

Blinking, Rachel stared at her, looking confused. “Didn’t you receive my last letter?”

Carly searched her mind, then shook her head. “The last one I got arrived about a month ago. Then your telegram that said, ‘Come.’“

“I wrote you after you told me that it looked like Mrs. Barker was failing. Oh, Oscar is kicking me.” She leaned back and rubbed her hand across the right side of her stomach.

Carly wondered if she’d ever get to experience being a mother—to feel her own child move and kick within. At twenty-eight, she was well into spinsterhood. She smiled as she held her hands tightly together to keep from fidgeting.

“Anyway, before Oscar interrupted, I was going to say that I wrote and asked you to come and help me.”

“Of course I’ll help. You know you don’t have to ask after all you’ve done for me. I imagine you must get exhausted tending this big place and cooking and caring for your family, especially now with the baby so close to coming.”

“Thank you. I’ll admit it is harder when I’m this far along in my pregnancy.” She turned and stared out the window, her cheeks pink, as if embarrassed to talk about such a delicate topic. “Jacqueline is a lot of help most of the time, but this week she’s been in bed after … uh … taking a fall. She’s getting up and around some now, but I don’t want to have to depend on her all the time.”

Carly’s stomach growled at the delicious scents drifting through the house, and she placed her hand against it. “Is she still writing stories for the newspaper?”

“Yes.” Rachel pursed her lips. “But that’s not the worst of it. She wants to move to Dallas and write for a larger paper. She doesn’t think I know, but I overheard her talking with her friends one day.”

Carly knew how hard it would be on Rachel to have her eldest daughter move away, not just because Rachel wouldn’t have help, but more so because of Jack’s hankering after adventure and getting into trouble. “I’m sorry. That worries you, doesn’t it?”

Rachel nodded and pushed up out of the chair. “Yes, it surely does. But she’s a grown woman now, and I’ve got to trust God to take care of her.” A smile flitted across her lips. “Don’t tell her, but I’ve been praying the Lord would bring a nice young man to town who will steal her heart and make her forget about Dallas.”

Carly stood and picked up her bag. “And has He?”

“Perhaps.” With eyes dancing, she waggled her brows. “Let me show you to your room so you can freshen up before we eat.”

Carly followed her friend up the stairs, remembering so many things from the past. Leah, the blond mail-order bride who’d come to marry Luke, had stayed in the first room on the left, while Shannon, the Irish bride, had the one to her right.

“My girls stay in the green room now, and we divided your old room in half. Alan stays in one side, and we use the other for stage drivers who occasionally overnight here, but with the expansion of the railroad, I don’t expect stagecoaches will be around much longer.” Rachel opened the second door on the left.

“Too bad there isn’t a train that comes to Lookout.” Then she could have avoided that uncomfortable ride with Mr. Corbett, and he wouldn’t have gotten shot.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable here.” Rachel pulled back the blue and white gingham curtains and lifted a window. “Of course, in exchange for your help, your room and board is free. I know you’ll need some extra for expenses, and if we have lots of customers, I’ll gladly pay you a small salary.”

“I never expected you to pay me.” Carly set her satchel on the bed and glanced around the cozy room painted white. A lovely wedding quilt in various shades of blues and white covered the bed. “I offered to help you because you’re my friend, and if it hadn’t been for you, I probably would never have met the Lord.”

Rachel wrapped an arm around Carly’s shoulder. “The help I need goes beyond the bonds of friendship. I basically need someone who can take over and run the boardinghouse after I have the baby—at least for a few weeks.”

Carly smiled. Maybe things were finally looking up for her. “You’ve got yourself a helper.”

Chapter 12

J
ack stared at her image in the long mirror at Dolly’s Dress Shop. The bottom of the fitted bodice of the dark green dress angled down to form a V at her stomach, accentuating her narrow waist. The neckline also tapered to a V and was edged with wide lace, which lay across her shoulders. The short sleeves ended just above her elbows, but six-inch lace attached to the cuffs flounced across her lower arms. The full overskirt swirled when she twisted from side to side, but a stabbing pain in her knee made her grimace.

“What’s wrong? The dress looks lovely with your coloring.” Dolly Dykstra stared at her in the mirror, concern etching her features.

“Oh yes, I love it. But I twisted too far and made my knee hurt.”

Tessa hiked her chin and fluffed her curls. “Your ma says you should still be abed.”

Jack glanced at Penny, who rolled her eyes. Stifling a smile, she glanced back at the mirror. She actually looked pretty. She still loved donning britches, but she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was learning to enjoy dressing up.