The Rascal (26 page)

Women nearby swooned. Grace only nodded.

“And that is why,” he continued, “you will wait patiently while I explain all the ways I missed you, and plan never to miss you again for as long as I live. Without you,” Jack said in plain truth, “I feel only half a man, needing all the time.”

This time, his saloon patrons sighed, the sound deep and soulful. A few men sniffled. But Grace only nodded.

“And that is why,” Jack said finally, as sternly as he could, “you will nod agreeably when I say that you must marry me soon, before I lose all hope of happiness altogether.”

Grace nodded with a vigor that astonished everyone. The tears in her eyes overflowed, dampening her cheeks, but she looked beautiful to Jack all the same.

“It’s only with you,” he said, his knee fixed in the dusty street, “that I am truly myself, Grace. I was a fool not to realize it before. I am a saloonkeeper and an inventor, a man who loves good lager and science alike. Thanks to you, I’m whole again. And I don’t want another day without you by my side.”

Hastily, Grace shoved her sign away. As befit any proper lady suffragist, she fell to her knees right beside him in the street, then flung her arms around him. “I’ll marry you, Jack. I could not possibly love you more. Yes,” she said urgently, holding his face in both hands. “Yes, yes, yes!”

Overcome with joy, Jack drew her close and kissed her. Rowdy applause filled the saloon behind them. Raucous feminine cheering overflowed the street. But all Jack’s thoughts were for Grace…for the woman in his arms and in his heart.

Hardly able to keep from bawling himself, Jack ended their kiss. He drew back and regarded Grace with all the gratitude of a man who’d nearly lost everything—but had somehow found it again. He pressed his forehead to hers, gazing into her eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For not giving up. For loving me still. Most of all…for being yourself.”

“Thank you.” Grace grinned. “For loving me anyway.”

They stood, laughing, Grace wiping away happy tears. Jack clasped her hand and raised their joined arms aloft.

“Who wants to go to a wedding?” he yelled.

The whole assembly cheered, Heddy Neibermayer and all. Men surged forward to offer congratulations, sham commiseration and hearty slaps on the back. Women rushed closer, aflutter with talk of wedding planning and flowers and dresses.

Grace’s whole face shone as she turned to Jack. “See? Isn’t this marvelous? With all this help and a bit of orderly cooperation—”

“Courtesy of you, I’m sure.” Jack smiled.

“We ought to have no trouble at all with planning a wedding, bringing our families together, finding a way to share our building space and everything else.”

Gladly, he held her close. “Well…I didn’t want to say so before,” he admitted, spying his sisters, “but we might have an easier time of that last than we thought. It seems I’m quite a bit wealthier than I planned on, thanks to a certain quartet of meddlesome women who’ve sold my designs far and wide.”

Corinne reached him. “Pshaw, Jack! We only wanted to help.”

His other three sisters nodded, utterly unrepentant.

“So I figure I’ll have plenty of money to build my boardinghouse rooms and a finer meeting space for you besides.”

Grace leaped at the notion. “Jack! That’s wonderful.”

Her family crowded around, Adam and Fiona looking on with evident satisfaction. Marcus and Molly gazed in delight, and Daniel and Sarah nodded in certainty. Jack grinned at them all.

“Exactly how much money?” Grace nudged him, fairly
rising on tiptoes in eagerness. “Enough to finance a mayoral campaign, I wonder? Because I have a few definite ideas about how things ought to be run in Morrow Creek, and there’s no reason that I can see why a woman shouldn’t run for public office.”

She beamed, positively alight with the idea.

“Oh, Grace,” Adam Crabtree warned. “That’s quite ambitious.”

“Yes, that’s too much,” her sisters echoed. “Even for you.”

But Grace remained perfectly sure, Jack could see—as sure as she’d ever been about their loving one another. So he only wrapped his arms around her and surrendered to the inevitable.

“If there’s not enough money for that now, there will be with my next designs,” he promised. “Anything for you.”

“Excellent!” Grace kissed him. “As it happens, I quite like this corsetry of yours, you know.” She gave a saucy wink. “I hear your scandalous designs make grown men weep with longing.”

“And love,” Jack corrected. “Never forget that.”

Then, united by that love, they joined hands and went to raise a toast—to rabble-rousing and stubbornness and rascally men who grunted when no words would do…and to planning the biggest, rowdiest wedding that Morrow Creek had ever seen.