Walker's Wedding (22 page)

“You didn't think she was a liar.”

The observation was met with stony silence.

Sarah wasn't a thief. Walker would stake his life on that, although at the moment he was helpless to know why. She'd lied about her identity. She'd lied to him, lied to Flo and S.H. and Potster, but her explanation was so cockeyed he almost believed it. Before meeting her, he'd never known a woman who could get herself in so much hot water with so little effort.

Caleb downed the liquor, his eyes returning to the ledger. Sweat covered his thin upper lip. “I'll take the books home with me. Until this matter is resolved, you can't be too careful.”

“That isn't necessary. You and I are the only ones with access to the funds.” Walker thought about telling Caleb about Sarah's earlier questions about bookkeeping but decided not to. One crisis at a time was enough.

“Still, I want to go over them carefully.” Caleb sat his glass on the desk, pressing the handkerchief to his upper lip.

“There is something you can do.” Returning to the desk, Walker reached into the side drawer for the signed agreement between him and Lucy Mallory. “Can you read this thing and tell me what I signed?”

Caleb's brows lifted. “You don't know?”

“At the time I thought I did. Back then, I didn't think it'd make a whole lot of difference.”

“I'll look it over.” Caleb took the papers and the two men fell silent.

Walker leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Maybe the contract he'd signed with Lucy's father would take the choice out of his hands.

The thought was even worse than present circumstances.

Sarah watched the clock and then lowered her head to the dining table, nausea building again. The mere thought of food made her shudder, yet she knew she should eat.

Her head shot up when she heard the study door open. A grim-faced Walker and Caleb emerged. Her hand automatically reached out to touch Walker when he walked past her chair, but he brushed it aside.

The two men sat down at the opposite end of the table.

Walker refused to meet Sarah's eyes. “Where's Flo?”

“She may have gone to bed. Lucy is taking a walk.”

“Caleb, tell Flo and Miss Mallory that I want to see them.”

Sarah searched for a hint of forgiveness in his eyes and found none. He looked tired and disappointed, and she longed to take him in her arms and comfort him. But the look of desperation on Walker's face held her silent.

Caleb returned with Flo wearing a nightcap and Lucy in tow.

Lucy stood behind the seat closest to Walker, murmuring. “Mr. McKay. Ever so nice to make yore acquaintance.” She dipped in a little curtsy before sitting down.

Sarah rolled her eyes but Walker acknowledged the greeting.

Flo took a chair next to Sarah, reaching for her hand beneath the table and giving it a squeeze.

Caleb flipped through the contract, scanning various sections. Pausing, he glanced up, clearing his throat.

“Walker has asked me to review the contract he and Miss Mallory signed prior to her arrival. Walker, is there anything you want to say before we proceed?”

Sarah slid to the edge of her chair, holding tightly to Flo's hand.

He pinpointed Sarah with his gaze. “You shouldn't have said the agency made a mistake and pretended to be the mail-order bride I was expecting. You should have told me who you really were.”

“I was going to…”

The pain in his eyes penetrated deep into her heart. It was a devastatingly fit punishment for her betrayal.

“I was foolish,” she said softly. “Please forgive me, Walker.”

“Actually, it was my fault,” Lucy admitted. “I shouldn't have agreed to the plan, but Sarah was so desperate. I'm terribly sorry, Mr. McKay. I wasn't thinkin' real clear, but once I realized we had a bindin' contract—”

“Miss Mallory, the reason doesn't matter,” Walker said stoically. “I'm bound by what the contract stipulates.”

Lucy looked momentarily flustered. “Pa says you got an obligation to marry me because of that there paper.”

“Caleb, what are my options?”

“Well, it's rather complicated.” Caleb studied the document. “Of course, there's no clause relating to the present circumstance, mind you, and I'm not a lawyer—but I believe, if I read this correctly, Miss Mallory is legally entitled to enforce the contract.”

“That's not fair!” Sarah cried. “Walker is married to me!”

Caleb received the outburst coolly. “Technically that's true. But the contract indicates that he was bound to another woman. According to this document, Miss Mallory is the legal party who—”

“She forfeited that right when she allowed me to take her place.” Sarah turned to Walker, her eyes silently pleading while Caleb continued to recite contract clauses.

The accountant's voice faded and Sarah was aware only of her husband. Walker couldn't let this happen. He had to put a stop to this madness.

Her gaze locked with his, and now she saw not pain but a kind of powerlessness he seemed to accept.

“Caleb ain't an attorney,” Flo reminded them when the banker finished. “Might be that Estes Knolls would have a different opinion about the document.”

Walker broke Sarah's locked gaze. “Estes won't be back from Portland until next month.”

“That's right. He is away on lengthy business,” Caleb said.

Flo squeezed Sarah's hand.

Relief flooded Lucy's face. “If he says the contract is bindin', then I guess we ain't got no choice. Sarah can either go home or go live with
her friend in New York. You kin have this marriage annulled and then you and me kin git married, and then Ma and Pa kin come see us.”

Flo's jaw firmed, and she cleared her throat. “It's none of my business who you choose, Walker, but before you make a fool of yerself a third time, you'd best take this into consideration.” She took the Mallory letter from her pocket. Sarah gasped.

“Flo, no, don't—”

“Sarah, you may have lied to us, but it would be worse to have a thief carry on the McKay name.” The housekeeper handed Walker the letter.

Walker scanned the missive and Sarah held her breath. Lucy's face flushed crimson when he finished and fixed angry eyes on her.

“Who wrote this?”

“I believe that would be Miss Mallory's mother,” Flo said.

Tossing the papers on the table, Walker stood up. “Miss Mallory, S.H. will take you to the train tomorrow morning.”

Lucy sprang to her feet. “Why? You cain't do this. We have a real legal-like agreement! Why…my pa won't hear of this! You'd best give this more thought, Mr. McKay.” She whirled on Flo. “Where did you git that letter?”

The housekeeper shrugged.

Lucy whirled back to face Walker. “You can't do this. I'll tell Pa.”

Walker met her eyes coldly. “You'll be leaving tomorrow. I'll see that your ticket is paid for.”

“While we're on the subject of who's stayin' and who's goin',” Flo added, “there's another thing you should know.”

The baby.
Sarah shot the housekeeper a warning look. If Walker decided to forgive her, she wanted it to be because of love and not because of obligation.

“Flo, please don't. If Walker wants to send me away, I'll go.”

Flo continued as if she hadn't heard. “You'd be a fool to send Sarah away. You're mad right now, but you'll get over it. Don't do anything until you're thinkin' straighter.”

“Flo, I am capable of defending myself,” Sarah murmured, her cheeks hot.

“Walker, the contract says—” Caleb opened it again.

Sarah glared at him. He was on Lucy's side. This didn't surprise her. Caleb Vanhooser sensed her suspicions. Caleb and Lucy argued with Walker, Flo chiming in with her opinion until the room rang with voices.

“Enough!” Walker threw his hands up. The room's occupants fell silent.

“Miss Mallory, you nullified the contract by not arriving when you said you would. Tomorrow S.H. will take you to the train, buy your ticket, and give you fifty dollars for your time and effort.”

Lucy glanced from Sarah to Flo and then whirled and marched out. “You cain't do this. Ma and Pa are countin' on that money,” she declared over her shoulder.

Flo shoved back from the table. “Now yer finally making sense. I'm going to go get her set up at our house.”

Sarah slumped in relief, closing her eyes. Walker hadn't asked her to go, but he hadn't asked her to stay. He walked past her chair, hardly sparing her a glance. She opened one eye a moment later and found a tight-lipped Caleb staring at her.

“Don't you have somewhere you need to go?” she asked, weary of trying to win his friendship. Being polite wasn't possible tonight.

“I was about to ask you the same.” With a foxlike grin, he stood up and reached for his briefcase. “I trust you'll sleep well tonight, Sarah. Rest up for your journey back to Boston.”

Early the following morning, S.H. reined in the team just short of the train station. Not a word had passed between the foreman and Lucy on the way into town.

Lucy reached for her bag before the wagon came to a complete stop. She was furious with Walker's decision and even more upset about facing her parents back home.

“I'll get that.” S.H. set the brake and bounded off the wagon, coming
around to help her. She gave him a cold look, stepping down on her own.

He shrugged before hoisting the bag and carrying it to the train platform. “Have a pleasant trip, Miss Mallory. Do you need any help with arrangements?”

“Jest leave.”

Tipping his hat, he said, “May God grant you safe journey.”

The buckboard rolled off and Lucy quickly crossed the street and went into the telegraph office. Approaching the counter, she pulled the fifty dollars from her purse, peeling off a bill.

“Can I help you, ma'am?” the man behind the window asked.

“I want to send a telegram.”

“Yes, ma'am. Whom should I address it to?”

Lucy smugly glanced over her shoulder. The dust from the McKay wagon rose as it rattled out of town. “Lowell Livingston, Boston, Massachusetts.”

S
arah? A thief?” Potster stared at Walker as if he'd lost his mind.

“That little gal might use poor judgment occasionally, but she ain't no thief.” He handed Walker a cup of coffee.

“Then why was she going through my books?”

“Cain't say, but I'd bet my last dime she don't care if you got a dollar to your name. I've known a few women in my day, and she ain't that kind, Mr. McKay.”

Walker grinned in spite of his heartache. “I've heard rumors about your women.”

Potster chuckled. “All true.”

S.H. walked up to join the men. He slapped a strip of leather in Walker's free hand. “Notice you're a little testy these days. Haven't seen much of her lately, have ya?”

Walker hadn't seen Sarah at all since Lucy had shown up a week ago. Flo said she was under the weather. Finishing the harness he had been repairing, he reached for another one. What was ailing her? Guilt? Or was she really ill? For a split-second concern seized him, but then he quickly shook the emotion aside. Flo would have told him if Sarah were in any danger.

“Wouldn't hurt none to check on yer woman, would it? Flo says she's a pitiful sight, eyes nearly swollen shut from cryin'.”

“She's not my woman, S.H. Not since she lied to me.”

“Could be that yer bein' a little bullheaded about this. The girl's crazy about ya, Walker. Any fool can see it.”

Potster agreed. “You won't find a woman like her on every corner. Now, if you'll excuse me, I gotta git back to the bunkhouse. I got meat cookin'.” He turned and left.

Walker fiddled with the halter in his hands. “Implying that I'm one fool who can't see it?”

“If the boot fits.”

Walker wanted to go to her. The nights were long without her. He missed her smile and the sound of her laughter, the way she looked in the early mornings, all tousled and warm. Sleeping in the spare room wasn't his idea of paradise, but every time he reached their bedroom door he remembered that she had lied. If a man couldn't trust a woman, all the lovemaking in the world was useless.

S.H. stroked the mare's neck. “You keepin' this hardhead company, ol' girl?” Diamond threw her nose up in the air and tossed her head as if denying any involvement with Walker's mulishness.

Walker gritted his teeth and bore down to tighten the finishing knot on the halter. “Maybe I should send her home, S.H.” The thought had been at the back of his mind for days. He couldn't forgive her, and he didn't want to stay in the guest room forever. Sarah should be home with family, people who loved her. Yet that idea appealed to him less than facing her.

S.H. snorted and tore a piece of leather in two. “If that's what you really wanted, you'da sent her home with that other gal.”

Walker threw the halter over a stall door and then reached for a saddle that needed mending. S.H. had a point. Trudy had left him with no choice; with Sarah he still had options. He could forgive her and move on. Until a week ago the marriage had been good, nearly ideal. Sarah was welcome company, easy on the eye and easy to be with.

A man didn't have to love a woman in order to live with her. He was in the marriage to sire an heir. Personal feelings hadn't counted when he'd ordered a bride, and they needn't count now. So why did her deceit
stick in his craw? Why did he lie in his bed sleepless nights, his mind going over the way she had made him feel nine feet tall inside?

“So what are you gonna do? Refuse to speak to her until the baby's born?”

“There isn't going to be a baby, S.H.”

“Open yer eyes, Walker.” S.H. glanced up.

Walker's saddle slipped from the stanchion and into the hay. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Color dotted S.H.'s cheeks and he busied himself with the mare.

“S.H.?”

“What?”

“What does ‘open your eyes' mean?”

Head bent, S.H. eased behind Diamond's flanks and began checking her hooves.

“Do I have to come over there and beat it out of you?”

“I cain't tell you, Walker. Flo would shoot me. I already opened my big mouth too much.”

A chill ran up Walker's spine despite the extreme heat. Sarah's sickness, her wan features—a whole week spent in bed. Sarah was scatterbrained, but she wasn't sickly.

“S.H., is Sarah carrying my child?”

“Don't make me tell ya, Walker. I wanna be able to eat and sleep in my own house.”

Walker leaned over to jerk the saddle back on the post.

“She can't be,” he said. “If she was, she would have told me.” She would have used it as a tool to trap him. What better way to bind him than to produce his heir?

S.H. took off his hat and wiped his temples, shaking his head. “Son, don't you know nothin' about havin' babies? The woman don't know right away but the signs are there. Ya could be in there rejoicin' about a baby together, but you're out here fixin' straps and sleepin' on an old bed in the spare room because of some misplaced pride ya think is more important than yer feelin's for her.” The old man grabbed the cattleman's shoulders. “Do yourself a favor. Let it go. Ain't nothin' nicer than
wakin' up to the woman you love in yer arms. Makes up for a heap of wrongs.” His tone dropped lower. “Forgive her, son. Yer feelings are gonna get mishandled once in a while, but you can survive the hurts with a little more love. Take a page from the Good Book and forgive. You'll be a better man for it.”