An Unwilling Husband Page 11

  His words eased the hole in her chest, made her smile. “Can I hold the reins?”

  Eyebrows arched, he said, “You want to learn to drive ’em?”

  “Well, why not? What if I needed to drive the buggy someday and didn’t know how to do it?”

  He handed the mules over and she leaned forward in the creaking seat.

  “Don’t clench the reins. Let them loose and manageable in your hands. It’s kind of like riding Buck,” he explained. “Your saddle’s just further back and you’re commanding two horses instead of one. Turn slowly with the curve in the road.”

  She pulled the leather strip in her left hand, but not enough.

  “More,” he encouraged. “You won’t break them, and the one on the right will test you if he thinks you’re soft.” He relaxed into the jouncing chair and propped his boots up on the foot board.

  She thought he would take the reins back when they pulled onto Main Street, but he let her drive right up to the General Store. Then he hopped out and jogged over to her side of the buggy.

  “Here, let me.” He reached for her waist and lifted her gently to the ground. His strong grip stayed firmly on her hips and she rested her hands on his chest.

  He was so handsome. She felt faint when their bodies were so close. It seemed as if the noise from the town faded to nothing when she looked into his eyes. Such a masculine, mesmerizing, mysterious creature he was. Did he have this effect on all women? He must. Garret Shaw’s features couldn’t be lost on others of her gender. He was too well built to be missed.

  Someone whistled behind her, breaking the moment. “I got a room at the Brass Buckle if you two want it.” Burke headed their way with a huge smile on his face.

  With a gasp, she pulled away from Garret. His hands hovered near her waist for an instant longer and a look she couldn’t decipher crossed his face. Regret? It was quickly replaced by a good natured glare for Burke.

  “You boys ever comin’ back to the ranch?” Garret asked him.

  “Eh, we figured we’d give you two newlyweds some time alone.” Burke stopped in front of them and removed his hat and bowed gallantly. “Mrs. Shaw.”

  “Ridiculous man. Stand up,” she said, self-conscious. Passersby were staring but she couldn’t help being flattered by his swift and apparent acceptance of her.

  “Gather the boys. We’re picking up supplies and then we’ll head back.”

  Burke nodded and replaced his hat. “You got it, boss.”

  As he strode off, movement by the dressmaker’s shop and stifled laughter on the wind caught her attention. A trio of women shot her catty looks and snickered. One was Anna Jennings.

  Her smile faded with hurt. Why she still let rude women affect her feelings, she didn’t know.

  Garret held the door open for her and they entered the small general store. Out of the direct line of sight of the whispering women, much to her relief.

  While Garret talked to a short man with glasses behind the counter, she browsed the store. When she’d lived there before, the town had barely existed, much less a store, which had been more of a small and smelly open market. The little town of Rockdale had come leaps and bounds since then, no doubt due to the railroad and the illustrious new designation of cattle town. The store even boasted a small assortment of curtains to decorate cabin windows.

  “Do you like those?” Garret’s voice sounded close to her ear and his soft breath tickled the fine hairs on her neck. He was deliciously near, forcing her to take a moment before she answered to avoid her voice quavering.

  “I was just thinking of how far this place has come since I lived here last.” Bravely she turned and faced him, and he only pulled back a little, to her delight.

  “I was thinking—” he started.

  “Oh no, a dangerous pastime to be sure.”

  He graced her with an arched eyebrow and continued. “The cabin could use a woman’s touch. Not too much, mind you, but it could use better curtains over the front windows if you want to pick some out.”

  “How about this one?” She held up a gaudy, bright pink, floral printed length of fabric.

  Garret’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “If that is what you really want.”

  He looked as if he already regretted his offer, and she giggled. In the end, she chose a pair of solid blue curtains. She didn’t tell him they were the color of his eyes or that it was the biggest reason she wanted them. He probably wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment.

  “I think I shall purchase a length of white ribbon from the dressmaker’s shop to use as a tie for them,” she told him.

  Garret added the curtains onto a growing pile of provisions on the counter and threw a distracted look at the list of what the ranch would need between now and their next trip to town. “All right, meet me back at the wagon after you are finished. I’m almost done here.” He handed her a few coins to cover the cost of the ribbon, and she exited the store, the tinkling bell above the door announcing her departure.

  That she was enjoying a trip into town with Garret was unexpected, and she did so like surprises. Most surprises, anyway.

  Chapter 10

  The three gossiping women were thankfully gone when Maggie wandered through the door to the dressmaker’s shop. The last thing she wanted was another run-in with Garret’s slighted betrothed. The tiny woman likely bore a wealth of malice. A theory Maggie was utterly uninterested to test.

  After purchasing a length of white ribbon, she stopped to inspect the windows of the dressmaker’s shop. The dresses on display were of plainer quality than she was used to. Less elegant, to be sure, but the differences made the plain fashion more functional for her new life.

  Such functionality made the deep red dress she wore even prettier than when she first bought it. Maybe because it was more comfortable than the dresses she was used to, but more likely, that hungry admiration on Garret’s face when he’d seen her in it for the first time that morning.

  Though Aunt Margaret had often spoken of what a plain creature she was, she could wear a dress. Her dressmakers often remarked on her fine figure. She would take their word over her ornery old Aunt Margaret’s any day. If for no other reason than they’d had kinder compliments that were easier for her to swallow.

  A man cleared his throat behind her and she spun around with a smile, expecting Garret to be there.

  Though her husband was a stranger to her, this man was most certainly not him. His dark blue eyes were familiar, but nothing else. Tall with graying hair and a humorless posture, he was an older gentleman. From the gold watch fob draped across his waistcoat to the perfect stitching of his jacket, for a town such as Rockdale, his dress was impeccable. He came from money. Walked with the confidence of a man who knew his place above others in the world. Indeed, he was at the top of the food chain. That much was evident, even before he opened his mouth to speak.

  “Mrs. Shaw, I presume? I’m Clint Jennings. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  The reason for his slight familiarity made sense. Clint’s eyes looked eerily similar to his son Wyatt’s.

  “Maggie Shaw,” she responded with a small curtsey, and looked around for Garret or Burke. Anybody she recognized would do, as her unease grew the longer this man took in her appearance. He was indeed a man used to getting everything he wanted, before he even wanted it.

  “My daughter has told me some distressing news and I’d like to speak with you on it. If you don’t mind, of course.” The look on his face said he didn’t give a fig whether she minded or not.

  “I assume this is about my marriage to Garret?”

  A stodgy smile painted Clint’s face but failed to reach his eyes. He looked around. They had gathered the attention of onlookers. “Would you like to join me somewhere more private, Mrs. Shaw? I wouldn’t want these people to get the wrong impression.”

  “Actually, I have to meet my husband. I am already overdue and must go, but it was nice to meet you.”

  Jennings didn’t take hin
ts very well. He grabbed her elbow and dragged her to a lane between the buildings.

  “Unhand me, sir,” she protested, shock giving way to indignation. She wrenched her arm out of his grasp and rubbed the limb’s throbbing area.

  “Are you aware my daughter was in negotiations to be married to Garret before you came along?”

  “Sounds terribly romantic.” Would sarcasm buy her time? She searched the empty alley for any signs of life. An emboldened rat gnawing on trash in the shade didn’t count.

  “Who are you, Maggie Shaw, that you would ruin the happiness of two people? My daughter is in tears over this, and I will have retribution for it. Any slight to my family is a slight to me. I think you’ll find me a very ruthless man and not one to be trifled with.” He leaned closer, backing her into the wall.

  As she sidled along the wall in an attempt to escape him, he slammed his hand into the side of the building, so close to her face, cool air whooshed against her cheek. She gasped and closed her eyes.

  “I think we should talk,” he growled. “I should take you to a nice lunch, and we can talk about when you are leaving town.”

  Summoning courage, she opened her eyes. “I’m not leaving,” she gritted out.

  “Oh, come on. Surely you can be persuaded. Let me take you for lunch at the Brass Buckle. That would be the perfect dining place for someone with your character.”

  “Think she declined your offer already, Mr. Jennings.” Garret stood in the entryway to the alley looking calm and unflustered. Except for the clenching of his jaw, which she focused on as she gazed over Clint’s arm, still pressed beside her face.

  The tension in her shoulders eased. Garret meant safety. One glance at Clint’s face, though, replaced her relief with worry for Garret.

  “Besides, I was planning to take my wife to lunch, and you know how it is with newlyweds,” Garret said, “three’s a crowd. Now kindly move your hand away from my wife’s face.” The before I remove it for you was implied, and Clint’s features darkened even more. How was such a color even possible on a man’s face?

  Clint laughed, a cruel sound wringing from his throat, and stepped away from her. She steadied her shaking breathing, took the time to stand straight and smooth the wrinkles from her dress.

  When she stepped unsteadily over to stand behind Garret, he grabbed her hand and led her away. He pulled her into the nearby hotel and headed up the stairs.

  Fear kept her from asking where they were going. His strong grip told her he was furious and she didn’t want to be the victim of it. He pulled up short and knocked on a door in a long hallway. Burke opened it and looked first at her and then at Garret. Something in the latter’s face made Burke backpedal into the room and invite them in.

  “Give us a minute?” Garret asked Burke quietly.

  “Yep,” Burke said then hightailed it out the door.

  Garret didn’t seem ready to talk, so she sat, knees together, hands in her lap, on the edge of the bed and waited. He paced to the window and back then threw his hat against the wall and stood still, his profile to her.

  “Are you all right?” Finally he looked at her.

  She nodded. “Are you?”

  “I don’t want you talkin’ to that man anymore, you hear?”

  “I didn’t mean to talk to him in the first place.” She rubbed her arm, which still throbbed from Jennings’s grasp.

  Garret kneeled in front of her. “Let me see.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  With one impatient glance from her husband, she pulled the sleeve gently up her sore arm. Four perfect finger marks shone red on the delicate inside of her arm, and one on the outside. They would surely make colorful bruises by morning.

  Garret touched each mark with the brush of a fingertip and sat back on the heels of his boots. As he rubbed his hand over the stubble on his face, his barely contained fury had her reaching for him. To her relief, he didn’t lash out at her but heaved a sigh and leaned into her touch. His short whiskers were rough against the sensitive skin on the palm of her hand.

  “Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Garret.” She’d said it quietly, but he nodded.

  A breath more, and he pulled away, his wall slammed back into place like the gates of some lonesome castle.

  “I promised you lunch,” he said as he retrieved his hat from the floor. “We’ll eat downstairs and then head back to the ranch.”

  “All right.” Mauve and tan floral wallpaper clung to the walls, and if the bedroom furniture didn’t match, at least the pieces worked well together. The cream colored linens on Burke’s unmade bed looked clean enough and a quaint rocking chair stood in the corner of the cozy room. Likely this room was much nicer than one above the saloon. “I thought the boys stayed at the Brass Buckle when they were in town.”

  “Yeah, they do. Burke got kicked out.” Humor flickered in his eyes, easing some of the tension between them. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

  * * * *

  Dearest Uncle,

  If I didn’t give you a hard time, I fear you would wonder who this imposter is who continues to write to you every few days. That being said, you, sir, have broken your promise. I was in town today and when I checked the post, disappointed to find nary a letter from you. I do believe this wins me the bet between us. If you remember the terms, they were that you would write to me and send it the day after I left. It should be here by now. Do not worry, for I will happily keep up my end of the bargain and write habitually, until you feel obliged to respond. I do believe I may have a stubborn streak, so surely you are aware I intend to make good on my threat.

  All joking aside, how are you, Uncle? I know you are a busy man, but I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again until you hear me—it wouldn’t hurt to slow down for your own safety and health. Enjoy the luxuries you have worked so hard for! I fear overwork has left you no time to keep in contact with your only niece.

  All is well here. My husband took me to luncheon in town, which was unexpected. Also, quite the peaceful meal because we had endured an eventful day and were both lost to our own thoughts. I shall take peace over banter any day.

  All right, I know you are shaking your head right now. Maybe I do enjoy a little banter, though I’d never admit such to him. I do wonder if he will ever understand my humor as you do, Uncle. Or if he will always see me a child.

  How does one get to know their spouse? Any advice on this matter would be appreciated and used wisely. I look forward to receiving your correspondence.

  Maggie Shaw

  P.S. I also look forward to the box of fine chocolates promised when you made the bet with me. I shall feed them to my surly husband in hopes of sweetening him up.

  Maggie put the cork in the bottle of ink and leaned into the cushion of her chair. Because of a small but persistent fear of prying eyes, she’d written the letter in her bedroom. Though Garret showed little interest when she wrote, she couldn’t quite get over that he’d remorselessly read her journal. The betrayal still stung.

  A soft knock came at the door. Garret was starting to make a habit of needing to speak with her after she was in her nightdress and ready for bed. Seemed like he made up excuses to see her in such a state of undress, and as she stood and opened her door, the thought made her smile. Incorrigible man.

  She poked her head out, careful to reveal nothing of her dress.

  Garret looked serious and distracted. “Hey. Me and the boys have to go see about the cattle tonight. A number are missing and we weren’t able to find them earlier. We need to watch them tonight. Try to figure out what or who is taking them.”

  “Oh. Is there anything I can do?” To see him better in the dim candlelight streaming from her small desk, she opened the door wider. She didn’t like the thought of him out there in the dark when mischief was likely about.

  “No, ma’am.” He threw a glance toward the front of the house and rubbed his face as he so often did when thinking. “I’m going to ask Lenny to stay in the big
house with you tonight. You need anything, you ask her, you hear?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I don’t like leaving you here alone, Maggie. Be safe about it. You know where the ammunition is?”

  She nodded, and though he looked at her skeptically, he didn’t press the issue. “I’ll make the bed in the other room for Lenny. When do you think you will be back?”

  “Not before tomorrow afternoon. If you run into trouble, the cattle are still near the pond and that’s where we’ll be. It’ll be near impossible for you to find it at night, so don’t set out unless you are desperate.” He surprised her by grabbing her hands and examining the palms in the dim, flickering light. Then he grunted. “Hands look a lot better. Would you mind taking care of the barn tomorrow with Lenny?”

  “Of course. Whatever you need.”

  His gaze traveled the length of her dressing gown then his expression grew severe again. “Take care,” he said in a clipped tone, turned on his heel and stalked out of the house.

  Maggie clenched her hands. The skin on her extremities sought the warmth of the touch that had left them so abruptly. “You too,” she murmured.

  How surprising. The texture, look, and feel of her palms had changed so much since her arrival in Rockdale. They were lady’s hands no longer but rough, with half healed blisters and calluses covering most of the skin. A bit horrifying, but no one could accuse her of avoiding her share of the work with hands such as these.

  * * * *

  The hideously mottled rooster screeched. Right outside her window. The proximity of the grating noise could only mean Lenny was already up and feeding the chickens. Maggie got out of bed quickly and washed at the washbasin in front of her mirror.

  Garret wasn’t kind to her all the time. Or most of the time, for that matter, but the man had not once forgotten to fill her washbasin with fresh water every day. She could easily take care of it herself, but somehow, it seemed romantic that he filled it. In his way, taking care of her. He’d started to do little things for her that meant more than he probably understood. Frustrating, a bit, that he was leading her on, but touching. In some dark crevice of his hardened heart, he obviously cared.