Читать книгу Short Straw Bride - Dallas Schulze - Страница 9

The last time anyone could remember the McLain brothers setting foot inside a church was three years past when their mother had been laid to rest beside her husband. So their arrival on this fine spring morning created a buzz of talk as people wondered what had caused their sudden attack of piety.

The speculation was already well advanced by the time Eleanor’s family arrived. Zeb Williams had a firm, if unspoken, belief that God rewarded not merely godliness but punctuality. But this morning Anabel had been unable to find a particular hair ribbon and their departure had been delayed while the house was searched for the missing item. Though the pink ribbon was found in Anabel’s reticule, exactly where she’d apparently put it, the blame for their lateness had somehow fallen on Eleanor and she’d been treated to a telling silence on the carriage ride.

She was actually grateful for the opportunity to review the decision she’d made the night before. Though she tried desperately to find some flaw in the plan, none presented itself. No matter how she looked at it, marrying Andrew Webb seemed the best option available to her. He was a respectable man, a kind man, even. She’d be a very foolish girl indeed to turn him away.

So, when Mr. Webb greeted the Williams family today, she’d put on her very best smile for him and try to look as if the prospect of wedding a man with cold, damp hands and four small children filled her with something other than dread.

But the whispered buzz that hummed through the small church pushed all thoughts of Andrew Webb momentarily aside. Of course, even without the whispers running through the pews, Eleanor would have noticed the McLains. They sat in the front pew, next to the aisle. Broad shoulders beneath neat black coats, dark hair worn just a little too long for complete respectability—even from the back, they drew a woman’s eyes.

Though she’d attended church there every Sunday for six years, it seemed to Eleanor as if the building was suddenly much smaller than it had been, as if the McLains’ presence filled up the available space in some way that mere mortal men had no business doing.

It was doubtful that anyone paid much attention to the Reverend Sean Mulligan’s sermon that day. Eleanor certainly couldn’t have repeated a word of it. When the sermon ended, the murmured amens were perfunctory, everyone’s mind occupied with things of more immediate interest than the hereafter.

It was the normal practice for people to linger in front of the church, exchanging greetings with each other, complimenting the minister on his sermon. On this particular Sunday there was only one topic of conversation among the womenfolk—what had brought the McLains to church after all this time. And though the men pretended to be above such common speculation, it didn’t stop their eyes from sliding to where the McLains stood talking with Reverend Mulligan.

Cora Danvers suggested that they’d come to repent their sins in the eyes of the Lord. But no one who looked at either McLain—and everyone was looking at them—could give much credence to that theory. Neither of them looked as if they felt the need for repentance. There was too much confidence in the way they moved, too much arrogance in the way they carried themselves.

Perhaps they were lonely, Millie Peters said. After all, they were orphans, alone and without family. Her soft blue eyes teared up at the thought, her plump face crumpling in sympathy, and Eleanor had no doubt that Millie would try to take the McLains under her wing. But they didn’t look as though they needed Millie’s wing, nor anyone else’s, for that matter.

She’d never actually seen either Luke or Daniel McLain but, like most people in Black Dog, she knew who they were. They owned the largest ranch in the area, a ranch their father had begun and that they’d continued to build after his death. Their patronage kept half the businesses in town in the black. She knew Mr. Webb’s store depended in large part on orders from the Bar-M-Bar.

But she wasn’t thinking about Andrew Webb as she watched the brothers talk to Reverend Mulligan. Though there was a strong resemblance between them, it was the taller of the two who drew her eyes. He looked dangerous, she thought, studying his profile. A strong chin, an almost hawkish nose, his hair brushing the collar of his conservatively cut black coat—there was something just a little untamed about him. And the gun that rested so snugly on his hip completed the image. Not that he was the only man wearing a gun—this was still a wild land in many ways, after all, and most men went armed. It wasn’t the presence of the gun but the ease with which he wore it that was just a little shocking.

As if sensing her gaze, he turned his head abruptly and their eyes met across the packed dirt of the churchyard. He was too far away for her to see the color of his eyes but she felt the impact of that look all the way to her toes. She knew she should look away, that it wasn’t ladylike to stare, but she couldn’t drag her gaze from his.

“Stop staring like a cheap tart. Try to at least pretend you’re a lady,” Dorinda Williams hissed in her ear. Eleanor gasped as her aunt’s fingers found the tender flesh on the back of her arm in a vicious pinch. She lowered her lashes to conceal quick tears of pain. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Anabel smile with pleasure and had to restrain a most unladylike urge to slap her smug pink-and-white face.

“What I’ve got in mind is a gentle girl, one who won’t be too demanding,” Luke said. “I’ve got enough on my hands with the ranch work. I don’t want a wife who expects me to dance attendance on her.”

Sean Mulligan had known Luke and Daniel since the family had first moved to Black Dog after the war. He’d been a friend of their father’s, and he’d often thought that Robert McLain would have been proud of the way his sons had kept the ranch going after his death, fulfilling his dream. He was fond of both boys—men, he corrected himself, looking up at the two of them. He’d been pleased to see them in his church this morning, but his pleasure had rapidly changed to dismay as he’d listened to Luke coolly outline his plan to find a wife.

“I don’t want to waste a lot of time,” Luke was saying now. “Spring’s a busy time, what with calving and all.”

“Finding a wife isn’t like buying a horse, Luke,” Sean protested.

“Buying a horse would be a damn sight easier,” Daniel put in, grinning at his older brother. “Just check the bloodlines, look at the teeth, take it for a ride and you know what you’re getting. Too bad you can’t do the same with a woman.”

“Well, you can’t,” Sean snapped. He dabbed at the beads of sweat on his forehead. The mild spring sunshine suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

“It can’t be that hard, Sean,” Luke said, looking impatient. “People get married all the time.”

“Yes, but they generally spend some time getting to know one another. They court. A man doesn’t just pick out a bride like…like…”

“Like picking out a horse?” Daniel supplied helpfully.

“Exactly.”

“I don’t have time for courting, and we can get to know each other after the wedding. As long as she doesn’t have a temper like a wolverine or a face like a mud fence, we’ll do fine. I need a wife, not a best friend.”

“But…” Sean sputtered and dabbed the handkerchief frantically over his forehead. How could he explain the impossibility of what Luke wanted?

“There must be some unmarried females in town,” Luke said, his eyes skimming the crowd, unconcerned with the interest he was receiving in return.

“Yes,” Sean admitted cautiously.

“What about the redhead in the blue dress?” Luke asked, narrowing his eyes on the statuesque girl.

“Dorcus O’Hara,” Sean supplied, following Luke’s gaze. Sensing their gaze on her, the girl lifted her chin. “I don’t think she’s what you have in mind, Luke. Dorcus is a bit, er, high strung,” he said delicately.

“Temper like a hungry grizzly?” Daniel asked shrewdly.

“Well, er, yes,” Sean admitted, sighing.

“What about the little one with the brown hair? The one wearing the blue dress and the ugly hat?”

“Eleanor Williams.” Sean’s pale blue eyes widened in surprise.

“She taken?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Ain’t much to her,” Daniel commented. “What about the yellow-haired one next to her?”

“That’s her cousin, Anabel.”

“Too narrow between the eyes,” Luke said critically. “Reminds me of that mule we had in Virginia, the one that’d try to bite anything came within reach.”

Sean choked on swallowed laughter, trying to imagine Anabel Williams’s reaction to hearing herself compared to a bad-tempered mule.

“Why don’t you introduce me to a few possibilities?” Luke asked his father’s old friend.

Eleanor watched discreetly as Reverend Mulligan began introducing the McLains around. Her eyes lingered on the taller one and she felt her heart beat a little faster when he smiled at something his brother said. His teeth gleamed white against his tanned features and she thought she’d never seen a man even half as handsome.

“I’d hoped to see you today, Miss Williams.” Andrew Webb stepped in front of her, blocking her view of Reverend Mulligan and his companions. She’d been so wrapped up in watching the McLains that she hadn’t even been aware of him greeting her aunt and uncle.

“Mr. Webb.” She smiled at him and resisted the urge to try to peer around him to see where the McLains were.

“You look very pretty today, Miss Williams, if you don’t mind my saying so.” Andrew flushed a little at his boldness.

“Thank you, Mr. Webb.” He was lying through his teeth, of course. His crooked teeth, she added when he smiled. The powder blue dress she wore was a remade castoff of Anabel’s, and neither the color nor the style suited her. Not to mention the appallingly ugly hat Aunt Dorinda had purchased for her the week before. The brim dripped with ribbon roses and fat bows and made her look like an overdressed mushroom.

“I knew that hat would look a picture on you.”

“This hat?” Eleanor lifted her hand to touch the despised headgear, her attention fully on Andrew for the first time. “Aunt Dorinda bought it from you?”

“Yes.” Andrew smiled happily. “As soon as I saw it, I thought of you.”

“You did?”

“Yes.” His smile widened. “I’m so glad to see you like it.”

“It’s…lovely,” Eleanor said weakly. It was also the only hat she owned, at least until she could refurbish last year’s bonnet. The tattered condition of that item was the only reason she’d forced herself to don the hat at all.

“I’ve often thought it remarkable how close one can feel to someone with whom one shares one’s tastes, even in such small and unimportant things as styles of dress,” Andrew said, his watery blue eyes focused intently on her face.

Eleanor stared at him, groping for an appropriate reply. Should she admit, right up front, that she despised the hat in question? If she did, would that end the possibility of Mr. Webb being a suitor for her hand? Did she care? To her relief, she was saved the necessity of a reply by Reverend Mulligan’s arrival.

“Zeb, I’d like to introduce you to some friends of mine. This is Luke McLain and his brother, Daniel. Mr. and Mrs. Williams.”

Andrew Webb was instantly forgotten. Eleanor felt her pulse suddenly beating much too fast in the base of her throat. Luke McLain. She rolled the name around in her mind and decided that she’d never heard one she liked more.

“We’ve already met,” Uncle Zeb was saying as he shook hands with both men. “Dealings with the bank, of course. Haven’t seen either of you in quite a while. How’d your place come through the winter? Did you lose much stock?” He looked ready to settle into a lengthy discussion of ranching but a subtle nudge from his wife reminded him of his duties. “Oh, excuse me. Allow me to introduce my wife, Dorinda. And my daughter, Anabel,” he said, pride evident in both voice and expression.

“Miss Williams.” Luke smiled at Anabel, and Eleanor felt something close to despair. No doubt he’d be dazzled by Anabel’s pale beauty, just as every other man was.

“Mr. McLain. And Mr. McLain.” Anabel smiled, revealing the perfect dimples in her cheeks. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Eleanor was unreasonably pleased that it was Daniel and not Luke who gave her cousin that reassurance.

“We haven’t seen you at church before, have we?” Anabel asked, widening her blue eyes in a way that drew attention to their pure color.

“We haven’t attended much lately,” Luke said, and Eleanor felt the deep richness of his voice slide over her skin.

“I hope you mean to change that,” Anabel said.

“Now, Anabel, Mr. McLain is going to think you’re being bold.” Her mother’s voice was too indulgent to be called a scold.

“I was just thinking of the importance of tending one’s immortal soul, Mama.” Anabel thrust her lower lip out ever so slightly in the pretty pout that she’d spent hours perfecting.

“Very admirable of you,” Reverend Mulligan said dryly.

“Is this another daughter?” Luke asked, turning to look directly at Eleanor.

“My brother’s child.” Zeb Williams’s tone was flat. “We took her in when he was killed a few years ago.”

There was an awkward little pause, and Eleanor felt the color rise in her cheeks. Her uncle couldn’t have made it more clear that she was an unwanted burden, hardly worth noticing. Tears of embarrassment burned the backs of her eyes.

“Eleanor, this is Luke McLain. His brother, Daniel.” Reverend Mulligan hurried to fill the silence when it became clear that neither her aunt nor her uncle had any interest in introducing her.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Williams.”

Eleanor raised her gaze to Luke McLain’s face, oblivious to his brother’s equally polite greeting. Up close, he was even more overwhelming than he’d seemed from across the churchyard. His eyes were gray, the same clear color as a lake under a stormy sky. They were like polished steel against his tanned skin.

“Mr. McLain.” The whispered acknowledgment was all she could get out. Her heart was pounding against her breastbone, making her voice breathless. She could barely hear Luke’s greeting to Andrew Webb over the sound of her own pulse in her ears. And then he turned back to her and smiled and she felt her knees go weak.

“Have you lived in Black Dog very long, Miss Williams?”

“Six years, four months and twelve days,” she answered, without thinking. She saw his brows shoot up and immediately wished she could catch the words back. She’d kept track of the days like a prisoner counting out her sentence, but she’d never intended to reveal as much to anyone, least of all Luke McLain.

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then Anabel giggled. “You shouldn’t tease Mr. McLain, Eleanor. Why, it almost sounds like you haven’t been happy with us.”

“I didn’t mean that at all,” Eleanor mumbled, lowering her lashes to conceal the rebellion in her eyes. She’d get an earful from Aunt Dorinda later, she knew. And heaven knew what Luke McLain must think of her.

The awkward moment was interrupted by the arrival of Letty Sinclair. Eleanor felt a twinge of annoyance. Letty was her best friend and, ordinarily, she would have welcomed her presence, but on this occasion Eleanor couldn’t help but feel that Anabel’s soft blond beauty overshadowed her enough without the addition of Letty’s more exotic dark good looks. Guilt over the selfish thought made her smile all the more warmly as she turned to include Letty in their little group.

Reverend Mulligan made the introductions. Eleanor watched in resignation, sure that Luke McLain would be completely smitten by Letty’s raven hair and dark eyes. There’s Italian blood there, mark my words, Aunt Dorinda had said darkly when Letty first moved to Black Dog. But Italian blood or not, the healthy condition of Letty’s bank balance assured her place in the town’s small society, even if her charm and generosity hadn’t already done so.

Better that Luke be smitten by Letty than Anabel, Eleanor thought. Better almost anyone than Anabel. By the time the minister had finished the introductions, Eleanor was already envisioning the wedding with herself as a heartbroken but noble bridesmaid.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Sinclair,” Luke said, looking polite but not overly smitten.

“It’s Mrs. Sinclair,” Letty corrected, smiling in a way that made her eyes sparkle. “I’m a widow these three years past.”

“You must have been a child bride,” Daniel McLain said, his eyes blatantly admiring Letty’s trim figure.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. McLain.”

“It was intended as such, Mrs. Sinclair,” he responded with a grin that might have put a flutter in Eleanor’s heart if it hadn’t already been beating double time in response to his brother’s proximity.

A glance at Dorinda Williams’s face showed that she was less than pleased about this addition to their small group. While she’d rather have eaten nails than acknowledge that anyone could overshadow her precious Anabel, there was no denying Letty Sinclair’s charms.

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Reverend Mulligan and his companions moved on. Instantly three of Dorinda Williams’s closest friends descended on them, wanting to hear every word that had been said.

“What charming young men,” Dorinda said, her superior look only slightly spoiled by the pleased flush on her cheekbones.

“What did they say?” Millie Peters demanded, her small nose quivering with eagerness.

“We merely exchanged a few pleasantries,” Dorinda said, trying to look as if she wasn’t enjoying being the center of attention. Letty and Eleanor exchanged an amused look.

“But why did Reverend Mulligan bring them to meet you particularly?” That was Cora Danvers, blunt spoken, as always. If her husband hadn’t owned half the bank, she wouldn’t have had a friend in the world. Dorinda stiffened at the question, her smile tightening into something more nearly a grimace.

“I’m sure the McLains wanted to meet my Anabel,” she said through tight lips. “Isn’t it obvious that they’ve decided to take their rightful positions in our little society? Naturally, they’ll be interested in finding wives, and my little Anabel is the prettiest girl in town,” she admitted with an air of false modesty that clashed with her smug tone. She sighed and put on a regretful look. “Of course, if your Mary hadn’t run off with that drummer last fall, she might have given Anabel a run for her money.”

Cora flushed an unbecoming shade of purple, and Eleanor found herself almost admiring her aunt’s ability to find the most vulnerable place in which to slide the barb, Everyone in town knew about Mary Danvers running off with the corset salesman, but few people would have dared to mention the incident to her face. Since Zebediah Williams owned the other half of the bank, Dorinda felt safe in striking such a blow.

“Anabel is such a pretty girl,” Millie Peters said hastily, her soft voice filling the taut silence. “It would hardly be a surprise if one of the McLain boys came courting.”

“I wouldn’t wonder if they both came courting,” Dorinda said, forsaking modesty for maternal pride.

Eleanor watched Anabel preen, and ground her teeth together. Just the thought of her spiteful little cousin clinging to Luke McLain’s arm made her want to plant her foot firmly in Anabel’s fanny.