Читать книгу The Bride Wore Spurs - Janet Dean - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Wound tighter than a coiled spring, Matt rode into the Circle W stable, stripped leather, then brushed Thunder’s coat. As Matt led the stallion to his stall, fed and watered him, large, wide-set eyes alert with intelligence gazed back at him. Quick, smart and high-spirited, much like his future wife.

But Hannah was a woman, not trained to bridle and bit. Truth was, she held the reins, using him to keep her ranch. Not that he didn’t want the same.

At the pump, he scrubbed his hands and doused his face and neck. Had his admiration for Hannah’s coolheaded competence during a calf’s difficult birth triggered his proposal?

No, he had prayed for wisdom. Felt a deep certainty he’d been led by God and had done the right thing. He wanted to give Martin peace. He wanted to help Hannah. He didn’t want love. The lack of expectations in this marriage fit him perfectly.

Cal and his family were joining them for supper. Normally a good time, but with the task of telling his family the news, his steps lagged. No doubt they’d question his sanity.

He found his mother and Cal’s wife, Susannah, in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. “Smells good, Ma,” he said, letting the screen door slap behind him. “Hi, Susannah.”

Blond silky hair swept into a sleek bun, Susannah looked up from laying plates on the table and smiled. Fair and blue-eyed, Cal’s petite wife had an innocent, delicate quality about her, yet had a mind of her own if the occasion warranted.

Victoria turned from the stove. “Hoped you’d get here in time for supper.”

He hung his Stetson on a peg beside the door, then walked to his ma. “Let me help with that.” He took the potato masher from her hand and battled lumps in the potatoes. An easy skirmish compared to what lay ahead.

As if led by their noses, Cal with his son, Robbie, tucked in his arms, and Pa trooped into the kitchen. Matt greeted them, then turned the pot over to his mother, who scooped the creamy potatoes into a large crock.

“Hey,” Cal said, clapping Matt on the shoulder, “you look down in the mouth.”

“Hush,” Victoria scolded. “Your brother’s been over to the Parrish ranch. You know Martin’s poorly.”

Cal’s gaze clouded. “Sorry. Martin’s a good guy.”

At the moment, Matt’s disquiet involved the task at hand, not merely Martin’s health. He’d like his family’s blessing, and would get it...in time.

They gathered at the table, Robbie tucked in his high chair between Susannah and Cal. Pa offered grace, thanking God for the food and asking His mercy on Martin. After a hearty amen, Robert nabbed a piece of fried chicken, then passed the platter on.

Susannah tied a bib around Robbie’s neck. “Hannah has no family in these parts. What will happen to her?”

“She should sell the ranch and go back to Charleston,” Robert said. “Running a ranch isn’t a woman’s place.”

“The Parrish family has endured a lot. First losing both Melanie and the baby in childbirth, now Martin.” Ma’s voice caught. “Poor Hannah. Makes me want to weep.”

Susannah handed Robbie a spoon. The boy promptly dug into the potatoes and managed to get a spoonful into his mouth. “Hannah loves the ranch. I can’t believe she’d leave willingly.”

Appetite gone, Matt moved his potatoes around his plate with a fork. Might as well get it said. “I asked her to marry me.”

Stunned silence followed his declaration. All eyes turned on him, while the startling news sank in.

“So when is the wedding taking place?” Susannah asked.

Martin was dying. They had no time to cement their relationship. “If Pastor Cummings agrees, Thursday at the Lazy P.”

Ma gasped. “Mercy, that’s fast. Are you sure about this?” she said, searching his face.

Matt had seen that look before. Knew Ma was trying to read his thoughts, zipping him back to when he was ten and had played hooky from school. Ma had been judge and jury, meting out justice. As he recalled, he’d had to muck out the barn every night for a week.

He glanced away from those perceptive eyes. “I’m sure.”

Ma didn’t smile, merely nodded instead. “I’ll drive over to see how we can help.”

“You can’t possibly love the girl,” Cal said. “Why, you barely know her.” He plopped his elbows on the table, his expression aghast, as if Matt had grown two heads. “Hannah’s a great kid. One thing to feel sorry for her, and I do, but quite another to marry her.”

“Obviously, Cal, you haven’t seen Hannah since her return,” Pa declared. “She’s all grown-up.”

Cal plopped tiny bites of chicken on Robbie’s tray. “There’s always been pretty women around. Why the sudden decision to marry this one, big brother?”

Matt would never reveal that Hannah had proposed first. He couldn’t explain their decision to marry without revealing the personal details of the agreement, something he’d never do.

“May be overstepping,” Cal went on, “but I trust grief over Amy isn’t making you settle for a loveless marriage.”

Hands balled into rock-hard fists alongside his plate, Matt glared at Cal. “Keep Amy out of this.”

As if held at gunpoint, Cal raised his arms, palms out. “Whoa, brother. I want you to have what Susannah and I share. I’m just saying—”

“Saying what? That I don’t have the sense to know my own mind?”

“Matthew! Calvin! You’re behaving like bullheaded toddlers,” Robert said. Then he nodded his head, a smile forming on his lips. “A merger with the Lazy P makes sense. By pooling our resources, both ranches might survive dropping cattle prices and the bad economy.”

Leave it to his father to see marriage as a business opportunity. “Hannah hasn’t agreed to a merger,” Matt said.

“See that she does.” Robert glanced around the table, at the untouched food. “Enough of this talk. Eat.”

“Eat!” the food-smeared toddler ordered with pride, then stuck a gooey spoon in his hair and grinned.

Everyone laughed, easing the tension at the table.

Matt settled back in his chair, taking a deep breath, trying to slow his breathing. His father tried to run every facet of his sons’ lives. It was the reason Zack had turned to the law. And Cal spent most of his time at Susannah’s folks’ spread.

Still, the ongoing strain between Matt and his father didn’t explain Matt’s reaction to Cal’s concern. He’d thought he had peace about the decision to marry Hannah, but in truth, he was entering uncharted territory.

One grim possibility after another marched through Matt’s mind. Without the benefit of a loving relationship, he and Hannah would deal with Martin’s illness and without a miracle, his death. This marriage could backfire in a myriad of ways.

Matt had grown comfortable with the emptiness of the past four years. Each day had held a blessed sameness, with neither highs nor lows, just a flat, hollow monotony. He had filled those days with work. The highlight of his week were evenings spent with Martin, another lonely man fighting his own demons. Martin’s waning health triggered painful memories of Amy’s death.

Still, none of this excused his treatment of Cal. “I’m sorry for overreacting, Cal.”

His brother met his gaze, an apology in his eyes. “Me, too.”

“To see Hannah wed will give Martin peace,” Ma said. “Hannah’s a lovely young woman, a rancher at heart. A good match for you.”

Robert gave a nod. “Marriage to Hannah is a solution for everyone.”

Cal looked pained, as if he’d taken a bite of cactus.

At her husband’s silence, Susannah frowned at Cal. “Hope you and Hannah will be very happy,” she said, then reported Robbie’s latest humorous antic and conversation resumed as usual.

Matt’s mind wandered back to how all this started. During his visits to the Lazy P, Martin spoke often of Hannah, the daughter he obviously adored. The day Martin was diagnosed with cancer, he’d shared his heavy burden for his only child’s welfare. Matt shared that concern. Hannah was in a tough spot.

Yet, to wed a nineteen-year-old without love scared him silly. Marriage might be a solution for her, but marriage would also create new problems.

Unlike Cal, Matt knew why he’d proposed. He couldn’t risk love, but at twenty-five, he wanted a new beginning. He’d settle for companionship, settle for a woman to share his dreams and goals, settle for a woman who’d share his way of life.

The honest truth was that he was tired. Tired of dodging unsuitable women with matrimony on their minds. Tired of feeling alone in a houseful of people. Tired of fighting his father’s control.

By marrying her, Matt would see that Hannah could remain on the land she loved. He hoped that would make her happy. If not happy, at least content. Something he’d come to appreciate.

Matt had come, hoping for his family’s support of the marriage. For the most part he’d gotten it. Cal would come around. But Pa.... Would Pa’s expectation of a merger between the two ranches wind up causing trouble?

* * *

Two days till Hannah lassoed and tied herself to Matt Walker. Married. The word twisted in her stomach. Wedding vows meant until death do us part, faithfulness, respect.

She stiffened. Obedience. She hoped Matt could tolerate giving up one of those promises. If he tried to keep her on a short tether—

She swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat, shoving down all the misgivings trying to spew out of her mouth and into Papa’s ear.

Instead she helped her father to his desk. Last evening Matt had asked for Papa’s permission to wed. Papa had clapped Matt on the back, declared he already thought of Matt as a son and nothing could make him happier than seeing Hannah in good hands.

As if she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself.

Still the news had eased the tension around Papa’s eyes and put a big smile on his face. That was reason enough to bite her tongue.

Hannah glanced out the window. The Walker buggy was coming up the lane. She kissed her father’s cheek. “Matt’s here.”

“While you’re in town, spread the word about the wedding. A chat with the town’s bench sitters and Pastor Cummings should do the trick.”

Hannah dreaded the townsfolk’s reaction, but forced a bright smile.

Martin motioned to the package in Hannah’s hands. “Is that your mama’s dress?”

“It is. I’m taking it to Miss Carmichael’s for alterations. Are you sure you’ll be all right while I’m gone?”

“You’re in more peril in Biddy Carmichael’s shop than I could ever be here.”

“Papa!” Hannah laughed. No matter how much he suffered, her father made the effort to bring laughter to others. “You know her name is Belinda, not Biddy.”

“How could I make such a mistake?” He winked. “Now skedaddle. Don’t keep your groom waiting.”

She kissed him once more, her heart swelling with love, and then walked as fast as her dress would allow, more tortoise than her usual hare. Who could abide such restriction?

Outside, she popped up her frilly parasol, an accessory Aunt Mary Esther had insisted upon. On such a sweltering day riding in an open buggy, Hannah welcomed the shade.

Matt rounded the conveyance, his gaze traveling from the hat perched atop her head to the silk toe of her pump. He doffed his Stetson. “The debutante is back.”

“You looking for a fight, Walker?”

“No, ma’am, I’m not.” He grinned wickedly. “One thing’s sure. Whatever garb she’s wearing, the filly’s a Thoroughbred.”

Hannah thrust up her chin. “I’m becoming your wife, not joining your stable.”

Obviously not the least bit repentant, his impish smile held. “Kind of fun having two of you, debutante and cowgirl, all wrapped up in one very nice parcel.”

At his perusal, butterflies fluttered in her stomach. She corralled her skirts, then allowed him to assist her into the buggy. Whether she would be in good hands as Papa had said, was to be seen, but his grasp was strong, secure.

“You have an admirer in Rosa. She’s very excited about our wedding,” Hannah told him.

“It pays to be on good terms with the cook. Since I’ve been made to understand that won’t likely be you, I plan on buttering her up.”

“So the way to a man’s heart is indeed through his stomach.”

He cocked a brow. “Are you sure you want to know the way to a man’s heart, Hannah?”

A shiver slid along her spine. She quickly looked away from the amusement in those dark, smoldering eyes.

“The filly’s a tad skittish,” he said. Then with a flick of the reins, they got underway. “Know what kind of a wedding you want?”

“A simple ceremony at the Lazy P, outside if weather permits.”

“Sounds good.”

She sighed. “Papa insists on inviting half the town and hosting a barbecue afterward.”

“He doesn’t want his illness to cheat you out of a pretty wedding. Most women want that.”

Hannah had been thirteen when she and Papa attended Matt and Amy’s wedding, a grand affair. Hannah recalled the glow on their faces as they’d recited their vows. After such a love match, Hannah found Matt’s acceptance of a marriage of convenience baffling. Perhaps he’d understood that no one could take Amy’s place in his affection and wanted companionship.

She plucked at her skirts. “What he doesn’t realize, and I can’t tell him, is I can’t abide the thought of putting on a charade. We aren’t an ordinary couple.”

“True, but a private wedding might set tongues a-waggin’.”

“I suppose you’re right, but a party seems...deceptive.”

“People marry for many reasons, Hannah.” His gaze locked with hers. “If we’re committed to one another, then our wedding won’t be a charade. I believe we’ll be as happy as we choose to be. That’s what I want. Do you?”

As she looked into those dark orbs that penetrated her soul, she vowed to do everything in her power to make the marriage work. “Yes,” she said softly.

A smile curved the corners of his mouth. “God will bless us, help us find our way.”

He took her hand in his. At that moment, the sense of connection between them felt as meaningful as the vows they’d speak on Thursday.

Matt released her hand. “I told my family our decision to wed.”

“What did they say?” Hannah asked, her heart in her throat.

“They were...surprised, at first.” He shot her an impish grin. “But then, no more than I was.”

“Did you tell them I did the proposing?”

“Nope, that’s our little secret.”

“What did they say?”

“They think you’re a lovely young woman and wish us happiness.”

Had Matt omitted much of his family’s reaction? What had they really said? Perhaps she was better off not knowing. She’d have to get accustomed to the startled reactions of others, those who’d question their sudden nuptials.

On Main Street, Matt pulled up in front of Miss Carmichael’s shop, rounded the buggy, then placed his hands around her waist. As she rested her palms on his shoulders and he lifted her down, she stared into warm cocoa eyes, gentle, kind, appealing. Too appealing. She gathered her package, keeping her eyes anywhere except on him.

“I’ll stop at the church and ask Pastor Cummings to perform the ceremony. After that I’ve got business at the bank. What do you say we meet at the Calico Café at noon?”

“That should give me time to visit Leah.”

“We won’t leave town until you’re ready,” he said, then loped up the street to set the wedding plans in motion.

An urge to call him back, to renege on the proposal lurched through her. Foolishness. If she’d had another choice, she’d have taken it.

She threw back her shoulders and stepped inside the shop, in actuality, Miss Carmichael’s parlor. Overhead a tiny bell jingled. Cases and tables held gloves, hats, bolts of fabric, and baskets of feathers, silk flowers and papier-mâché fruit, the tools of her trade.

Belinda Carmichael bustled through a curtain separating the shop from her private quarters. Behind wire-rim glasses, the spinster’s hazel eyes missed nothing. Nor, for that matter, did her ears. Tall, thin, as prim and proper as a starched collar, Belinda gloried in her role as town gossip. No doubt she would gossip about the suddenness of her and Matt’s marriage. Still, Hannah wouldn’t trust Mama’s dress to anyone else.

“Good morning, Miss Parrish. I heard you were back from Charleston.” She glanced at the package in Hannah’s hands. “What can I do for you?”

Hannah untied the string and wrapping, revealing her mother’s wedding dress, an off-white silk confection with a row of pleats edged with lace at the hem, at the flared sleeves and on the draped overskirt.

“I’d like you to alter this dress to fit me.”

Miss Carmichael’s fingers skimmed over the bodice that tapered to a point below the waist. “The stitching is impeccable. Let’s see what needs to be done.”

She guided Hannah behind a screen and helped her change, then turned Hannah around, studying the fit. “I’ll need to add length. If I trim the sleeves and hem with the matching lace on this overskirt, no one would suspect the additions aren’t part of the original dress.”

Hannah agreed the solution would be perfect. She skimmed her palms over the overskirt, proud to wear this lovely dress. If only she were marrying a man she loved. She tamped down the thought. Love didn’t matter. The Lazy P did.

The bell over the door danced a cheery tune. A second customer entered the shop. “Be right with you,” Miss Carmichael called.

“No hurry.” The newcomer removed her hatpins, then her hat, obviously eager to try on one of Miss Carmichael’s creations.

Miss Carmichael leaned in. “I’m curious, Miss Parrish. Why are you having this dress altered? Surely your relations in Charleston didn’t give you their hand-me-downs.” Miss Carmichael’s tone oozed sympathy. “You might want to consider having something new made. I have several beautiful fabrics that would compliment your coloring.”

“Thank you, but I came back with a trunk full of dresses, more than I’ll ever wear.”

The seamstress’s expression soured. “Then why alter this one?” Her eyes widened. “Unless you intend to wear it for sentimental reasons, like at your wedding.” She smirked. “How silly of me. You have no beau.” She raised a brow. “Unless you met someone in Charleston.”

No point in avoiding the truth. Papa said to spread the word about the wedding, no better way than to tell the seamstress. Hannah steeled herself for Miss Carmichael’s reaction. “This is my mother’s wedding dress,” she said. “I want to wear it at my wedding Thursday. You won’t have any difficulty getting the alterations finished by then, will you?”

Hazel eyes gleaming, Miss Carmichael clapped her hands. “For a wedding, it’ll be my priority! Who are you marrying?”

“Matt Walker.”

“Matt Walker! From what I hear, he’s a most elusive catch.” Her shrewd beady eyes resembled a predator moving in for the kill. “You’ve only been home a few days,” she said. “Isn’t this wedding rather sudden?”

Sudden hardly described it.

“To marry that quickly, why, you must’ve fallen in love at first sight.” She tittered. “Not really first sight, of course, but first sight since your return.” Her hands fluttered like tiny birds in flight. “How romantic!”

Heat flooded Hannah’s cheeks. Love at first sight had not been the reason for the marriage. More like, at first sight of her ailing father. At first sight of her foreman’s refusal to follow orders. At first sight of Papa’s worry about her future.

Harsh realities had led her to propose, not romance, not affection for the man. Still, she’d play the role of blissful bride. She owed Matt that much. “Isn’t it exciting? Matt’s a very persuasive man.”

Miss Carmichael’s gaze sharpened. Perhaps the waver of Hannah’s smile or the wobble in her voice had raised the seamstress’s suspicions. Thankfully, the older woman didn’t pursue the topic, no doubt unwilling to risk a paying customer’s ire. After all, the seamstress had to make her own way.

A wave of sympathy for the woman swept through Hannah. Belinda Carmichael carried a load of responsibility and had no one to help share the burden. At least with Matt she’d have a partner.

All business, Miss Carmichael grabbed a tape measure and whipped it from the edge of Hannah’s hem to the toe of her shoe, then wrote her findings in a tiny notebook. She did the same for her sleeves. “I have all I need. Let me help you change.”

Behind the screen, the seamstress eased the garment over Hannah’s head. “I’ll have the dress finished by tomorrow afternoon and drive out to the ranch and deliver it personally.”

“That’s too much trouble.”

“Not at all, if you’ll show me the fashions you brought back from Charleston,” Miss Carmichael said with a smile, then rushed toward the waiting customer.

On the way out of the shop, Hannah passed Miss Carmichael and the shopper, their heads together, their smiles couldn’t cover the speculative look in their eyes.

As she escaped into the sunshine, Hannah heaved a sigh. She’d survived Miss Carmichael’s reaction, so surely she could survive anyone’s.

Up ahead, Bertram Bailey swept the entrance of Bailey’s Dry Goods. Thin as the broom in his hand, and not much taller, Mr. Bailey propped the handle against the building. “Good to have you home, Miss Parrish,” he said, then followed her inside.