Читать книгу Groom by Arrangement - Rhonda Gibson - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Eliza placed a finger against the throbbing pulse in her neck and felt the color drain from her face. Her stomach did a flopping thing, and her hands shook. For the second time today, she felt as if she were going to be sick. Her mind frantically worked to make sense of his words. If he wasn’t Mr. Miles Thatcher, then who was he?

It abruptly dawned on her that she’d dragged a complete stranger into Mrs. Hattie’s boardinghouse.

Her gaze moved to his boots and pant legs. A dark stain ran down his limbs, and liquid pooled at his feet. “I am so sorry. You must think me a complete fool.” She picked up the teapot and saw a crack across the bottom. “Oh, I’ve ruined Mrs. Hattie’s teapot, your boots and pants. What more can I ruin today?”

Hattie hurried from the kitchen, carrying a dishcloth. “Are you all right?” she asked Eliza. Her eyes swept the room and landed on Jackson and the pool of tea he now stood in.

Tears sprung to Eliza’s eyes. “I’m fine, but I’ve made quite a mess of things.” A sob tore from her lips as she covered her face to hide her shame.

His clear deep voice echoed the statement she’d said to him earlier. “It’s not that bad, Mrs. Kelly.” When she uncovered her face, he continued. “I can take the pot to the nearest blacksmith and he’ll fix it up. Boots can be wiped off and pants washed, so see? No harm done.”

Hattie patted her shoulder. “He’s right. I have another teakettle and we can clean up this spill in no time.”

No harm done? Who was he kidding? She’d dragged him from the train station and rambled on about being a mail-order bride. And to make matters worse, she had no idea where the real Mr. Thatcher was or what he looked like.

She studied the man before her. How could she have mistaken him for a scholar? He was big, taller than her by at least a foot. Large sinewy hands and brawny arms marked him as a man who was used to physical labor. Guarded cobalt-blue eyes stared back at her. Fresh flames of heat licked up her neck and into her cheeks.

Eliza jumped to her feet. “I have to find the real Mr. Thatcher. I’m so sorry to have caused this inconvenience, Mr. Hart. If you will excuse me.” Hoping she hadn’t sounded as breathless as he made her feel, she hurried from the room and scooped her hat from the kitchen table. She took a couple of deep breaths before returning to the main room.

Eliza didn’t want to face Jackson Hart again but knew she’d have to go back through the main sitting room to exit the house. She exhaled and slowly walked back the way she’d come.

Hattie was wiping up the mess, and Jackson Hart still stood where he’d been a few moments ago. A bewildered expression rested on his handsome face. He held his hat in his hands and stared down at the mess she’d made.

She hurried across the room and yanked the door open to escape. Her shoes pounded the wooden sidewalk. It wasn’t until she was halfway to the train station that Eliza and her heartbeat slowed down.

Eliza stopped and tried to picture the train station as it had appeared when she’d dragged Mr. Hart away. She closed her eyes and focused, recreating the memory in her mind. Jackson Hart had been standing beside the platform with a pained expression on his face. She’d thought he looked lost. Her gaze had scanned the train yard. Seeing no other passengers emerge from the train, she’d assumed he was Miles Thatcher.

She sighed and opened her eyes. Maybe Mr. Thatcher had changed his mind and hadn’t come. Or maybe she hadn’t waited long enough for him to have exited from the train. What if he was lost and searching for her? He could be anywhere, she thought.

“He’s probably long gone by now.”

Eliza jumped at the sound of Jackson’s voice so close to her elbow. How long had he been standing behind her? Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she turned to face him.

“You’re probably right.” The cracked teakettle dangled from his hand, and she reached for it. “I’ll take that to the blacksmith. I’m the one who broke it. I should be the one to get it fixed.”

He shook his head. “I’ll take it—I have business there, anyway.”

Nerves prickled up her arms and into her hairline. She felt as nervous as a fly trapped in a spider’s web. Only she’d created this web. No, on second thought, Hannah had. The first chance she got, Eliza intended to write her friend and tell her what a mess she’d gotten her into.

Eliza nodded and turned away from him. She decided to return to the boardinghouse. “I can’t believe the day I’ve had,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Me, either,” Jackson agreed as he turned to walk toward Main Street.

Eliza watched him leave and for a brief moment wondered what it would have been like to get to know Jackson. His wide shoulders swayed as he walked away. He was a handsome man, but handsome or not, Eliza knew he wasn’t for her. No man was. She shook the sad thought off and hurried back to the boardinghouse, praying tomorrow would be a better day.

* * *

The next morning, Eliza smoothed the quilt over her legs. She wasn’t ready to get up and face the world this morning. She’d not seen Mr. Hart any more the day before, and she felt grateful.

How could Hannah have done such a thing as to order her a mail-order groom? It dawned on Eliza that she’d never shared her deepest secret with her friend. Hannah had no idea that Eliza was barren and could never marry a man who wanted children. Mr. Thatcher’s

letter had been clear that he wanted not one, but a houseful.

Eliza sighed and got up. As she dressed, she thought of Jackson Hart and wondered what had happened to him. Had he returned and collected his bag or was he staying on at the boardinghouse? She hadn’t dared ask Mrs. Hattie the night before.

Heat filled her face once more as she reviewed the events of the previous day. She’d hurried back to the boardinghouse, pleaded a headache and gone to her room early. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she’d skipped dinner.

The grandfather clock ticked off the hour downstairs. She counted along with it and when the chiming stopped Eliza grabbed her bag and began stuffing clothes inside. She was late. Seth Billings, her friend Rebecca’s husband, would be waiting for her, and he’d said he wanted an early start back to Cottonwood Springs.

She looked around the room to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind and then hurried to the kitchen. U.S. Marshal Seth Billings, Jackson Hart and Mrs. Hattie sat at the table drinking coffee.

Aware of their gazes upon her, Eliza focused on Seth. “I am so sorry, Seth, I overslept.” Eliza held her bag with both hands and waited for him to stand.

Seth motioned for her to take the fourth chair at the table. “Please sit down, Eliza. I need to talk to you.”

What did the U.S. Marshal want to talk about? She knew he was in a hurry to get back to Rebecca and his girls. Eliza looked to Jackson Hart; his focus seemed to be on something in the bottom of his cup.

Had he filed a complaint against her for dragging him from the train station? Why else would Seth be acting so formal? Heat filled her face. Eliza wasn’t sure if it was from the anger she felt toward Jackson Hart or if it was because of her embarrassment at having Seth learn what she’d done the day before.

Mrs. Hattie smiled and nodded to the chair. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or tea, dear?”

Eliza slid into the chair and lowered her bag to the floor. “No thanks. I’m sure that Seth is about ready to head home.” She turned her attention to Seth. Her stomach took that moment to grumble noisily.

Mrs. Hattie’s laughed softly. “I’ll go fix you some breakfast and a strong pot of tea.” She pushed away from the table and walked to the kitchen.

Seth took a deep breath. “Eliza, I can’t leave Durango just yet. The trial I’m here for is being held over, there’s nothing I can do but stay.”

Her mind worked frantically. She needed to get back to her dress shop. Millie Hamilton was seventeen years old and had only agreed to watch the store for a week. They were expected home today. Would the girl be able to watch her shop for a few more days?

She caught Jackson sneaking a peak at her over his mug. Eliza felt as if she’d made a fool of herself enough for one visit to Durango. All she wanted right now was to go home and try to forget Jackson Hart and Miles Thatcher ever existed.

His blue eyes drilled into hers. She took a deep breath and dismissed him. Eliza returned her focus to the marshal. “I understand, Seth. I’ll rent a wagon and horse from the livery.”

Seth’s gaze bore into hers. “No, you won’t.”

She knew that stubborn look and opened her mouth to protest. “I need to get back to Cottonwood Springs, Seth. I have a store to run.”

He nodded. “I’m aware of that, Eliza. I’ve made arrangements to have you escorted home today.”

Eliza felt she knew the answer before she asked. “Who shall be escorting me?”

Seth took a drink and his eyes moved to Jackson Hart. He lowered the cup once more. “Mr. Hart has agreed to accompany you.”

Just as she feared.

Seth held up his hand to stop her from protesting. “I know he’s a stranger to you, Eliza, but I met and worked with Jackson a couple of years ago and trust me when I tell you, he’s a good man. You’ll be perfectly safe with Jackson as your escort.”

Eliza swallowed hard. A full day with Jackson Hart. Hadn’t she suffered enough embarrassment in the presence of this man? “Seth, I’m sure Mr. Hart has his own business to attend to.”

Seth placed his mug on the table. “Mr. Hart and I have already established a fee, and he’s agreed to take you. The matter is settled, Eliza.” He paused and gave her a grave look. “Unless you want to spend another week, maybe two, here in Durango.”

Eliza wanted to stomp her foot and demand to be allowed to return home alone. She was an adult. What was to stop her from leaving on her own?

A plan began to form in her mind. She could agree to stay and then simply change her mind and head home later in the morning. The thought of traveling alone both excited and scared her.

She felt Seth studying her. Eliza raised her head and tried not to look guilty. Her gaze met his.

“Don’t even think about it, Eliza Kelly. If I have to track you down and find you halfway home...” He let the threat hang in the air between them.

What would he do? Throw her in jail? Eliza saw his jaw harden. Possibly. Her heart sank, and she realized she couldn’t have lied to him, anyway. That wouldn’t have been the right thing for her to do. Instead, Eliza had a choice to make, spend her day with Jackson or stay in Durango for who knew how long.

She glanced across the table at the blacksmith and caught Jackson’s grin just before he hid it behind his cup of coffee. Today he wore a blue shirt that brought the rich blue color out of his eyes. Eyes that seemed to twinkle at her predicament. His short brown hair looked wet, as if he’d just taken a bath. Strong hands held the cup.

Seth cleared his throat. Eliza swung her gaze back to him. “Well, seeing as I really don’t have a choice, I suppose Mr. Hart can escort me today.”

Mrs. Hattie set a small plate before her with a piece of toast and egg upon it. “Here, eat this while you wait for Mr. Hart to get the wagon ready,” she instructed. “I’ll bring you a hot cup of tea to go with it, too. You have a long day of travel ahead of you, so eat up.”

Jackson pushed his chair back. “It shouldn’t take more than five minutes. As soon as the wagon is ready, I’ll return to collect you and your things, Mrs. Kelly.” He left the room.

“Seth, I’m not sure about this. What do we know about Jackson Hart?” Eliza spread strawberry jam onto the slice of toast.

He leaned toward her. “Are you afraid of Jackson, Eliza? Because if you are, just say the word and I’ll fire him now.” His brown eyes searched hers.

She trusted Seth with her life. If he thought Jackson was reliable, then that was good enough for her. Eliza didn’t really know why she was protesting so much, other than the fact that she’d completely embarrassed herself with the man the day before. “No, I’m not afraid of him. I just don’t know him.”

Mrs. Hattie snorted and set a teacup beside Eliza’s plate. “And yet yesterday you dragged him back here as husband material.”

“I did not! I brought him here to tell him there had been a mistake,” Eliza protested, dropping the toast back on its plate and crossing her arms over her chest. If Mrs. Hattie thought she’d intended to marry Mr. Hart, what must he think? She tried to remember if she’d told him differently.

She had. Eliza replayed the conversation in her mind and was sure of it.

Hattie slipped back into her chair. “I’m sorry, child. I didn’t mean any harm in my teasing.”

“Hannah really put you in an awkward position, didn’t she?” Seth said.

Eliza turned to look at him. How did he know what Hannah had done? Had Jackson told him?

Seth continued. “Rebecca tried to talk her out of it, but that woman can be stubborn.” He finished drinking the coffee from his cup.

Her hands fell to her side. “Rebecca knew?” Disbelief and hurt filled her voice. Rebecca Billings was supposed to be her best friend, too.

He looked up and understanding crossed his face. “I...” Seth sighed. “Yes, she did. Hannah’s been talking about it for weeks. I’m surprised they were able to keep the secret from you.”

Eliza felt betrayed. She looked down at the toast and egg, no longer hungry. How could they have done this to her? And why did they think she needed a new husband?

Both of them knew of her love for her deceased husband, Charlie. Her inner voice defended them. But he died five years ago and you never shared with your friends his unhappiness at never having fathered a child.

“Anyway, I think you will be safe with Mr. Hart.” Seth pushed away from the table and headed for the door. “I’ll see you outside, ladies.” And with that he left the room.

Hattie cleared her throat. She reached out and took one of Eliza’s cold hands. “I heard Mr. Hart promise Seth he’d take care of you and make sure you got home safe. So I believe you will be secure and protected with him around.”

“I’m sure I will be.” Eliza picked up the toast and took a bite. The sweet strawberry jam would have tasted wonderful if she hadn’t been so upset with her friends. Plus, it didn’t help that the butterflies in her stomach were determined to make her day miserable.

If only Hannah hadn’t sent for Miles Thatcher, she would never have met Jackson Hart. Was God at work here?