Second Chance Brides (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 2) Read online

  He grabbed for her arm, but she slipped past. “No, wait!”

  “You’re too slow, brother.” Mark grinned.

  Garrett shook his head. “I wanted to keep her close—just in case.” He swallowed hard.

  Mark patted his brother’s shoulder. “Yeah, I know. But Luke finally married the only woman he’s ever loved. He’s not gonna let a twister steal her away from him.”

  “I don’t reckon he would, but that was one fierce storm.”

  “Yep, you’re right there. Let’s see what’s left of the town.” Mark undid the middle button of his shirt and stuck his injured hand inside, using it as a sling. He winced as he relaxed his arm; then he nodded at Shannon and walked up the stairs.

  “What part of you is hurt, ma’am?” Garrett ambled closer to her.

  She fought the urge to hide, knowing that Garrett Corbett was a prankster, but he was still a gentleman. What part of her hurt? All of me. My heart. My dignity. “Just my ankle.”

  “Might be easiest if I simply carried you up.”

  Shannon shook her head. “I can walk.”

  She lowered her foot and tried putting her weight on it. Pain ratcheted through it and up into her lower leg. She bit the inside of her cheek, and sucked in a breath. Had she broken her ankle?

  Without so much as a warning, Garrett scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. He was just like his brother, forcing a woman to do things she didn’t want to do. If not for the Corbett brothers, she wouldn’t even be in Texas. But she had to be honest, even if she didn’t like it in this case. Without Garrett’s help, she’d have had a difficult time climbing those stairs.

  “Blessit be! The store is gone.” Shannon’s gaze roved around the town. Thank goodness, the boardinghouse was still standing, though it had sustained some damage. Shingles were missing, some windows broken, and debris littered the yard and porch, but the house itself had withstood the storm, as had the neighboring homes. The store was a different story.

  Letting out a slow whistle, Garrett set her down. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  “’Tis amazing so many buildings are still standin’.” She held on to Garrett’s arm, keeping her foot off the ground. People slowly crept out of every nook and cranny she could see, all looking first at the sky, where the sun had broken through the clouds, and then at their town. They crawled out from under wagons, out of buildings, and one man even crawled soaking wet out of the horse trough.

  Mark was bent over a man lying in the street. He straightened and looked around. “Anyone seen the doc?”

  People near him shook their heads, but several men turned in different directions as if looking for the doctor.

  “Let’s get you off that foot.” Garrett picked Shannon up again and hurried toward the boardinghouse. “Get that boot off right away, raise up your leg, and stay off of it. That can help with the swelling, so I’ve heard.”

  “Garrett!”

  Shannon locked her arms around Garrett’s shoulders as he spun around. A wide grin lit his face. “Luke. Rachel.”

  “I found them in the church.” Jack had an arm wrapped around both Luke’s and Rachel’s waists. She grinned like a kid at Christmas. “All the windows was blown out, but the church is still there.”

  “Glad to see you made it,” Garrett responded. Shannon knew his relief must be as huge as the ocean. Luke was his and Mark’s cousin and their only living relative as far as she knew.

  Rachel hurried toward Shannon, looking worried, her wedding dress damp and dirty, as was Shannon’s garment. “What’s wrong? Are you injured badly?”

  “Not so much. ’tis just my ankle that hurts.”

  Relief softened the worry lines on Rachel’s face, and she smiled. “Well, thank the good Lord for that. Do you know where Leah is?”

  Shannon shook her head. She was concerned for her new friend, but Leah was tough—Texas tough—and would surely be all right.

  “That was some storm. We’re fortunate that most of the buildings in town are still standing. Looks like the store’s gone, though.” Luke ran his fingers through his hair. “That’s a shame. This town needs the mercantile.”

  Rachel nodded. “God was certainly watching over us. So far, there have only been minor injuries. Let’s get Miss O’Neil into the house and then send for the doctor.”

  “I imagine the doc will have his hands full,” Luke said.

  “You’re right,” Rachel said. “I’ll tend to Shannon, and you men see if you can help the others who might be trapped or injured.”

  Garrett followed Rachel back to the boardinghouse, shaking his head. “Not even married an hour, and she’s already bossing you around.”

  Luke grinned wide. “Ain’t it great! She’s bossing you, too, in case you didn’t notice.”

  Shannon felt Garrett’s chuckle as it rumbled in his chest. She longed to have family—to feel the closeness these cousins felt for one another. But she was alone in this world—and she wasn’t even sure if God was still on her side.

  Using his left hand, Mark fumbled with his shirt button. “Ahh!” He flung his hand in the air. With this stiff cast keeping his right hand and wrist immobile, the pain was less, but even the simplest of jobs was nigh on impossible. The turkey egg bump on the back of his head ached, and his vision blurred if he turned his head too fast, but the wound had stopped bleeding. He looked down at his shirt and tried to fasten it again. He’d have thought someone had greased that little booger. He blew out a breath and flipped the irritating button with his finger. Who would notice his shirt partially undone with everything else that had happened?

  He slapped on his hat, then realized it didn’t fit right, what with his head bandaged and all. He adjusted the sling around his neck and marched out of the doctor’s office, ready to help with the cleanup. The line at the doc’s office had been long, but fortunately, most injuries were minor. In fact, his was one of the worst. And it wasn’t the storm that had taken him down, but a bumbling Irish gal. Thank goodness nobody knew that except those who’d been in the cellar. He doubted Garrett or Jack would have reason to mention it to anyone.

  Mark bent down and picked up a board lying in the street. When his vision cleared, he examined the plank but was unable to tell which building it had come from. At the end of the street sat a growing stack of debris, and he walked over and dropped the board on it.

  Dan Howard dumped an armload of fragmented timbers, broken dishes, and unrecognizable things. “You oughta be takin’ it easy, Mark. No one expects you to work with your injuries.”

  Mark shrugged. What had he done? Dumped one lousy board on the pile.

  The mayor lumbered up beside them and tossed a broken chair on the growing stack. He patted Mark on the shoulder. “Yes sir, Mark Corbett’s as good as they come. You won’t find a finer citizen than him. Most men would go home and take it easy after being knocked out, but not Mark.”

  Shifting his feet, Mark winced from the compliment. He, least of all, deserved any praise. He was nothing but a scoundrel in sheep’s wool. The problem was, nobody knew it but him. He longed to be a good citizen, a man people looked up to, and they did. But he was a phony, and there was nothing he could do about it. He craved the respect of the good, upstanding citizens of Lookout, but he didn’t deserve it. One deed done years ago had been all it had taken to ruin his life.

  The pastor had said confession was good for the soul, but Mark had never told a single person about what had happened in the small town of Abilene. He’d been a young man away from home for the first time, seeking adventure—and he’d certainly found it. The trouble was that adventure had almost destroyed him. He kicked at a piece of wood lying in the street. Maybe he should tell Garrett what happened.

  His brother could be bossy and a tease, but he was a good man. Mark couldn’t stand the thought of Garrett looking down on him because of what had happened. Or lowering his opinion of him.

  Mark stuck part of the mercantile sign under his arm. Sorry,
Lord. I know You must be disappointed in what I did down in Abilene. He shook his head and looked for something else to do. Hard work would pull him out of this foul mood.

  He glanced around and felt his heart warm. The Lookout townsfolk might have their differences on occasion, but when disaster struck, they joined in and worked together to set things right.

  “Mark!”

  He swung around and found Rachel on the boardinghouse porch, waving at him.

  Dodging the remaining debris—two shiny new coffeepots from the store, several articles of clothing, tree branches, and other items—he strode toward the porch. He slowed his steps as he reached his destination. “How’s your building?”

  Rachel shrugged. “Not so bad. Some broken windows. A tree limb went through one window upstairs, and the storm must have gotten the others. It’s the weirdest thing, but there’s a fork stuck in the wood just outside one of the upstairs bedroom windows.”

  Mark shook his head. “I’ve heard of strange things happening during tornados.”

  “Me, too.” She lifted her chin. “How’s your head?”

  “Not bad. Better than my wrist, I reckon.”

  “So it was broken?”

  Mark nodded.

  “That will make it hard for you to do your bookwork and load freight.”

  He hadn’t even had time to consider that yet. Garrett was the muscle man, did most of the loading of the freight, but he left the ledger and recording of information to Mark. It would be weeks before he’d be able to write again. What in the world would he do about that?

  “Since Garrett’s not so good with numbers and paperwork, I suppose you might need to hire some help.” Rachel must have read his thoughts. Her eyes sparkled. “What about seeing if Miss Bennett or Miss O’Neil could assist you? That way you’d be getting some help back for the money you’re out on their room and board.”

  Mark held up his hand, palm out. “Just hold your horses. The last thing we need is one of those women coming in and changing things all around.”

  Rachel shoved her hands to her hips and swung one side of her mouth up. “Nobody said anything about making changes, Mark.”

  “Well, isn’t that what women do?”

  She shook her head and crossed her arms. “You and your brother have been alone too long. It wouldn’t hurt either one of you to marry.”

  Mark backed up several steps. “No thanks. I’m happy for you and Luke, but don’t go playing matchmaker.”

  Rachel chuckled. “You’re a fine one to be making that statement after you and Garrett ordered all those brides for Luke.”

  Mark backed up some more, taking care to avoid the debris. Time to get back to work. All this talk of matchmaking was making him antsy. “That was mostly Garrett’s doing.”

  He tipped his hat and turned, but not before he heard Rachel’s comment that he was as much responsible as Garrett. And she was right. He never should have allowed himself to get caught up in Garrett’s scheme to find Luke a bride. But where his brother was concerned, good intentions never got him anywhere. Somehow, Garrett always managed to make Mark see his side of things. But no more. At twenty-seven years of age, he should be man enough to stand up to his brother.

  He was tired of living in Garrett’s shadow. Tired of working in the freight office, tired of hauling goods back and forth from Dallas to the ranches and smaller towns in the area. He had his own plans. His own dreams. And it was time he started reaching for them.

  CHAPTER 3

  Leah Bennett hoisted her skirts and attempted to climb out of the ditch again. Just like the previous four times, her foot slipped on the rain-soaked mud, but this time, she slid back and stumbled, falling to the bottom of the gully filled with cold runoff from the storm. Water dampened her backside and drenched the last dry spot on her dress. Having lost half of her pins, her hair threatened to fall in a pile around her shoulders. She shoved a handful out of her face and stared at the hill again. Somehow, she had to make it to the top.

  The child who had wailed all during the storm, making Leah’s eardrums ache, kicked his scream up another notch. Though frustrated to the core with his tantrum, part of her wanted to say, “I know just how you feel.”

  “Hurry up. The rest of us want out of here, too.” The boy’s father, one of the farmers who lived outside of town, wrinkled his brow and glared at Leah, as if all their problems were her fault.

  A branch half the size of Texas had broken off a giant oak tree and blocked their exit from the far side of the culvert—a much easier climb, she noted. The section of the ditch where the man, his wife, and son had hidden sported moss-covered sides too steep to climb.

  “Get a move on, lady. We need to get our boy into some dry clothes afore he catches his death.”

  His wife gasped. “Don’t say such a thing, Herman.”

  Leah looked up at the steep incline again. She hadn’t wanted to hide out from the storm in the grimy ditch, but when she’d tried to get into the church, it had been crammed full of people. A stranger had grabbed her arm and dragged her to this ditch, but he’d crawled out as soon as the tornado passed, saying he had family to search for. Now, she was stuck in the muck and mire of the ditch and couldn’t get out. Could things get any worse?

  A rope landed with a loud thud right beside Leah, and she jumped.

  “Give me your hand, and I’ll help you up, ma’am.”

  Leah looked past the thick hand that reached for her and found its owner. A huge, broad-shouldered man, probably six foot four at least, waited for her response. Past him, she could see the sky had brightened, and patches of blue peeked through the thinning cloud cover. None of the storm’s ferociousness that had sent the whole town scurrying for cover remained. They had tornados in Missouri, but she’d never had one breathing down her neck, trying to devour her before.

  “If you prefer, you can tie the rope around your waist, and I can haul you up.”

  Leah winced. That made her sound like a piece of freight. Standing, she shook out her skirt. She’d never get all the mud and stains from this garment, and she couldn’t afford to lose one of her few dresses. Thin as they were, they were all she had.

  Gathering her strength and fortitude for another attempt up the slippery slope, she stepped forward. The man above her looked well capable of lifting her weight. Wasn’t he the town’s blacksmith or something like that?

  She wiped her muddy hand on her dress and held it up. He grabbed her around the wrist and pulled. Her body flew upward, but her feet felt as if they were anchored in quicksand, and for a second, she thought she’d be torn in two. But a sucking smack sounded, and her feet followed her body. Even her boots were still attached. Good thing, since they were her only pair.

  She landed hard on solid ground and wavered, trying to regain her balance. The man kept a hand on her shoulder until she quit wobbling. She glanced up—way up into a pair of eyes so dark she couldn’t distinguish the pupils from the irises. He nodded and released her, moving past her to help the family still in the ditch.

  Watching him so effortlessly help the woman up and then gently reach down to receive the squalling baby quickened something deep inside of Leah. The man’s wide shoulders had to be at least three feet across the back. If her father had matched her up with a man like this instead of that ancient curmudgeon, she’d have never run away.

  The father of the baby shinnied up the slope, using the rope. He shook the big man’s hand and smiled for the first time since the storm. “Thanks for coming to our rescue, Dan.”

  The big man—Dan—nodded and turned back to Leah as the family walked away. “You all right, ma’am?”

  Leah snorted a laugh and looked down at her filthy dress. “Do I look all right to you?”

  His gaze traveled down the length of her body, and a crooked smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “A little mud don’t change a thing. You’re mighty fine in my eyes.”

  Leah’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced up to see if he was serious. Hi
s eyes held no humor, no jesting. “Well…uh…thank you, Mr….”

  He yanked off his stained hat. “Howard, ma’am. I’m Dan Howard.”

  “Leah Bennett.”

  That quirky smile returned. “I know who you are, ma’am. I reckon the whole town does.”

  Leah’s smile melted, and she pursed her lips. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you for helping me out of that ditch.”

  “Happy to help, ma’am.” He tipped his hat again and looked past her as if he wanted to be on his way. “Reckon I’ll go help out at the store. Looks like it caught the worst of the storm.”

  Leah gasped as she noticed its remains. All that was left of Fosters’ Mercantile were the floorboards, and debris of all kinds littered the boardwalk and street nearby. Even worse, the Foster home, which sat right behind the store, was lying in a crumpled mess across Bluebonnet Lane. Two dozen or more of the townsfolk were helping with the cleanup. How would the town get by without its only store? She allowed her gaze to roam over the small town. Thankfully, most buildings were still standing, though a number of them had minor damage and broken windows.

  But what about the boardinghouse? Everything she owned in the world was in her room on the second floor. She stepped past Polly and Dolly Dykstra’s garish pink house and gazed down Bluebonnet Lane. Relief flooded her to see the lovely Victorian home still standing. Painted a soft green with white trim, the house was always inviting.

  At least it had been until the owner had agreed to marry the town marshal—the same man Leah had come to town to marry. Now things at the boardinghouse were uncomfortable, even though Rachel tried hard to make Leah and Shannon feel welcome.

  Leah had hoped to find employment of some kind and to save enough money so she could find a small place to rent. If only she was a man and could do carpentry or window repair, she’d have it made. Instead, she could sew and clean, but who would pay her to do that? Most men would marry rather than hire a woman to do such menial chores.