Finally a Bride (Texas Boardinghouse Brides 3) Read online

  Luke pursed his lips and glanced at the ceiling. “There are good men and bad in this world; you know that. Trust God to bring you the man He has for you when the time is right. And pray about it.”

  “I will, but don’t think this talk of marriage is going to make me forget what I really want to know. Will you talk Ma into letting me come down for supper?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not just wanting to eat downstairs because the new minister will be there?”

  All manner of thoughts dashed through her mind. The memory of that brief connection she felt when their gazes had locked buzzed in her mind. He was so tall and good looking. So young. She’d expected an older man to replace Reverend Taylor, not someone just a few years older than she. How could he have enough life experience to be a decent pastor?

  Luke’s brows lifted when she didn’t respond to his questions. A knowing smirk twisted his lips.

  She leaned heavily on her crutches, her knee ranting at her for being on her feet, and lifted a hand. “It’s not what you’re thinking. Tessa has already claimed him, and Penny is besotted, although I don’t see how they both can have the same man. We might have to have another bride contest.” She grinned, hoping the reminder of Luke’s mail-order bride fiasco before he married her mother would lighten him up.

  “Now who’s changing the subject?” Luke’s penetrating brown eyes stared into hers. He pushed away from the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “I was a soldier for a decade, and I’ve been a marshal and your stepfather for another ten years. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes. What are you up to, Half Bit?”

  She resisted the urge to squirm and instead focused her attention on backing up and sitting down. Her leg was beginning to throb. There was no point in trying to fool her perceptive pa. She exhaled loudly. “Jenny Evans came to visit this afternoon. She knows I’m chafing at the bit to get back to work and suggested that I do a story on the new minister, being as how he’s staying here and all.”

  Luke lifted his chin, and she knew then he believed her. “That’s not a half-bad idea, just so long as you don’t push yourself too hard. A concussion is something to take seriously, not to mention your knee injury. With all the antics you’ve pulled over the years, I can’t believe you’ve never broken a bone.” He shook his head. “And I hope you learned your lesson.” His chin went down again as he stared at her. “No more rooftops.”

  “I’ve already decided that. I know what I did was stupid, but I was desperate, and it was the only way I could think to listen in on the mayor’s meeting.”

  “And why was that so important? All he and the town leaders ever talk about from what I hear is town stuff.”

  Jack shrugged. “Jenny seemed to think Mayor Burke is up to something. Besides, he was talking to two well-dressed strangers, not the town board.”

  Luke leaned back against the wall. “I saw those men and wondered why they weren’t staying at the boardinghouse. I know Burke’s been trying to bring more businesses to town, but that’s no secret.”

  “Jenny said something about a gambling hall.”

  “Has she got evidence?” Luke straightened. “That’s not anything we want in Lookout. It’s bad enough having the saloon. Maybe I need to have a talk with Mayor Burke.”

  Jack toyed with the crutch’s wooden hand rest. “No evidence that I know of, but there is something else. Jenny’s received unofficial word that the railroad may be adding a spur out this way.”

  Luke’s countenance brightened. “That’s great news. Sure would cut down on my being away when I have a prisoner to take to Dallas. I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything about that.”

  “It’s in the very early stages of development—if it’s true at all. I was hoping the mayor would mention something about that in his meeting.”

  “Ah, now I understand why you’d risk your neck. That would be some story if you could get proof and be the first to write about it.”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t guess that’s going to happen with me laid up like I am.”

  Luke crossed the room and took the crutches from her. “Well, don’t be so down in the dumps. This week of bed rest will be over before you know it. And I’ll talk to your ma and see if she’ll let you come to dinner tonight, since it’s our first family meal with the new minister. If she agrees, I can carry you downstairs.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Papa.” She nibbled her lower lip, not wanting to voice her other thought. Still, if Luke hadn’t thought of it yet, he soon would. “What will happen to Garrett’s business if the railroad comes here? I mean, he can still deliver freight from the depot out to area ranches, but it seems it would cut his business sharply since he would no longer be needed to pick up deliveries in Dallas. It would be much quicker for them to come by train.”

  “Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll talk to him about that. He’s been thinking of making some changes anyway. Might be a good time.”

  Jack leaned forward. “What kind of changes?”

  “Ah, no you don’t.” Luke grinned and tweaked the end of her nose. “I’m not one of those ogling, loose-lipped sources you can bat your long lashes at and get to spill the beans. If and when Garrett decides to make a change, you’ll find out like everyone else.”

  She lifted her wrapped leg onto the bed, scooted up against her pillows, and faked a glare. “No fair. Why’d you say anything if you weren’t going to tell all? You know how curious I am.”

  “That I do.” He placed the crutches in the corner behind the door. “Maybe hiding those there will keep your sisters from messing with them.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Luke chuckled. “Me too. I’d better get back to work. See you later.”

  “Don’t forget to talk to Ma about supper.”

  Luke waved. “I won’t.”

  She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Having Luke become her papa was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. He was easier to talk to at times than her ma, who worried too much.

  Shifting her thoughts to the minister, she wondered what his name was. A man that large had to have a strong name like Sam or Duke, but then Duke hardly sounded like a pastor’s name. Max would have been perfect, but that had been the name of her and Luke’s dog. The old mutt had been dead more than two years, and she still missed him.

  On second thought, she hoped that wasn’t the preacher’s name. He’d have to be very special to deserve the same name as her beloved dog.

  Fragrant aromas emanating from the kitchen two stories below his room pulled Noah away from his studies. His stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He stood and stretched then strode to the bedroom window that gave him a bird’s-eye view of Main Street.

  Lookout had certainly grown since he was last here. The town had been shaped like a capital E before, but now it spread out almost clear to the Addams River. If he had to guess, his best estimate was that it had tripled in size. Pretty unusual for a town so far away from the nearest train depot. But folks in Texas tended to congregate wherever the water was, and Lookout had the river on two sides.

  Feminine squeals burst into his thoughts, and he glanced down, his gaze landing on the porch roof. Jack’s room was directly below his. He could hear high-pitched laughter emanating from her open window and wondered what she and her friends found so amusing. He didn’t like the thought of her hobbled to a bed. She was like a butterfly that needed to be free—free to flit from flower to flower, brightening the world with her beauty.

  “Mercy!” He sounded like a poet or something. He’d best stay focused and remember that Jack had done her fair share to get him in trouble more than once. He’d tried to be her friend, but as a young girl, she’d lied, connived, and partnered with those two male friends of hers to pull tricks on him. He ran his hand through his hair and paced into the parlor. Hadn’t he given all those bad memories to God? Hadn’t he forgiven Jack?

  If just the briefe
st glance had him warring with his thoughts again, what would happen if he ever talked to her? How could he minister to the townsfolk when half his thoughts centered on Jack?

  He’d never been clear about what he felt when she was near. He’d longed to be her friend more than once, but he’d hated her, too. Her lies had gotten him in trouble, both with the marshal and with his own pa.

  But maybe she’d changed.

  He certainly hoped so. Back in the bedroom, he knelt down and rested his head against the quilt. It smelled clean and fresh—of sunshine. Had Jack made the bed with her own hands?

  “Ugh! Help me, Father. My job is to minister to this town. To make up for my past offenses here by making retribution for what I did before I knew You. Help me, Lord, to stay focused and to treat Jacqueline Hamil—uh—Davis like any other woman I encounter.”

  But she wasn’t like any other he’d ever known—and that was the problem.

  She intrigued him. Riled him. Made him want to throttle her—kiss her.

  He bolted to his feet and ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t do this.”

  Bending, he yanked his satchel out from under the bed and opened it. He hurried to the dresser and snatched up his undergarments and tossed them at the bag. Then he caught his reflection in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

  He stared at himself. No longer was he the beaten-down son of a cruel drunkard. He was the son of a King. The King.

  What kind of man was he if he couldn’t handle one feisty redhead?

  Heaving a sigh from deep within, he gathered his things and shoved them back in the drawer. Pete was counting on him. So was Pastor Taylor and the town of Lookout. Maybe even Jack needed him.

  No—he couldn’t think that. He’d focus on the town. Not everyone here knew God. Folks needed to hear the Bible—needed to hear about God’s love. He closed his eyes, determination overcoming his doubts. He’d studied years for this moment, and Pete thought he was ready. He was ready.

  He tucked in his shirt, then combed his hair and headed downstairs. He wouldn’t let his eyes stray as he passed her room. Hadn’t Mrs. Davis said Jack would be in bed a week? At least he’d have several days more than he’d first expected to get used to seeing her regularly. By the end of the week, he’d be ready to face her.

  He had to be.

  Chapter 4

  Dallas

  Carly Payton dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, then blew her nose and shoved the fabric square back into her pocket. She washed her hands and returned to her task. Her heart ached today as much as it had that first day she’d been locked up in the Lookout jail for bank robbery. She missed Tillie. She thought back to the funeral Reverend Barker had spoken at only an hour ago. Shaking her head, she placed cookies one by one onto Tillie’s favorite platter. A man shouldn’t have to preach his wife’s funeral, especially a man who’d been married to that woman for fifty-two years.

  Now it would be her job to care for the elderly pastor and to offer words of comfort to him as he and Tillie had when she’d first come to live with the Barkers. Carly walked down the hall, carrying the platter in Tillie’s stead and trying to keep it from shaking. A number of people from the church had come to offer their condolences to Reverend Barker, but she never knew how they’d treat her. Few had accepted her like the Barkers. Not even the “good” church people. Tillie had said to give them time, but she’d waited four years and still didn’t feel a part of the small community church. At the sound of raised voices coming from the parlor, she quickened her steps. Why would anyone be arguing with the pastor today?

  She forced a smile as she strode into the room. Every head swiveled toward her, but instead of finding a welcoming smile, she encountered six pairs of glaring eyes. An uncomfortable silence reigned. All that remained of the earlier crowd was the church’s three elders and their wives. Mrs. Harding, wife of the head elder, stared down her long, pointed nose at her. Swallowing hard, Carly ducked her head, skirted around the two men standing in the parlor’s entrance, and set the platter on the coffee table. She checked the coffeepot and hurried out of the room, finally exhaling the breath she’d been holding.

  “It’s not proper for that woman to live here, I tell you,” a female voice spat.

  Carly halted just outside the parlor door. Were they talking about her?

  “I have to agree with Gertie, Bennett.” Carly recognized Mr. Harding’s voice. “I tolerated you letting that ex-convict live in your home when your wife was alive, just because Tillie needed the help, but with her gone now, you need to get rid of that jailbird.”

  Carly clutched the doorframe to the kitchen. They wanted Reverend Barker to turn her out? How could they broach such a topic on the day Reverend Barker buried his wife? Who would take care of him? Who would fix his coffee just how he liked it with a spoonful of sugar and two mere droplets of milk?

  Tears stung her eyes, and her throat clogged. “Please, Lord. No.”

  She slipped back into the kitchen, where she and Tillie had spent so many wonderful hours together, baking and talking about God and the scriptures. For four years she’d lived in the Barkers’ home, after finally leaving the prison she’d been locked away in for six long years. Carly pulled out a chair and slumped into it. Her heart felt as if it had been dragged behind a runaway horse. Foolishly, somewhere along the line, she’d come to think of this place as home. After all, she’d lived here longer than she had any other place—except prison—and she could hardly call that horrid place home.

  How could she have let her guard down? Other than coming to know God and living with the Barkers, nothing good had ever happened in her life. She was stupid to have hoped life would continue on as it had when she knew Tillie was so ill. Lifting her head off her arm, she looked around the cheery kitchen. She should have been better prepared for this day.

  Perhaps if she proved herself indispensible, Reverend Barker would let her stay and not bend to the will of his elders. She pushed up from the chair and hurried outside to pump a bucket of water. Then she dumped it in the stove’s reservoir to heat. The beef stew was already simmering for their supper, and all she had left to do was mix up a batch of biscuits.

  A short while later, the front door banged, and Carly jumped. Had those busybodies finally left?

  She dusted off her hands and shoved the biscuits into the oven. Recognizing the pastor’s shuffling, she turned, her heartbeat running like a chicken chased by a fox. Reverend Barker stopped just inside the kitchen door, his gaze searching the room as if he expected to find Tillie there. His eyes downcast, he stood silently, his shoulders bearing more of a burden than they should have.

  Carly pulled out his chair. “Come sit down, sir. It’s been a long day.”

  He nodded and ambled forward, dropping hard into his chair. She’d rarely seen him so listless. He’d loved his wife dearly and had to be missing her. Why didn’t the church elders realize this and let him be, at least for today? Quickly she fixed him a cup of coffee, adding just the right amount of sugar and milk, then set it before him. His wrinkled hands wrapped around the cup, and he sighed. “Have a seat, if you will.”

  Carly lowered herself to the edge of her chair. Her chair—had she ever actually had one to call her own before living here?

  Her legs quivered, and she pressed her hands into her lap, hoping to make them stop.

  “I reckon you heard them. They didn’t make any effort to soften their voices.”

  Carly nodded and swallowed hard. How could she think of herself when he had lost so much today? She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “We don’t have to talk about those things today. You’ve had enough stress for the day already. Why don’t you take a nap until supper’s ready?”

  He rested his hand over hers, and she studied the differences. Hers was smooth and lightly tanned from working in the garden, while his skin was thin, creased, spotted, and showed his blue veins. They were so different, yet she loved him as if he were her own grandfather.

 
; He glanced up with tears in his eyes. Her lower lip wobbled at seeing him so distressed. “You know I care for you like you were my own daughter?”

  She nodded but couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat.

  “The elders don’t think it’s proper for you to stay here now that T–Tillie is gone.” He looked away and brushed his damp cheek with his shoulder. “I don’t want you to go, but being the minister here, I have to maintain a presence that is above reproach. I can’t be a stumbling block to others by having an unmarried woman living in my home.”

  Carly blinked, trying hard to keep her tears at bay. She was a stumbling block?

  He squeezed her arm. “I don’t want you to go. You understand that, don’t you?”

  She nodded. “B–But … who will take care of you?”

  “I’ve always relied on the Lord, and He won’t fail me now.”

  “But you also had Tillie. Who will cook your meals and clean your clothes?”

  He gave her a teary-eyed, tight-lipped smile. “I think it’s best if I go live with Maudie.”

  Carly jumped up, no longer able to keep from moving. She paced to the open back door and stared out at the garden she and Tillie had spent so many hours cultivating. She’d never see its harvest now, but her thoughts were more for him than herself. He’d spent the past thirty years living in this house and ministering to this town. He was too old to be forced into such a change. Didn’t the elders give a fig about him after all he’d sacrificed for them? “You’d have to give up your ministry if you moved to San Antonio to live with your daughter.”

  He took a sip of coffee and shook his head. “I can minister anywhere for the Good Lord, and to be honest, I just don’t think I can live in this house without my Tillie.” He swiped his eyes again. “But I’m more concerned with what will happen to you. I told the board they would need to provide you with a train ticket to wherever you’d want to go and a month’s wages. And Mrs. Wilcox said you could stay with them until Thursday, when the train comes.” He fell back against the chair, his arms dangling beside him as if spent.