A Convenient Wife (8 page)

 

“I'll carry that,” Win said, taking the bundle from Ellie's grasp. Outside the sheriff's office, he and James had watched
as she crossed the street, and James had murmured a few words of approval.

“She's holding her head up these days,” he said quietly. “I'd say you'll do well together, Doc.”

With a quick glance of thanks, Win stepped down onto the road and greeted Ellie. Relieving her of the parcel was an automatic gesture for him, and he noted her quick look of surprise.

“I can carry it,” she protested swiftly. “You don't need to be waiting on me.”

“Ah, but I do,” he told her, denying her words. “You're going to be my wife, Ellie. I'll treat you as a husband should.”

“Well, I appreciate it,” she said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her enveloping apron. She skipped once, catching up with his longer stride, and he grinned at her.

“I keep forgetting how short you are.” He nodded at the occupants of a buggy, swinging the bundle from the string Tess had bound it with, then whistled a jaunty tune.

“You're in a good mood,” Ellie said. “Did James brighten your day?”

“No, you did.” He smiled at her look of surprise. “You've managed to be a bright spot in my life these days, honey. I'm just feeling fine, in general.” He sobered, looking down at her. “But, as a matter of fact, James and I talked about Cilla, over at the Double Deuce saloon. She told James that Billy promised not to ever hurt her again. Not that I believe it. The boy has a hold over her. Maybe she's hoping he'll locate the treasure and share it with her. James says they've been thick as thieves for a while.”

“Does she have other—” Ellie cleared her throat. “Never mind. It isn't any of my business.”

“Yes, she does,” Win told her. “It
is
her business, honey. I'm afraid if she didn't have
other
men, she'd be out on the street. And that's a tough place for a woman to be.”

“Don't I know it,” Ellie said fervently. “And not all women are as lucky as I am.”

“Don't ever compare yourself to Cilla,” Win said fiercely.

Ellie looked up, stunned by the harshness of his voice. “Doc, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” he said, interrupting her without apology. “There's nothing alike about the two of you, and don't you ever forget it.”

“You're the one who's forgetting,” she said quietly. “I'm a fallen woman, even though I won't lay claim to all those other names my pa called me.”

“You're a girl who was set upon by a man who should have known better. Who no doubt did know better, but managed to get past your defenses anyway.” he told her. “It's not the same thing. In fact, you'd never get a job in the Double Deuce, honey. You're pure as the driven snow, compared to the women there.”

Her heart lifted at his words, and her step quickened, as if a load had been removed from her shoulders. “I thank you for your kind words,” she said primly. “And now, if you'll move along, I'll have time to try on one of my new wrappers before I start dinner.”

They turned in the gate, and Win held it open for Ellie to walk past him. “I expect to see you wearing your new wrapper while you cook my dinner. That garment you have on is only fit for scrubbing, from now on.”

The doorknob turned readily and Ellie walked the length of the hallway toward the kitchen at the back of Win's house. From the waiting room door, a voice beckoned, and she hesitated, hearing the note of pain it held.

“Dr. Gray. I've got a boil that needs lancing.”

She turned back to Win, taking the bundle from his
grasp. He was gone from her already, she realized, his mind concentrating on the man who needed him.

And so it should be. Winston Gray was a doctor, first and foremost.

 

“I like the outfit,” Win said, drawn to the kitchen by the scent of food. He walked to the stove, peering over Ellie's shoulder at the kettle whose contents she stirred. “Is that soup?”

She nodded. “I used up yesterday's vegetables, along with a piece of beef. I'll thicken it a little, and maybe put dumplings on top. What do you think?”

I think you're about to be set upon by a hungry man,
Win almost said aloud. And then decided against it. Not for anything in this world would he speak words she might take offense at. Maybe in a few weeks, he thought wistfully, when he'd prepared her for the intimacies of living in the same house, sharing their lives.

Sleeping in the same bed.

And at that thought, he winced, aware of a new set of problems he'd best set aside for now. “Do you think we can plan on getting married tomorrow?” he asked. “I thought I'd see the preacher for sure this evening. Maybe he'd even do it for us today.”

“Today?” Ellie stiffened, the spoon held aloft, her left hand still pouring a thick white sauce into the soup. “Oh, drat!” she muttered, glancing down at the kettle, and wielding her spoon vigorously. “I'll have lumps.”

Win attempted to stifle the smile that tempted to curve his mouth. “Lumps?” he asked. Then he backed away and made a pretense of scanning her from top to bottom.

She glanced over her shoulder. “In the soup,” she said patiently. “The flour and water need to be stirred in gradually, or it will make dumplings I hadn't planned on.”

Properly subdued, Win settled at the table. “Shall we ask
James and Kate to go with us when we get married?” he asked.

“I don't know.” That the thought had not occurred to Ellie was obvious, but she considered it for a moment. “Do we need somebody along?”

“We need witnesses, honey.”

“Witnesses.” She pondered that thought, and then shrugged. “I guess you can tell I've never had anything to do with folks getting married.” The spoon she held was placed on a small plate atop the warming oven, and she paced to the back door, one hand pressed against her belly.

“At least they both know why you're marrying me. It won't be like having strangers there, will it?” Her fingers moved in a gentle massage as she spoke, and James caught her eye.

“Is the baby moving?”

A flush crept up from her throat to cover her cheeks. “Yes. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call attention to it.”

“Ellie.” He spoke her name with patience, and then rose, approaching her slowly. “Do you mind if I feel it, too?”

Her eyes widened, wondering that he would seek out such a thing, but she nodded. His hand covered hers, then moved beneath her fingers, pressing more firmly against the bulge of her pregnancy. He closed his eyes and she sensed his concentration, holding her breath as the tiny life within her body responded to the pressure of his touch. It jerked once, then again, and as if the unborn child rolled over, she felt the movement radiate to Win's hand.

“This must be old stuff to you,” she said, biting at her lip, astonished at the intimacy of the moment.

“This time it's new, Ellie. This will be my child.”

Win's eyes opened, and a flood of love for the man before her invaded Ellie's very being. With those simple words, he took on the responsibility for her child. With that unvarnished phrase, he accepted her child as his own. And there was a wealth of difference in the two.

Responsibility was one thing. Acceptance, another.

“You'll make me cry,” she whispered. “I never thought to know a man like you.”

“You'll know me better before we're done,” he promised.

 

Leaving Ellie to clean up the kitchen, Win walked to the parsonage, and spoke his plans to the minister. Aside from a startled look, that gentleman was totally accepting of Win's solution to Ellie's problem.

“It's more than a marriage of convenience, sir,” Win said upon leaving. “I've had a chance to know Ellie a bit, and I think we'll do well together. She needs me, and I certainly will be happy to have her in my home.”

“Will you invite her father?” Issued without any hint of the parson's druthers, the query was met by an immediate negative reply by Win.

“No, sir. He hasn't been kind to Ellie. I don't want her upset.”

“I understand.” And indeed, he appeared to, not seeking Win's compliance.

“We'll return before dark,” Win told him. “I need to locate James Kincaid and bring him and Kate along to stand with us.”

He paused by the sheriff's office on his way home, but found it empty. “Sheriff's gone home early,” Harry Talbert called from the door of his barbershop. “Nothin' much doin' today.”

Oh, but there is.
With a smile and nod, Win hastened on his way, eager to seal his intentions with vows and a ring.
A ring.
He halted in the middle of the road. He didn't have a ring. Except… He looked down at his right hand, where a heavy, gold crest, signifying the degree he'd earned, decorated the band he'd worn since the day he graduated from medical school. A gift from his anatomy professor, the ring was a keepsake he'd vowed never to remove.

But for Ellie, he would give it as a pledge to his bride. It could be replaced later on, when there was time to order such a thing. For now, for this day, the ring he wore with pride would do double duty.

If Ellie was hurt by the gesture, he'd explain it to her, apologize if necessary for the lack of forethought. And yet, in the town of Whitehorn, there was no place to purchase a ready-made ring, such as he wanted his bride to wear. Cheap, narrow bands were available from Tess's mercantile, probably not even gold, through and through, he thought.

Cheap
wasn't good enough for Ellie.

 

“I can't believe you'd give me your ring,” she whispered, much later that evening, when James and Kate had made their way home, when the vows had been spoken and the sedate kiss exchanged before the kindly minister.

“I'll get you a better one, as soon as we can order it,” he promised her.

“You'll want this one back, I know,” she said. “But in the meantime, I'll be ever so proud to wear it, Win.” The gold glistened in the lamplight, and she turned her hand, careful to hold the ring in place. “It's a little big. Kate said I should wrap it with yarn to make it fit, for now.”

“I don't have any yarn,” he said solemnly, watching as she breathed against the gold, then polished it on her bodice.

Her eyes were startled. “I didn't expect you did, but I'm sure Kate does, or I can ask Tess for a short length.” She held the ring before her, and he was thankful for the notion that had brought such joy to his wife.

His wife. He'd thought never to speak those words. At least not in the foreseeable future. And now he was married, all legal and binding. His wife. Ellie was his wife.

“Would you have liked to have your family here?” she asked softly. “I never thought of it before, but I suspect your parents will be hurt that they missed seeing you on your
wedding day.” A frown gathered her brows. “Though, I can't imagine they'd be thrilled to death over your bride.”

“I'm the only one who needs to be thrilled over that part of it,” he said firmly. “And no, I didn't plan on inviting my parents to my wedding, no matter when it took place. They turned their backs on me when I chose the practice of medicine instead of being in the family business. If it hadn't been for the support of my uncle Gregory…”

She looked up at him unbelievingly as his voice trailed off. “I can't imagine folks not being proud of a man like you, Win. And being a doctor is a fine choice to make for your life, though I doubt you'll ever make a fortune at it.”

“I don't need a fortune,” he said bluntly. “I've got money inherited from my grandparents, enough to set myself up in practice and keep me solvent for a long time to come.”

“I didn't know you were well-to-do,” she said, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she considered the idea. “They'd have even more reason not to appreciate you marrying me, with them probably hoping you'd find a fancy lady someday.”

“You're fancy enough to please me,” he told her. “You're pretty as a picture in your new dress.” His hand touched her shoulder, then lifted to caress her cheek as he cleared his throat. “I know we kissed before the preacher and our witnesses, Ellie. Do you suppose we could repeat it now, just for ourselves?”

She lifted startled eyes to him, her mouth forming a circle, as if she thought to breathe a reply, then decided against it.

He waited, unwilling to push her beyond the boundaries she might have set in place, but a small, slight nod put his mind at ease, and he reached for her. One long arm circled her waist, the other held her nape. The heavy weight of hair pressed against the side of his hand and he thought again of the length of silken tresses that would cascade down her back, should he remove several pins from place.

Fingers that were agile, that had formed stitches in torn flesh with precision, now turned to the simple task of taking down the hair of a woman. And he found, to his amazement, that those self-same hands were trembling. He tilted her head forward, resting it against his chest, and then began the mission he had set for himself.

Heavy, dark bone hairpins filled his palm…seven…eight…then the last of them. Nine in all. He reached past Ellie to place them on the kitchen table, then felt her soft, warm breath as she lifted her head and looked up at him.

His fingers separated the strands, tangling in the heavy treasure he'd managed to set loose. “I'm not very good at this,” he murmured. “But I appreciated you allowing me to indulge myself. I've wanted to touch your hair ever since the morning I watched you brush it on the porch, Ellie.”

She caught her breath and blinked, biting at her lower lip. “I feel almost naked, Win. I've never…”

“Never let another man see your hair?” he asked.