Depending on the Doctor (Nevada Bounty Book 2) (29 page)

Emmett’s gaze darted from me to something over my shoulder, and his whole countenance changed. He stood taller and squared his shoulders, his expression reformed into serious, hard planes, and his mood changed from solicitous to protective.

My throat went as dry as desert sand. “He’s behind me, isn’t he?”

Emmett took the moment to move around me, putting himself between me and Randall. He extended his hand to Randall and put on a distant but pleasant face. “Randall, so good of you to meet us.”

Randall shook Emmett’s hand and nodded, then turned his attention to me.

I shoved my glasses up my nose, then buried my shaky hand in my skirts. Why did I let him get to me? Just because he was ten years older and had spent my childhood tormenting me with the most horrible Bible verses he could find, convincing me that I’d burn in Hell because I was a girl, that girls were filthy, worthless sinners who had caused men to be thrown out of paradise and who would in all likelihood trigger the apocalypse, was no reason for me to be afraid of him now. I’d been out from under his influence for years and I had grown into an intelligent, reasonable woman.

But I’d forgotten how his stony silences and judgmental scrutiny had frightened me and seeped into my nightmares to the point where I couldn’t separate the two.

Suddenly I missed Beth and Daisy, and even Nellie, whose silences were companionable.

“Lydia,” Randall said, peering down his nose at me.

“Randall,” I said, standing up straight and looking him square in the eyes.

That was the extent of our greeting after years apart.

“I have a carriage waiting,” Randall said and turned on his heel, expecting us to follow.

Emmett picked up our satchel and I took his arm. “Let’s make short work of this visit, if at all possible,” he said.

“I agree.”

We climbed into the carriage and sat side by side in the seat opposite Randall. He had moved to one side, clearly expecting me to sit beside him. His furious glare was prelude to his tight, measured words.

“Did I make a mistake sending you after my sister, Wilder?”

“We’ve been traveling with each other. We’re used to sitting together,” I said.

Emmett tensed beside me. For the first time, I’d evaded the subject of our marriage in favor of mollifying Randall. But fresh off the train and sitting in a carriage was not the time or place to announce to my fanatically religious brother that we’d been Indian-married and living as husband and wife ever since. He’d have an apoplectic fit, which, I had to admit, might be amusing to watch, but certainly not something I should actively strive for.

“It’s indecent,” Randall said. “Come over here.”

The carriage lurched away from the station and into the street. I had a decision to make—stand up to Randall, something I’d never been terribly successful at doing, or risk Emmett’s anger. Since I wanted to spend my life with Emmett, it seemed the best choice not to antagonize him.

“I’m quite comfortable where I am. Anyway, I’m certain the distance isn’t so long as to be scandalous. Besides, you’re the only one who will know.”

“God will know.”

Emmett offered a disdainful
hmph
from beside me.

“You scoff at the Lord?”

The last thing we needed was an argument about God in the cramped confines of a moving carriage.

“Nobody’s scoffing at God, Randall,” I said. “We’ve had a long and trying trip, so tempers are short. Have patience.”

When not in Randall’s presence, it was easy to forget how much I hated being in Randall’s presence. I’d spent most of the train ride trying to prepare myself for the time we’d have to spend in Omaha, but when Randall came up behind Lydia, all the preparation went out the window.

The carriage dropped us off in front of Randall’s house, a narrow, well kept two-story building next door to what looked like a recently built church.

“Giving up the tent circuit?” I asked.

The door opened before we even reached it, and a jolly looking older woman greeted us with a broad smile. “Welcome home, Reverend Templeton. Oh, and this must be your sister. I’m so happy to meet you, miss.”

Lydia smiled and took the woman’s hand. “The pleasure’s mine.”

The woman fussed about taking our coats as we all crowded into the foyer.

“Thank you, Mrs. Jackson,” Randall said. “When will supper be ready?”

“A half hour,” she said, hanging coats on hooks. “I’ll go tend to it.”

She disappeared through the parlor and the rest of us loitered in awkward silence.

“Leaving the tent circuit?” I asked again.

Randall seemed to remember the conversation. “Omaha is growing quickly. It makes sense to settle in a place where I can have a steady congregation to watch over.”

“That’s good for you,” Lydia said. “I remember how much all the traveling wore on Father. You must be happy to have a place to call home.”

Randall scowled at her as if she’d forgotten her place. “Your room is upstairs, the first door on the left. Dinner is in a half hour,” he told her, effectively dismissing her.

He turned and headed for his office. Lydia shrugged at me, putting one foot on the bottom step, obviously not sure what to do. “I suppose I’ll go upstairs,” she whispered. “Sorry.”

“Lucky,” I said. I couldn’t blame her for wanting to escape once the opportunity presented itself. I watched her disappear up the steps, then followed Randall to his office. It seemed like a lifetime ago I’d been in the very same room, eager to discharge my debt and be done with Randall Templeton.

“Have a seat,” he said.

I did. I was tempted to tell him about me and Lydia right then, but I didn’t think she’d appreciate my going behind her back. I itched to get our business done and be gone. There was no point in making niceties with Randall. They went right over his head.

“Thank you for escorting her here. She’ll be very useful.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you invited her back to mourn your mother’s passing?”

“Well, there is that to deal with, too,” he said, as if their mother wasn’t worth the breath it took to mention her passing. “But Mother handled much of the work in the house and for the church. Lydia will assume those responsibilities now.”

Of course I’d never let that happen because she was my wife now, but his disrespect galled me. “What about what Lydia wants for her life?”

He cocked his head, his expression quizzical. “I don’t see what you’re getting at.”

“He’s saying that my life doesn’t belong to you,” Lydia said from the doorway.

She entered the room and took another chair.

“All of the unmarried women in a family belong to the eldest man, whether that’s a father, brother, grandfather, uncle,” Randall said. “It’s a man’s responsibility to see to the care and future of his female relatives.”

“Well, as it turns out Lydia’s a married woman now, so not your obligation,” I said.

Randall’s sharp gaze pinned Lydia. She looked like a cornered rabbit. “Why did you never write to me that you’d married?”

“I…it only happened recently,” she stuttered.

Randall turned a puzzled look to me, maybe hoping I could make sense of the information, to tell him why her husband hadn’t traveled with us. I took a deep breath and let it out. We’d finally come to the moment I dreaded. Our future depended on what I said next would. My heart thundered in my chest, but I sat up straight and looked him in the eye. “Lydia and I married a week ago.”

He was silent, but his murderous expression and the twitch in the muscles of his jaw conveyed his feelings clearly enough. “Where did it happen?”

I didn’t respond right away. I wanted Lydia to answer. Participating in the conversation would force her to fight for us. But this went back to the crux of us being married—she still didn’t think we really were. Admitting to Randall she’d been married by Indians would go against everything she thought she believed, and no matter how much she loved me, she likely still considered deep down she was living in sin. I had an epiphany of sorts at that moment.

“Cheyenne…” I said.

“…at the Indian camp,” she said at the same time.

It had occurred to me that if we told Randall we’d been married by legal and Christian standards in Cheyenne, he’d be forced to accept it. Sure, it was a lie, but it was one that made our lives easier, and since we planned to do all that anyway, I didn’t see the harm in insinuating it was already done.

But, of course, Lydia had to tell him the truth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that Lydia. What did you say?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I said jumping in to try to salvage the situation. “We’re married, so Lydia won’t be staying on with you. You’ll have to hire help for the church.”

Randall ignored me and fixed his glare on Lydia. She met his gaze and tried to hold it, but when she started to fidget, I knew she’d lost the battle.

I stood. “Look, we’re finished here. I fulfilled my end of our deal by bringing her back. We’ll rent a room and stay for a few days to help you however we can, but then we’ll be on our way.”

“Lydia?” Randall said, his voice unwavering. He still ignored me.

“Um. Well. We married while we were at the Indian camp.”

“Were they Christian?”

“No,” she said. “But it’s a marriage nonetheless. We both made promises to each other in the eyes of God.”

I smiled to myself, proud of her.

“If it wasn’t sanctified by the church, it isn’t a legitimate marriage. It’s a sin, and puts your soul at risk,” he said. His voice had a commanding—and condescending—edge to it that made Lydia wince. To me, he said, “Have you soiled her?”

Oh so many times
, I wanted to tell him, and gloat about it. “If you mean have we consummated our marriage, then yes.”

“You did not have my permission to marry,” he said. I wasn’t sure if he spoke to Lydia or me.

“She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need your permission.”

“She most certainly does,” he said, standing behind his desk and leaning forward onto his hands. It lent him a dogmatic air, and I could see how leaning like that on the pulpit, closer to his congregation, and exhorting them on their sins could be intimidating. “And you betrayed my trust,” he said to me. “I asked you to escort her here safely. Instead, you took advantage of a naive, inexperienced woman like a common cur. Just look at her,” he said, flinging a gesture at her. “Her one asset was her virtue. I’ll never find a man willing to offer anything for her, now.”

My body shook with fury at his gall. I glanced at Lydia to find her staring at her lap. She seemed to have shrunken in on herself. She swiped a tear from her eyes.

I’d had enough of Randall Templeton. I loved Lydia, and refused to allow anyone, even her brother, to treat her so badly, even if it meant provoking him into revealing what he knew of me. Lydia was more important, whether she stayed with me or not.

I strode to his desk and clutched a wad of his starched shirt in my fist, pulling him almost off his feet until we were face to face. Alarm flashed in his eyes, but was quickly replaced by defiance.

“Lydia is my wife,” I said.

My other hand curled into a fist, and I cocked it, ready to knock that defiance right off his face.

“Emmett, don’t,” Lydia said. Her voice sounded tiny and thin, but I stayed my hand. In that moment, Randall’s face turned smug because she’d taken his side. He thought he had her, and my stomach lurched at the fear that maybe he was right. After all, he’d had her whole life to influence her. They shared blood. I’d only known her a short time, and although I’d shared her body, I was afraid my hold on her heart was still too tenuous to overcome her history with Randall.

More than anything I wanted to appreciate the crunch of my knuckles on his nose. Instead, I let him go with an extra shove. He stumbled and fell back into his chair.

“Let’s go, Lydia. We can come back tomorrow. Maybe Randall will be more reasonable after he’s had some time to think.”

I held out my hand to her.

“You’ll go nowhere with this man,” Randall said, issuing a command. “And I’m perfectly reasonable, now. A marriage in the midst of godless heathens is not a marriage in the eyes of God. There is no way to argue that fact.”

Lydia still hadn’t taken my hand, and both Randall and I waited, watching her to see what she’d do. Randall clearly expected her to obey him without pause, but when she waited just long enough that it looked like she might not, he added, “If…and it is by no means a given…you are to be married to him, it should be done properly. Despite already having been sullied, we need to purify your soul before we can discuss proper marriage.”

My heart sank. He knew exactly which of her weaknesses to play upon.

She raised a tear-stained face to me, now with a spark of hope in her eyes.

“Lydia, you know he’s just manipulating you.”

“I’m not so blind that I don’t recognize that,” she said. Randall huffed a condescending laugh, as if he doubted her capable of recognizing anything. “But what he said is true. Even if in our hearts we believe we’re married, it still isn’t a true marriage by law or by my religion. I want to marry you, but I want to do it properly.”