Finally a Bride (15 page)

She glanced at the door. Could she make it outside before the creature got to her?

Would her knee hold up if she tried to run?

Could wild pigs leap up onto pews?

A deep moan made her jump again.

If the creature was wounded, it would be even meaner. Her heart raced like a runaway horse, and she found it hard to breathe. Her gaze flew to the stained-glass window and the image of Jesus standing in the boat, calming the seas. “Could You calm a wild pig, Lord? Please?”

She lifted her skirts and side-stepped along the bench, keeping careful watch on all the aisles. She’d never been one to scare easily and hated feeling helpless. If she could just get close enough to the door …

A huge figure rose up at the front of the church, and Jack couldn’t squelch the scream that would have made Abby proud. A man spun around, wide-eyed, and stared at her. He frowned, then rubbed his eyes. “Ja—uh … Miss Davis?”

Jack’s knees bent, weak with relief. She giggled, mortified to have squealed like a pig and to be caught standing on the pew by the minister, no less. What would he think of her?

What did it matter?

Like a flame to kindling, her embarrassment sparked her irritation. “Why were you hiding up there like some child and making those weird noises? You scared me half to death.”

He ran a hand through his messed-up hair, causing it to stand up in an enticing manner. Creases lined one cheek. His neck and ears turned beet red, and his shy grin did odd things to her stomach, which still hadn’t settled from her fright. “I was praying. Guess I fell asleep.”

“Those were snores I heard? Well, I pity your wife.”

He walked toward her, hanging his head, a saucy grin on his lips. “I don’t have a wife, remember?”

She did, but he would soon acquire a spouse if Tessa had anything to say about it. “Yes, well, you won’t have one long if you do marry and you snore like that every night.”

He stopped at the end of her aisle and gazed up at her with his ink-black eyes. They were so dark she couldn’t even see his pupils. She swallowed hard, not wanting to admit how attractive she found them.

“Allow me to help you down, Miss Davis, since I obviously scared you half to death.”

“I wasn’t scared,” she blurted out before she could stop the words.

His brows lifted. “Ah, so let me guess….” He glanced upward. “You’re standing on the pew because you were just about to dust the ceiling.”

She scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

His hands found his hips, but his impudent grin seemed glued to his face. His eyes sparkled. “Then why are you standing on the pew?”

“I, uh … dropped my pencil.”
Oh, horse feathers
. He had her, and he knew it.

His gaze lowered as he searched the floor. He stepped to the row in front of hers, bent down, and held up her pencil. “Imagine that, it was on the floor, not the ceiling.”

“Ha ha, our minister is a jokester. That should certainly liven up the services.” She snatched her pencil from his hand and stuck it in her hair over her ear. Obviously she wouldn’t find any peace and quiet here with this joking preacher present. She reached down to take hold of the back of the pew in front of her. Before she could touch it, his hand snaked out and grabbed hers. “Let me assist you, Miss Davis.”

Her eyes collided with his. Her rebellious heart pummeled her chest again. With him so close, she found it hard to breathe, but judging by his warm breath touching her face, he sure didn’t. Slowly, she straightened. He laid her hand on one wide shoulder, claimed her other one and did the same. Then his hands wrapped around her waist. As if she weighed no more than Emmie, he lifted her down, his gaze never leaving hers.

Her legs had decided to pretend they were made of noodles, and her knees refused to lock. She sank down, but his hands tightened their grip, holding her steady.

“Are you all right?”

She shrugged. That was a highly debatable topic. How could any woman be completely composed with the handsome preacher so close—and he smelled so clean. “I … uh … think I may have overdone things, walking this far on my injured knee.”

He frowned, but in the next instant, he scooped her into his arms. Jack gasped, yet she was amazed at how easily he held her and how good it felt. She lifted her gaze to his—so close, she could barely breathe. His lashes were long and thick, his eyes almost pleading. Many emotions crossed his face, but she couldn’t read them. Up this close, she could see the slightest beginnings of his beard starting to grow in, even though she was certain he’d shaved this morning. Would his cheek feel smooth or rough?

He glanced down at her lips. Then he blinked several times, and an icy reserve replaced the warm look in his eyes, splashing onto her like a cold bucket of self-control.

“I’ll carry you home, Miss Davis.”

“No, just put me down.”

“But you’re hurt. I don’t want you to injure your leg any more than it is.”

“Why do you care?”

Although he didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes revealed an inner struggle. Could he possibly have feelings for her?

No, it wasn’t possible.

They’d only met.

Yet she couldn’t help thinking she could spend the rest of her life in his arms. Tessa would be so mad if she found out.

“I’m your pastor. It’s my job to care.”

“I’m a reporter, and it’s my job to get my story, but you refuse to answer my questions. What do you have to hide?”

“Most men in Texas are hiding something.”

She wiggled her legs, and he loosened his hold but didn’t set her down. “Most men in Texas aren’t the only preacher in town, either.”

He released her so suddenly she had to grab the back of the pew to keep from falling. “My past is my own. I’ve changed and am not the man I used to be, Miss Davis. God forgave me of my sins and set me on a new path. If you have a problem with me being the minister here, take it up with Him—or the church board.”

He spun on his heel and marched out, slamming the door.

Jack lowered herself onto the bench. She shouldn’t have pushed him, but she hadn’t been prepared for her strong attraction to him. His arms felt so strong that he could shoulder any burden, yet she sensed she’d hurt him somehow. Would it have been so bad to let him carry her home?

Yes! It would. The whole town would be talking, and he just might lose his job, and she’d lose Tessa’s friendship, such as it was. She found her paper and held it to her chest. How could she face him again?

But even more important, how could she discover what it was in his past that he wanted to keep secret?

Chapter 11

C
arly twisted her hands as Lookout came into view. If things went as bad this time as on her last visit, she didn’t know what she’d do. Jobs for unmarried women were hard enough to find, but for her, it was much more difficult. Few people wanted to hire an ex-convict.

She studied the buildings as they drew closer to Lookout. The town had grown quite a lot over the past decade. They drove past a schoolhouse that hadn’t been there before and then the church. Would the members of this congregation be more accepting of her than the last?

Shaking off her worry, she glanced at Mr. Corbett. “How is your arm? I truly didn’t mind driving.”

“It’s nothing.”He gnawed on a stem of dried grass he’d plucked after he’d tied the thieves’ horses to the back of the wagon. “Those fellows still passed out back there?”

Carly twisted around on the seat and studied the two robbers that they’d thrown over the horses and bound. One man’s head was lifted, but thankfully it was turned away from her. The other man didn’t look as if he’d moved a muscle. She sincerely hoped she hadn’t killed him, even though they’d probably planned to rob them. She knew well how individuals with a tainted upbringing could change when God got ahold of them, and she muttered a brief prayer for their souls.

The wagon slowed, and she turned to see the boardinghouse. The light green, three-story home with white trim looked exactly the same. The porch railing, with its white spindles, still encircled the house, and even the rocking chairs survived, awaiting someone with a few minutes to relax. She swallowed hard. Rachel would welcome her with open arms, but what about the marshal? He’d been the one to arrest her and take her to Dallas all those years ago, once he learned she was a wanted outlaw, pretending to be one of the mail-order brides who had come to marry him.

What if he
had
picked her and they’d married? Would she have actually gone that far? All she’d wanted was the chance to get away from her brother and stop living an outlaw’s life. Her plans to find out about gold shipments had failed, but she’d made some good friends—one in particular. She was counting on that friend to allow her to live in her home for the time being.

Shoring up her nerves, Carly thought about the past. She knew in her heart that back then, she
would
have married the marshal if given the chance, even with the constant threat of him figuring out she was a member of the Payton gang—albeit a reluctant member. Nothing was more important to her than having a home and people who cared about her. Even her own brother had wanted her around only so he could use her to his advantage. A sharp pain stabbed her heart. At least he could never hurt her again.

The wagon stopped, and she heaved a sigh. Time to find out how things would be. If the marshal was uncomfortable around her, she couldn’t stay. Rachel had saved her life by leading her to Christ, and Carly wasn’t about to cause her strife in her own home.

“What are you so antsy about?” Mr. Corbett set the brake, then looped the reins around the wooden handle.

Carly’s heart leapt into her throat. “What makes you think I’m nervous?”

He grinned, revealing his straight white teeth. “Oh, maybe it was all the squirming you’ve done ever since Lookout came into view. Or maybe it was because you grabbed hold of my arm and wouldn’t turn loose.”

Carly gasped. “I did no such thing.”

His head bobbed up and down. “You did. Wanna see the marks your fingernails made on my skin?” He winced as he moved his injured arm and started unbuttoning the cuff of his sleeve.

“That isn’t necessary. I apologize for causing you so much trouble, Mr. Corbett. Thank you for the ride.” She stood and reached over the seat to retrieve her satchel, but when she turned back, he tried to take it from her.

“I’ll carry that.”

“No, please let go. You’re injured, and I’m quite capable of handling it myself.” She gave it a sharp yank, but he didn’t let go.

His interesting lips curved up in a grin that would probably melt the heart of a less-determined woman. This man had interfered in the lives of too many woman. She wasn’t about to let him mess with hers. Such as it was.

“A gentleman always assists a lady.”

Since when were the ornery Corbett brothers gentlemen? Carly tugged again on the handle, confused by his sudden desire to be her champion. Back on the prairie when he’d learned her name, he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She mulled over how to retrieve her satchel from his tight grasp. Surely she could out-tug a man weakened by a bullet wound in one arm. Maybe she just needed to distract him. “So, now I’m a lady? That ain’t what you thought earlier.”

His grin faded, and his gaze turned serious. “That was before you saved my life with your fancy shooting.”

Dread churned in her belly like bad stew. “You ain’t gonna tell no one, are ya?” Carly winced. Whenever she got upset, she tended to fall back into speaking how she used to—before Tillie taught her proper grammar.

His brows lifted up to the edge of his hat. “Why not? That’s something to be proud of. Not many men can shoot that good, much less a woman.”

Much less a woman
. For some odd reason it hurt her to learn he was one of those men who thought women inferior. She wouldn’t argue that men were stronger, but she had learned to be clever and resourceful just to survive. He watched her with those intriguing eyes. If he expected her to thank him for his offhanded compliment, he’d be waiting a long time.

She heard the front door to the boardinghouse open behind her, and Mr. Corbett’s gaze darted past her shoulder. She took that moment to give another hard, two-handed jerk, and the bag not only fell free of his hand, but it sailed backward out of hers as well.

“Hey! Watch it.”

Carly spun around from the momentum and nearly toppled across the nearest horse’s rump. She swung her arms, struggling to regain her balance and not fall off the wagon. Mr. Corbett grabbed her arm, steadying her, and she saw Marshal Davis standing in front of the door, holding her bag against his chest, one brow lifted, an odd expression playing on his face. The sun glinted off the badge pinned to his shirt, and Carly dropped onto the bench seat. So much for making a good first impression.

Mr. Corbett chuckled and glanced up at the sky. “I’ve heard of it raining cats and dogs, but satchels? We’d better hurry up and get inside before any more fall from the sky. I’ve already conked my head once today, and that’s enough.” He held his hand toward Carly. “After you, Miss Payton.”