Missy Meets the Marshal (Lone Star Love Book 2) (7 page)

Grover ran his fingers through his hair and smiled at her. "I don't rightly know, Missy, but there's something about you, something I didn't know I was missing until I had it. Plus you're easy on the eyes and can cook up some mighty fine chow." He winked at her.

She smiled back at him broadly, happiness lighting her face. "I hope I don't disappoint you, Grover. I'll do my best to be a good wife."

He wrapped her in his arms. "Oh, darlin'. You won't disappoint me, at least not ever in a permanent way. You'll be a good wife, and you'll be a naughty wife, and believe me when I say I'll like it both ways."

Chapter 6 - Married to the Marshal

Missy carried Hannah Lou and struggled to keep up with Grover as he strode down the sidewalk. He nodded to people who passed them, but walked at a quick, determined clip to avoid being stopped and questioned about the woman hustling to remain at his side. Missy noticed the townsfolk eying her. She knew she must stand out in her rags and appear especially disheveled in comparison to the marshal, who looked as sharp as ever in his pressed, clean clothes.

A bell tied to the door jingled as they walked into Dorothy's Fabric and Dress shop. A middle-aged woman greeted them.

"Howdy, Marshal. Who do we have here?" The woman looked at Missy with a mildly disapproving expression.

Grover took off his hat. "Dorothy, allow me to introduce Melissa Jones from Maryland. She's to be my bride. Missy, meet Dorothy Smith, the finest seamstress in Porter."

Dorothy's disapproval turned to surprise. "Lands sakes, Marshal. I didn't know you were lookin' to get hitched."

"No one did. I didn't get the hankering to shout it from Main Street. It's a personal matter."

"Right, of course. I'm tickled for you, Marshal. Welcome to Porter, Miss Jones. Or is it missus? Are you recently widowed?" she asked, looking at the bundle in Missy's arms.

Missy reached out to shake Dorothy's hand. "Please call me Melissa or Missy. Yes, my late husband died of pneumonia when I was pregnant with Hannah Lou here."

"I'm sorry to hear that, honey. Isn't she a pretty one? Not all babies are pretty, even though I always say they are. But with her I mean it." Dorothy offered a smile.

Missy smiled back. "Thank you, Mrs. Smith. And you have so many pretty clothes. Did you make those?" She pointed at the dresses hanging on a rack nearby.

Dorothy's eyes lit up. "Call me Dorothy. I did indeed make those clothes. Looks like you might be needing a dress or two. Am I right?" She stared at the rags that draped Missy's small frame.

Grover positioned his hat back on his head and said gruffly, "She needs three dresses and everything that goes under them, plus new boots, stockings, and a shawl. I'll be leaving you sage hens to your feathers and frills." He turned toward the door.

"No, Grover. That's far too much," Missy protested. She laid her daughter on an upholstered chair next to a selection of bright calico fabric. "I only need one dress and some bloomers, perhaps. These boots will last a bit longer."

"P'shaw! That's more ridiculous than a feathered horse, Missy." He placed a hand on the door handle. "Dorothy, please see to it she gets everything I listed."

"I'd be delighted to," Dorothy responded. She smiled down at Hannah Lou and tickled her cheek.

"Grover, I can't let you. It's too much."

He stood still for a moment, his back facing her. When he removed his hand from the door handle and turned, he wore a scowl. "You can't let me? Is that what you said?"

Missy's eyes widened, surprised by his sudden fierceness. "It's just, I, I thought—"

"You thought it acceptable to argue with my decision, and not just once, but twice. I expect obedience, young lady, not blather. Are you going to question me like that when you're my wife?"

She shook her head. "No, Grover. I'm sorry."

"You will be. Do you want me to thrash you here now or later at the house?"

Missy felt her face flush scarlet. She felt mortified that he made her punishment known to the seamstress. She searched his face in an effort to find the tenderness he showed her before, but she could only see hardness in his features.

"Later," she choked out.

"Very well. I'll be back in a couple hours." He nodded at Dorothy and strode out the door.

Missy put her face in her hands, too humiliated to even look at the older woman.

Dorothy rushed to her. "Oh, honey, the marshal acted a right scalawag. I can't believe he treated you so harshly. It's unforgivable!" she spat. "I've never known him to speak that way to a woman. How could he to his future bride?" Dorothy rubbed her back. "There, there, honey."

"Thank you, ma'am." Missy said, touched to receive a woman's comfort. It reminded her of how much she missed her ma.

"I tell you, I'm shocked by the marshal's behavior. I have a mind to run out there and give him what-for. He should be wooing you, not scolding and spanking you! And to punish you for such small potatoes? He must have a screw loose."

"No, Dorothy. It's okay." Missy smiled. She felt happy suddenly, getting to know a friendly person in town other than Grover. "He's been very kind to me. He probably reckons he should show his authority in public, him being the marshal and all. Plus, he's buying me an awful lot of clothes, so I know he cares about me."

Dorothy grunted. "I suppose that's true. Let's get you dressed then, sugar. When I'm done with you, the marshal will be so flustered by your beauty he might forget to punish you."

Missy felt excited as she watched Dorothy select three dresses for her. Two were everyday dresses, and one was for special occasions. Missy tried on each dress, and Dorothy measured how much to hem them in. Two were very large on her and needed some work done by the seamstress to make them fit, but one hugged her every curve perfectly. It was a light-blue calico frock with white-lace trim lining the collar and wrists. A midnight-blue satin sash wrapped around the waist and tied neatly into a bow in the back. Finally, Dorothy selected some sturdy new boots in her size and helped Missy lace them onto her feet.

"You look wonderful," Dorothy said. "This dress brings out your blue eyes. Let's fix your hair. I have some ribbon that matches the sash."

Dorothy braided ribbons into Missy's hair and pinned the braids around the top of her head in the shape of a wreath. The rest of her golden hair cascaded in wavy tresses around her shoulders.

"Oh, have a look at you." Dorothy stood back and clasped her hands together.

The bell on the door jingled, and they looked up to find Grover striding in. He stared at Missy for a long while before he cleared his throat and spoke. "Finished?"

Missy nodded. "Yes, Grover."

Dorothy walked behind the counter and folded underclothes, stockings, and a cream-colored shawl into brown paper. She wrapped the paper with twine to keep everything together in the bundle. Tying the knot with a hard yank, she said, "Grover Huntley, seems you need to learn a thing or two about women. You give that beautiful gal a compliment right now or so help me I'll give you tongue-lashing that'll spin your head."

Grover's eyes twinkled as he approached Missy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and smiled down at her. "Darlin', I'd wager you're the prettiest woman in all of Texas. Not a one could hold a candle to you. Your hair looks especially fetching." He ran his fingers along her plaits, then bent to give her a quick kiss. Missy smiled at him, her heart brimming with joy at his compliment.

Grover addressed Dorothy. "Was that to your satisfaction, ma'am?"

She grunted. "I suppose. But I'll tell you something else. You'd better not thrash her for being concerned about your finances earlier. If I hear tell of it, I'll never speak to you again."

Grover's smile widened. "Is that right? I can't bear that thought, so I won't. Besides, even the naughtiest of women shouldn't be punished on their wedding day."

"That wouldn't be today, Marshal. I need to take in and hem her best dress. It'll be ready in two days. Then you can get married."

Grover rubbed his jaw. "I'm afraid I can't do your bidding on that, Dorothy. We're getting married today. I just spoke with the preacher. Missy looks all-to-pieces lovely in this dress anyway."

"But she looks like an angel in the other!"

Missy came to Grover's defense. "It's okay, Dorothy. I'd like to wear the nicest dress, but I'd rather get married today than wait."

"Oh, fine," Dorothy huffed. "You young people are so impatient these days."

Grover paid for the clothes and picked up the brown paper bundle while Missy picked up her daughter, who cooed and observed her mother with blue eyes that matched her ma's.

Missy smiled, feeling exceptionally happy. "Thanks for everything, Dorothy. I'll stop by for the other two dresses in a couple days."

"Stop by whenever you like, sugar, and we'll have a yammer. You let me know if the marshal gets ornery again, you hear?"

"I sure will, Dorothy."

Grover smirked. He held the door open for Missy, and they walked out onto the sidewalk. Stopping at the house, Grover left the parcel of clothes in the bedroom and rejoined Missy outside.

"The chapel is this way. The preacher is expecting us." He guided her with a touch on her back. They walked side by side at a more relaxed pace than before.

"Grover, is it true you decided not to spank me for arguing?"

"I was never going to."

"Then why did you say so? I felt so embarrassed."

"I'm sorry for that, darlin', but I had my reasons for scolding you the way that I did. Did Dorothy feel sorry for you? Take you under her wing? Are you two friends now?"

"Yes, I'd say so."

"Right, that's what I wanted. I can't be the only person in Porter who takes a shine to you. You need other friends who will protect you, and you need to belong to the community in such a way that people forget you're an outsider. I knew Dorothy wouldn't be able to help fussing all over you if I appeared harsh."

"I see, Grover. Thank you."

"My job is to protect you in whatever way I can, sweetheart. You don't need to thank me."

She beamed at him. "You're going to be the best husband a girl could ever want."

He chuckled. "Hey, that reminds me. I got you the ring I promised you. Want to wear it?"

# # #

The preacher only asked to see one proof of Missy's identity, and Grover used the forged letter from the made-up matchmaker. Satisfied, the preacher performed the ceremony with his wife in attendance as a witness. The four of them signed the marriage certificate, which displayed Missy's new name in an official capacity.

Grover's mind wandered during the ceremony. He thought of something that disturbed him, a loose end that could put Missy's new identity at risk. Grover repeated his vows after the preacher spoke them. Hannah Lou fussed when Missy said hers, and the baby's fussing turned to wails.

"Sorry," Missy said. She bounced her daughter in her arms gently. "She needs feeding." Because of this, Missy rushed through the rest of her vows.

After the
I dos
and the minister's pronouncement of man and wife, Grover held his new wife's face in his hands and gave her a kiss. Hannah Lou let out a particularly loud shriek then.

Grover pulled away and threw up his hands in mock annoyance. "For heaven's sake, feed that little keener before she busts our ears."

The preacher's wife ushered Missy and Hannah Lou to the room next to the sanctuary so Missy could nurse the baby in private, while Grover sat on a pew and considered the loose end— Henry. It dawned on him that Missy most likely gave him a story about why she was in town looking to sell her brooch, and it certainly wasn't a story about being the marshal's mail-order bride.

Outside and walking along the sidewalk once again, Grover said, "Honey, I know it's been a long day and you're most likely tired, but we need to make one more stop. And I'm afraid it won't be a pleasant one." He shared his concerns about Henry and then added, "The problem is, the man is nosy, and when he sets his mind to something, he goes at it like a dog to a bone. In his mind, you're a thief, and since I didn't mete out justice according to him, I'm afraid he might not let up."

Missy held the sated baby tighter against her chest and sounded afraid when she responded. "What can we say? When I tried to sell him the brooch, I told him I was from Dallas and that my husband was in town with me. Now I'm supposed to be a widow from Maryland."

"We'll have to convince him you were lying then but not now. Follow my lead, okay? Don't speak except to confirm what I say. And don't look so frightened," he said, his voice stern. "Try to look happy. You just got married."

Missy forced herself to change her worried frown into a smile, though it looked more like a grimace by the time they arrived at Henry's shop. Grover walked in first, his nose filling with the pleasant scent of the black licorice Henry kept on the front counter.

"Howdy, Marshal," Henry said, holding out his hand.

Grover shook it. When Henry noticed Missy walk in behind him, his eyes turned cold. "What's she doing here?"

"Henry, we wanted to stop by to speak with you. Seems there was a misunderstanding. This here is Missy. She's my mail-order bride from Maryland. Apparently she tried to sell you the brooch before meeting me so she could buy better clothes to make a good impression."

Henry narrowed his eyes at her. "That's not what she told me."

"She lied, Henry, and I assure you she was punished for that. Also, she wishes to apologize for kicking you. Isn't that right, Missy?"

Grover could see Missy's mind processing the information. In a flash, her expression changed from outraged to agreeable.

"Yes, that's right. I'm sorry for lying and also for kicking you." She managed to appear contrite enough.

Grover gave her a nod to indicate his approval of her response and scrutinized Henry to see whether he bought it. He appeared to be considering the apology.

Then Missy felt compelled to add in a growly voice, "I lied about who I am and my reason for selling the brooch, but that brooch is mine, mister. You were flat-out wrong about me stealing it. I'm no thief."