Second Chance Brides (13 page)

After having lunch at the café, Mark strode back into the office, and breathed a sigh of relief that Miss O’Neil was no longer there. But instead of enjoying that fact, guilt needled him. How had she gotten back to the boardinghouse? Had she hobbled home on her injured foot? Had his uncouth actions caused her more pain? More humiliation?

He crossed the office and stared down at the large stain on his desk. His mouth twisted up on one side. He’d worked hard to keep his desk looking nice, but Miss O’Neil had certainly made a mess of it. Thank goodness she hadn’t spilled the ink on the ledger.

Speaking of the ledger, he looked around the room and found it on the shelf beside the file box. He snatched it up, determined to try and record the orders in spite of his cast. He’d just have to work slow—if he could even hold the pen.

He dropped down into his chair and opened the drawer that held the orders. At least half the pile was gone. His heart skittered. Surely Miss O’Neil hadn’t opened the wrong drawer and used the orders to wipe up the spill. He tried to remember, but things had happened too fast. Trying to remember the details of all those orders would be a nightmare.

He yanked open the other drawers and searched them, then he got up and rummaged around the stacks of catalogs and papers on Garrett’s desk. He picked up the trash can and poked around the ink-stained papers but didn’t see any of the completed order forms. He shoved his hands to his hips and looked around the office. Where could that frustrating woman have put them?

Seemed like every time he got near her, something unpleasant happened. She was like a bad luck charm. He lifted his nose and sniffed. Her flowery scent still lingered.

Heaving a sigh, he sat down and opened the ledger book. He found the page where the last entries had been recorded, and his hand halted. Several new pages of entries had been recorded in a slanted, feminine handwriting. He studied the entries, and each one looked accurate, based on his memory of those orders.

“Hmph! Would you look at that.”

Maybe she was sharper than he’d given her credit for. But where were the order forms?

He carried the ledger back to the shelf and set it down. Then he thumbed through the file box until he found Foster’s account card. Each of the items from Foster’s last order had been recorded in the proper place, and the order form had been filed behind the account card as if he’d filed it himself.

Mark stared out the window, a slow appreciation for Shannon O’Neil growing within him. She’d stuck to her guns and finished her task, even though she’d been upset and hadn’t been completely taught how to do the job. She hadn’t tucked tail and hobbled back to the boardinghouse like he’d expected.

Evidently, she was quite capable of tending the books. But every time she got near him, something bad happened. Could he survive having her work here?

He thought about the worry in those big green eyes when she’d spilled the ink. She’d looked scared to death, as if he might strike her. He scowled, wondering what she’d endured in her young life that would make her so fearful when she’d just had an accident.

Yeah, she’d ruined the top of an expensive piece of furniture, but it could be repaired. He was certain he could sand out the stain and refinish the top of the desk. She didn’t know how well he took care of his things and how it bothered him when other people didn’t. Had his fierce reaction to the accidental ink spill wounded her?

He hung his head, ashamed that he’d lashed out and made her feel worse. Her feelings were far more important than a desk, and he was certain that he’d thoroughly stomped on them. A flicker of warmth welled up within him. A desire to protect Shannon O’Neil from further pain. As far as he knew, she had no one to take care of her. To watch over her.

He had no idea why and might well die trying, but the desire to protect her heated his chest.

Mark hung his head as another thought charged into his mind. Hadn’t the very same reaction—the desire to protect Annabelle—been what had caused all his trouble in Abilene?

C
HAPTER
9

L
eah sat on the front porch of the boardinghouse, rocking her chair and staring out at the small town. She simply had to find some kind of work or she would go batty. But what kind of work could an unmarried woman do in such a small town?

When the Corbett brothers had offered to pay her way back home, she’d said no. Definitely, no. But maybe she should have allowed them to send her to Dallas or some other big town where there would be more opportunities for a woman.

At least here in Lookout, she knew a few folks, but in a big town, she would be alone.

The screen door creaked, and Shannon strolled out.

“Off to work, I see.” Leah smiled. Now that they were no longer competing for the same man and were bound together by their similar situation, she and the Irish girl had become friends.

“Aye.” She fanned herself with her hand. “’Tis hot already. I will be happy when the weather cools some.”

“Don’t hold your breath. It may be awhile. I’ve heard it’s sometimes November before cool weather decides to stick around.”

“Blessit be, how will we ever make it that long?”

Leah shrugged. “We’ll do what we have to do, just like we have been.”

Shannon nodded. “Aye, you’re right. We’ll do as we must.”

“Are things going better with the Corbett brothers, now that you’ve been there a few weeks?”

Shannon lifted one shoulder. “A wee bit. Garrett likes to play jokes on his brother and me, and Mark gets angry at him. I don’t mind them so much, except that day he put a snake in Mark’s desk drawer, and I was the one to find it. Ach! I nearly did an Irish jig. Good thing my ankle had healed.”

“I’d like to have seen that.” Leah chuckled and then shook her head, glad she didn’t have to deal with the Corbett brothers on a daily basis. “That Garrett needs to grow up. Sounds like he’s pulling schoolboy pranks.”

“Aye, that’s exactly what he’s like. Maybe he just needs a good woman to settle him down.” Shannon waggled her brows at Leah.

“Don’t look at me. I’ve had my fill of those brothers. Mind yourself. You be careful around them.”

“Well, I should be off. Have a grand mornin’, and I shall see you at noontime.”

Leah waved and watched Shannon walk away, her mulberry-colored skirt swaying. She’d purchased the new dress with the money she’d made working two weeks for the Corbetts, and well she needed one. Shannon had had only two old faded dresses when she came to Lookout, and one of them was stained with ink. Now the Irish girl wore an apron to work covering her new dress.

Leah leaned her head back and considered a new garment. Having one would be wonderful. Yeah, she had four, but like Shannon’s, hers were old and faded.

She mentally calculated each item in her hope chest, wondering if there was something she could part with that might be worth some money. Sam—she smiled, remembering the man she’d hoped to marry—had made the small wooden trunk, which had served as her hope chest, for Christmas the year before they were to marry. But the trunk was all she had left, and her hopes and dreams had been buried more than two years ago, along with Sam.

She closed her eyes, trying hard to imagine his face. He always smiled, and his brown eyes had glimmered with orneriness and love for her. Tears moistened her eyes. Life would have been so much different if he had lived. Why, she’d probably be a mother with a child by now. At least she’d been spared that.

While most women longed to marry and have children, she was different. She wanted to marry—Dan Howard’s tall form intruded into her thoughts—but she didn’t want children. And what man would marry her, knowing that?

After changing hundreds, if not thousands, of diapers, wiping noses for her youngest siblings every winter, watching babies die…

No, she wouldn’t put herself through that. If she couldn’t find a man who didn’t want children, she’d remain unmarried. She’d be a spinster.

But even a spinster needed a way to support herself. What could she do?

Teaching school was out of the question. Even if she had more than her sixth-grade education, there was still the issue of dealing with children day in and day out. She shuddered. No thank you.

She was an excellent cook, but she’d talked to Polly Dykstra, and the woman didn’t need any help other than what she already had. Her sister was a seamstress and owned the dress shop across from Polly’s Café, but with so few women in the town, she only worked part-time making dresses.

The screen screeched, and Rachel walked out. “My, it’s cooler out here. The kitchen is always so hot. I halfway wish I had one that was separate from the house.”

“That would help keep the rest of the house cooler, but you’d have to carry the food farther—and what would you do if we had rain?”

“True. I hadn’t considered those issues.” Rachel dropped into the rocker beside Leah’s and fanned her face with her hand. “How are you doing today?”

“Bored. I wish you’d let me do more around the boardinghouse.”

Rachel smiled and leaned her head back against the rocker. “I just can’t let a boarder work. It doesn’t seem proper.”

“So? Who cares?”

“I suppose just me. I guess you’ve not had luck in finding employment since we last talked?”

Leah shook her head. “I was just sitting here, trying to think of something.”

Rachel yawned and stretched her arms out in front of her. “Luke mentioned that his cousins are talking about having a get-together this Saturday and asked Polly to bake some cookies and pies. Maybe she could use help with that?”

She shrugged. “I asked her about working in the café, but she has all the help she needs.” She glanced sideways at Rachel. “Just what kind of get-together are those conniving brothers planning?”

“A social, I think. It’s a chance for unmarried men and women to meet.”

Leah stiffened, and her hackles rose. “You mean they’re trying to find husbands for Shannon and me?”

Rachel’s brows darted up. She opened her mouth but then closed it. She stared down the street for a moment. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“They are probably trying to marry us off so they can quit supporting us—or rather, me.” Leah crossed her arms. “Well, it won’t work, ’cause I’m not going. All those men can dance with each other.”

Chuckling, Rachel shook her head. “It would serve those rascals right if only men showed up.”

“I’ve had enough of the Corbett brothers matchmaking and interfering in my life.”

A wagon drove by, and the driver lifted his hat to the two women. He stared until his wagon turned down Main Street.

Leah faked a shiver. “I sometimes feel as if I’m on exhibit.”

“Men around here admire pretty women. There are so few of them to be had in Texas.”

“Men everywhere admire women. Pretty or not. It’s their nature.”

“True. But if they know of one who is available, that piques their interest even more.”

Leah crossed her arms over her chest and jiggled her foot. “Just who told them I was available?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“I guess it’s no secret how that bride contest turned out.” Leah shot to her feet, sorry for making Rachel squirm but irritated to the core. “I’m about ready to march over to the freight office and give those two scalawags a piece of my mind.”

Rachel stood. “Try to see that they mean well. They messed things up by bringing you and Shannon to town, and now they’re trying to fix that mistake.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending them after the trouble they caused for you.”

Rachel walked down the steps and plucked several dead leaves off a rosebush. “You know, if those two men hadn’t sent for you brides, Luke might never have forgiven me and gotten up his courage to ask me to marry him. So in a strange, roundabout way, I’m beholden to Mark and Garrett.”

Leah opened her mouth to comment, but Rachel held up her hand. She flipped her long braid over her shoulder.

“That doesn’t mean I condone what they did. It was wrong to pretend to be Luke and to write to you. But now that you’re here and neither of you want to leave, I guess they feel they owe it to you to find you a husband.”

Leah shoved her hands to her hips and paced the porch. “I don’t need their help in finding a mate. I’ve already got my eye on someone.”

“Oh yeah?” Rachel’s eyes lit up, and she cocked her head. “Who?”

Leah realized her mistake too late. “I…uh…am not ready to say. I don’t even know if he’s interested in me.”

Leaning her arms on the porch rail, Rachel stared up at her. “Well then, going to the social could be a good thing.”

Leah narrowed her eyes. “How so?”

“It would give you a place to get to know this man better. Other than outright courting, there aren’t many opportunities for a man and woman to spend time together.”

“Hmm…” Leah tapped her index finger against her lips. “You may be right. But it would mean talking to other men, too.”

“True, but you might meet someone more interesting than the man you’ve got your eye on. Or you will confirm that he’s the one for you.”