Second Chance Brides (15 page)

Shannon lifted one shoulder and dropped it back down. “His brother hadn’t told him that he’d hired me, and Mark was quite angry when he first found out. I was so embarrassed to witness their disagreement, especially with me being the topic of it. I wanted to run from their office, but I couldn’t because of my ankle.”

“Oh, Shannon, I never knew. What a horrible thing for him to do. I can understand why Mark would be upset.”

“Aye, me, too, now that I’ve had time to step back and think about the situation. But Mark quickly adjusted and has been quite gracious and patient since then.”

“Just give him some time. He’s seems a levelheaded man, even if he does let his brother involve him in his high jinks.” Leah squeezed Shannon’s hand. “Let me tell you: That’s often the case of a younger brother following his older one. I’ve lots of brothers, and it most always happens.”

Shannon stood, as if uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “I should go and clean up. I imagine dinner will be ready before too long.”

Leah watched her scurry from the room. Had the girl already fallen for Mark Corbett? Leah shook her head, unable to envision such a union. She stood and walked out onto the front porch. The heat of the day made her sweat, even though the August sun wasn’t yet fully overhead.

A worm of jealousy inched its way into Leah’s heart. If Shannon were to marry Mark Corbett, she’d have a home and a family—of sorts. Yeah, she’d be permanently supported by a Corbett, but that would be different since she’d be married to one.

Leah blew out a breath. She was getting the cart before the horse. Shannon seemed only mildly attracted to Mark. Besides, even if they did happen to get married, she should be happy for her friend, not jealous of her.

Shoving those thoughts aside, she studied the town. Several horses were tied in front of the bank and also the café. Their heads hung low, as if they, too, were bothered by the heat. Leah longed for the cooler temperatures of fall, but the uncertainty of her future nagged at her. There must be something she could do to make some money.

After lunch and an afternoon rest, Leah ventured down to the café. An idea had percolated in her mind, and she hoped that Polly would still be there. She passed the lot where the store had been, and the marshal’s office, but she didn’t look inside. It no longer mattered to her what Luke Davis did. He might have once been the target of her sights, but no more. He was a happily married man.

She opened the door to the café and stepped inside. Aromatic scents lingered even though all the customers were gone. The front windows were wide open, but the room was still overly warm. A fly buzzed near her head, and she swatted at it. Pots clanged together in the back room, so she made a beeline in that direction.

Polly was standing over a large pot with her arm clear down inside it. Leah hated to disturb her, but they needed to talk. “Ahem.”

Polly jumped and turned. “Goodness, you nearly scared what little life I’ve got remaining out of me.”

Leah smiled at the older woman’s joking. Polly’s chubby cheeks were bright red, and wisps of grayish-brown hair had escaped her bun and curled around her face.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I wondered if I could talk to you about something.”

“Sure thing. Just let me finish up this pot. Help yourself to some coffee, if you’ve a mind to.”

Leah skipped the coffee and surveyed the large kitchen. Something simmered on the stove, and several pies cooled near the open window. Beside her was a large shelf that held dozens of blue tin plates, bowls, and coffee cups. Almost everything was in its place, ready for the next round of serving to begin.

“You picked a good time to come. The lunch rush is over, and supper won’t start for a few hours yet.” Polly lugged the big pot to the back door and tossed out the soapy water; then she poured in fresh water from a bucket, swished it around, and threw it out the door, too. She set the pot upside down on a table that had spaces between the wooden slats, which served as her drying table. Polly wiped her hands on her apron and set them on her ample hips. “Now, how can I help you—Miss Bennett, isn’t it?”

“Care to sit down?” Leah asked. “I’m sure you must be exhausted. And please, call me Leah.”

Polly nodded and limped into the dining room. She picked up a mortuary advertisement that was attached to a flat stick and started fanning herself. “I’m getting too old for all this work, but I’ve got to have some income.”

“Have you never married?”

Polly lifted her hand to her chest. “Of course, but my Wilbur died young. So sad.”

“How is it you have the same last name as your sister?”

Polly smiled. “Dolly and me married brothers, we did. They weren’t twins like us, though. Walter was Dolly’s husband. He lived two years longer than Wilbur. Farming is hard on men and can be dangerous.”

Leah wanted to ask what had happened, but it wouldn’t be proper. She might as well get to the point. “Mrs. Davis told me that you’d be baking cookies and pies for the social the Corbetts are hosting.”

Polly swatted her fan at a fly but missed it. “Mercy sakes, I told them boys I don’t have the time or energy for any more baking, but they insisted. They begged me and offered good money. It’s hard to resist their handsome smiles and those charming blue eyes of theirs—and trust me—they use them to their advantage as much as they can.”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to ask you about.”

Polly’s brows darted up. “You interested in one of them boys? I think of them like sons, I do.”

Leah’s heart jolted, and she lifted her hand up. “No, that’s not it at all. I was wondering if I might be able to help you with the baking. I need to earn some income, and I’m sure you understand that.”

Polly leaned back in her chair. “Well, phooey. I’d sure like to see those boys marry you and that purdy Irish gal.”

Leah choked back a gag. She would never marry a Corbett, no matter how desperate she was. “Sorry, but I don’t think that will happen. Those two rascals are responsible for our being stranded here in town, as I’m sure you know.”

Polly shrugged. “Maybe, but could just be God’s means of getting you here. Time will tell.”

Leah stared dumbfounded. Polly was the second person today to insinuate such a thing. Yes, she believed that God could work in miraculous ways, but why would He bring her to such a town as Lookout? And then leave her dependent on the ornery coots who had brought her here under false pretenses?

“How about this: What if I let you use my kitchen and supplies, you do the baking, and we split the money? You can bake, can’t you? I remember them pies you gals made in that bride contest didn’t turn out so well.”

Leah nodded, feeling a tad bit offended that her cooking abilities were in doubt. “Of course I can cook. Even won some ribbons at the county fair for my pies.”

“That’s good to know. I wouldn’t want to disappoint them boys. They’re two of my best customers.”

Leah considered the offer. In truth, it made perfect sense. How would she buy the supplies, even if she’d talked Polly into letting her cook the desserts for the social? And where would she have done the baking if the woman hadn’t offered her kitchen?

She looked at the middle-aged widow, smiled, and held out her hand. “Polly, you’ve got a deal.”

Rachel looked around her tidy kitchen, then pulled out a chair at her worktable. Too bad this room couldn’t stay clean for more than a few hours at a time. She tugged a letter out of her pocket and smoothed it out, remembering Carly Payton. The black-haired, blue-eyed young woman had lived in the boardinghouse, posing as Ellie Blackstone. Rachel shook her head, thinking of how Carly had fooled them all, even Luke, though he’d been a bit suspicious of her. Carly had thought the real Ellie was dead, but she was, in truth, recovering from being shot and accidentally stabbed by a knitting needle during a stage robbery that took a bad turn.

She opened the letter and started reading:

Dear Rachel
,

I’m still in Dallas, awaiting trial. There ain’t much to do here. I’m locked up in a cell but kept apart from the men, thank the good Lord for that. When I was in a cell next to my brother, he pestered me the whole time, blaming me for his getting caught. How do you figure that? I wasn’t even there when he robbed the Lookout bank
.

Each day drags by so slowly. I’m bored half out of my mind, but I do have ample time to pray. I only wish I had a Bible and could read better. The marshal’s kind wife, Iona, has taken me under her wing and is teaching me to read better. She’s the one penning this letter for me. I can read some but hope to get better soon so I’ll be able to read some books and God’s Word to help the time go by faster
.

They say my trial should happen by the end of the month. With all the trouble in this part of the state, the judge is backed up on holding trials. I don’t know what’s to become of me. Iona says most women who are jailed here are black women or Mexicans. They are often sent to the penitentiary. Sometimes the judge is lenient and will sentence a woman to work off her sentence for a local rancher. I’m praying for that but don’t hold out much hope. I’m a Payton, and though I never shot no one, I did steal and pretend to be that other bride. I don’t know what’s to happen, and I’ll admit I’m scared. Please keep me in your prayers. Have you married that marshal yet?

Truly your friend,
Carly Payton

Rachel bowed her head and spent the next few minutes thanking God that Carly had given her life to Him, just before her capture. How would the young woman have endured imprisonment without His help?

A noise sounded behind her, and she looked over her shoulder. “Leah, don’t you look lovely?”

Leah’s lightly tanned cheeks turned a rosy pink. “You really think so?”

She nodded. “I do. I’m glad you’ve decided to go to the social.” She noted Leah’s apron ties were hanging down her side. “Turn around, and I’ll tie that for you.”

Leah smiled. “Oh, would you? I appreciate your help. I’ve always had a hard time fixing my own bows.”

Rachel motioned for her to turn around and then tied the bow to Leah’s new apron and fluffed it up to make it look pretty. “I think this was a wonderful idea.”

Leah spun around, glancing down and looking apprehensive. She smoothed the front of the apron. “You don’t think it’s too casual for a social?”

Rachel shook her head. “Not at all. If you’d made a white apron, then it wouldn’t have looked as nice. The ruffles around the bib fancy it up, and the navy calico accents the lighter blue of your dress.”

Leah chuckled. “Light blue—that’s a such a nice way to say faded.” She sighed. “I wish I had enough money to make a new dress.”

“Stop worrying. You look beautiful, and those men will be stumbling over themselves to dance with you.”

Leah’s cheeks flamed. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do.” Luke walked into the kitchen, staring at Leah. “There’s more than a dozen cowpokes and other men down by the church already, and the social doesn’t start for another hour yet.”

“I certainly hope some other women attend. I don’t think Shannon and I could dance with all the men who are likely to show up.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ve heard plenty of chatter all week. Everyone’s excited about the social.” Luke leaned back against the counter and shook his head. “I have to admit, though, I thought this was just another of my cousins’ cockamamie ideas, but this one just might turn out well.”

“From what Shannon said, it was mainly Garrett’s idea,” Leah said.

Luke nodded. “Most of them are. Mark’s more levelheaded than his brother.”

Rachel studied her husband, amazed again that God had given Luke to her. He caught her staring and winked. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and she felt her cheeks warm. How could he still move her as he had back when they were young?