Texas Brides Collection (70 page)

Caleb took a deep breath. He ought to set them straight, ought to say right out that he was Caleb Wilson, not Cal Wilson, and that six months ago he’d been cooling his heels at the Huntsville prison. Then he had another thought. Had God heard his prayer and given him a chance at a new life?

“He’s the sheriff?” Miss Bertrand looked as if she might fall down right where she stood. “You’re the man I’m supposed to marry?”

“Sheriff Wilson, I knowed it, I did.” The dark-skinned maid waved a paper in Caleb’s direction. “It’s all right here in your letter. You the one who sent for Miss Lydia.”

“Say somethin’, Cal.” Elmer pointed to Miss Bertrand. “Tell these women who you are.”

Caleb took the paper and unfolded it. There on the top were written the words that nearly sent him to the floor.

“Contract to marry?” He looked up at the maid who nodded; then he shoved the paper back at her. “You’ve got the wrong man.”

She gave him a look that would chase off a polecat. “You the sheriff, ain’t you?”

Under her scrutiny he almost cracked. Almost told the whole town they were about to pin a badge on the wrong man. Then he looked over at Miss Bertrand and couldn’t say a thing.

Elmer answered for him. “Sure he’s the sheriff. Tell her, Cal. We been waitin’ for Cal Wilson nigh on six months. We was beginnin’ t’think he’d run off with our travelin’ money, so Ed went lookin’ for him, and here he is.” He returned the maid’s scathing stare. “Who’d you think he was, one of the prisoners?”

T
he next thing Lydia remembered was waking up in a jail cell. May dabbed a damp cloth against her forehead, and a man with red hair paced nearby. Someone called, “She’s awake.”

Another said, “Fetch the bride out to meet the folks.”

The bride.

It all came tumbling back. The contract to marry, the conversation with May, and her first look at her groom-to-be. Then the realization hit that she was to wed the man who plowed her down in Mrs. Sykes’s kitchen.

At this reminder she groaned.

“You hit your noggin, hon?” This from May who ran her hand across the back of Lydia’s head.

Mrs. Sykes stood in the door of the cell shaking her head. “To think I had both of you under my roof and I didn’t know a thing.”

Lydia climbed to her feet and shook off May’s attentions. “Well, I didn’t know, either.”

Without bothering to explain, she straightened her shoulders and rose. Putting one foot in front of the other, she headed for the door and her intended—or maybe she’d just keep walking until she’d shaken off the dust of Dime Box, Arizona.

Whichever choice she made, she first had to make good her escape. With the only exit being the front door, she took a deep breath and stepped through. The claps and cheers should have stopped her, but they didn’t. Rather, she walked all the way to the end of the sidewalk before she turned to see Cal Wilson staring at her.

By pausing, she was well and truly caught, for several ladies reached her and began to talk about dress fabric and wedding dates. She might have been there indefinitely had Mrs. Sykes not made her apologies to the ladies, taken her by the arm, and led her back down the sidewalk.

“There she is, folks.” The red-haired man pointed to Lydia. “She’s a little shy. Let’s make the sheriff ’s intended feel welcome. Folks, welcome Lydia Bertrand, soon to be the new Mrs. Wilson.”

Lydia’s stomach did a flip-flop, and tears sprang to her eyes. The crowd parted to reveal the new sheriff standing by his side. Odd, but the lawman looked as miserable as Lydia felt.

Could it be that the goods he purchased had not met his expectations? Had he decided she wasn’t all he hoped her to be?

Well, of all the nerve. What was wrong with her? Why, half the boys in New Orleans of marrying age had been trotted through their parlor, and not a one of them had made
that
face at her.

Why him? Why now? Eyes narrowed, Lydia strode over to the man to ask him.

Before she could take two steps, May intercepted her. “Now don’t you go making a spectacle of yourself, Lydia Bertrand. You done been raised better than that.”

Lydia pasted on a smile and aimed it at the lawman. “Well, of course I have, May. That’s why I’m going to go over there and show my intended just how glad I am he’s chosen me.”

May whirled her around and stared at her hard. “And how do you intend to do that?”

“I’m just going to go over there and be polite.” She shrugged. “If he’s going to marry me, he needs to meet me proper, don’t you think?”

May gave her a sideways look. “I didn’t think you wanted to marry him.”

“I don’t.” She upped the smile and aimed it in Sheriff Wilson’s direction. “I just want
him
to
want
to marry
me.”

“That don’t make no sense,” May muttered. “That just don’t make no sense.”

She left her maid shaking her head on the sidewalk and headed for the spot where the mayor of Dime Box was introducing Cal Wilson as their new sheriff. Something gleamed in the sun as she approached. The badge, she realized.

“Would you like to do the honors, Miss Bertrand?” the mayor asked.

“I’d be delighted, Mr. Mayor.”

The crowd cheered as the Bertrand woman flounced over to give the mayor her biggest smile. As she drew near, badge in hand, Caleb instinctively put his hand over his heart. From the look in her eye, she’d either stab it or steal it.

She lifted up on tiptoe, then met his gaze. For a moment she almost smiled. Then the woman looked down and went to work fastening the tin star on his shirt. Her fingers trembled, he noticed, and he couldn’t help but wonder if his old charm had returned.

Then she looked into his eyes. She looked more determined than smitten. But determined to do what?

“So when’s the date, Sheriff?”

He looked over at Elmer, who seemed to take great pleasure in Caleb’s discomfort. Ed, however, looked as if he might come to the rescue any minute.

“Honestly, we haven’t discussed a date.” Miss Bertrand’s smile could have lit a room.

“That’s right,” Caleb added as he plotted how to get himself out of this fix.

All he had to do was admit he and Cal Wilson were two different folks. That would get him out of the marriage contract. It would also set the townsfolk straight. The only trouble with the truth was that it didn’t seem to fit with the answer to prayer he so clearly felt he’d received.

He’d asked the Lord to give him a second chance, and here He’d gone and let a reformed outlaw become sheriff. By speaking up now, he could very well ruin the plans the Lord had made for him.

Something in that logic chewed at his conscience, but Caleb ignored it. Instead, he smiled and shook hands and made small talk with the people he’d been entrusted to protect. He noticed the Bertrand woman was doing the same thing. She might be as pretty as a newborn calf, but he’d have to find some way of getting out of this contract.

The last thing Caleb Wilson needed right now was a wife.

Finally, the mayor stepped up and put his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Folks, let’s leave these two alone for a spell. I’m sure they’ve got some catchin’ up to do.”

A few hoots and hollers later, the people of Dime Box went back to their business, leaving Caleb to attend to his. He shook Ed’s hand and stepped inside to take his place behind the big wooden desk.

Caleb and Ed had cleared the mess off the top of it, but he’d never looked to see what was inside. He did that now, starting with the top right drawer. Inside he found a layer of dust and a stack of papers. He lifted them out and set them on the desk. Topmost on the pile was a letter written on the stationery of the Wentworth Hotel in Wichita, Kansas, promising that one Cal Wilson’s arrival would fall somewhere between the end of January and the middle of February.

No wonder Ed and the boys were getting impatient. He set the letter aside and, two posters down in the stack, found a familiar face staring up at him from a wanted poster: his brother Colt.

Caleb tore it in half and wadded up the pieces. He knew for a fact that Colt had done his time on this charge. He’d just missed seeing him in Huntsville.

The temptation to dwell on family pressed hard on him, and Caleb had to force himself to ignore it. He had more than enough to worry about, what with a feisty gal with marriage on her mind and a new job on the other side of the law.

He leaned back in the chair and set his boot heels on the desk. Given time, he’d find a way out of that predicament.

“A moment of your time, Sheriff.” The object of his thoughts barged through the door, her maid following in hot pursuit.

“A moment?” He looked her up one side and down the other. She had her feathers ruffled for sure. “Looks like you aim to take more than that.” He pushed two chairs up to the desk. “Set yourself down and speak your piece.”

Both women spoke at once, leaving Caleb to shake his head and call for quiet. The maid clamped her mouth shut and handed over the paper she’d showed him earlier. Right there on the bottom line was the signature of a man named Calvin Wilson. Proof positive it couldn’t be him.

He was about to say so when the Bertrand woman cleared her throat and aimed her attention in his direction. She wore yellow, an idiotic thing to notice considering the situation, but it did make her look pretty as a picture.

“Mr. Wilson,” she said in her prim and proper way, “you and I have a contract. We also have a situation.”

Caleb nodded. “Yes, indeed, I’d say we do.”

“You got a
situation
, all right,” the maid said. “The situation is you brought this gal all the way out to this place, and you are goin’ to marry up with her right and proper—or I’ll know the reason why.”

Miss Bertrand placed her gloved hand on the maid’s arm. “Let me handle this, May.”

She addressed Caleb. “As May said, I’ve traveled from New Orleans to fulfill my end of the contract, Mr. Wilson. I am interested as to whether you intend to fulfill yours.”

“Well, now, just a minute here.” Caleb’s mind raced through the possible excuses for holding off on a wedding, coming to a stop at the most likely one. “You and I, we barely know one another, Miss Bertrand. I suspect you don’t relish the thought of being married to a total stranger. Besides, we haven’t exactly had a good start, have we?”

Her look gave him the impression she didn’t relish the idea of being married to him at all. If he hadn’t been so set on getting out of the deal himself, he’d be offended.

“This is true.” She shifted positions and cast a quick glance at the maid. “But the townsfolk are calling for a wedding date, sir.”

“I’m aware of that.” Caleb set his boots on the desk again and tried to look as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “What do you think of a summer wedding, Miss Bertrand? Say June?”

“June? Why, that’s several months away.” Her tone signaled displeasure, but the twinkle in her eye told him she felt otherwise.

“It is indeed,” he said slowly. “But don’t you think we need the Lord’s blessing on this? You
are
a God-fearing woman, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she said. “And I think your idea is an excellent one. There’s just one problem. I was not prepared for such a lengthy engagement.”

He crossed his legs at the ankle. “Meaning?”

“Meaning we will be in need of a place to stay. I’m sure Mrs. Sykes won’t be pleased when we have no more funds to pay for our room.”

“Well, now, that is a problem. Let me ponder on it a spell.” She rose, and Caleb set his feet on the ground and did the same. “I suppose I ought to come calling now that we’re going to get hitched, Miss Bertrand.”

She looked less than pleased at the idea. To her credit she recovered quickly. “That would be lovely, Sheriff. Please, call me Lydia.”

“Lydia.” He looked past her to see the maid frowning at him. “I’m Caleb.”

The maid’s frown deepened, but she said nothing.

“The mayor and his wife are having me to supper tonight. What say I fetch you round about six and we walk over together?”

Lydia aimed a smile in his direction. “Are you asking me to supper, Caleb?”

He hitched up a grin. “I reckon I am.”

“Then you’ll have to do better than that. I’m used to spending time with gentlemen.”