Texas Brides Collection (73 page)

Lydia let out the breath she’d been holding. “I feel like God must’ve sent me to marry Cal Wilson, so that’s what I am supposed to do.”

Caleb rose abruptly and set his mug on the desk. He walked around to her and reached for her hand. Rising, Lydia found herself dangerously near to the sheriff.

“Is that what you want to do, Lydia?”

She looked up into eyes that glittered with emotion. They were gray, she noticed, the color of the New Orleans sky just before a storm.

Before she could answer, before she could manage to put together a thought as to how she felt, Caleb Wilson kissed her. Lydia stepped back, touching her lips.

No man had ever been so bold with her. No kiss had ever been so welcome. With all her heart, Lydia knew God had led her to this place, to this man. Fear slipped away, and peace took its place.

“This changes everything.” Had she spoken or merely thought this?

“Yes, it does.” Caleb stepped back and leaned against the desk. “I’m not who you think I am, Lydia. I believe it’s time you heard my story. You see, I’m not Sheriff Cal Wilson. I’m Caleb Wilson, outlaw. Well, reformed outlaw, that is.”

“This sounds like quite a story. Do you mind if I sit down?”

Lydia settled back on the chair while Caleb paced the room and told her of his life as part of the Wilson gang. When he finished, he had his back to her and his attention focused on the wall of wanted posters.

“I know personally more than half the men on this wall.” He turned to face her. “But I know one man who makes all this not matter anymore. See, I found Jesus behind the prison walls. I was locked up, but He set me free. I wanted to do something good for Him, but I haven’t gone about it the right way. I need to go talk to Ed and make this right.”

“Would you like me to come with you?”

Caleb shook his head. “I need to do this alone.”

C
aleb stole another kiss before he left Lydia at the boardinghouse. Any other time he would have whistled his way home, but tonight he felt like he was walking in lead boots. He knocked on Ed’s door and prayed he would be able to handle whatever punishment he got after he spilled his story.

Amanda Thompson let him in, then called for her husband. She left them in the kitchen with a plate of cobbler and two glasses of milk.

Ed shoveled a healthy amount of dessert onto his plate, then regarded Caleb with a frown. “You look like you’re heading for the gallows, Cal. What’s the problem?”

“In a way I might be.” Caleb refused Ed’s offer of cobbler. “I’m not who you think I am, Ed.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, but go on and tell me about it.”

Caleb started at the beginning. When he finished his tale, exhausted after repeating it for the second time in one night, he sat back and waited for Ed to react.

To Caleb’s surprise, the man continued to eat his cobbler.

“Did you hear me, Ed? I’m Caleb Wilson. I’m an outlaw, or rather I was until Jesus got hold of me.”

Ed set his spoon down and reached for the milk. After taking a healthy swig, he set the glass on the table. “I reckon we all got a story, Caleb. Yours, well, I’ll grant you it’s not like most.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I ’preciate you comin’ clean with me. Now, I wonder if you’re gonna be at the church house tomorrow, because it looks as if we’re gonna need a few extra hands. We’re shorin’ up the ceiling, and we’re gonna have our hands full with keeping it from fallin’ in around our heads before we build the new one.”

Caleb shook his head. “I don’t believe you heard me. I’m a criminal. An outlaw. It just happens my name is similar to the man you were expecting. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“ ’Course it does.” Ed met Caleb’s gaze. “It means the Lord works in mysterious ways. But then we both knew that.”

He pushed back from the table and stood. “I need to come clean with this, Ed. I’ve got to admit to the folks of Dime Box that I’m not the man you all were expecting.”

Ed rose and straightened his lapels. “You know Elmer Wiggins?”

“I do.”

“You respect him, do you?”

Caleb scratched his head. “Yes, I heard him preach last Sunday, and he did a good job. I’d say he’s a fine man.”

“No, he’s a reformed horse thief. Ben Mulligan over t’the general store? He used t’rob stages until he got a good shot of the Holy Ghost.” Ed shrugged. “I could tell you stories that would curl your hair. The Widow Sykes, well, suffice it t’say she can pick a fine lock if she still had a mind to. There’s a reason she don’t live in Savannah anymore. And Ma, the gal who owns the restaurant?”

He nodded. “Now she’s a rough-looking character.”

Ed chuckled. “And yet she gives just about every penny she makes to the orphanage back in Dallas where she grew up. Nobody in town but me knows this, so I’d appreciate you keepin’ it quiet. She brings me the money every month and has me send it ’cause she don’t want the man at the bank t’know she’s the one makin’ the donations.”

Caleb hung his head. Of all the things he’d thought about Ma, picturing her like this was not one of them. “I guess you never know about people.”

Ed clamped his hand tight on Caleb’s shoulder. “No, you don’t. Folks don’t come to Dime Box, Arizona, for the good weather and fine food. They come, most of ’em anyway, t’forget who they were and concentrate on bein’ who they ought to be. Ever wonder why there ain’t hardly no crime?”

“I guess I hadn’t.”

“Well, I have a theory on that. I figure the Lord’s got His hand on this place. I don’t know for sure, but I’d like t’think maybe He created Dime Box as a place where sinners are forgiven.”

Ed’s son burst into the room nearly out of breath. “Pa, there’s a coach a-comin’.”

“A coach?” He looked up at the clock. “It’s a quarter of nine. You sure it’s a coach?’

“Sure as can be,” he said.

Ed nodded. “Looks like I’ve got work t’do down at the livery. Son, you head on down there and light the lamps.” He waited until his son had gone, then thrust his hand in Caleb’s direction. “I ’preciate you comin’ clean, son, but I have to confess I figured out who you were right off.”

Caleb shook his head. “You knew who I was from the beginning?”

“Sure,” Ed said. “You told me.”

“I did?”

Ed made his way to the door as the sound of a team of horses drew near. “I called you Cal Wilson, and you corrected me right off. Did that a couple of times. So you never did deceive me, boy. Whilst I was jawin’ with you that day, I felt the Lord tell me you were the one we’d been waitin’ for. Now I’ve got work to do. I believe you need to go home and study on what I told you.”

Caleb walked out with Ed and watched as a stage halted outside the livery. The driver jumped down to open the door. Two men spilled out into the semidarkness.

“Welcome to Dime Box,” Ed said. “They’s rooms at the boardinghouse across the street and a good meal to be had there, too. Where you all comin’ from?”

As Ed continued his mostly one-sided discussion with the weary travelers, Caleb walked away with his heart light and his conscience clean. Before he did anything else, he went straight to the garden beside the boardinghouse and picked up a small rock. He lobbed it against the darkened window of Lydia’s room, then waited for her.

“Who done been throwin’ rocks?” The maid appeared at the window. “It’s you. What you want?”

“I’d like to speak to Lydia.”

“What you want with Miss Lydia?’

“That’s enough, May.” Lydia appeared at the window. Her hair hung loose, and she appeared to have been sleeping. “I’m here.”

“I need to talk to you. Can you come downstairs?”

She leaned forward as she began braiding her hair. “To the garden? Now?”

“No, to the parlor. I’ll wait on the porch.” Without allowing her to say no, he made his escape from the garden.

He watched the activity at the livery until Lydia opened the door. “This is highly irregular,” he heard the Widow Sykes call from somewhere upstairs. “So speak your piece and go on home so decent folk can get their sleep.”

Decent folk. Caleb swallowed hard. Indeed, tonight he felt as if he could be counted among the decent folk. “Yes’m,” he called back. “I thank you for allowing the interruption.”

“Anything for a man in love.”

A man in love? Yes, that just might fit him.

He followed Lydia into the parlor. While she chose to sit, he knew he couldn’t. “I’ll stand, thank you.”

“So how did Mr. Thompson take the news?”

Caleb began pacing. “He said he knew all along who I was. Said it was the Lord’s will I showed up when I did. He told me I was meant to be here.” He stopped to look down at Lydia. “What do you think about that? Or, I guess the better question is, what do you think about me? Will you still have anything to do with me now that you know about me?”

Lydia rose to fall into Caleb’s embrace. “Don’t be silly. Of course I will.”

Caleb held her tight. She was a pretty thing, no bigger than a minute, but with a voice as smooth as silk and a pair of big brown eyes that could cause a man to forget his troubles.

And she was all his.

Or she could be soon as he asked right and proper.

Caleb let her go and dropped to his knee, taking her hand in his. “Lydia Bertrand, I’d be right proud to wake up to your biscuits every morning for the rest of my life. Will you do me the honor of—?”

“Lydia? Oh, sweetheart, is that really you?”

His intended let go of his hand and sprinted past him as if he hadn’t said a word. Caleb scrambled to his feet and watched as Lydia fell into another man’s embrace.

“Hold on here,” Caleb said. “Who is this man?”

The fellow stared back at him with a surprised look. “I might say the same thing. Who are you?”

“The name’s Wilson,” Caleb said. “I’m the new sheriff ’round these parts.”

“You’re a liar, sir. I just rode into town with Sheriff Wilson. He’s at the livery at this very moment.”

L
ydia slipped from the man’s embrace to reach for Caleb’s hand. “Caleb, I’d like you to meet my papa, Reverend Augustus Bertrand.” She turned to the older man. “Papa, this is Caleb Wilson, and I don’t care who you rode in with—he’s the sheriff of Dime Box. He’s also going to be my husband.”

If he weren’t in such a sudden fix with her papa at that moment, Caleb would have kissed her for sure. Instead, he tried to think of a way to get out of this mess. He had no doubt the older man had ridden in with Cal Wilson. It would be about right to have the real sheriff finally show up when he’d made his peace with keeping the job.

Caleb felt her squeeze his hand, and he squeezed back before offering his palm to Reverend Bertrand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. I assure you I am Caleb Wilson.”

“He is who he says he is, and I’m here to vouch for him.” Ed Thompson walked into the parlor and shook hands with the pastor. “He’s a fine, God-fearin’ man who’s been helpin’ with the church when he isn’t busy keepin’ the peace.” He turned his attention to Caleb. “I’d like you to meet someone, Caleb. This here’s Cal Wilson.”

A portly fellow tipped his hat at Caleb. “I hear tell you took my job.”

“I suppose I did.”

The fellow reached over to shake Caleb’s hand. “I’d just like to thank you.”

He shook his head. “You want to what?”

“You see, I was headed this way to take the job when I come across the loveliest gal a man ever set eyes on. Suffice it to say, I made the gal my wife in short order, which left me with two problems: the job and the woman I’d sent for from New Orleans.”

The pastor gestured toward Lydia. “That would be my daughter, Lydia.”

Lydia smiled in his direction. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” He turned to Caleb. “I’m not here to take your job, but I do need to set some things to rights.” He looked at Ed. “First off, I need to repay you for the money you wired, Mr. Thompson. The whole hundred dollars is in there. You count it and be sure.” He handed the mayor a thick envelope. “And then there’s the matter of my betrothed.”

He took a step toward Lydia. “My dear, you are lovely. I deeply regret any trouble I’ve caused by sending for you and then failing to be a gentleman and fulfill my end of the contract.”