The Matrimony Plan (6 page)

When she rounded the decaying wagon, she saw. Mr. Coughlin, rifle slung over his shoulder, dragging poor Slinky toward the river on a rope.

“Stop,” she cried, racing toward them.

The dog struggled against the rope with all his might, but Mr. Coughlin didn’t let go. With a jerk, the knot tightened around Slinky’s neck.

“Stop. You’ll strangle him.”

Coughlin kept walking.

The wet earth sucked the ivory satin pumps off her feet. She yanked the shoes out of the mud and tried again, but two steps later, the shoes came off again. It was no use. She grabbed the shoes and ran in her stocking feet. The hay stubble stabbed her soles, but she had to save Slinky.

“Stop. Stop.” She waved the shoes, but Coughlin didn’t hear her.

He steamed onward, slowed only by Slinky’s desperate resistance. The black-and-white dog snapped and nipped at the rope, but Coughlin yanked harder.

“Stop that,” she cried. “You’re hurting him.” She threw a shoe past the man’s head.

That stopped him. He squinted in her direction while Slinky tried desperately to rub the rope off his neck.

“Mr. Coughlin,” she panted, “don’t do it.”

Coughlin raised the rifle. “Yer on my land.”

“P-please.” She could barely get the word out. He wouldn’t shoot her, would he? “You have no right.”

“I have every right. This mutt has et his last chicken. Now get off my land.”

Slinky jumped joyfully against her pale yellow gown,
planting muddy paw prints on the delicate chiffon. Coughlin yanked the dog back with a harsh jerk.

“No,” Felicity cried with frustration. How could she stop Coughlin? How could she prevent this murder? She looked around for help and spotted the broken fence ten feet back. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re standing on parsonage property.”

His eyes narrowed as he followed her line of sight and then he dragged Slinky back over the fence line. “Now I’m on my land. Git.”

Not without Slinky.
But Coughlin would never let the dog go. He operated on the eye-for-an-eye system. Somehow she had to convince him to turn the dog over to her.

Heart hammering in her ears, she said, “I can stand here if I want. My father gave this land to the church.”

“Yer choice.” Coughlin pointed his rifle at Slinky.

“No,” she cried. “Don’t. I’ll pay you for the chicken.”

“You got money?”

“No, but my father does.”

“And what about the next’un and the next?” He aimed.

“You can’t kill him,” she cried. “Everyone would hear. There’d be an outcry.”

“Don’t care what no one thinks.” He cocked the gun.

Felicity wildly searched for a way to stop him. “Even your son Benjamin?”

The rifle barrel dipped.

“I knew Ben,” she said in a hurry, “and he’d never want you to kill an innocent animal.”

“Ain’t innocent.” His aim steadied. “Besides, what do I care what Ben thinks when he done run oft?”

Felicity scrambled for a better reason. “What if someone owns the dog? They could insist you pay them for their loss.”

“This here’s a stray. You know it an’ I know it.”

“B-but he deserves to live. He only needs to be trained.

Why, it’s no different than a child. Without proper training, a child goes wild. Slinky can be trained. I know it.”

Coughlin stared her in the eye. “You planning to take him on?”

Felicity swallowed. Mother would never allow it. She claimed the smell of them made her sick, and that was one point even Daddy couldn’t fight. No pets. Yet Slinky looked at her with such desperation, the little white eyebrows lifted, one ear cocked and one flopped over. She couldn’t bear to see him get shot.

“Didn’t think so.” He raised the gun again. Slinky cowered, whining.

“No! I—I—I’ll take him.”

“Where? Your daddy don’t keep no pets. He sure ain’t gonna want this chicken-stealing varmint.” Coughlin aimed.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut against the tears and gave one last plea. “Any dog can be saved with a little love.”

“She’s right,” said a calm, clear and very familiar voice.

Felicity opened her eyes to see Gabriel standing between herself and Coughlin. He was dressed as plainly as yesterday afternoon, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, revealing strong, capable forearms.

“Gabriel,” she breathed, and then realizing that was disrespectful said, “Pastor.”

Coughlin waved him away. “This is none of your business, Rev’rend.”

But Gabriel didn’t back down. “Ms. Kensington is correct. Love will cure many faults. It might even save a chicken-stealing varmint.”

Felicity almost laughed at those rough words coming from his educated tongue. Yes, educated. His diction was as fine as any orator. In that moment, she saw him anew. He might dress a little too informally, but he had a generous
heart. Even if he wasn’t husband material, he was a good and decent man.

“You feel that way,” spat Coughlin, “then you take’im.” He put the rope in Gabriel’s hand. “If that dog ever sets foot on my property again, this bullet is goin’ straight through his head, pastor or no pastor.”

Coughlin returned the way he came, and Gabriel led Slinky onto the parsonage’s side of the fence.

Now that the danger had passed, Felicity began to shake. Coughlin had aimed his gun at her. What if he’d shot? She hugged her arms and wished she were home in her room. Instead, she stood awkwardly with Gabriel, who stared at Slinky.

Finally, he raised his eyes and held out the rope. “It looks like you’ve got yourself a dog, Ms. Kensington.”

“What do you mean?” She backed away and rubbed the muddy grains off her hands. “My parents won’t let me have a pet. And I’ll be leaving by September.”

“Well, I can’t have a dog. You did say you’d take him. I believe those were your exact words.”

“I didn’t want Mr. Coughlin to kill Slinky, so I promised.”

“Do you generally promise what you don’t intend to fulfill?” His eyes glittered with gold flecks in the sunlight.

“I, uh.” No one had ever questioned her before. She was Felicity Kensington. She squared her shoulders. “No innocent creature deserves to die, no matter what he’s done. Slinky can be rehabilitated by the right owner, someone who understands dogs, someone who knows how to call them, for instance.” She gazed right into those deep brown eyes and knew he understood. “I don’t suppose…?” She left the sentence hanging.

“No.”

“Just for a while,” she implored. “Until Mr. Coughlin simmers down. Please?”

“What happens then? You’ll turn him loose again?”

“No,” she said hastily. Slinky could never run loose again, or Coughlin would kill him. “I’ll find him a home.”

He hesitated. “The Church Council might not want a dog in the parsonage.”

“The Johannesons had a cat.”

Gabriel rubbed his forehead as Slinky cocked his head and looked at him with big, hopeful eyes. Good boy, Slinky. She felt Gabriel’s resistance break.

“Two months,” he said. “You need to find him a new home within two months.”

“All right.” Perhaps she could convince Robert to bring Slinky with them or find a farmer willing to take him on.

“And you will help train him,” he added.

She swallowed hard. That meant hours working with Gabriel, hours by his side. “Me?”

“You. That point is not negotiable.” He put the rope in her hand. “You can start by bringing him to the parsonage.”

“Now?” Her legs turned to jelly.

“Of course now.”

He took off, leaving her no choice but to follow.

G
abriel guided her through the woods. “We’ll begin with a bath.”

“A bath?” For one humiliating moment, Felicity thought he meant her.

“I’m not letting that dog into the parsonage without a bath.”

Of course he was talking about Slinky, who, come to mention it, did stink. Gabriel led the way, and the dog trotted along beside her, eager to go wherever they led.

“But I have things to do.” She couldn’t exactly tell Gabriel that she had to see Robert before Sally and Eloise got to him.

“Duty first.” Gabriel opened the gate to the parsonage’s backyard and held it for her. He sounded just like a parent, though he couldn’t be more than her twenty-one years.

“I shouldn’t be here alone,” she pointed out.

“You’re not alone.” He motioned for her to enter the yard.

Felicity tentatively stepped through the gate. Though she’d been to the parsonage numerous times, she had never set foot in the expansive backyard, partially shaded by a huge oak nestled just outside the whitewashed picket fence.

A solitary lilac and a clothesline broke the expanse of mowed grass.

After closing the gate behind her, Gabriel strode quickly across the yard, a man at ease with his surroundings. At the stoop, he turned to check her progress.

“I thought you were in a hurry,” he called out as she inched closer.

“How long is this going to take?” She had to get to the barn before Robert left.

Gabriel’s mouth curved into a soft smile. “We’ll find out, won’t we?” He turned the screen door’s handle.

“You don’t expect me to go inside, do you?” She glanced to her left and right. There was no one there now, but anyone could walk through the park or down Elm Street.

“Of course not.” But still he grinned at her in the most alarming manner. “I’ll fetch the water. You hang on to the dog.”

“Slinky. His name is Slinky.”

Gabriel’s eyebrow lifted. “We’re going to have to do something about that name. Somehow Slinky doesn’t seem quite right for a minister’s dog.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. Gabriel had made a joke on himself, something she didn’t expect. Ministers were somber and judging, not funny and warmhearted like Gabriel.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, opening the screen door. “You just keep hold of Slinky.”

He vanished inside, and she once again felt vulnerable. Even here, close to the house, she was exposed, but if she stood behind the lilac, no one would see her.

“Follow me.” She patted Slinky’s head and headed toward the bush.

He didn’t budge.

She tugged gently on the rope. “Come, Slinky.”

He tilted his head in bemusement.

She held out her hand the way Gabriel had at the train depot, and at last the dog bounded toward her. By backing up and repeating the process, she led him bit by bit to the lilac.

Then she waited…and waited. The noon hour must have come and gone. Sally and Eloise would be at the barn by now. What could be taking so long? She fumed and crossed her arms. If not for Slinky, she’d leave.

At last, Gabriel pushed open the door with his shoulder. He carried a bright tin washtub brimming with water. Towels hung over his shoulder—the new towels.

“You can’t use those,” she cried. “My mother had them monogrammed in New York City.”

Gabriel searched left and right until he spotted her. “What are you doing way over there?”

“It’s shady here.”

“We don’t want to be in the shade.” He set the tub down in the middle of the yard and stretched his back. “Phew, that’s heavy.”

“The towels,” she said at the exact moment he tossed them on the ground. Too late. They were ruined now.

She edged closer to the tub. Only the less fortunate used a tin tub to bathe anymore. Felicity had never set foot in one herself, though the mercantile still sold them to local farmers and tradesmen. Slinky sniffed the water and began slurping it up.

Felicity tried to pull him back. “Stop it. Don’t drink that.”

“Why not? He’s probably thirsty, and it’s not soapy yet.” Gabriel produced a cake of castile soap from his pocket. “Shall we?”

Felicity had no idea what to do next, but she hardly wanted to admit it. He’d laughed at her inability to get the letter from Slinky yesterday. How much harder he’d laugh
if he knew she had no idea how to wash a dog. If she’d been allowed to have a pet, she would have known what to do, but Mother insisted animals did not belong in the house, and Daddy only brought them inside after they’d been stuffed.

She held out the rope, indicating Gabriel should take the lead.

He didn’t make a move. “He’s your dog.”

But she didn’t know how to bathe a dog.

Gabriel held out the soap.

She folded her arms. “It’s your soap.”

“You don’t know how, do you?”

Felicity jutted out her jaw. “Our home is too nice for pets.”

“Too nice?”

He was flustering her. “Mother doesn’t want the furniture ruined.”

Instead of criticizing her upbringing, his expression softened. “Do you mean you never had a pet?”

Felicity bit back a wave of emotion and shook her head. Ms. Priss didn’t count since she belonged to the neighbors. “Blake had a hunting dog once, a long time ago, but he let Blackie in the house one day, and Mother found out. Daddy took poor Blackie away, and we never saw him again.”

“I’m sorry.”

He looked at her so kindly that her throat tightened. “It doesn’t matter. Proper young ladies don’t get attached to smelly old dogs.”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Mother did. Animals belonged on farms, not in nice houses. To her they were objects, like a vase or a doorstop, not creatures with souls, but Felicity had worried and prayed for that dog for weeks. Mother had told her to grow up and stop fussing.

“It was a long time ago,” she said with a shrug, hoping he didn’t notice how painful the memory was.

“I always had a lot of dogs and cats.” He smiled softly. “Too many, Dad would say, but Mom put up with it.”

Felicity wondered what it would be like to have parents who accepted their children’s interests. “My mother would never allow them. You must understand. You’ve met her.”

“Yes, I have.” He laughed, easing her discomfort. “Do you have a big family?”

“Just Blake. He’s four years older than me.”

“That means we’re both the babies of our families. I have four older brothers and one older sister, Mariah.”

“Six? There are six of you in all? How did you all find a place to sleep?” She’d heard many of the poor had large families, but six children? How had they all fit into a tiny tenement apartment? And with dogs and cats, too?

“We took shifts,” he said solemnly.

“You did? Then you had to sleep in the daytime—” She halted when Gabriel roared. He’d been teasing her, and she fell for it. “You made that up.”

He nodded, still laughing. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, but the thought of my brothers and I sharing a bed was too funny. Charlie, the oldest, doesn’t like anyone talking to him, least of all snoring next to him.”

She knew he was trying to soothe her hurt feelings, but it still stung that she’d been so gullible. At least she wasn’t poor. “Well, I never had to share anything.”

He sobered, looking at her with clear eyes. “I imagine that’s true.”

Slinky barked, reminding them of the business at hand.

“Do you want to hold or scrub?” Gabriel asked.

“Excuse me?”

He nodded at the dog. “One of us has to hold, uh, Slinky, while the other scrubs.”

One holding and one scrubbing, all around a little washtub. There’d be soap and water, and they’d be far too close.

“Well,” he asked again. “Which will it be?”

What if water splashed onto her dress? What if Gabriel accidentally touched her? Which was most ladylike? Which was proper?

“I—I—I’ll hold him,” she finally said.

“Fine. Bring him here.”

“Here, boy. Have a nice bath.” She tugged on the leash, but Slinky had other ideas. He barked and danced away, nearly pulling the rope from her hands.

With a laugh, Gabriel scooped up the dog and plopped him into the tub. The water splashed out, soaking Felicity’s skirt.

“Oh,” she cried, pulling the wet chiffon from her legs. “Be careful.”

Slinky stood in shock for an instant before leaping from the water and tearing away. The rope ripped through Felicity’s hands, burning her palm. The wet dog ran around the yard barking. At least he didn’t hurdle the fence. After making the circuit, he stopped by Felicity and shook.

“Stop, stop!” she cried, turning from the spray of doggy-smelling drops.

Gabriel, to his credit, stifled any laughter. He merely walked over to Slinky, picked up the rope and handed it to Felicity. “You might want to hold him around the neck.”

That meant practically hugging the wet dog. Gingerly she stepped close, bent over and held the collar part of the rope between her index finger and thumb.

“That’s never going to keep him still,” Gabriel remarked as he lathered up the soap. “Get a good hold of him.”

“But he’s wet,” she cried. “My dress.”

She wanted to walk away, to leave Slinky to the fate he deserved, but then he looked up at her with those big brown eyes. His little white eyebrows pressed together as if he was worried she’d leave him, too.

“All right,” she sighed, kneeling on the grass and ruining her dress entirely. “For your sake.” She wrapped her arms around his wet, smelly body.

“Hold him tight,” Gabriel said. “He’s probably not going to like this.”

That was an understatement. The moment the soap hit Slinky’s fur, he yanked out of Felicity’s grasp, sending her tumbling to the ground.

“Don’t let go,” Gabriel cried, but it was too late.

This time Slinky was making a break for it.

Gabriel chased him around the yard, hollering the dog’s name and alternately calling him bad or good. Neither worked. Slinky stayed just beyond reach, like that day at the depot. Felicity couldn’t help but laugh. By the time the dog, with Gabriel in pursuit, had made a second circuit, she was doubled over.

“You could help,” he panted, making a flying leap for Slinky’s rope.

He crashed to the ground but missed the rope, which Slinky pulled just out of reach. The mutt ran ten feet away and barked, but Gabriel lay facedown, unmoving.

“That’s no way to call a dog,” she said, echoing his words at the depot. She leaned over and held out her hand. “Here, Slinky. Here, boy.”

The dog came straight to her, and she grabbed the rope, pleased that she’d turned the tables on Reverend Gabriel Meeks. She glanced at him, expecting a sheepish grin, but he hadn’t budged. He was still facedown. A jolt of fear shot through her. What if he was injured? And she’d been making fun of him—a minister of God.

Horrified, she went to him. “Are you all right?”

He didn’t move. What if he’d hit his head on a rock? What if he was…dead? Felicity couldn’t breathe. She let go of Slinky, who sniffed Gabriel’s mop of curls.

“Gabriel?” She still couldn’t bring herself to call him pastor. “Please wake up. Lord, don’t let him be hurt.”

He groaned.

“Thank God,” she sighed. “Are you all right?” She still didn’t want to touch him.

He groaned again and rolled over. “Rotten dog. Fits his name.” He winked at her.

She could have slapped him. “You’re not injured.”

He sat up and dusted the bits of grass from his shirt. “Just winded. You had a good chuckle at my expense though.”

“You have to admit it was humorous.”

Slinky barked his agreement, and Gabriel grinned. “And I no doubt deserved it. This dog does have the better of us, I’d say.” His voice softened with every word, and Felicity became aware of how close they were, within inches.

“Can you stand?” she whispered.

He wasn’t smiling anymore. Instead he gazed deep into her eyes, clear to her soul. “Your eyes are the most unusual color, not quite emerald but darker than jade.”

Ordinarily she disliked being reminded of her eyes, which didn’t match anyone else’s in the family, but Gabriel made their uniqueness sound special. “Some say it’s the green of water.”

“Like a deep spot in the river.” He pulled a damp lock of hair from her cheek.

She involuntarily trembled, and her cheek burned where his finger had brushed it.

“Are you cold?” he breathed.

“No.” It wasn’t cold; it was much worse. That horrible hot and cold tingling ran through her again, but it couldn’t be. She needed to marry Robert. She couldn’t be attracted to Gabriel. That would lead nowhere and ruin everything. She stood abruptly. “I need to go.”

“Go?” He didn’t try to hold her. He let her back away, but his expression said it all. He liked her—a lot.

His intensity terrified her. She looked around wildly. The picket fence enclosed the yard, trapping her, stifling her. “I—I need to go,” she repeated, even less sure of herself. If she stayed another moment, she’d never leave. “I’m sorry.”

“Felicity.”

She couldn’t look at him. The expression on his face would make her stay, and then what? She could have no future with him. She stumbled away, feet as unsure as her heart.

“Felicity?” He was coming after her. “What did I do?”

“Nothing.” She pushed at the air, trying to keep him back. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, unable to explain. She stumbled backward, just out of reach. She had to leave. She had to go now.

Spotting the gate, she fled.

Felicity kept to the park and out of the public eye as long as she could, but inevitably she had to walk past houses. The only way to avoid the streets was to follow the riverbank upstream, a route she hadn’t used since childhood, when she’d hide from her parents in a little cave near the river’s edge. But so many years had passed that the route no longer looked familiar. Neither could she navigate the treacherous ground in pumps. No, she had to walk through Kensington Estates, where everyone would see her damp and muddy dress.

She hurried her step, hoping Mrs. Neidecker was at the Women’s Club and Mrs. Vanderloo had left to play tennis. Though it wasn’t much consolation, Sally and Eloise would be long gone. By now, they’d have captured Robert’s attention.