The Widower's Wife (6 page)

A sudden thought puzzled her for a moment. He had been wearing a dark blue suit coat when he had come into the station. She glanced around, looking for where it might have gone. She spotted it next to her, folded into a neat pile. She hadn’t noticed it there before. As Jillian gathered her things, she reached over to retrieve the coat as well and slowly stood.

“I believe this is yours.” She handed the coat across to him. As she did, she briefly caught the pleasant scent that had tickled her nose earlier. She then realized why his coat had been placed there, and again she was touched, this time by his concern for her comfort. “Thank you, Mr. McCullough, for your kind consideration on my behalf.”

Dalton watched Jillian closely as she reached back and felt the hair that had come loose from its intended place at the back of her head. Ever since he had admired her strawberry curls tenderly laying about her face as she had lain there unconscious, he was curious to see how her hair would look hanging free in all its glory. For a moment he was disappointed, thinking she would attempt to pull the loose strands back into the bun. All of a sudden, she reluctantly pulled out the rest of the pins, and her hair came tumbling down around her. He wasn’t prepared for his reaction and was glad she was looking forward and didn’t notice his quick, but sharp intake of breath.

Almost as quickly as those stubborn curls had escaped from their imprisonment, they were whisked back with her slight fingers and quickly worked into a soft braid that hung down the length of her back. He liked it better that way. He could never understand why some women would grow such beautifully long hair and then wear it all day tightly wound and hidden at the back of their necks. Laurellyn had worn her hair down loose often enough. She knew he liked it that way, and though he knew that she didn’t, she would wear it down to please him.

Looking back at Miss Grey, he realized she was handing him his coat. He reached across and took the coat from her hand, but made no move to put in on. He looked thoughtfully at Miss Grey and soon realized he was being rude not to respond to her polite thanks.

“It was the least I could do, Miss Grey, seeing as I was the cause of all your troubles.”

Jillian considered arguing with him about whose blame this awkward situation truly was, but she was extremely tired and hungry, not to mention that her head was still throbbing incessantly. She was ready to leave the station.

“Listen.” Dalton’s face suddenly became serious. “I know this has all been terribly difficult for you. I didn’t mean for things to go so wrong.” He paused. “I would understand if you . . . well, if you’ve changed your mind about our whole arrangement. I could buy you a ticket home and rent a room over at the hotel for you until the train comes back through.”

Jillian felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. He wanted her to leave. She must have embarrassed him beyond forgiveness. Maybe he thought she would be more attractive, though she had specifically described herself as plain. She hadn’t wanted him to have any preconceived notions of what to expect. When he hadn’t stopped writing, she had assumed he wasn’t concerned with her appearance.

Sighing, she considered herself for a moment. Even though she wasn’t the most beautiful woman, she knew she wasn’t horrible to look at. Besides, their relationship would be purely platonic. No, it mustn’t be her looks that concerned him. Something else was bothering him.

The thought suddenly occurred that maybe he was worried about the children. The way she had acted! He must have decided that she would not be a good choice for a mother. She should try to explain why she had acted so out of character. But would he think she was begging him to keep her? The thought made her cringe. She thought of the children again and felt a tug at the corner of her heart. She couldn’t leave. She didn’t understand why, but she already loved this man’s children and felt a need to protect them. Surely they were expecting her. She couldn’t disappoint them.

“I see no reason to sever our agreement, unless—” Jillian paused to gather her courage, “—unless you feel the need to do so.” Instinctively, she closed her eyes to try to shield herself from his reply.

Dalton was torn. A part of him wished she had agreed to go back home. Already he was fighting to keep thoughts of this woman from his mind, thoughts that were crowding Laurellyn’s space in his heart. Still, there was another part of him that feared if he allowed her to go, it would be one of the biggest mistakes he ever made. The children needed her, were waiting for her. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt that somehow, despite his frustrations about his attraction to her, this woman was meant to come into their family.

He had felt it as he had read her letters, when she wrote of her home, her loving family, and the mother she greatly admired. It was as though Laurellyn had whispered her blessing to his heart. How could he deny that? How could he stand here and hope Jillian might leave and go back for his own selfish reasons? Dalton knew he could sustain himself with thoughts of Laurellyn, but what about little Lisa and Brenn? They didn’t remember their mother. They needed a woman to love them, nurture them, and help them grow. Jenny, whether she knew it or not, did too.

All doubt was suddenly washed from his mind and from his heart. Dalton knew. Yes, he knew, without a doubt, that even though Jenny would fight against her, Miss Jillian Grey would be the one that would heal his oldest daughter’s heart. Dalton smiled and reached over to unburden Jillian of her bag.

“No, Miss Grey, I have no objections.” He looked around. “Well,” he paused. “Maybe I do have one objection.” Dalton saw Jillian stiffen slightly. “I object to spending one minute longer than I have to in this blasted train station!” She visibly relaxed then, and he smiled again, a little wider this time. “Now, if you will kindly point me in the right direction in order to collect your trunk, we can be on our way.”

Dalton walked to the middle of the platform. The station was at this point entirely vacant with the exception of the ticket clerk, who was still scowling at them from behind his glass window. The only other exception was the one single, solitary, and very lonely looking trunk sitting unattended in the middle of the platform. Despite all that had happened, Jillian couldn’t help but smile as well.

Jillian sat alone in the wagon out in front of the jailhouse, hungry and still weakened from her ordeal. She shuddered to think of the man in plaid who was locked up inside. Dalton had promised he would only be a moment. Jillian immediately felt a surge of fear when Dalton first mentioned the delay. The sheriff had made it plain that they were to stop in at the jailhouse before they could go to the courthouse. Dalton quickly explained that the sheriff had agreed she could wait in the wagon while he took care of everything. He had told Jillian that he felt the need to explain their circumstances to the sheriff in order to shed some light on everything that had happened at the station. Aside from the fiasco with Mr. Fitzgerald, she wondered what the sheriff must think of her. Mail-order brides were not uncommon, but still, she had to wonder what others thought about her for choosing to become one.

Jillian breathed in deeply. She couldn’t believe she was finally out in the fresh air again. It had been almost two hours since her train had arrived. Jillian’s stomach growled, reminding her of how long it had been since she had eaten. She wished she had thought to pack something to nibble on just in case. The apple she ate on the train was long gone, yet she didn’t feel comfortable mentioning her plight to Dalton. She was sure he was anxious to get home. They had already lost a lot of time, and she was sure that no matter what time they finally did get home, there would be chores waiting for him. She prayed her stomach would not give her away.

The moment Dalton entered the jailhouse, his good mood instantly faded away, and he felt himself getting angry again. The man nicknamed “Chuckles” sat glaring at him from his jail cell. Dalton resolved to make this meeting as quick as possible. That man made his skin crawl, and he wanted to be done with him and this whole business. The sheriff greeted him from behind his desk.

“Howdy, Mr. McCullough, I’ve been hopin’ you’d be arrivin’ soon. I’m needin’ to get home early today, and I’m wantin’ to be finished with this here whole train station business. Me and the missus are expectin’ company come mornin’, and she has a list as long as my arm here that she’s a-wantin’ me to get done tonight. So iffin’ you don’t mind comin’ right on over and takin’ a look at this here report, we’ll get on with it. Then, if everythin’ looks to be about how you remember it all happenin’, just put your ‘John Hancock’ right here and yer soon-to-be wife’s right there.” He pointed to where he wanted Dalton to sign.

Dalton picked up the book and read the account. It all seemed accurate, so he first signed his name and then wrote ‘Miss Jillian Grey’ on the other line. He laid the book back down on the sheriff’s desk. The sheriff closed it and stood up, extending his hand to Dalton. Dalton took his hand.

“Well, that’ll do,” the sheriff said and placed his free hand on Dalton’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you for coming by. Oh and . . . ” he gave Dalton a sly look and then a wink, “congratulations on the upcomin’ nuptials!”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Dalton said as the sheriff shook his hand heartily before releasing it. He turned to go, pausing briefly to look back once more at Chuckles. By the look of sheer hatred in the man’s eyes, Dalton knew he had made a true enemy. Even though the man was less than formidable, Chuckles had no scruples, and such a man was capable of anything. As Dalton stepped out through the door, an ominous feeling came over him despite the warmth of the day. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

A sense of nervousness assaulted Jillian as soon as Dalton pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the courthouse. The ride from the jailhouse had been short, and they hadn’t talked much. Jillian felt that something was bothering Dalton. She didn’t know what had gone on inside the jailhouse, but when she saw him approach the wagon, she thought she saw his body tremble slightly.

He didn’t jump down from the wagon right away. Instead, he sat for a moment, absentmindedly twisting the reins in his hands. Jillian thought again of the offer he had made in the train station. Maybe he was having doubts again. She felt like he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Just as she was gathering the courage to address him first, her stomach beat her to the punch and growled loudly.

The noise startled Dalton out of his deep contemplation, and he looked up. “You’re hungry.” It was a statement, not a question. Dalton tried to think when she would have last been able to eat. The train ride from Chicago was a long one. There would have been a few stops in between, but only one long enough to get anything to eat. That would have been about four hours before her arrival time. With the ordeal at the station and the stop at the jailhouse, he knew he had to add at least another two. Six hours was a long time to go without something to eat, and that was if she had indeed eaten since Chicago. Once again today, he was guilty of being thoughtless. “There’s a café across the street. The courthouse is open for a little while yet. Why don’t we have something to eat first?”

Jillian was embarrassed at her stomach and its obnoxious protest, but she knew it would be foolish not take him up on his offer.

“That would be nice, thank you. I must admit it has been a while since I have eaten,” she said gratefully.

Dalton helped her down from the wagon. Jillian struggled to keep the surprised look off her face when he took her hand. She was having trouble dealing with the thrill that went through her every time he even brushed against her. She wasn’t accustomed to riding in a wagon and was jostled around a bit before she figured out that if she held onto the seat with one hand on either side of her, she could manage to keep her balance somewhat. Even then, she felt tingles pass through her each time she was haphazardly thrown into him.

The café was larger than she had expected for a town this size because the building doubled as a hotel. The smell of food that assaulted her nose when they stepped through the doors started her mouth watering instantly. She felt the pains in her stomach increase in ferocity as her body demanded immediate attention. The restaurant didn’t have many patrons. Anyone coming from the station to dine would have already eaten and gone home. This proved fortunate, because they were served a pleasant home-style meal in an adequate amount of time.

When they both finished eating, neither of them made any immediate motion to leave. Dalton was nervous. Ever since they’d left the jailhouse and the vile man within, Dalton had tried to shake the uncomfortable feeling that had come over him.

He looked over at Jillian. Full color had now come back into her face, and, other than looking a bit uncomfortable, her health looked completely restored. He knew, though, that the bruises and blow to her head would pain her for some time.

She had been hungry, he could tell, and he couldn’t avoid the new feelings of guilt. No wonder she had fainted earlier in the station! The situation had been emotional enough, but then to add to that the lack of sustenance . . . Dalton knew it wasn’t a good combination, especially for a woman. He was intensely relieved that she appeared to be recovering.

When he noticed Jillian fidgeting in her seat slightly, he realized that he wasn’t doing much to help repair her already negative view of him. She was most likely starting to wonder whether he could hold an intelligent conversation by now.

“Thank you for the meal. I do feel much better,” Jillian said suddenly, offering him a slight smile. She paused a moment, giving him a chance to respond. When he said nothing, she continued, though her voice was a little less confident this time. “I suppose we ought to get over to the courthouse.” She looked down at her hands and Dalton stood up quickly.

“Yes, of course. You must be tired from your journey, and I am sure Aunt Betty will be starting to worry by now,” he agreed.