Love Inspired Historical July 2015 Box Set: The Marriage Agreement\Cowgirl for Keeps\The Lawman's Redemption\Captive on the High Seas (55 page)

“Tell me about the case. Let me help.”

Will had been the one to teach Jasper how to fire a gun. To defend himself against others in a fight. Jasper had thrived on the energy of it all. Had he not been his father's only child and counted on to carry on the family business, Jasper would have followed him into law enforcement, Will was sure.

“Your father would kill me.”

“He doesn't have to know.”

The smooth tone to Jasper's voice made Will shake his head. “How many ladies have you kissed with that line?”

Jasper grinned. “Enough to know it works.”

Unfortunately for Jasper, Will was no lady. “Father or no, I can't have you a part of this.”

“Why?” Jasper jumped down from the rock. “Because you lost your badge? I don't have a badge, either. That's what makes this perfect.”

The air whooshed from Will's lungs. “You knew? But you've been so...”

Jasper picked up a rock and chucked it down the hillside as if he was skipping it across a lake. “You had to have been set up. I figure, whatever you're up to here in Leadville, it's about clearing your name. And I aim to do what it takes to help you.”

He hadn't expected such ease of acceptance, not when everyone in Century City treated him like a criminal himself. The breeze picked up, and Will turned to see dark clouds moving in behind them.

“They still want to charge me. Still might, if George Bishop has anything to say about it. The robbers got away with several thousand dollars. He's out for blood, and if mine's all he can get, then he'll take it.”

His friend fell in beside him, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “All the more reason to help you. I know you, Will. There's not a dishonest bone in your body. You did all you could, and more.”

He wished it were that simple. “You weren't there. The truth is, I made a mistake. I trusted the wrong person, and because of it, a bank was robbed, I was shot, and the culprits got away.”

At least his words would serve to kill the hero worship that shone in Jasper's voice when he spoke of Will. He wasn't deserving of such high praise, so maybe now, all of Jasper's exaggerated stories would cease.

Only Jasper didn't see it that way. “You're not perfect. Doesn't mean that you deserve to be punished for what happened. In fact, it makes me even more determined to help clear your name.”

The earnestness in Jasper's voice eased the ache in Will's gut that had plagued him for so long.

Since pursuing Mary had been nothing but a dead end, maybe Jasper would be able to give him a new perspective that would finally break the case open.

Will took a deep breath, then spilled the details of the case to his friend. From meeting Daisy and believing her to be in danger from Ben's abuse and trying to help her, to that fateful day when he acted on the information she fed him about wanting to meet him outside town to escape Ben—only to be shot by her as she fled the scene of the bank robbery.

He left no detail out, even the humiliating part about believing himself in love with the girl. The hardest part, though, was telling him about Mary and the letters he'd found in Ben's things. Maybe Jasper, whose heart wasn't getting entangled, would be able to sift through the information to be able to tell him whether Mary was lying or not.

As soon as he finished relaying his tale, the distant rumble of thunder and a few stray raindrops prevented him from gaining the benefit of Jasper's opinion.

“We need to make haste,” Jasper said, scurrying toward the base of the hill. “The ladies aren't going to like getting caught in the storm.”

As wordlessly as they had made their way to the top of the hill, they made it back down, and in half the time. Below, the women were carrying on and dithering about the rain.

Except Mary.

Even before his feet touched the bottom of the mountainside, he could see her standing about, giving directions to the others for gathering their belongings and loading the wagons. By the time Will and Jasper arrived back at the wagons, almost everything was loaded and ready to go, save for a crate that Mary and a couple of the other girls were struggling with.

“Let me help,” he said, grabbing one of the ends of the crate. Together, they lifted the heavy wood into the wagon.

The rest of the party filed into their respective wagons, just as the sky opened up completely, sending a deluge of water over them all. Will glanced at Mary, her chest heaving from the exertion, water pouring down her ruined bonnet and dress.

Was it wrong of him to think her the absolute most beautiful creature he'd ever laid eyes upon?

As he helped her into the wagon, Jasper passed by and tossed a blanket at them.

“You're a goner,” he whispered.

If it weren't for the rain and the now-shivering woman beside him, Will would have thrown the blanket right back at his friend. So much for getting sage advice.

Chapter Seven

T
he finale of the picnic was, without question, an unmitigated disaster. Mary huddled in the blanket Will had wrapped around her as the wagon lumbered back toward town. Though the trip to the spring had taken less than an hour, as the rain poured down, they made significantly slower progress toward home.

Despite the men working to get canvas to cover the wagon, rain poured in from all sides. They'd likely not be dry again until they reached home.

Polly squeezed in next to her, and Mary released a corner of her blanket to let her friend in.

“Some outing, huh?” Polly snuggled in with Mary. “At least you got to know some of the others better.”

“Yes. Rachel and Beth are as nice as you said they were, and it was good to get to know everyone else. Sarah Crowley has one of those lace-making machines, and she promised to teach me how to use it. Nugget's dresses could use some lace at the edges.”

It seemed odd to be talking so casually of such things while some of the other ladies wailed around them. Emma Jane Logan, one of the girls she hadn't gotten to know well, was sobbing over the condition of her hat.

Such a silly thing to be trifling over when there was nothing to be done about it.

Polly sighed. “Back to responsibilities, are we? Well, have at it, then. I suppose I should accept it, since you at least looked like you were enjoying yourself today.”

“Oh, I did enjoy myself.” Mary gave her friend a smile. “I actually liked the water, and I'm so glad to have made the acquaintance of so many nice girls.”

Polly appeared to be relieved by the statement. A gust of wind broke loose a corner of the canvas, sending a flood of water at them.

“Ack! Are we ever going to be out of this misery?” Polly jumped up and vainly tried brushing the water off her. “I don't think a one of us will be able to salvage anything we've got on.”

As they turned a corner in the road, the horses stopped suddenly. Everyone murmured around them, wondering what was going on. Will rejoined them.

“The road's washed out. Flash flood. We're going to have to wait out the storm.”

The cries of the girls around them were so loud, Mary thought she might have to cover her ears. Will looked at her. “No tears for you?”

“What good will that do, other than make me wetter than I already am? Since we can't go forward, what other options are there?”

Rivulets of rain ran down Will's face. “I think we passed a turnoff for a ranch a ways back. I'll talk to Jasper and see if we can unhitch one of the horses so I can ride for help.”

She shouldn't have been surprised by Will's gallant offer. It seemed such a sharp contrast to the man who'd accosted her in the street and kept pressuring her to reveal things about Ben that she'd prefer to be left alone.

As Will plucked his way back to the front of the wagon, she couldn't help but notice his confident, manly form. Even in the midst of the storm, he'd kept his wits about him. Could she have been wrong about him?

She'd been so intent on fighting this battle alone, but Will's words about her reputation washed over her, harder than the deluge from the clouds. Was she a fool to think that she could do this on her own?

Watching closely as Will consulted with the other men, she noticed how they all seemed to respect him, nodding at his words. Could he possibly be trustworthy in her situation? Would he believe in Mary's innocence? Questions best left alone for now. Emma Jane's sobs were beginning to subside, and instead, she made loud hiccuping noises, as if the rain had won the competition with her tears. For the first time, Mary noticed that the woman's fine gown, which Emma Jane had been overly proud of, was soaked nearly through, and Emma Jane was shivering.

“I'm going to offer Emma Jane the blanket,” Mary told Polly.

Polly's brow crinkled. “Why? She's such a sourpuss. Why should we make ourselves cold for her sake?”

“Because it's the right thing to do.”

Mary got up and carried the blanket to Emma Jane. “Here. Take this and come sit with us. It's drier on our side of the wagon, and the blanket hasn't gotten too wet.”

Emma Jane's head remained down, and she wouldn't look at Mary. “No, thank you. I'll be fine.”

The other girl's hair lay in flat clumps; the curls which she'd probably so painstakingly made were now a mess of knots. Beside her lay a parasol, practically shredded from the weight of the rain. No, she hadn't chosen her accessories for the weather, but Mary supposed none of them had given thought to the fact that in September, afternoons typically had showers. Monsoons, on the other hand, were a rarity.

“Let me at least help you with your hair,” Mary said. “I could quickly get it out of your face, and it will be so much more comfortable.”

Emma Jane jerked away. “No! I said I would be fine. Now go with all of your friends and leave me in peace.”

She ought to do exactly what Emma Jane asked. After all, she'd done her Christian duty by reaching out to the other girl and attempting to share her blanket. Emma Jane had said no, and that should be that.

But something in the wounded tone of the other girl's voice made her feel sorry for her.

“If you change your mind, there's plenty of room with Polly and me. We'd be delighted to have you join us. You could tell us more about your hat, and we could put our heads together to figure out how to fix it when the rain stops.”

Emma Jane's head snapped up, revealing a face that was more than just tear-stained. Clearly, Emma Jane had been wearing some form of paint, and the water had washed it partially away, revealing deep pits and a smattering of color in all the wrong places.

“There's no fixing it. My hat is ruined. And there's nothing you or anyone else can do about it.”

“Maybe not, but we won't know until things dry out.” Mary pulled out a handkerchief. “At least take my handkerchief and you can use it to wipe your face. You'll feel better if your face is clean.”

The gasp that come out of Emma Jane made Mary feel even worse. “Don't look at me!”

She huddled down and once again hid her face. So that was it. Emma Jane was ashamed of how her face looked in the rain. Until now, Mary hadn't realized that the other girl wore so much paint.

Another gust of wind blew through the wagon, and Mary shivered. She couldn't help but notice that Emma Jane's shivers had grown worse. Mary knelt beside her and put the blanket around the other girl's shoulders. If they didn't get out of the rain and cold soon, they were all at risk of taking ill. Pneumonia was a particularly bad threat here, and many died from the dreaded illness.

“You'll catch your death for all your pride,” Mary told her. “Everyone looks terrible right now, so who are you to think that you're any more hideous than the rest of us?”

Fortunately, Emma Jane wasn't a stupid woman, and she took hold of the end of the blanket, wrapping it around her. “Everyone.” Emma Jane sniffed. “They've been saying it all day. You can't pretend you haven't noticed the way everyone has been mocking me.”

The pain in the other girl's voice made Mary's stomach turn. She had noticed the other girls whispering and giggling about Emma Jane. Mary had thought that not participating in the conversation was enough, but as tears streamed down Emma Jane's face, she wished she'd done more to reach out to the other girl.

“I'm sorry,” Mary said, tucking a flap of the blanket that had gotten loose around Emma Jane.

Emma Jane looked up with watery eyes. “It's not your fault. They're right. I am ridiculous. I should have never come today or agreed to my mother's silly plan.”

Mary thought back to all the times in Ohio when the girls mocked her for her outmoded dress, or how her family faced ridicule for their poverty. It was one of the reasons she'd fallen so easily under Ben's spell. After being tormented for so many external trivialities, she couldn't believe she could find someone who'd seen past it all.

She'd been wrong.

But that didn't mean that her newfound wealth had to turn Mary into that same kind of girl. She might have been wrong to trust in Ben, but looking past the surface of a person was always the right thing to do.

Mary gave Emma Jane an encouraging smile. “Your dress might not be the latest fashion, but you are far from ridiculous. The other girls have no right to be unkind to you. I'm glad you came on the picnic, because I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Tears rolled down Emma Jane's cheeks. “Don't be. I'm a nobody, which will be all too clear once news of my family's downfall becomes public. Mother thought coming to the picnic would change things, but I fear it's only made everything worse.”

“How so? What could possibly be so important about a picnic to change your life?”

Emma Jane finally looked up. “You wouldn't understand.”

“You keep saying that, but how do you know I wouldn't understand when you haven't given me the opportunity to?” The words that were supposed to comfort Emma Jane grated on Mary's conscience. How many times had she used that as a justification in her situation with Ben?

Surely Mary's situation was different.

“You probably already know that my father has lost everything to the gambling hall.” Her words were so strained with the humiliation Mary had been used to with her own father.

“I'm so sorry,” Mary said quietly. “I do understand. Before my father made his strike, he had gambled away our family's money, as well. We were living on the charity of an aunt whose cruelty was almost too much to bear. But I don't understand what that has to do with this picnic.”

Mary handed the sniffling girl a handkerchief. “Here. I must insist this time.”

Emma Jane's nose had puffed up, and it had to be uncomfortable. She clearly knew Mary's intent and took it, blowing with a force that startled the girls around them. Fortunately, they were all too focused on their own misery to pay more mind.

“My mother is going to be so upset with me. Not only did I fail in getting Jasper to marry me, but now I've ruined her hat and dress. She'll never forgive me.”

Another loud wail erupted from the girl, nearly piercing Mary's ears. Did Emma Jane really think that her only hope of salvation came from marrying a man who clearly did not know she existed? How could she have assumed that after all this time of not being noticed, that a hat, a dress and some paint would do the trick?

“I'll help you,” Mary said, putting her arm around the girl. “I know Pastor Lassiter will help your family. As a member of our church, you should know how willing he is to help.”

Emma Jane recoiled. “My father refuses to take charity. Mother says that the only solution is to marry well. You have no idea what I've had to endure. I'd hoped—” Another stream of tears interrupted more of Emma Jane's arguments.

So many thoughts ran through Mary's head in that moment, but not one of them came together coherently enough for her to speak. Though she understood the pressure Emma Jane faced to care for her family, how could she think that making a spectacle of herself would achieve that end?

Then again, who was Mary to judge? She'd made her own attempted matrimonial mistakes. In that, Emma Jane was the better person. Willing to risk it all, even marrying a man she didn't...

“Do you even like Jasper?” The question burst out of Mary's mouth before she could control it.

“Everyone likes Jasper,” Emma Jane said a little too quickly. As if she'd been feeding herself the same story over and over just to convince herself of what she was doing.

Mary took a deep breath and looked at the other girl. “I don't care what everyone says. How do you feel about him? Does your pulse race when you see him? Do you light up at the thought of being near him?”

True, they were all the sensations she'd felt with Ben, but Mary wasn't completely ignorant in the ways of men and women. Especially because those were the things she felt when...

No. Mary closed her eyes for a moment to remind herself of what this was about. She was not going to consider her feelings for Will.

Emma Jane sighed. “Honestly, I'm just nervous. Afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing and he will end up not liking me.”

Clearly not true love. Despite everything Mary had gone through, she had to believe that it still existed and that nothing less was proper inducement for marriage. The problem, though, lay in the difficulty of deciphering the difference between the real and the fake. Ben had taught her all about counterfeit emotions.

But real love? She hadn't seen it with her parents, nor with Aunt Ina. She knew of it through Christ, and she'd recently witnessed the deep abiding love between her brother Joseph and his new bride, Annabelle. Surely others, like Emma Jane, could experience it for themselves.

Before she could share any of these thoughts with the other girl, some horses rode up. Even through the blowing rain, Mary recognized Will.

“Will's back.” Mary stood, letting the rest of the blanket fall around Emma Jane. “Hopefully, he has news of a rescue.”

“Is Jasper with him?” Emma Jane's voice was strained, probably half hopeful, half nervous.

Though Mary couldn't tell, it didn't hurt to appease the other girl's fears. “I'm not sure. But let's get you cleaned up so that when he does see you, he'll see as pleasing of a creature as we can provide.”

“It's no use. I'm hideous.” Emma Jane started sobbing again, and Mary almost regretted her words. But the truth was, without all the paint, Emma Jane was prettier.

Mary pulled out another handkerchief, glad for Maddie's warning that she should take some extra. “You are not hideous. I've never liked paint on anyone, and if we clean off your face, and I put a braid in your hair, you'll be as pretty as anyone in this rain. If Jasper has any sense in him at all, he'll admire you for doing what you can in this horrible weather.”