Marry Me (13 page)

“I had no idea.”

Raking back his tawny hair in an absent gesture, Wyatt explained, “It’s not unheard of in Reidsville. There’s plenty of precedent for it. Will Beatty, for instance. John and Janet Beatty raised him from birth.”

Cole had already met quite a few members of the widespread Beatty clan. By and large they were redheads, relatively short in stature, and tended to have deep-set green eyes. His own sister was more likely to be a shoot off the Beatty family tree than the deputy was. It was surely love and affection that bound Will to the family, not blood, and Mendel’s law of genetics had to apply. With his pale blue eyes, hair the color of corn silk, towering height, and a pair of deep, crescent-shaped dimples that Cole hadn’t seen in anyone else, the answer was suddenly clear: on no account was he a Beatty boy.

Cole hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until he heard Rachel’s appreciative chuckle.

“I lived in Reidsville a lot longer before I figured it out,” she said.

“You never did,” Wyatt reminded her. “I had to tell you.”

Cole didn’t allow them to be sidetracked by the fact that he had finally solved the puzzle. “Do you think Rhyne would have agreed to give up her child?”

Sobering, Rachel nodded. “Wyatt and I had more questions about Judah. In the best of circumstances, he can be difficult. We were prepared to offer him money.”

“Did you tell Rhyne?”

“Yes. She also thought he’d want money.” Rachel leaned her shoulder against Wyatt. “I’ll never believe she would have asked for anything like that for herself. She wanted to be left in peace. We could have promised her that.”

Wyatt glanced at Rachel. “Was it rape? Did she tell you?”

Rachel sat up straight. “We talked about this, Wyatt. You said you wouldn’t be the sheriff here.”

Watching him, Cole tried to imagine a situation where he would promise not to be the doctor. It would be like shedding his skin. Wyatt’s struggle seemed to be the same. It was visible in the tightening of his jaw and the ripple of tension through his shoulders.

“But if there was a crime, Rachel, I should …” He stopped because she was shaking her head.

Rachel touched her husband on the underside of his chin and tilted his head in her direction. “I swear to you, Wyatt, Rhyne never said she was raped. She never mentioned there was force. And she told me in no uncertain terms that Judah was not the father. Let it be.” She let her hand fall away while Wyatt wrestled with his conscience. He was regarding her closely, examining her features as he considered her words, looking for the lie, and because there was none, she resolutely held his gaze.

“All right,” he said at last. What he left unsaid was his hope that he didn’t regret it. Wyatt lifted his hands, palms up, and shrugged lightly as he turned to Cole Monroe.

“That’s that. Tell us about Rhyne’s health. Can she travel?”

“Tomorrow, I think. Saturday, certainly. But whether she will is another matter. How long can you hold Judah?”

“Judge Wentworth will be here on Monday. I’d like to let Judah go before then. I don’t want to put the matter before the judge, and I’d like for Judah to think we’re doing him a favor.”

“You are, aren’t you? He attacked your deputy.”

“It’s a little embarrassing for Will to pretend Judah got the better of him. Judah is thirty years his senior. It doesn’t matter how hot-tempered or unreasonable Judah can be, it’s still Will’s job to take care of him. Normally we wouldn’t take Judah in for waving his stick around, whether it poked one of us or not.” Wyatt set his arms on the table and folded his hands. “Will’s been tight-lipped about what went on out here, and I figure that’s because you asked it of him. He generally has a lot more to say. I’ve been thinking you could fill in some of the details, Dr. Monroe.”

“I only asked him not to talk to anyone about Rhyne’s miscarriage. It wasn’t clear to me then if you and Mrs. Cooper knew that Rhyne was female, let alone that she was pregnant. I was thinking of my patient. I wouldn’t have insisted that Will keep it from you had I known.”

“That’s all well and good, but now you
do
know.”

“Information has to come from Will, or better yet, Rhyne.”

“How did she lose the baby, Doctor?”

“You must know that it happens, Sheriff. Even to healthy women.”

“Runt’s had injuries that didn’t put her in bed for three days.”

“This was different. She was hemorrhaging. There was significant blood loss.”

“That doesn’t happen all the time.” “No, but it’s not unheard of.”

Rachel slapped the table sharply with the palm of her hand. “Stop it. Both of you.”

“Wyatt, you’re reneging on your promise right in front of me, and Dr. Monroe, you’re twisting my last nerve.” She stood up. “I’m going to stir the potatoes before they burn.”

Wyatt and Cole watched her go. They exchanged glances, and neither of them was so foolish as to say or do anything that would bring her back to the table in a hurry. They sat in silence, pretending interest in the shelves of books on the far wall.

Rachel took her sweet time at the stove, finding other things to occupy her besides the potatoes. It was almost comical, the way they sat there like chastened schoolboys. She loved her husband, and Cole Monroe was rising steadily in her estimation, but lord help her, they were struck from the same piece of steel. She was still determining how much longer to leave them there when the decision was taken from her.

Rhyne felt everyone’s attention shift to her as she stepped into the room. She walked steadily toward the table and was proud of the fact that none of them, not even Dr. Monroe, could guess at what it cost her to make that short journey.

“I’m not deaf, you know. You really should have told Johnny to take me with him, or left yourselves.” Her glance swiveled to Rachel at the stove. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Mrs. Cooper, about me making a decision once I’ve had a real choice. I’ve decided I’d like to try that. Living as a woman for a time, I mean. I know I can’t do it here–Judah would never allow it–so that means I have to go to town. If you think you can help me find some kind of work, then I’ll be ready to travel tomorrow, just like the doc said I could.”

“I
think
you’ll be ready tomorrow,” Cole said quickly.

Rachel dropped her spoon at the stove and advanced on Rhyne, prepared to hug her. She stopped abruptly when she glimpsed Cole shaking his head, warning her off, and threw her arms rather awkwardly around Wyatt as he was getting to his feet. Wyatt was glad for the attention, but he had to withdraw the hand he was extending toward Rhyne and use it to steady himself.

Cole stood and pushed his chair toward Rhyne. “Sit here.”

She didn’t hint at how grateful she was to have a seat under her. She hadn’t expected that standing at the door for as long as she had would so completely sap her strength. It didn’t bode well for making the journey on horseback, but the thought of riding in the back of the wagon was equally unbearable.

Wyatt gently disengaged himself from Rachel’s arms and excused himself to go out on the porch and call for Johnny. He waited there, rocking back on his heels as he marveled at his wife’s powers of persuasion. When Johnny came loping across the yard, he walked back inside. The table was already set for dinner. He’d timed it perfectly.

There was some awkwardness among the diners at first. Johnny Winslow managed to cut through all of that by entertaining them with one improbable adventure after another, many of them having to do with his courtship of Molly Showalter. Cole’s eyes often strayed to Rhyne–until she ground the heel of her boot on his vulnerable instep. After that, he watched the unspoken exchanges between Rachel and Wyatt: the smiles that hovered briefly when they silently shared their amusement, the sideways glances that spoke to their complete awareness of the other, and the subtle way they traded touches when one of them passed the salt or held out a plate for a second helping.

He knew a stirring of envy, and the power of it caught him unawares. When he looked away, he saw that Rhyne was watching him. Her expression was inscrutable, but he doubted his had been the same. He wondered if she knew how to interpret what she’d glimpsed in his face. How could she possibly guess that he didn’t covet Wyatt Cooper’s wife when he was only beginning to understand that what he coveted was Wyatt Cooper’s life?

Cole held a small bowl under Rhyne’s chin. Her lips were frothy with the soda paste he’d mixed for her to clean her teeth. She looked vaguely rabid. He took the brush from her when he decided she’d done enough. “Spit.”

Rhyne did. She reached for the water glass on the washstand, rinsed, and spit again. She clicked her teeth together to show him her shiny pearlies. “You’re like a mother hen. Worse, actually.” She shooed him away from the bed. “Where’s everyone sleeping tonight?” After dinner, she’d excused herself and gone immediately to lie down. If there was conversation about her at the table, this time she had been too tired to care. She woke up when Cole entered her room carrying another black satchel. “There’s room in this bed for Mrs. Cooper as long as she doesn’t take it in her head that I’m the sheriff and try to hug me. Did you notice that it seemed like she was going to when I was standing at the table? I was braced for it, but lord, I don’t mind telling you that would have hurt. It was a pure relief when she targeted her husband instead.”

Cole regarded Rhyne curiously. They only had a short acquaintance, but he couldn’t recall that she’d ever strung so many sentences together. He didn’t attribute that to her feeling better because she didn’t strike him as a talker. That left another explanation. “Are you nervous?”

Rhyne’s head came up, but her eyes darted away. “Nervous? No.”

Following her glance, Cole saw that his second medical bag was in her line of sight. “I asked Will to send that bag out with Wyatt.” He bent and picked it up. On the outside it was almost identical to his more practical traveling bag. “It carries most of my obstetrical instruments.”

“Ob-stet-ri-cal.” The word rolled awkwardly off her tongue, and she misplaced the accented syllable. She said it again, getting it exactly right, but with no comprehension of its significance. “I don’t know that word. What’s it mean exactly?”

“It’s from the Latin.
Obstetricius.
And also,
obstetrix.
Having to do with midwifery. For our purpose, everything associated with childbirth.” The lantern light gave Rhyne a ghostly glow as she blanched. He set the bag on the floor again. “I’m not going to do anything with it this evening,” he told her. “I want better light. Tomorrow morning will be fine. I’ll know how well you’ll be able to travel after examining you.”

Rhyne turned on her side and put a hand out for the bag. “Let me see what’s in there.”

Cole used his heel to nudge the satchel out of her reach. It came to rest beside his other bag. “Tomorrow,” he said firmly. “You asked where everyone was sleeping.” He wasn’t sure she was listening to him any longer, but he answered her earlier question anyway. “The sheriff and Mrs. Cooper are going to be in the loft. Johnny’s making a roll for me on the porch. He says he’s been sleeping just fine out there.”

“Johnny can sleep standing up while he’s holding a broom. I’ve seen him nodding off in front of Longabach’s.”

“For someone who doesn’t go to town frequently, you seem to know a great deal about what goes on there.”

She shrugged. “I pay attention. It’s useful.” She turned on her back again and stared up at him. “For instance, I noticed you looking at Mrs. Cooper like you wanted to pass on the potatoes and eat her up instead.”

Ignoring her, Cole gathered up the spit bowl, washcloths, and his satchel. “In the morning, Rhyne.”

She let him go without saying good night. Pleasantries would have aroused his suspicions, and he might have turned back. Rhyne was quite sure she didn’t want anything to delay his exit or prompt him to realize that in his haste to avoid explaining his interest in Mrs. Cooper, Cole Monroe had picked up the wrong medical bag.

The heady aroma of strong coffee brewing on the stove carried Cole to wakefulness. He sat up slowly and wiped sleep from his eyes. Johnny Winslow still lay a few feet away, snoring softly. Cole looked out into the empty yard, then to the corral. Wyatt was tending the horses. That meant that Mrs. Cooper was probably responsible for the coffee.

Cole threw off the wool blanket and got to his feet. Yawning, he shook out his stiff limbs. The morning air was damp, and thin fingers of fog covered the mountaintops in the distance. Ignoring the steps, he hopped down from the porch and crossed the yard to the pump. He rinsed his mouth and washed his face. The cold water finished the job of waking him up.

He returned Wyatt’s greeting, then started back to the house, raking his hair with his fingers to give it some sense of order. Upon entering, he breathed deeply, infinitely more invigorated by the coffee than he had been by the fresh air.

Watching him, Rachel Cooper smiled appreciatively. “That’s how Wyatt faces the day.” She was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped firmly around a cup that was raised to her lips. “I prefer tea, but I couldn’t find any. I don’t think the Abbots drink it.”

“You’re probably right. Rhyne never asked for it.” Cole crossed to the kitchen to get a cup for himself. “Is she up?”

Rachel shook her head. “I didn’t hear her moving, so I checked on her a few minutes ago. She’s still sleeping soundly.” She rested her cup on the table and turned slightly so she could see Cole at the stove. “Do you really think she’ll be able to go anywhere today? She seemed so tired last evening. Her eyelids were drooping at the table.”

Cole had noticed that, too. “I’ll be able to tell you after I examine her.” He hesitated briefly, then went ahead when Rachel’s glance seemed to encourage him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night … about wanting to raise Rhyne’s baby. I wondered if you spoke to Doctor Diggins about conception or submitted to an examination.” He saw her color. “I suspect I was too forthright,” he said brusquely. “I apologize.”

Rachel waved a hand dismissively. The heat in her cheeks subsided. “It was unexpected, is all. I thought we would be discussing Runt.”