Second Chance Brides (11 page)

Butch slowed his steps when he saw them. “Nice day for fishin’, ain’t it?”

“It was,” Ricky said.

Jonesy sat up, rubbed his eyes, and sniffed the air, then looked up at Butch. “Thought I was dreamin’ that I smelled hogs, but I really was.”

“Go find your own place to fish, Laird.” Ricky tossed a rock at Butch’s bare feet, but the boy didn’t move.

Jack reeled in her line, picked off the worm, and tossed it in the water.

“Hey, I coulda used that.” Ricky shot her a glare.

“You can have the rest in my jar,” Jack said. She wished she could go past Ricky to leave, but a downed tree blocked the way. She’d have to pass Butch. Holding her pole in one hand, she held her other hand over her nose.

Butch stared at her with his dark, solemn eyes. His skin had tanned even darker than Ricky’s, reminding her of the rumor circulating that he was part Indian. His black hair hung thick and shaggy, where most mothers had sheared their boys’ hair off for the summer. But Butch didn’t have a ma and not much of a pa, so Luke had said. His clothes were torn and dirty. Though just thirteen or so, he was almost six foot tall, and half that wide. If he didn’t smell so bad, she might feel halfway sorry for him.

He stood in the opening between the shrubs, so she had to squeeze close to him to get by. She held her breath and hoped she didn’t retch from the stench.

Butch took a step, either to block her way or to get out of the way, she wasn’t sure, but his foot flew out in front of him, shooting pebbles like bullets. His fishing pole flew one way, and he flailed his right arm, catching her right across the chest. Jack fell back onto the hard ground, hurting her hand on the rocks.

“Hey!” Ricky yelled and jumped up.

Before she could even check her sore hand, Ricky and Jonesy were on Butch. Though taller than both boys, Butch ducked his head and turned his back on them. When he wouldn’t throw any punches, both Jonesy and Ricky stopped their assault.

“What’s wrong?” Ricky’s chest heaved. “You can hit girls but are a coward to face men?”

Jack’s chest ached from the hard blow, and a few scratches marred her hand, but she didn’t think Butch had hit her on purpose. He might be a bully, but she’d never seen him hit a girl. “Stop, y’all.”

Ricky glanced down at her, anger filling his gaze. “A man don’t hurt no woman.”

“She ain’t no woman. She ain’t even hardly a girl.” Butch mumbled as he straightened and cast a furtive glance her way. “Leastwise, she don’t dress like one.”

“But she’s our friend.” Jonesy ducked his head, growled loud, and struck Butch right in the belly. Butch backpedaled his arms, eyes wide, and fell backward into the river. He splashed and sputtered and then managed to stand.

Ricky hooted with laughter.

“At least he finally got a bath.” Jonesy bent over, slapping his leg, and snorted. Jack just sat there watching them. She was grateful to her friends for their quick defense, but she kind of felt bad for Butch. She was sure he’d just slipped on the loose rocks.

Suddenly, Butch’s face scrunched up, and he growled like a bear. Ricky and Jonesy both stood up straight and stared for a moment. Butch jolted into action, taking long-legged strides up the bank. Jack’s two friends spun around and pedaled their legs but didn’t hardly seem to be moving.

Jack jumped up, a scream ripping from her chest. She took off running toward town, not bothering to look behind her. Someone once said a person didn’t have to outrun a bear—just outrun the slowest person in the group. She knew she couldn’t beat Ricky in a race, but Jonesy was a cinch.

By the time she reached the edge of town, Jack’s lungs were burning. She ran all the way to the marshal’s office before stopping. Bending over, she sucked in air and tried to catch a breath.

Luke must have seen her, because his chair squeaked and he strode out of the office. “What’s wrong, half bit?”

She gazed back in the direction she’d been running and saw Butch close on Ricky’s tail. Jonesy was nowhere to be seen. She hoped her friend wasn’t beat up or dead.

Luke pursed his mouth. “I’ll take care of this. It’s time that boy learned he can’t pick on the good kids of this town. Maybe a few days in jail will make him think twice.”

“But…” Jack didn’t know what to say. If she told the truth, her friends might get in trouble, and she knew Jonesy’s pa would take a tree branch to his backside. Ricky would be made to do extra work, and she wouldn’t see either of them until school was back in session.

Luke glanced at her, then made fast strides to intercept Butch. Both boys stopped when they saw the marshal. She couldn’t hear Luke’s words but saw Butch talking with his hands up, as if defending himself. Luke took him by the arm and hauled him toward the jail.

Jack couldn’t watch. Maybe Butch hadn’t been the cause of this fight, but he’d started plenty of other brawls he’d never been punished for. Still, she didn’t want to be there if Luke locked him up. She turned and started walking home.

“Hold up there, half bit.”

Jack’s heart jolted. She wanted to pretend that she hadn’t heard Luke, but she knew he’d just follow her home. She turned around but didn’t walk back toward him until he motioned for her to.

“Butch says he didn’t do anything to start that fight with your friends. Is that true?”

Luke’s piercing brown eyes gazed down at her, imploring her to tell the truth, but how could she rat on her friends when they were just protecting her? And Butch did say she wasn’t even a girl. Maybe she should take his words as a compliment since she tried so hard to be a boy, but they just didn’t sit right with her. She’d just tell as little of the truth as she had to. “He knocked me down, and Ricky and Jonesy were just defending me.”

“That ain’t true. I slipped.” Butch’s pleading eyes looked almost black compared to Luke’s brown ones.

“Did you knock down my daughter?”

Jack’s gaze darted toward Luke. She’d never heard him refer to her as his daughter. A warm feeling wrapped around her.

“I guess.” Butch hung his head as if all the fight had gone out of him.

Luke’s gaze swerved to Ricky. “Is that true?”

Ricky nodded his head, his blond hair shaking. “Yup, I saw him do it. Jonesy, too, but he…uh…he went on home.”

“Hmm…well, I’ve had enough of you causing trouble in this town, boy. Maybe staying a few days in my jail will make you behave better.”

Butch tried to pull his arm from Luke’s grasp, his eyes wide. Almost crazy-looking.

Jack covered her nose. Now he didn’t just smell like a hog, but like a wet, moldy one. “I cain’t stay in yer jail. My pa expects me to tend to the hogs. He’ll bust my hide if’n I don’t.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that before picking on a girl half your size.” Luke hauled him toward the jail door.

Butch sent another frantic glance her way, but then he narrowed his gaze at her, sending caterpillars crawling up and down her spine. She could say he slipped, but her friends would get in trouble and be mad at her. Butch deserved being in jail, didn’t he? Her chest still stung from where he’d whacked her.

She turned and trudged toward home, unable to look at him any longer. If he did deserve being in jail, why did she feel so bad?

Garrett kicked the door shut with his boot and carried Miss O’Neil farther into the office. A whiff of a soft floral scent whispered around Mark as she passed by, teasing his senses. He clenched his fist as thoughts of Annabelle surfaced.

To Miss O’Neil’s credit, she didn’t seem to enjoy being in Garrett’s arms, but rather sat stiff. Prim and proper—at least as proper as could be in such a situation. For some reason he couldn’t pinpoint, that made him happy. But why should he care?

Garrett set her down in Mark’s chair, not his own, he noted. What was she doing here? He checked her ring finger and relaxed a smidgeon. Surely if Garrett had married the woman, she’d be wearing a ring. He tried to imagine his joke-playing brother and the shy Irish gal together, but the puzzle didn’t fit.

An ornery grin revealed Garrett’s straight teeth, and his eyes gleamed. Something in the pit of Mark’s stomach curdled.

“Here’s your surprise, brother.”

Miss O’Neil’s gaze jerked up to Garrett’s face and then to Mark’s. She looked as stupefied as he. Mark cleared his throat. “What are you talking about?”

Garrett crossed the room in three long steps and plopped down in his desk chair. “Did you forget I told you I had a surprise?”

“I don’t understand.” Miss O’Neil raised her hand and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“That makes two of us. What are you talking about, Garrett?”

Mark leaned against his desk and crossed his arms, keeping his back to Miss O’Neil. It was best he didn’t look at the pretty woman. His expression would only trouble her, anyway.

Garrett leaned back and put his feet on his desk, looking smug. “You were complaining about breaking your wrist and not being able to keep up with the bookwork. Miss O’Neil needed to find work, so I offered her a job. Solved two problems at once.”

“Well, she can’t stay. I’ll figure out something else.” Mark crossed his arms and clamped his teeth together. He didn’t need daily reminders of how he’d messed up his life.

Miss O’Neil gasped.

Garrett dropped his feet and rested his arms on his desk, all teasing now gone. “We need her, brother, and she needs us.”

Mark closed his eyes, knowing the Irish gal couldn’t see his face. How was he going to get out of this situation without hurting her feelings? But then it was probably already too late for that.

He pushed up from the desk and paced to the door, spun around, and strode back to his desk. As much as he didn’t like it, he could actually see the ingenuity of Garrett’s plan. They were already paying Miss O’Neil’s room and board, so if she worked for them, they might be out some additional money, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much as if they hired someone else to keep the books and still had to support Miss O’Neil. And he didn’t want just anybody knowing the state of their finances. The one favorable thing about Miss O’Neil was that she knew few people in town. He glanced at her, wincing at her troubled expression.

“There’s been some mistake, I’m thinkin’. You’d best be helping me back to the boardinghouse, Mr. Corbett.”

Garrett pursed his lips and stood. “Now see what you’ve done. You’ve ruffled her feathers.”

Mark stopped right in front of his brother. “You could have at least discussed this with me first.”

Garrett leaned closer. “There’s nothing to discuss. We need her, and she needs a job. It’s simple.”

Mark didn’t see anything simple about the situation. She reminded him of Annabelle, and that was the last person he wanted to think about. How could he work with her day in and day out? Maybe he could get her trained and then stay away from the office. Study his law books more. But they had a business to run. He shook his head and pressed his lips together.

“You don’t have to look so disgusted, Mr. Corbett.”

She stuck her cute little nose in the air and glared at him. Wisps of reddish-brown hair had escaped the net thing that held most of her luscious hair curled around her pretty face. Now that he’d taken time to look at her directly in the face, he realized she really didn’t look all that much like Annabelle, other than her coloring. She was smaller, more petite, and younger—and dressed far more modestly.

Using the desk as support, Miss O’Neil pushed to her feet. “I shall leave.”

She took a step, grimaced, and dropped back down in the chair. Mark had to admit that she looked pretty when she was riled. But could he work with her, day after day, when she reminded him so much of his past?

He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath. His past wasn’t her fault, and he wasn’t being fair. “You can stay.”

But he and his brother would be having a heated discussion tonight.

C
HAPTER
8

S
hannon sat stiff in the desk chair as Mark Corbett leaned over her shoulder, explaining the ledger books. With most of his right hand and half of his lower arm in a thick plaster casing, he couldn’t write and keep the records.