Benjamin's Bride (Hero Hearts; Lawmen's Brides Book 2) Read online

  A young man with a ready smile was out the door even as she spoke. “Congratulations, Deputy,” he said, patting Benjamin on the back. “Best wishes, Mrs. Graves,” he greeted Mary-Lee. “Name’s Carson Harlow, I’m the newest deputy on the staff.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, Deputy Harlow,” she replied. “Knox Mills certainly seems to be adequately staffed with lawmen.”

  Inside, guests were mingling near a punch bowl with the familiarity of people who had forged friendships that would last a lifetime. Piper took Mary-Lee by the arm and introduced her to the guests. Mary-Lee was very good with names, and as each person was introduced to her, she repeated the name and set herself to the task of remembering. These would be her neighbors, perhaps even her friends. Someday, she too would entertain in the house that Benjamin was building for them. Knox Mills was her home now. She need never return to Abilene, Kansas, where the entrenched power of the Townsends and her uncle’s covert larceny wielded such destructive influence.

  Despite her obvious pregnancy, Piper Walker had not allowed her condition to interfere with her hostessing. The meal that was prepared for them was sumptuous, with three different kinds of meat—ham, beef, and chicken—as well as numerous side dishes reflective of the produce of local gardens. As everyone sat down, Jack Walker stood.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, friends,” he began, a raised glass in hand, “please join me in welcoming Mary-Lee Graves to Knox Mills.”

  The guests rose, glasses in hand, to toast her. Mary-Lee felt her skin redden. She was not used to attention of this nature. “Thank you,” she replied, “for such a generous welcome. I am thankful for your kindness, and I shall do everything in my power to merit your hospitality.”

  The table was as noisy with chattering guests as mealtime at the Kelceys, she thought, as she tried to divide her attention between Mrs. Melisande Cravner, who owned the Knox Mills dressmaker shop, and Abraham Winslow, the mayor. Mrs. Cravner was as ebullient as Mayor Winslow was lugubrious, and at one point, the dressmaker took him to task for his demeanor.

  “We are at a wedding party,” she pointed out, “not a hanging!”

  “Pardon, ma’am, Mrs. Cravner,” the mayor said. “We’ve just got some things going on that have caught my attention. Nothing to alarm the ladies,” he said quickly in a clumsy attempt at chivalry.

  Mrs. Cravner, who was a middle-aged woman with a curvaceous figure that was shown to advantage by her ruby-hued frock, did not hide her exasperation. “The men!” she said, a slight accent revealing itself. “They seek to protect us by keeping us ignorant. What, pray tell, is going on? If it has caught your attention, sooner or later it will come to the attention of all. What is it? Another new saloon is going up and the Ladies’ Society for Decency is up in arms over it? The cowboys are returning from the cattle drive sooner than expected and there are not enough lawmen on hand to keep the peace?”

  “No, ma’am,” Mayor Winslow retorted, stung by her sarcasm. “I hear that Abel Townsend has another one of his kinfolk planning to run for office. Fellow used to be in Kansas, but he’s moved to Texas, and that means that we’ll have another one of the Townsends making our laws.”

  Mary-Lee froze. “The Townsends?” she inquired. “I know of a Townsend from Abilene, and he is as morally equipped to be a legislator as I am suited to prospect for gold.”

  Mayor Winslow nodded, relieved that this newcomer was already savvy to the threat that the Townsends proposed. “I don’t guess that morality has much in common with politics these days, but it’s even worse in Texas. The Townsends are trying to own Texas,” he said. “They’ve made a fair start. They own a lot of land. But they don’t own Knox Mills.”

  “Abel Townsend is one of the members of the board for the bank,” Mrs. Cravner said. “I believe he spoke on my behalf when I applied for a loan to open my shop. He has always been courtly to me.”

  “Maybe so, Mrs. Cravner, but if you ever have something he wants, don’t expect that courtliness to stick around long,” the mayor said. “The reason God gave the Townsends two hands is so that one can put a gun to your head while the other one robs your pockets.”

  “Really!” Mrs. Cravner said. “I think you are being most unfair. Do not listen to him, Mrs. Graves. I assure you, he is trying to scare us.”

  “I don’t think so,” Mary-Lee said. This was troubling news. She had counted on Knox Mills being far from the sphere of machination in which the Townsends operated, but if they were as prevalent in Texas as they were in Abilene, her hopes were doomed.

  Mrs. Cravner gave them both a dismissive look and turned her back to them, giving her attention to the guest on her right; Mary-Lee recalled that he had been introduced as the local doctor.

  “See?” Mayor Winslow said glumly. “Tell the ladies something they don’t like, and they go off in a snit.”

  “Mayor Winslow, I assure you that while I do not like the news you have provided, I would not wish you to keep it from me. I prefer to know where a threat is coming from rather than have it attack me unawares.”

  The mayor’s dark eyes gave her a shrewd look. “You’re not like most ladies,” he said.

  “Perhaps I am not like Mrs. Cravner,” she corrected him. Despite his melancholy expression and the thick black beard that gave him the aura of an Old Testament patriarch, he appeared to be, Mary-Lee thought, a conscientious public servant. She would ask Benjamin later what he knew about the Townsends. Should she alert him to the fact that Lance Townsend had intended to marry her? Perhaps not yet . . . she was not ready to reveal the truth about the contents of her hat box. Benjamin seemed like a man of integrity, but it was too soon for her to let him know that he was married to a woman who owned gold mines.

  A smile escaped from Mayor Winslow’s lips. “That’s true,” he agreed.

  “I should appreciate your candor on any matter having to do with the Townsends,” she told him.

  “Anything I know, ma’am, your husband will also know.”

  She gave him a winning smile. “Of course. Nonetheless, I prefer to make sure that I am cognizant of the Townsends’ activities, and Deputy Graves might forget to relay your information if he is busy with other matters.”

  She resolved that she would make a point of cultivating the mayor’s acquaintance further so that she could assure herself of a ready font of knowledge about the Townsend clan.

  The eating had concluded and the dancing begun before Mary-Lee had the opportunity to speak with her hostess again. Mrs. Walker could not dance, owing to her condition, and after Mary-Lee had partnered her husband in several dances, she explained that she was sitting the next one out. She saw Benjamin crossing the rom to where Jack Walker stood, and she took the opportunity to find her hostess.

  Mrs. Walker was sitting down, a paper fan in her hands. She began to rise at Mary-Lee’s arrival but was urged to remain seated.

  “I don’t know how you were able to arrange all of this in your condition,” she said.

  “Oh, the arranging was easy enough,” Mrs. Walker said, “I simply told the servants to put this there and that there and it was done. We don’t have daily servants, but for a party, Jack agreed that we needed extra help. Many of the women in town have older daughters who are happy to earn a bit of money by hiring out, so it works to everyone’s advantage.”

  When she was a girl growing up in Oklahoma, there were servants in the household. She supposed that Nanny and Mrs. Abbot were servants as well, although she had thought of them more like family, the ones who were there to care for her because of her father’s long absences. Her uncle had servants, but Mary-Lee had realized when she got older that they were really members of his gang—sullen, silent men, who did his bidding because they feared him, not because they chose to do the work. But she expected to do her own work in her own home.

  “When is the baby coming?”

  “In the fall. It’ll be cooler then,” Mrs. Walker said as she fanned herself. “It never gets this hot in England, and I confess tha
t I now look upon the rainy English weather with a more tolerant view.”

  “You are from England? You have come very far to marry Marshal Walker.”

  Mrs. Walker smiled. “Very far indeed and not only in miles. My father and his father arranged the marriage, and he and I did not take to one another at first.”

  “Arranged your marriage!”

  “Yes, that was exactly how I regarded it. Jack and I . . .” she hesitated, as if reluctant to speak. “We wasted time resisting one another. That was perilous and brought us into harm’s way. Fortunately, we overcame that and, as you can see,” she smiled wryly as she looked down upon her rounded belly, “we have managed quite well since. But if I were to give any marital advice, Mrs. Graves, I would tell you to take the time to notice things.”

  “Please call me Mary-Lee. Notice what things, Mrs. Walker?”

  “You may call me Piper. Notice what you like about him. He’s very handsome, is he not? I’m sure you’ve noticed that. He’s a good man. Trust in those things and allow your feelings to grow. This is a wild place, I must acknowledge; it is nothing like England. Some days, it is still very foreign to me. But Jack is here, and where he is, there is my heart. Are you a woman of faith?”

  “Yes, of course,” Mary-Lee answered, startled by the odd question. She was a Christian, so naturally she was a woman of faith.

  Mrs. Walker—Piper—smiled patiently. “It comes, faith. Trust to it. Allow God to guide you on this path. You will find your home is here, where he is.”

  “How do you…love, if it is not there in the beginning? How do you…?“

  Piper smiled as if she understood what Mary-Lee was asking her. “Passion is very good at smoothing over some of the rough spots in the beginning,” she answered cryptically. “If you are confident that you can love Benjamin, then you will find that love a magnet for what comes with marriage.”

  Mary-Ellen knew that her fair skin was reddening with embarrassment; she could feel the flush of heat rising in her cheeks. But there was no one to ask. She didn’t have a mother. She certainly could not have asked Mrs. Kelcey back in Abilene.

  “If you are not convinced,” Piper went on, perceiving the struggle in Mary-Lee’s mind. “Then consider what it would be like to have such intimacy expected if you were married to a man you loathed.”

  Immediately, the face of Lance Townsend entered her thoughts. To be engaged in any sort of private physical act with that man would have been repellent. She realized that, even though she did not feel that she loved Benjamin, she was attracted to him. There was no such feeling toward Lance Townsend.

  The women smiled, sharing a communion of thought—even as they divulged nothing of what they were thinking.

  Chapter 7

  “It’s small so far,” Benjamin told her as the cart neared the house he was building. “Carson and Jack and a couple of other fellas are helping, but I don’t want it to be put up in a hurry. It’s just three rooms so far,” he said apologetically as he pulled onto an earthen path that had been cleared in the midst of a spread of land. “But enough will be finished before winter comes, I promise you that.”

  It certainly was small, Mary-Lee thought critically as she allowed Benjamin to help her out of the wagon. Three rooms? They must be very small rooms. She would feel as if she were caged. But as they came closer, she saw that the rooms had windows. That would make a difference. To have fresh air coming in would make the rooms seem more spacious.

  “I’ll bring your luggage in,” he said, “but first,” he swept her up in his arms. “I’m carrying you over the threshold.”

  She was feather light in his arms, her petite frame and slender bones rendering her easy to lift. At first she protested, but then, wrapping her arms around his neck, she recognized the comfort of his strength as he held her.

  He put her down when they entered the house. “I’ll see to Sal,” he said, referring to the horse, “and bring in your things. Take a look around.”

  Benjamin was relieved to get outside in the cool evening air. She was so pretty, and he’d been alone for a long time . . .

  Inside the house, Mary-Lee walked through the rooms. The kitchen was the largest room, with an expansive fireplace for cooking and a broad dining room table in the center; there were four chairs on each side. Wooden shelves were attached to the wall, and on the shelves were plates, cups, and utensils. Pots hung on hooks on either side of the fireplace. There was a small pantry adjacent to the kitchen where flour, sugar, and other staples were stored. She supposed there was a springhouse where butter, cheese, and meat could safely be stored and kept from spoiling. Tomorrow she would explore the land outside, and if he had not planted a garden, she would get one going, even though it would be late in the season for crops. But she had a sense that the very well-prepared deputy marshal would have already put in a garden.

  The windows needed curtains, she noticed. She would need to purchase fabric in order to sew them. However, a sense of propriety had inspired Benjamin to hang a piece of cloth over the window in the bedroom. A big bed dominated the room; well, she reasoned, as tall as he was, Benjamin wouldn’t want his feet hanging over the edge. There were wooden hooks on the wall for clothes to hang. In the corner of the room was a big metal tub for bathing. Next to it was a wooden screen; Mary-Lee smiled as she realized that her husband had not bought the screen for his own privacy, but in respect for hers.

  He was a kind man, she knew. He was kind enough to think of her own comfort and to be sensitive to her needs, even without asking her first. He was more sensitive than she was, if truth were told, she thought.

  Everything appeared clean and the little house had a fragrant odor of lemon throughout the rooms, likely from the cleaning liquids that he had used. It was somewhat of a surprise to think of a man, and a deputy marshal at that, fussing over a mop and broom. Perhaps he had enlisted the labor of one of the girls that Piper had referred to, the older daughters who were glad for a chance to earn a bit for themselves, but Mary-Lee suspected that Benjamin Graves had done his own cleaning, even if it might be women’s work. She supposed that he knew how to take care of himself; former soldiers generally did.

  She heard the front door open and then close, and she realized that he had returned. This was confirmed a few moments later when Benjamin came into the bedroom bearing her trunks. Avoiding her gaze, he put the trunks down.

  “I’ll be outside for a bit,” he said awkwardly.

  She just nodded. After he left, she hurried to one of the trunks and took out her nightgown, a long, white garment that covered her from her neck down to her toes. She had sewn it herself, and in an effort to mitigate the rather uncompromising appearance of the item, she had added satin-covered buttons down the bodice and lace ribbon bows along the neckline. She didn’t know—what should she do—

  The sound of the front door decided for her. Hurriedly, she doused the flame of the candle and got into bed, the fresh linens pulled up to her neck.

  The bedroom door opened, and Benjamin entered. The next moment, she heard a muffled curse as he tripped over her trunk.

  She sat up and lit the candle. There was no point in being modest on her wedding night if it meant that her husband risked breaking a limb because he couldn’t see in the darkness.

  He stood in the middle of the room, uncertain what to do. Then, slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt. Mary-Lee didn’t mean to stare, but Benjamin Graves was an excellent figure of a man, with a long, lean-waisted torso that was layered in muscle. Aware of her wide-eyed scrutiny, and also aware of his own physical state, Benjamin undressed slowly, reminding himself silently to breathe as he took off his boots and then his trousers.

  The candlelight did not provide much illumination, but he could see his wife plainly, her thick blonde hair plaited in a single braid that hung down the front of her nightdress and her eyes enormous in her slender face. Benjamin came to the bed and, lifting the sheets, got under the covers.

  With something like reverence, he t
ouched her braided hair. “I’ve been thinking most of the day about taking this braid out,” he said, his voice husky, “and seeing how your hair looks when it’s loose upon your shoulders.”

  Mary-Lee felt as if she couldn’t speak. “I’ll take it out,” she said.

  Benjamin shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he said.

  By the time he had finished unplaiting her hair, Mary-Lee was sure her lungs were in a state of collapse, so labored was her breathing. How could simple functions—breathing, unbraiding her hair—suddenly take on an entirely different significance now that she was married?

  Benjamin reached out a hand to cup her face. “That kiss in front of the chaplain wasn’t nearly enough,” he whispered.

  “No . . . it was not,” she agreed. And then, she was kissing him with as much fervor as he was kissing her, and as she laid back against the pillow and felt his body over hers, she wondered dizzily why on earth she had been so nervous that she had been driven to ask Piper Walker about what she should do when the wedding night came. There was no need to think at all, because their bodies knew exactly what to do.

  The night disappeared in a whirlwind of kisses and caresses that introduced the two strangers to one another in a manner that speech could not accomplish. When they were finally sated, they fell asleep in a union of tangled arms and legs, her blonde hair covering her skin and his as well, his arm sprawled across her hips.

  * * *

  She awoke with a yawn and a pleasant sensation of the night that had passed, until she noticed that the side of the bed was empty. The sun had risen, and the light was gilding the room with the morning glow. Mary-Lee stretched and yawned again. Her nightgown was somewhere in the knot of sheets and blankets; as she searched for it, the bedroom door opened and Benjamin came in.

  “Morning,” he greeted. He was carrying a plate of food and a cup of coffee. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast in bed on your first morning in your new home,” he said.