Finally a Bride (2 page)

Jack’s fingertips ached from clinging to the bricks, and a streak of blood pooled on her index finger from a scrape. She supposed she should admit defeat, even though the thought of it left a nasty taste in her mouth. She stared across the roof and swallowed hard. Going back wouldn’t be as easy as moving forward, not with so many people watching.

The warm spring breeze blew across the rolling green hills, and she tried to hold her skirts down lest the folks below see something they shouldn’t. Oh, why hadn’t she worn bloomers? Or better yet, trousers?

Her foot slipped again, and she reached behind her, grasping hold of a brick jutting out of the chimney. Maybe going sideways would be easier. Facing the crowd, she balanced on the peak of the roof. She slid one foot to the left and then the other.
Just concentrate. Don’t think how many people are down there. Don’t think how disappointed Ma is
.

“Take it slow,” Ma yelled.

Loosening her death grip on the brick, Jack slid her foot sideways. The wind lifted her skirts again, and she dropped one hand, hoping to contain them. She swayed forward and swung her free arm for balance and regained it. Had the wind been this gusty when she’d first crossed the roof?

She dared to peer down at the crowd again and saw Billy Morgan staring up with a big grin on his face.

Wonderful.

Just wonderful.

“Want me to come get you?” Without waiting for an answer, Billy strode forward until she could no longer see him.

She didn’t need his help, and if he gave it, she’d never hear the end of it.

As it was, she’d never live this down. And right now, her plan didn’t sound half as good as it had when she’d concocted it after the mayor slammed the door in her face. She heard a scratching noise off to her left and slowly glanced that way.

“Stay where you are, Half Bit. I’m coming out to help you.”

Jack rolled her eyes, then realized the action made her dizzy. Relief that Luke had beaten Billy to the rescue made her legs weak—and that was the last thing she needed just now. “I can get down by myself, Papa. Although I sure would like it if you’d make that crowd go away.”

She heard him snort and then chuckle. “Your mother is spitting mad. What in the world were you thinking?”

She slid another foot toward her stepfather. “You’ll be upset if I tell you. It’s probably best if you just tell her that I wasn’t thinking. She’ll believe that.”

Luke coughed, but she thought it was more to hide another laugh than because he had something caught in his throat. “Slide on over here—carefully. No young lady in a dress belongs on a rooftop.”

“Are you saying it would have been all right if I’d worn my bloomers?” She scooted her foot another three inches and looked up to see how much farther it was to the tree. The wind tugged at her skirt as if purposely trying to make her fall.

“You know that’s not what I meant. Just be careful. On second thought, I’m coming out there.”

“No, I got up here, and I can get back down. Besides, these shakes are half-rotten, and I doubt they’d hold your weight.”

“Take it slow and easy then. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Abby let out another bloodcurdling scream as Jack glided her left foot along the peak. The sole of her shoe slipped on another loose shake and shot out from under her, the right foot following. Like a child on a sled, she slid down the roof on her shame and mortification. Luke lunged for her, stretching out his arm, but he missed. The last thing she saw before going over the side was his frantic brown eyes.

A sudden jerk jarred her whole body, and she stopped sliding. Her hips dangled over the edge of the house. She heard a tear, felt a jolt, and then she hurled toward the ground.

She flapped her arms like a winged bird but gained no altitude. Abby’s scream rent the air. The ground rose up to meet her like an oncoming locomotive. Billy lunged sideways, reaching for her. They collided—her head against his chest—and landed in a pile in the street. Searing pain radiated through her leg and head.

Jack lay there for half a second before she realized she was on top of Billy. She let out a screech that surpassed Abby’s and rolled sideways, ignoring the pain in her leg, fighting fabric to gain her freedom. Struggling to catch her breath, she stared up. Her mother’s anxious pale blue eyes blurred from two to four. “I’m all right, Ma.”

Laying her aching head back against the dirt, she closed her eyes. If she wasn’t dead in the morning, she could just imagine the headlines in tomorrow’s newspaper: M
ARSHAL’S
D
AUGHTER
A
TTEMPTS TO
F
LY
.

Noah Jeffers slowed his horse at the creek bank and lowered the reins so Rebel could get a drink. He stretched, then dismounted and walked around, working out the kinks from his long ride. He’d experienced many blessings during his month-long circuit of preaching to the small towns of northeastern Texas, but he’d be glad to be back home.

After a few moments, he led Rebel away from the water and hobbled him in a patch of shin-high grass. He removed the horse’s bridle and hung it on a tree stem where a branch had broken off. He rummaged around in his saddlebags and pulled out the apple, cheese, and slice of roast beef that Mrs. Hadley had sent with him this morning when he’d left for home.

Settling under a tree, he bit off a hunk of apple and watched the creek water burble over the rocks. Shadows from the trees danced with the sunlight gleaming on the water in a soothing serenade. A rustling caught his attention across the creek, and he tensed, but then a mallard with seven ducklings waddled into view. Noah smiled, enjoying the tranquil scene. The mother led her tiny crew into the water and drifted downstream.

Peace settled over him. He finished his lunch then leaned his head against the trunk and thought about all the folks he’d met during the past month. Most had been more than friendly, offering him a bed if they had a spare and three meals a day whenever he was in a town. Yes sir, he’d eaten well—for the most part. But he missed his bed—and Pete. A yawn pulled at his mouth. He’d take a short rest then head on home—

A scream yanked him from a sweet dream, and he sat up, listening. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Had he just dreamed that he heard someone yell?

“Help! Somebody help me!”

Noah bolted to his feet at the child’s cry and searched the trees to his left. “Where are you?”

“Over here. Help!”

He plunged through the brush alongside the creek and ducked under a tree branch. The undergrowth thinned out, and he noticed a girl no more than six or seven hopping beside the creek a short distance away. A half-dozen men’s shirts and lady’s blouses lay drying on bushes.

The girl saw him and ran in his direction, her untidy braids flopping against her chest. “Please, mister, my brother—” She pointed toward the creek. “I cain’t swim.”

Noah’s heart tumbled. He saw no sign of anyone in the quiet water. Dropping to the ground, he yanked off his boots. “Where’d he go in?”

The girl’s face crumpled. Tears ran down her freckled cheeks, and red ringed her blue eyes. “I don’t know. He was sitting on the blanket while I was doing the wash. He must have crawled in when my back was turned.”

Crawled? That means a tiny child—one who can’t swim a lick
. Noah plunged into the creek. It was deeper than he’d expected. The warm water hit him waist level. He bent down, running his arms back and forth as he turned in a circle. Nothing.

“Ma will turn me out for sure,” the girl wailed from the edge of the creek. “Oh, Benny. Where are you?”

Noah ducked his head below the surface, hoping to search underwater, but his thrashing had stirred up too much mud. He moved forward several steps and hunted some more, swiping his hands through the water. His heart pounded as his dread mounted. “Help me, Lord. Where’s the boy?”

He stilled for a moment and gazed over at the tattered blanket where the child had been. If he’d crawled in from that point, he’d most likely be upstream a bit. Noah quickly pulled his legs through the water then ducked down. Stretching. Reaching.

His left hand brushed something.

Fabric?

He lunged forward, snagged the cloth, and tugged. A frighteningly light-weight bundle rose up to the surface. Noah turned the limp baby over, grimacing at his blue lips.

“No!” The girl collapsed on the bank, her face in her hands. Her sobs tore at his heart.

Noah lifted the tiny boy by his feet as he once saw a father do at a church social when his young daughter had fallen into a lake. He waded toward the bank, whacking gently on the baby’s small back.

On shore, Noah laid the child over his forearm and continued smacking him. “Please, Lord. Don’t take this young boy. He has his whole life ahead of him.”

Water gushed from the boy’s mouth; then he lurched. He gagged and then retched. He clutched Noah’s arm and coughed up more water. When the worst had passed, Noah turned him over. Benny’s eyelids moved. He jerked, then gasped and uttered a strangled cry.

The girl jumped up and hurried to him, hope brimming from her damp eyes. “He ain’t dead?”

Goosebumps charged up Noah’s arm as tears moistened his eyes. The boy, no more than six months old, quieted and stared up at him with blue eyes that matched his sister’s. His wet brown hair clung to his head.

“C’mere, Benny.”

The boy heard his sister’s voice and lunged for her, wailing again to beat all.

Noah smiled, then lifted his gaze heavenward. This was as close to a miracle as he’d ever witnessed. “Thank You, Father. Blessed be Your name.”

Stirred up from the day’s events, Noah rode all night. The next morning, he put Rebel out to pasture then headed inside the house he shared with his mentor, Pete. He set his saddlebags across the back of a kitchen chair and glanced around the tidy room. It was good to be home again.

Pete shuffled in from the parlor. “Noah! Thought I heard someone in here, but I weren’t expectin’it’d be you.”

Noah hugged the older man. “I rode all night so I could get home sooner.”

Pete pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Howd’ya like being a circuit rider?”

Needing time to think on his response, Noah walked over to the stove and felt the side of the coffeepot. He pulled two mugs from a shelf, poured the dark brew, then placed one cup in front of Pete and sat down, holding the other one. “It was all right. Met a lot of nice folks.”

Pete stared at him with an intense gaze. From the first day they’d met, Noah had never been able to pull the wool over the old man’s eyes. “What’re you not tellin’ me?”

Noah’s stomach clenched at the memory of the baby in the creek, but he told the story. “Mrs. Freedman is a widow. She’d been sick and was slow to recover, which was why the girl was doing the wash and caring for the baby. She offered to let me stay the night in her barn, but I was anxious to get home.” He rubbed his bristly jaw and eyed Pete, knowing his mentor would find this next piece of information humorous. “Just as I was fixin’ to head out, she told her girl to give me a piglet as a thank-you for saving Benny.”

The old man’s lips twitched, and his eyes danced. A chuckle rose up from deep within, making Pete’s shoulders bounce. “Wish I’da been there to see your face when they gave you that critter.”

Noah scowled. “It’s not funny. You know I can’t abide pork of any kind—dead
or
alive.”

“What’d’ya do with it? Turn it loose?”

He shook his head. “I might despise pigs, but I couldn’t turn the thing loose and let a wolf or coyote get it.” He looked into his mug and swirled the coffee. “I gave it to the next family I came across. They were mighty glad to have it.”

“How many of them folks that you stayed with fixed bacon or sausage for breakfast?”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” But there was something he needed to discuss. “I’m not sure that I’m cut out to be a traveling preacher.”

Pete sipped his coffee. “How come?”

He shrugged. “I think I’d rather be a minister in a small town where I could shepherd folks instead of just dropping a sermon and riding on, not knowing how folks are until I come around again the next month.” He’d traveled from one place to another as a kid and didn’t cotton to doing that again. He hadn’t lived in the same place more than a couple of years until he moved in with Pete. One thing was certain: With the exception of the pork he was often offered, he had eaten plenty of good home cooking on the circuit—something he and Pete often lacked.