Finally a Bride (8 page)

“Good. He don’t pray them long-winded prayers like Pastor Taylor did.” Alan jumped out of his chair and snagged a biscuit off the buffet.

“Son, don’t talk poorly of Pastor Taylor,” Luke said. “He’s a good man. And set that biscuit down. You know we allow our guests to go first.”

Alan flopped back in his chair. “Sorry, Pa, but I’m starvin’.”

“Please, Reverend, help yourself.” Jack’s ma held her hand toward the buffet.

The minister looked down at his plate. “Thank you, but it doesn’t seem proper for me to go before you ladies and the children.”

“I knew I was gonna like him.” Alan grabbed his plate and jumped up, but her papa snagged her brother’s arm and pressed him back onto his chair.

“Since the pastor has expressed his wishes, we’ll let the ladies go first, Son.”

Alan scowled into his plate, while Abby grinned. Jack could almost hear her sister’s taunting, “Na–na–na–na–na! I get to go before you.”

“That’s kind of you, Reverend.” Her mother stood, took her dish and Jack’s, then soon returned with both plates filled with food.

Jack wondered how she’d manage to eat so much pork roast, green beans, and potatoes with
him
sitting across the table. And just why did that bother her so much?

She’d already decided she wasn’t going to chase after him like some schoolgirl with her first crush. Tessa had made it clear that she meant to lasso the poor, unsuspecting man.

With her head lowered, she watched him through her lashes. He waved and smiled at Emmie while he waited on her siblings to fill their plates. Finally, he followed Luke to the buffet. While his back was turned, she took the opportunity to study him. Luke was a solid six feet two, so Reverend Jeffers had to be at least six feet four. His shoulders were even broader than Luke’s, but he wasn’t husky for a large man, nor was he a string bean. In fact, he looked well-muscled—a man more used to physical labor than studious pursuits. As far as she could tell, Noah Jeffers was close to perfect. She exhaled a heavy sigh then noticed her mother watching her. A smirk danced on her ma’s lips, and a knowing gleam lit her eyes.

Appalled that her ma must think she was attracted to the man, Jack shook her head and stabbed a bite of meat.

The minister returned with a full plate and a contented smile and sat down. She imagined a man his size had a big appetite.

“This sure looks delicious, Mrs. Davis.” He poked some green beans with his fork and took a bite.

“Thank you,” her ma said. “Pastor Taylor didn’t tell us much about you when he mentioned you’d be taking his place. So, where do you hail from?”

“Emporia, ma’am.”

“Isn’t there a sawmill in Emporia?” Luke set his plate down and reached across the table for the butter.

“Yes, there is. They cut a lot of wood there, but most of the lumber is shipped by train to Houston.” Using his fork, the minister lifted one corner of his meat, which he’d covered with the red-eye gravy her ma had made.

Intrigued, Jack watched him. His brow crinkled, and he leaned down, as if to sniff his food, then glanced up and caught her watching. Quickly he cut a bite of meat and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed it a few times, and she’d have sworn—if she swore—that he turned three shades of white before he all but turned green. His cheeks puffed out as if he’d belched. A panicked look engulfed his handsome face as he glanced one direction and then the other. Suddenly he leapt from his chair and rushed out of the room.

“My heavens.” Her mother looked at Luke. “What do you suppose that was about?”

Luke shook his head and glanced at his plate. He blew out a sigh. “Don’t know, but I’ll go check on ‘im.”

“If’n he’s done eatin’, can I have his food?” Alan reached over to take the pastor’s biscuit.

Her ma snapped her fingers. “Don’t touch that. I’m sure he’ll be right back.” Then she glanced over and met Jack’s eyes. Her brows lifted.

Jack shrugged. “That was the strangest thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

Noah’s stomach swirled and cramped, and he bent over the porch railing and heaved. Once he retched, his belly settled. With his hands spread apart, he leaned on the railing, his head hanging. What a fool he’d made of himself. How could he go back in there?

“You all right, Reverend?” Mr. Davis stopped a few feet behind him.

“I’m sorry, sir.” He straightened, pressing a hand to his stomach, and turned. “I guess I should have told your wife that I can’t eat pork. It’s just that I thought your daughter—the middle one—said it was pot roast.”

Luke smiled. “Abby sometimes gets confused on the meat we’re having. If it looks like a roast, it’s a pot roast to her.”

Noah rubbed his hand across his mouth, making a mental note to look the meat over better before taking any in the future. “I hate to think I hurt your wife’s feelings. I feel bad about that.”

“Think nothing of it. Rachel’s run this place for close to fifteen years. She’s used to people having particular tastes or not being able to tolerate certain foods.”

“I just don’t want her going to any extra effort on my behalf.”

Luke clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about her. She’s a good-natured woman and wants to please her guests.” He stared at Noah; then his brows dipped. “Have we met before? There’s something familiar about you.”

Noah’s heart jolted. He wasn’t ready to tell people his true identity. What would the marshal say if he knew who he actually was? Would he kick him out of his home? Out of town?

A wagon rolled to a stop in the street, and the marshal turned his attention to it. He smiled. “When’d you get back home, Garrett?”

Noah studied the man in the wagon, grateful for the reprieve. He fully intended to answer the marshal’s question, but he needed more time first. He had things to do in this town—to make recompense for injuries he’d caused in his youth.

“Afternoon, Luke. I just rolled into town. I suppose you’ve already had your lunch.”

Luke shook his head. “We’ve just started eating. C’mon in and join us.”

Noah recognized Garrett Corbett, the older of the marshal’s two cousins. The man glanced down at the mess Noah had made in the grass, then back up. His brows lifted. “Is Rachel trying out a new recipe? Or did Jack cook?”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “Neither. This here’s our new parson, Reverend Jeffers.” Noah extended his hand toward Garrett.

“I’d appreciate it if y’all would call me Noah.”

“Nice to meet you, Reverend.” Garrett nodded. “Just let me take the wagon around to the freight office and tend to my horses; then I’ll wash up and come back.” He clucked to the horses, and they plodded forward.

Luke waved and turned to face Noah. “Are you ready to go inside now?”

Noah hung his head. How could he face Mrs. Davis after his uncouth flight from her table? How could he face Jack?

“Don’t be worrying so much, Noah. You’re not the first in this house to air their paunch.”

“I hope I didn’t make your wife feel bad. The beans I ate were delicious.”

Luke crossed the porch and opened the front door. “C’mon. Rachel will be fine. I’ll explain to her.”

“If you could show me where a bucket and the water is, I’ll take care of”—he motioned toward the porch rail—”uh … that.”

Luke shook his head. “No need. I’ll tend to it. Just come on back inside.”

Noah nodded and trudged across the porch. He hadn’t been here a full day yet, and he’d already made a fool of himself. If only Abby hadn’t said the meat was pot roast, then he wouldn’t have taken any. He hated wasting food, but there was no way he could eat two bites of that pork—much less that large slice he’d taken. He could only hope Mrs. Davis would forgive him.

Jack watched Noah Jeffers wolf down his food—everything, that is, except his meat. Whatever had bothered him earlier no longer affected him. Perhaps he didn’t like the flavor of the meat, or maybe something had gotten stuck in his throat.

“When is your next trip to Denison, Garrett?” Her mother pulled a biscuit in half and buttered both sides then handed one to Abby and the other to Emma.

“I was thinking about headin’ that way in a day or two.” Garrett stabbed a bite of meat and shoved it in his mouth. “Why?”

The parson turned his head away, looking pale again. Jack glanced down at her slice of pork. Was something wrong with it? She hadn’t noticed that it tasted odd. She cut a bite and lifted it to her nose and took a quick sniff. Fine. No, not fine, it smelled downright tasty. She put the bite in her mouth, relishing its delicious flavor.

“I have a package that needs to be picked up at the train depot in Denison, and I wondered if you could get it for me.”

Garrett nodded and forked some green beans into his mouth. “Sure thing. Do you know when it’s supposed to arrive?”

Jack thought of Garrett Corbett as more of an uncle than her stepfather’s cousin. Even though he was close to forty, he was still a handsome man with blond hair and eyes that often gleamed with mischief. She loved his blue eyes. If only hers were that vivid hue that put her in mind of a robin’s egg instead of being so dark a blue.

“Yes, it should be there in two days.”

Luke stared at Ma then lifted his brows. Jack glanced at her mother in time to catch her smothering a grin. What was that about?

She couldn’t think of anything her ma had ordered. They had just celebrated Luke’s birthday, and nobody else had one for a few months, so it couldn’t be a present. She spent the rest of the meal contemplating that mystery. The reporter in her just couldn’t let it go.

Alan stood up first. “Can I be excused?”

“May
I,” Abby stated like a little teacher.

“I asked first,” Alan whined and curled up his lip at Abby.

“You may both take your dishes to the kitchen,” her papa said. “Alan, fetch a bucket of water and set it on the front porch. Abby, you can help your ma clear the table and clean up.”

Abby scowled and glanced at Jack. “What about Sissy?”

Her mother wiped Emmie’s face with the towel tied around the girl’s neck. “You know Jacqueline can’t be on her feet yet. She needs to rest her knee. In fact, she shouldn’t even be downstairs so soon after her accident.” She cast her husband a mock glare.

Luke shrugged. “She’s all right, Rachel. I’ll make sure she takes things easy.”

Jack’s mother sighed. “Fine. I suppose it won’t hurt her to rest on the sofa or even sit in a rocker on the porch for a bit.”

Luke grinned and winked at Jack. She couldn’t help smiling back at him. They were shameful to gang up on her ma, especially when she was going to birth a baby in the next few weeks, but Jack had to get out of that bedroom. How else was she going to get a story about the parson?

She peeked over at him. He was listening to Garrett tell a story about a duck that hitched a ride on his freight wagon. She smiled at Garrett’s animated expression and his arms, which flapped like wings. Emmie giggled at him and lifted her arms up and down.

“Well, I need to get the wagon unloaded.”

All three men stood at once. Luke picked up his plate, as well as Garrett’s and Mr. Jeffers. “Have you heard anything from Mark lately?”

Garrett swigged back the last of his water and set the glass down. “Yep. He and Shannon are talking about maybe moving back here.”

“Truly!” Jack’s ma hurried back into the dining room. “It would be so nice to see them more often.”

“I don’t know if they will, but they’re considering it since Lookout is growing so much. Dallas is gettin’ really big now, and Shannon wants to raise the children in a smaller town.” Garrett lifted his hat off the corner of his chair and set it on his head. “I just don’t know if we have enough call for a lawyer here, though.”

“The closest one I know about is in Denison, and you know that’s several hours’ ride away. Some of the folks who live in the small towns around Lookout may need one on an occasion.” Luke wrapped his arm around Rachel’s shoulders.

Garrett stretched and scratched his belly. “The food was great, as usual, Rachel. Thanks for letting me invite myself to dinner.”

“Anytime.” She smiled.

Garrett held his hand out to the minister. “Nice to meet you, Reverend.”