A Bride for McCain, page 3
“But that doesn’t mean I’m not committed to this job,” she added quickly. Inwardly, she groaned at the lie. She was getting in too deep.
“Your commitment doesn’t bother me.”
“What then?” Jessica had difficulty meeting his gaze. Instead, she stared at his long tapered fingers as he traced the rim of his cup.
“In a big city you turn heads. In a small town like Prosperity, you’ll cause a riot. There are few single women in the territory, and there aren’t any in Prosperity over sixteen. Once the men in town get a good look at you, I’ll have to contend with more than a few skirmishes.”
“I have no interest in marriage,” she said honestly. “I shall not be encouraging the men’s attentions.”
“You’re breathing. That’s encouragement enough.”
“You’re overestimating my appeal, Mr. McCain.” Jessica sat as if she were balancing a book on her head.
“Damn, I wish you were a dried-up old prune,” he said gruffly. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “When the men get a good look at you, they’ll be hanging around my house like lovesick pups.”
“Your house? I’m staying with you?” She felt a shiver of dread.
“Yes. The other two teachers boarded with families in town, and each was married within two weeks. I decided that this time the teacher would live with me so I could keep an eye on her. Peg has already seen that your room has been aired and cleaned.”
“Is Peg your wife?” she said hopefully.
“My housekeeper. She looks after me and my son, Patrick.”
“I see. Will I meet your wife when we arrive?”
“I don’t have a wife.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll put you on notice now, Miss Emma Grimes. I’ll be damned before another teacher slips between my fingers. You’ll complete your two-year contract.”
“Two-year contract?”
“It’s what we agreed to.”
The train whistle blew. The car jerked as it was uncoupled from the train.
McCain pulled a folded piece of paper out of his breast pocket, flattened it on the table and pushed it toward her. He held the pen out to her. “It needs your signature.”
A few lies were one thing, but signing a contract was altogether another matter. “Why do I need a contract?”
“I want your signature as a bond.”
Jessica hesitated. “I don’t know….”
“If you’re unwilling to sign the contract, Miss Grimes, we’ll part ways now.” McCain sat like a tightly coiled spring.
Tell him the truth!
A thousand miles from civilization, with only five dollars to her name, she didn’t have many options. The truth was on the tip of her tongue.
“Are you signing or not?” His eyes burned into her.
“It’s just that I’m not accustomed to contracts,” she hedged.
Tell him! Tell him!
“Decide now, Miss Grimes.”
The sound of gunfire wrenched Jessica from her thoughts. She stared out the window. The two cowboys who’d fought over her earlier stood by the tracks, staring at each other with the tips of their guns smoking.
Through the open window she heard Bushy Face say, “That’ll teach you to hide an ace up your sleeve.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, for your information—” Slim dropped to his knees, then fell facedown in the dirt.
Bushy Face put his gun in his holster. “Rot in hell, thief.”
An old woman with gray straw for hair ran up to Slim, kicked him twice, and when he didn’t move, took his gun and boots. Other people swarmed around the dead man, taking what they wanted, until he was left with only his long underwear.
Jessica reached across the table to take the pen from McCain. Their fingers touched, sending an unexpected jolt through her arm. She cleared her throat. “Where do I sign?”
McCain paused before he released the pen. He pointed to the line at the bottom of the paper. She stared at the blank line. Guilt churned inside her. She’d never broken a promise before.
She’d never been this desperate before.
She dipped the pen in the inkwell. This was a matter of survival. The contract didn’t matter, and as soon as she got her bearings, she’d move on to another town. A drop of ink slid off the end of the pen onto the paper.
As Jessica pressed the tip of the pen to the paper, her mind went blank. McCain had her so rattled, she didn’t know what name to sign. What was Miss Grimes’s first name? Emma? Emily? She looked up at McCain and smiled. Quickly, she wrote the name Emily Grimes.
She set the pen down and pushed the paper toward him. “Satisfied?”
The tightness in McCain’s jaw relaxed a fraction. “Why didn’t you read it?”
“It’s as we discussed in our letters, isn’t it?” she said quickly.
“Yes.”
“Then I see no problem.”
Gingerly, he picked up the paper and studied the signature. He blew on the wet ink until it dried, then carefully folded the paper and tucked it in the breast pocket of his jacket. “I’d have thought a woman with as much schooling as you would have sense enough to read a contract before she signed it.”
“I’m a trusting soul.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
Her face flushed, hot with indignation. Common sense told her to be quiet. “I didn’t travel a thousand miles to be insulted, Mr. McCain.”
“You’d better learn not to be so trusting, Miss Grimes, or you’ll never make it out here.”
“If you think I’m so unsuitable for the job, then put me off at the next stop.” The words were out before she thought. Her breath caught. Was she insane? McCain was not the type of man to take ultimatums lightly.
Laughter flashed in his eyes. “You’re green, but you’ll learn. Besides, for better or worse, you’re stuck with me.”
“I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
“I’m a good man to have in your corner, Miss Grimes. In fact, I’m going to see to it that you learn to get by out here.”
“Surely it can’t be that bad? After all, I’ve done all right so far.”
“You’ve been under my protection since you left Sacramento. My men were under orders to watch over you at all costs. If I turned you loose in Cheyenne, you’d not last the night. Colorado’s not any different than Wyoming. It’s full of nasty surprises.”
“Nasty surprises?”
“Indians, drought, winters so cold you’d gladly go to hell to get warm, and men who’d sell their soul to have a woman like you.”
Jessica took several deep breaths. “If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.”
He chuckled. “Look at it this way—you’ve got skills few people on the frontier have.”
“I do?”
“You can read and write.”
“Oh, that.”
He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his long legs. “You teach my son and the other children in Prosperity to read, and I’ll turn you into a true frontier woman.”
“I don’t want to be a frontier woman. I like myself just the way I am.”
“Colorado’s hard country. Nobody leaves it untouched.”
His presence enveloped her, overwhelmed her. Fearing her hands would begin to tremble again, she put her cup and saucer back down on the table.
“Tell me about yourself,” he said, changing the course of the conversation.
Her color faded a fraction. “Didn’t my letters tell you what you needed to know?”
“I judge people best when I hear them speak, watch how they handle themselves.”
“Would you like me to tell you more about my studies? I could tell you the books I’ve—”
“What happened to your family? You never mentioned them in your letters.”
Jessica could feel McCain studying her. She was thankful he didn’t seem to know a lot about Emma Grimes. She decided she’d tell the truth whenever possible, hoping it would make the lies more believable. “My mother was killed in a carriage accident ten years ago. My father saw to my upbringing.”
“What kind of a man allows a woman to venture out into such wild country?”
“My father is dead.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said automatically. “What was his name? I have a good many contacts in the Sacramento area.”
Jessica stopped. She’d said much more than she’d intended. Anxious to turn the tables, she asked, “Were you born in Colorado, Mr. McCain?”
He smiled, as if sensing her ploy. “I’m a Virginian by birth. I moved west after the war.”
“You mentioned you had a son, Patrick. How old is he?”
“Eight.”
“Where is his mother?”
“Caroline died of lung fever this past spring.”
Anger dripped from each of his words. Jessica had struck a chord. Good. Keeping him off balance kept attention off of her. “That must be hard on the boy.”
McCain refilled his cup. “He’s adjusting.”
“That doesn’t tell me very much.”
McCain’s jaw tensed. “That’s all you need to know. I want you to concentrate on getting the school up and running so Patrick and the other children get a decent education.”
“You put a lot of stock in a good education.”
McCain sat back in his chair. “A man who can’t read or write is at the mercy of those who can. I don’t want that for Patrick or any child in my town.”
“How many children are there?”
“Twelve in all.”
Twelve children. The railroad car rocked softly as another train coupled onto it. The wheels started to roll forward.
The full impact of what she’d done hit Jessica. Soon twelve children and an entire town would be drawn into her web of lies. The realization made her uneasy and restless.
“You’re going to make a big difference in their lives,” McCain said.
How could she make a difference in anyone’s life? She’d spent the last ten years in an exclusive boarding school, learning to serve tea, paint watercolors and host parties. She had nothing to give these children.
She couldn’t go through with this!
She drew in a deep breath. She had to tell him the truth or convince McCain to release her from her contract. “Mr. McCain, I’m worried.”
He raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“I don’t think I’m the right person for this job.”
“Why not?”
She had to walk a fine line between truth and fiction. “I have a confession to make.”
“I don’t like the sound of this,” he said quietly.
She wrung her hands together and paced back and forth. “It’s not as bad as you might think. It’s just that I exaggerated my qualifications.”
“You can read and write.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then you’ll work out just fine.”
“Even you agree,” she rushed to say, “I am really not right for this job. I’m green. A fool, really. I would set a bad example for the children.”
“You’re staying.” His voice was low, deadly.
“But you just said I don’t belong here.”
“You’ll learn to belong.”
“But I’m so different from the people out here.”
“Different? Or better? I saw the expression on your face when you were standing on the platform looking at those people in Cheyenne.”
Shocked at the conclusion he’d drawn, she hurried to say, “That’s not it at all. I’m not better. I’m different. The problem isn’t them. It’s me.”
McCain uncoiled himself from his chair. He crossed the room toward her. He paused by the window and lifted one of the tassels on the curtain.
“Prosperity doesn’t have a lot to offer, Miss Grimes, but it does have a jailhouse, which is where you’ll spend the next two years if you back out on me now.”
“What?”
“Break your contract, and when we arrive in Prosperity, I’ll march you straight down to the sheriff’s office and have him lock you up.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Lady, I built that town. Everybody in Prosperity, including the sheriff, depends on the McCain mines for their livelihood. So you can be damn sure no one will question me if I want you locked up.”
“You cannot intimidate me with threats, Mr. McCain.”
He smiled. “I don’t threaten. I promise.”
“Why can’t you just find another teacher who’s more suited for the job?”
“It took me two months to find you. In another two months, the snows will make the rails impassable until spring. If you leave now, the children will lose an entire year in the classroom.”
Again, her life slipped from her control and there was nothing she could do to stop it. “Perhaps I could recommend someone. I know several ladies—”
“I’ve got a mine to run and a boy to raise. You signed the contract. I need a teacher. End of story.”
“You can’t make me stay in Prosperity.”
“Try me.”
“You’ll be keeping me there against my will.”
“I’ll learn to live with it.”
Jessica clenched her fists. She’d escaped William, but she sensed escaping McCain would be much more difficult.
“What’s it going to be? Jail or the schoolhouse?”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“I’ve made them before. What’s your answer?”
She’d traded one prison for another. “The schoolhouse.”
He smiled. “Good choice.”
* * *
Escape.
By three o’clock in the afternoon, when the train arrived in the small town of Greeley, Colorado, escape was more than a fleeting idea to Jessica. As soon as they stopped, McCain got off to check on a horse he’d bought in Cheyenne, and she knew her one chance to flee had arrived.
Jessica watched McCain as he stopped to speak to Mr. Thomas. When he stepped between the cars and out of sight, she hurried to the door and opened it.
A small town, Greeley was made up of frame houses surrounded by green fields. Thanks to an earlier conversation she’d had with McCain, she also knew the town was only twenty-five miles from Fort Collins—an army outpost, and a train stop on the Colorado Central, which linked Denver to Cheyenne and the Union Pacific by rail line.
The idea of staying in Greeley by herself left her breathless with fear, but she prayed the town was more civilized than Cheyenne. She was running out of time and wasn’t in a position to be too choosy. The next stop on the rail line was La Salle, and the next Prosperity, and she had no intention of going to jail or spending the next two years in Prosperity, Colorado.
Jessica glanced from side to side. No one was in sight. She drew in a deep breath and climbed down the three steps to the ground. The air was hot and the dust by the tracks deep, coating her fine leather shoes with a brown film.
She shielded her eyes against the sun. Ahead she saw a small, rough-looking tavern. It seemed a good place to hide and make arrangements for the trip to Fort Collins.
She’d taken three steps when McCain said, “Out for a stroll, Miss Grimes?”
Jessica whirled around. He stood between two rail cars. His arms were folded across his chest, his hat pulled forward, shadowing his unflinching gaze.
She fought an impulse to run, knowing he’d overtake her in seconds. She shrugged. “I was curious about the town.”
He captured her arm. “Then why don’t I give you a tour?”
She tried to squirm free of his grasp, but could not. “That’s really not necessary.”
“I think it is.” He brushed dust from her shoulder. “You may not realize it yet, Miss Grimes, but you need me just as much as I need you.”
“I hardly think—”
“How long do you think you’d last in Greeley? A day? A week?”
She stuck out her chin. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“Let’s see about that.”
Her escape plans ruined, she wanted nothing more to do with the town. “A tour isn’t necessary.”
“I disagree.”
He walked her across the dirt street toward the rustic, two-story tavern. Three men in work clothes piled out the front door as they approached. Each man stopped and stared at Jessica with hard, hungry eyes. She swallowed but held her head high.
One man stepped forward.
McCain’s hand slid to his gun. “Don’t.”
The stranger stared at McCain. Seconds ticked by until finally the stranger dropped his gaze and walked away with his companions.
McCain watched the men walk down the street. Only when he seemed satisfied they were no longer a threat did he speak. “How well do you think you’d have handled those three?”
She swallowed her nausea. “I would have managed somehow.”
McCain shook his head. “Sure you would. Let’s have a look inside.”
When Jessica hesitated, he nudged her over the threshold. The tavern was empty, dark, and the ceiling low. The room was quiet, but what impressed Jessica most was the pungent smell. She pressed her hand to her nose.
McCain drew in a deep breath. “Smells like we’re in time for dinner.”
Jessica coughed. “You’re joking.”
“I don’t have a sense of humor.”
He led her to a small table in a dark corner. McCain held a chair out for Jessica, and reluctantly, she accepted it. Keeping his back to the wall, he took the seat across from her. A half-dozen dark flies swarmed around the table, which was sticky with grease.
Jessica folded her hands in her lap, trying her best to touch as little as possible. “I’m not very hungry, Mr. McCain.”
He ignored her and raised his hand, catching the attention of a heavy woman with graying hair. The woman came up to their table.
“What’s for supper?” McCain asked.
“Stew.”
McCain reached in his pocket, dug out a dollar and slapped it down on the table. “We’ll take two bowls and two mugs of coffee.”
The woman left, leaving them to wait in silence for their food. Jessica sat erect. McCain lounged back in his chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him.
“This is one of the best places around,” McCain said casually.
“The best? I hardly think this is the best Colorado has to offer.”
