A Bride for McCain, page 4
“Choices are few in towns like this.”
The innkeeper returned within minutes, her heavy feet shuffling over the wood floor. She carried a tray laden with two bowls of beef stew, half a loaf of bread and a crock of butter that had turned to oil. When the woman set the bowls on the table, Jessica realized the dish’s chief ingredient was flies.
Unable to stand the tavern a moment longer, she stood abruptly and ran outside. McCain was right on her heels when she burst through the front door into the daylight.
Jessica drew in several cleansing breaths. The air had never smelled sweeter. She reached in her reticule, pulled out a delicate lace handkerchief and dabbed the sweat from her forehead.
McCain smiled. “Had enough?”
“That place was vile.”
“That’s what it’s like out here, Miss Grimes. How about we stroll down the center street and have a look at some of the other buildings? There’s a mercantile in town.”
“No, thank you.” She glanced up at McCain’s railroad car, longing for its plush, clean interior.
McCain followed her line of sight. “Prosperity’s a good deal better than Greeley. My home is clean, and I can guarantee there won’t be bugs in your mattress.”
“How comforting.”
He laid his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. His gaze seemed to soak in every detail about her—the lock of hair that had fallen over her forehead, the beads of sweat on her brow, her flushed cheeks. “Don’t try to run away again.”
“I wasn’t trying—”
“I have a short fuse when it comes to liars, Miss Grimes.”
She fell silent, overcome by McCain’s dark presence.
“Do I have your word you won’t try to run away?”
What choice did she have? William Perry had seen to it she couldn’t go back to Sacramento, and Colorado’s harsh conditions prevented her from traveling alone.
She sighed. “You have my word.”
His face softened. “Admit it, Miss Grimes,” he said gently, “you do need me as much as I need you.”
She stared up at him in silence. There was no reason to argue with him. She did need him.
For now.
Chapter Three
The sun hung low over the Rockies as Jessica stared out of the train window at the crowd of people gathered by the tracks. By the look of it, the entire town of Prosperity had turned out to see the new teacher. Her! She closed her eyes and stifled a groan.
McCain stood behind her. She sensed he was staring. She’d hoped her arrival would be a quiet one and there’d be time to think of a way out of this predicament. She’d never counted on meeting the townspeople so soon or dreamed that her lie would grow so big.
She opened her eyes and took a second look. Prosperity had no train station, only a small shack that served as the ticket office. A mismatched collection of old and new buildings ran alongside wooden boardwalks that flanked the town’s only street.
The townswomen wore dresses and sunbonnets made of homespun calico, and most had at least one child in tow. The men wore roughly woven shirts, work pants and scuffed leather boots. The lowest servants in her father’s house had dressed better than these people. Yet every man, woman and child grinned with excitement.
The children stood off to the side. Ranging in age from four to sixteen, they were gathered behind a rough, hand-painted sign that read Welcum Techer.
With shame she realized she’d have crossed the street to avoid any one of them if they had approached her in Sacramento. The full weight of her lie pressed against her chest. These people deserved a real teacher, not a fraud and imposter.
Confess now, before it’s too late.
“You’ll find the people warm and friendly here.” McCain’s raspy voice shattered the silence.
He was so close, his nearness rattled her senses and made her heart race.
“They all look so eager,” she whispered.
“You’re going to make a big difference in their lives.”
She let the curtain slip from her fingers. How could she make a difference in these people’s lives? She didn’t have any skills. She’d been trained to be a society wife.
McCain took hold of her elbow and led her out of the car. “Let’s meet your neighbors.”
Jessica stumbled as she hurried to keep pace with him. An unladylike oath sprang to mind as he pulled her out onto the platform. The instant they emerged, a hush fell over the crowd. Every fiber in her body demanded she run. Only McCain’s firm hold on her arm kept her steady. Oddly, he had become a lifeline of sorts.
The women whispered comments to each other, while the men stared at her, dumbstruck. An army of butterflies fluttered in Jessica’s stomach.
“Don’t disappoint me, Miss Grimes,” McCain whispered as he led her toward the crowd.
Before she could respond, he left her side and climbed down the stairs. He turned, wrapped his long fingers around her narrow waist and easily lifted her from the car. Their gazes locked for an instant as he lowered her to the ground. “Smile,” he added, then turned toward the crowd and said, “Folks, I’d like you to meet Prosperity’s new teacher, Miss Emma Grimes.”
An old man well past his sixtieth year shouted, “She don’t look like a teacher. You sure you got the right woman, Mr. McCain?”
McCain scowled. “Yes, Jed.”
Jed’s white, prickly mustache twitched from side to side as he looked Jessica up and down. “Why’d you have to go and hire a pretty teacher? You’re never gonna keep her in the schoolhouse.”
McCain pushed the brim of his hat back with his index finger. “We menfolk agreed that no one would court the new teacher for the next two years. Besides, she’s signed a contract. Isn’t that right, Miss Grimes?”
Jessica’s face flushed with anger. He was treating her like an indentured servant.
When she didn’t answer, McCain slowly tightened his fingers around her forearm. Anger flashed in his eyes, warning her to concede this small battle of wills. Finally, she relented and said, “Yes.”
Jed shook his head. “Ain’t much for words, is she?”
“She’s tired and anxious to get home,” McCain answered.
“Looks like she’s gonna be sick.”
“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix.”
“I dunno, McCain. If I was a betting man, I’d say she’ll quit her job by week’s end.”
McCain pulled Jessica closer to him. “That’s a wager you’ll lose.”
A heavyset woman with bright red hair, warm brown eyes and three children peering from behind her skirts stepped forward. “Don’t you listen to Jed, Miss Grimes. He’s just as glad to have you here as the rest of us.”
McCain nudged Jessica forward. “Sissy, I’d like you to meet Miss Grimes. Miss Grimes, I’d like to present Sissy and Earl Nevers, and their three children, Daniel, Owen and Elizabeth.”
Sissy Nevers took Jessica’s hand and shook it. “The pleasure is all mine. My husband and I just couldn’t wait to meet you.”
Earl, a tall man with a long black beard, wore dirty overalls. He cleared his throat. “Sissy’s been on pins and needles since McCain left for Cheyenne.”
His wife giggled and held both her hands up in surrender. “I’ll admit it. I’ve barely slept a wink the last few nights. But it means so much to me and Earl that our children are going to learn how to read.”
Sissy’s eyes burned with the glow of expectancy. Jessica hated the thought of letting her down. “I don’t know what to say, Mrs. Nevers.”
“Just call me Sissy. That is, if you don’t mind. Everyone calls me Sissy.” The woman burst into nervous giggles. “Listen to me prattling on like a fool, but I declare, I can’t help it. I’m just so glad to meet you.”
Jessica retreated a step, but McCain pressed his hand into the small of her back and stalled her progress. All she could manage in reply was, “Thank you.”
Several other people stuck their hands out to her, introducing themselves as they pumped her hand up and down.
I want to leave!
Jessica straightened her shoulders. McCain’s threats of prison be damned. She’d call his bluff. She’d tell the truth.
Before she could speak, Elizabeth, Sissy’s three-year-old daughter, peeked out from around her mother’s skirts and thrust out a fistful of asters. Except for her thick crop of black hair, the girl looked like a miniature version of her mother. “Miss Grimes, these is for you.”
Frowning, Jessica stared down at the little girl. For a long, tense moment she said and did nothing as all eyes stared expectantly at her. She wanted to run from them all. This was a horrible mistake. She wasn’t Emma Grimes, she was Jessica Tierney. But as the single pair of brown eyes looked up at her over the fading blue petals, she felt her chest tighten. She couldn’t turn her back on this child. She knelt down, unmindful of the dirt, and extended her hand for the bundle.
“Thank you. They’re lovely,” she said softly.
Jessica stood, clutching the flowers. Everyone was smiling at her. Even the hard edge around McCain’s eyes had softened.
He cleared his throat. “It’s getting late. Ready, Miss Grimes?”
Jessica glanced back at the train, then at McCain. “Yes.”
“Then let’s go home.”
Home.
For ten years Jessica hadn’t spoken the word. Its meaning held too much pain and loss. She crossed her arms.
“We’ll be seeing you at the school tomorrow,” Sissy said brightly. “Mr. McCain has given the miners the day off so they can spruce up the schoolhouse. We womenfolk decided to turn the day into a celebration and are having all kinds of food, games and music.”
Sissy Nevers’s genuine smile made Jessica feel miserable. She didn’t want to like Sissy. She didn’t want the woman to like her.
“There’s gonna be sack races,” Owen exclaimed.
Daniel, the oldest of Sissy’s three children, puffed out his chest and stepped forward. “Mama’s made four apple pies!”
“I don’t want you to go to any trouble for me,” Jessica said.
Sissy shook her head. “I just hope what we’ve planned is good enough.”
“I’m sure it will be lovely.”
The train whistle blew and Jessica looked over her shoulder. A half-dozen people climbed aboard. She’d give the last penny in her pocket to join them.
McCain again pressed his hand into the small of her back. “Folks, we’ll see you tomorrow at the party.”
McCain guided Jessica down the wooden boardwalk toward the end of town. Two old men sitting in front of the dry goods store pointed at Jessica and talked excitedly. Nearby a little boy chewing on an apple stared at her. In fact, quite a few people were staring. She clutched her parasol closer to her chest.
A tall, lanky man wearing a red wool shirt, gray trousers and black suspenders greeted them when they walked by Thompson’s Livery. He removed his muddied gloves and extended his hand to McCain. His gaze flickered over Jessica before he straightened his shoulders and sucked in his gut. “It’s good to have you back, Mr. McCain.”
“It’s good to be back. Let me introduce you to Emma Grimes.”
“I ain’t fit to be meeting no lady right now.”
“Nonsense.” McCain gently pushed her forward. “Miss Emma Grimes, I’d like you to meet Dave Thompson. He owns and operates the livery here in town. Miss Grimes is Prosperity’s new schoolteacher.”
Dave Thompson rubbed his hand against his pant leg, then slowly extended it to Jessica. She didn’t want to take it. Each new introduction pulled her deeper into the deception and further away from her own life.
Jessica drew a deep breath, accepted the man’s grimy hand and nodded. “It’s a pleasure.”
Mr. Thompson blushed. “Pleasure’s mine.” He ducked his head, then released her hand. He quickly made excuses of more work and disappeared back into the livery.
“Looks like you’ve given the town something to talk about for the next few months,” McCain said evenly.
“I wish I didn’t stick out so much. I miss the crowds of a big city. They are so wonderfully impersonal.”
“Lonely is a better word.”
“I’m a big-city girl, Mr. McCain.”
“Not for the next two years.” McCain nodded down the street. “My home is at the end of town. It’s not more than half a mile or so.”
“Are you sure you want to keep me on? I know with certainty I’m going to be more trouble than I’m worth.”
McCain stared down at her and for a moment said nothing. Beneath the intense look in his eyes, an exquisite ache blossomed inside of her, and for an instant every rational thought in her brain vanished.
“You’re worth the trouble,” he said.
His voice broke the spell.
“You don’t know how truly useless I can be. My father said I wasn’t good for anything.”
“Everybody’s good for something.”
“Oh, not me. My teachers at school said they never met a lazier girl than me.”
He took hold of her arm and led her down the wooden boardwalk toward the edge of town. “You always talk this much?”
“Yes, constantly, and especially when I’m nervous.”
“Great.”
They arrived at McCain’s home within minutes. Jessica paused while McCain opened the gate of the unpainted picket fence that surrounded the brown yard.
A collection of ladders and sawhorses littered the front yard of the white frame house. The shingles on the roof were bright and unweathered as if they’d just been installed. The house was designed with a wraparound porch, two brick chimneys and floor-to-ceiling windows.
McCain set her bag on the front porch. “The house is nearly finished. I’ve had carpenters working on it night and day to see that it was finished before you got here.”
“You’ve built a lovely house, Mr. McCain,” she said.
Relief flickered in McCain’s green eyes before he led her up the steps and opened the front door for her. She stepped past him into the foyer. He shrugged off his coat, hung it up on a peg next to twin ladder-back chairs. A single table hugged the west wall.
Jessica unpinned her hat and set it on the table.
“Where the devil have you been?” The question came from a woman barely four feet tall who’d emerged from a side door off the main hallway. She’d swept up her auburn hair into a tight topknot, accentuating her wrinkled features. She wore a blue wool dress, a gray apron smothered in white flour and men’s work boots. “What happened to you? I expected you a couple of days ago,” the woman barked.
“We were late leaving Cheyenne,” McCain said.
The old woman nodded to Jessica. “Who’s this? And where’s the schoolteacher?”
“She is the schoolteacher,” McCain said. He hung his hat next to his coat.
“You sure you hired the right woman? She don’t look like a schoolteacher.”
McCain glanced down at Jessica. He flexed his jaw, determination blazing from his eyes. “I got the right woman. Let me introduce you to her.”
“What for? I know what her name is. Grimes, ain’t it?” The old woman squinted her eyes and studied Jessica from head to toe. She snorted and shrugged her shoulders. “Name’s Peg Malone. I run this place.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Malone.” Jessica extended her hand, but seeing it wasn’t going to be accepted, raised it to brush a curl off her face.
“Call me Peg,” the old woman said. “Everyone does.”
“Where’s Patrick? I want Miss Grimes to meet him,” McCain said.
“Up in his room. I told him to go up and get ready for bed. Not that he ever listens to me.”
He turned to Jessica. “Follow me and I’ll show you to your room. Once you’ve met Patrick, I’ll send Peg up with water for a hot bath and a dinner tray.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll just tag along now,” Peg said. “Hate to miss the introductions. We all know how much the boy’s been hankering for another teacher.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
McCain glowered at Peg. “Suit yourself.”
He guided Jessica up the stairs. “That’s your room,” he said, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder. “This one’s Patrick’s.”
Jessica was more interested in a hot bath than meeting the boy.
“Wonderful.”
McCain knocked briefly, then pushed open the door. In the far corner a boy sat hunched over a block of wood and a whittling knife. Sunlight streamed in through a single window over an assortment of blocks and balls stacked neatly in the corner, a rocking horse and a bookshelf filled with children’s books. All the toys and books appeared to be new.
“I’d like you to meet your new teacher,” McCain said.
Patrick raised his head to reveal a round face smudged with dirt and peppered with freckles. Fresh splashes of mud covered his knickers and shirt. Jade green eyes blazed up at her. “Don’t see why. She’ll be gone in a week or two, just like the others.”
“Miss Grimes has come a long way, and I know she’s anxious to meet you.”
Patrick shot his father a warning glance. “I don’t want to meet her.”
Clearly, Patrick wanted a teacher as much as Jessica needed a student. Still, he looked so small and forlorn. And he was just a child. Forcing a smile, Jessica walked across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed next to Patrick. She leaned forward to get a better look at his handiwork. “What are you whittling?”
The boy didn’t look up at her. Instead, he continued to work in silence.
“May I look at what you’re making?” Jessica coaxed.
“No.”
“Patrick,” McCain warned, “show Miss Grimes your whittling.”
“I don’t want to,” the boy grumbled.
Peg stepped up behind McCain. “Ever since you left for Cheyenne, he’s been worse than usual. A good thrashing would do him some good.”
“There’ll be none of that in this house, Peg,” McCain warned.
Peg shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
“Patrick, show Miss Grimes what you’re working on.”
Patrick flipped his bangs off his forehead and turned his attention to Jessica. “I ain’t got no use for her or any other teacher.”
