Marrying the Preacher's Daughter

He blinked at the glare of the late-afternoon light, but the breeze gusting in was most welcome. The sheet stuck to his skin and he plucked it loose. “Your father only mentioned daughters.”

Gabe hadn’t thought she looked old enough to have all those kids, but looks were often deceiving. She stepped close to arrange the pillows behind him. He sat forward with her scent, a combination of freshly ironed linen and meadow grass, enveloping him. He hadn’t expected the alarming effect she had on his senses. He scratched his chin. “He said there was a house full of females.”

“My sisters have come home from school, but they have lessons to complete. My stepmother needs her rest, so…” She snapped open a napkin and draped it over his chest. “You’re stuck with me.” She uncovered the plate of food and carried the bed tray to him. “I prepared a roast while you slept, along with potatoes and carrots. Beef will build up your strength.”

Spotting the plate of food and the savory aroma of meat and gravy made his belly rumble. At least she could cook. He picked up the fork in anticipation. “I haven’t eaten anything that looked half this appetizin’ in a long while.”

“I’m not the cook my stepmother is, but I’m not half-bad. My skills lie in accounting and organization, but I can do most anything I set my mind to.”

He took a bite and savored the taste of the tender roast. She could cook well. “You’re used to getting your way.”

She studied him and shrugged. “I see that things get done.”

He ate several bites, then pointed at the nearby wooden chair with his fork. “Where were you returnin’ from when we met?”

Stiffly, she seated herself. “Morning Creek. I’m the notary public for this county.”

“Unusual job for a female.” He couldn’t say he was surprised. She seemed anything but usual, and her persnickety ways probably made her good with details.

“The position fell into my lap after an elderly parishioner passed away a year ago. The post required someone willing to travel to nearby towns once a month or so.” She raised one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “The job sounded like a good way to do a bit of traveling. And it has been. Until yesterday.” A frown formed between her pale eyebrows. “Nothing like the incident on the train has happened before.”

Her perfect speech amused him. “So the body count’s been low until now.”

She averted her attention to the window, and he was almost sorry for the jibe. Almost. “Ruffle your tail feathers, don’t I?”

She swung her attention back. “You’re the first person I ever met who is deliberately antagonistic. Why do you do that?”

Her directness did surprise him. The females he’d known invariably played coy and solicitous. “I’m not the one who provoked a robber holding a loaded .45.”

She lifted her chin to say, “I was going to give him the ring. I was ready to take it off and hand it over.”

“So you say now.”

Her blue eyes flashed with aggravation. “I’m not a liar, Mr. Taggart.”

Amused, he set down his fork and reached for the cup of coffee. It was strong and black, the best he’d tasted in a long time.

She delved into the pocket of her apron, withdrew a timepiece and glanced at it. She stood. “It’s time for your medicine.”

And then he’d sleep again. He didn’t like the vulnerability of being unconscious for hours at a time. He tested the pain by raising his arm, then glanced at the forested mountainside visible from the windows she’d opened. “This place looks to be set against a foothill,” he said when she approached with the spoon and bottle of medicine. “Is there a main road close by?”

“No. Just the mountain behind us,” she replied. “And a few homes farther down the hillside. Only one street leads up here.” The Hart home stood silhouetted against the lush green pines and above most of the town, protected by the shadow of the mountain.

“I’ll pass on the medicine this time.” He reached for his coffee again, wincing at the pain that shot through his ribs. “And I’d be obliged if you’d run an errand on my behalf.”

Her expression hinted at reluctance. “It’s the least I can do. What’s the task?”

“I need you to inquire about taxes on my land.”

She set away the bottle of medicine. “You’ll be settling here then.”

“Jackson Springs strikes me as a quiet place.”

“What did you do before?”

“Traveled.” He set down his cup. “The roast was tasty. Thanks.”

She picked up his tray. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I’m grateful for the care, no matter how begrudgingly it’s given.”

She ignored that comment. “I’ll visit the real estate office tomorrow. Is there anything else you need?”

He shook his head.

She headed for the door. “I’ll check on you later.”

Gabe reached to move a pillow from behind his back and winced. He lay back as gently as he could. The house was silent, save for a clock ticking somewhere.

He didn’t like lying around, and neither did he cotton to having the Hart woman waiting on him. Besides the fact that he didn’t like her seeing him this way, he had things to do. He needed to find a place to live before his sister, Irene, got here in another four weeks. That should have been plenty of time, but now…

He hadn’t counted on this setback.

As far as anyone knew he was a businessman here to establish himself in a new community and settle into a normal life. So far nothing had gone according to plan, but he could get things back on track.

Without the pain medicine, he slept fitfully. At the sound of a feminine voice, he again woke with the damp sheets sticking to his skin and his head throbbing.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but the marshal is here to see you.” It was her. Still looking fresh and irritatingly healthy. Maybe it was the drugging effect of the medicine on his head, but the woman was downright pretty.

“Is there water in that bowl over there?” He attempted to sit and swing his legs over the side of the bed, but at the pain in his side, lay back against the pillows. “I need to wash up.”

Elisabeth noted the full bowl and arranged toweling on the washstand, then turned back to him. “Can I help you?”

“Send one of the lads in.”

She glanced toward the door and back at him with a look of concern. “The oldest is only six.”

“He can fetch for me. Unless you want to stick around while I get my pants on.”

She stared at him without flinching; he had to give her credit for that. But then with a swish of skirts and petticoats, she turned to where his satchel sat against a wall. As she leaned to grab the handles, her braid swung over her shoulder. She hoisted the bag onto the bench at the foot of the bed and opened it. “I’ll get Phillip.” She looked Gabe square in the eye. “And then I will stand right outside that door where I can hear everything.”

“Suit yourself.” What did she think he was going to do? Give the boy shooting lessons? “Stand right here if you want to.”

She left the room with her back ramrod-straight and returned a few minutes later to usher in a handsome black-haired little fella with freckles. He surveyed Gabe with curious wide blue eyes.

“This is my brother, Phillip,” Elisabeth said. “Phillip, Mr. Taggart needs help getting up and dressing. I’ll be right out in the hall.” She glanced from her brother to Gabe and backed out, leaving the door open a full twelve inches.

“Thanks for comin’ to my rescue,” Gabe told him. “Think you could help me stand without pullin’ on my left arm?”