Rebecca rubbed Eliza’s shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “Calm yourself, Eliza. Millie is fine. She wasn’t here when the fire started.”
Eliza exhaled and silently thanked the Lord. She would never have forgiven herself if something had happened to the seventeen-year-old girl.
Dan Tucker, the blacksmith, and his wife, Sally, stepped forward. Sally gathered Eliza’s hands in her own. The woman’s warm palms felt comforting. “Eliza, Dan and I talked about it last night and we have decided that you should use our house while yours is being replaced. We’re leaving in a couple of days to visit my parents until the baby comes. I don’t like the thought of our house standing empty. So, if that would be all right with you, we sure would be grateful.” She squeezed Eliza’s hands before releasing them and moving back to her husband’s side.
Eliza felt a sob begin to choke her at the Tuckers’ kindness. She swallowed the lump. “Thank you. I appreciate the offer.” Tears clouded her vision.
From the corner of her eye, Eliza watched as a short man in a brown suit stepped away from the growing crowd of people steadily pouring from storefronts and homes. She was surprised when he called her name. “Eliza Kelly?”
She nodded, wondering who he could be and how he knew her. Eliza rubbed the tears from her eyes so she could see him more clearly.
He walked up to her with a big grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m Miles Thatcher.” He swept a dark brown derby-type hat with short red feathers sticking out of the band on the side off his head, revealing light brown, thinning hair.
Inwardly Eliza groaned. Her mail-order groom was the last complication she needed right now. She didn’t know what to say, and even if she did, Eliza knew she didn’t want to say anything in front of her friends and neighbors.
“I realize you’ve had quite a shock, but I’ve been waiting for you and I don’t plan on waiting any longer.” He stepped even closer. “Since we are to be wed, I would like to discuss a few matters with you.”
What he planned to do Eliza had no idea, but she felt Jackson move up to stand next to her. She welcomed his presence much like a freezing man welcomed a fur-lined coat.
His baritone voice stopped Miles Thatcher. “I’m afraid your business with Mrs. Kelly will have to wait, Mr. Thatcher.” Jackson crossed his arms over his wide chest as if daring the other man to press the issue.
She wanted to hug Jackson. Thankfully, he seemed to understand that Mr. Thatcher was the last person she wanted to deal with at this moment. Eliza dismissed the little man by turning her gaze back to Rebecca.
With the loss of her home and shop, Eliza felt as if the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders. The look in Rebecca’s eyes said she understood.
Rebecca took her hand and pulled slightly. “You’ve had quite a shock. Let’s go to my house for a hot cup of tea.”
The nasal voice of Miles Thatcher caused Eliza to pause. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Billings. Your wife has been most gracious in your absence.”
She turned around to see who he was speaking to. Eliza found him extending his hand out to Jackson and waiting for the other man to respond. Poor Mr. Hart, this was the second time in two days that he’d been mistaken for another man.
Jackson took the extended hand and gave it a firm shake. His voice carried a sharp edge to it. “I’m Jackson Hart. The marshal is still in Durango.” He released Miles’s hand.
A hard glint entered the scholar’s eyes. “It was my understanding that Mr. Billings would be escorting my future bride home. Isn’t that correct, Mrs. Billings?”
Eliza felt the change in Rebecca’s composure as the scholar turned his attention on her. Dislike seemed to radiate from her friend.
With her back straight and her shoulders squared, Rebecca’s voice hardened to match her accuser’s. “I can assure you, Mr. Thatcher, that is the truth as I knew it at the time. My husband’s plans must have changed.”
“I can see that,” he snarled back at her. His beady green eyes riveted back onto Jackson, reminding her of a snake about to strike out again. “What is going on here?”
Eliza sighed. She’d have to deal with Miles Thatcher now, but she didn’t want a public viewing of their situation. “Mr. Thatcher, if you would be so kind as to come with us to the Billingses’ home, we’ll explain everything.”
He stomped his foot and crossed his arms over his narrow chest much like Jackson had done a few moments earlier, only instead of looking like a force to be reckoned with, Miles Thatcher resembled an angry child. “I will not have this postponed, madam. I want to know who this man is and what he is to you.” His voice dripped poison.
The crowd around them gasped at the underlining implication. Eliza couldn’t believe her ears. Her gaze searched out Jackson’s. His blue eyes locked with hers. Then, without taking his gaze from Eliza, he stepped so close to Miles that their noses were almost touching. His jaw clenched as he answered the man. “I told you, my name is Jackson Hart. What I am or am not to this woman is none of your business.”
Eliza felt flames of embarrassment lick up her neck and into her face. She wanted to crawl into a hole and never return. Now the whole town was curious as to who he was and what his business was with her. She saw several of the older ladies standing off to one side. Their heads were together, and the whispering had commenced.
Miles’s thin face paled as if he’d just realized the danger he’d put himself in by confronting her in public. His shoulders squared and he lifted his head. In a steady voice he announced, “Mrs. Kelly, under the circumstances, I cannot marry a fallen woman.”
Chapter Four
If he lived to be a hundred, Jackson would never forget the gasps of surprise arising from the gathered group of people. He advanced on the little man once more. How dare he defile Eliza’s reputation in such a manner!
“Mr. Hart, wait.” Eliza’s cool voice stopped him in midstep. He looked at her face and saw rage in her molten-brown eyes.
He stepped away from the man when all he wanted to do was give him a good shake. Jackson watched in amazement as Eliza’s shoulders straightened, her chin came even farther up and she took a step toward Miles Thatcher.
“I’ll have you know, I have not now or ever planned on marrying you. I didn’t write those letters, and I am not obligated to stand behind any promises that might or might not have been made in them. Mr. Thatcher, I think your business here is done. I suggest you leave town the same way you arrived.” With that Eliza scooped up her skirt and walked away. Rebecca Billings trotted along after her.
Jackson glared at the little man with the beady eyes. “I suggest you do as the lady says,” he growled low in his throat.
Miles jumped back and lifted his head before turning around and walking away in the opposite direction.
He was thankful Eliza had mistaken him for the little man. Jackson had to wonder, if the circumstances had been different, would she have married Miles Thatcher? No, he didn’t believe she would have. He’d been proud of the way she’d stood up to her mail-order groom.
“Mr. Hart, please bring the wagon to the Billingses’.” Eliza called over her shoulder. Jackson nodded; he tried to ignore the soft quiver in her voice.
The rest of the crowd began to return to their shops and homes. He noticed an older group of women whispering to one another and heard the word shameful hissed by one of them as they left.
“Better do as Eliza says—she’s in a mood now.” Jackson recognized the man who spoke as the one who’d just offered his home to Eliza. He wore a leather apron, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up.
“I