“Sure, Pastor, I’ll just sit here in the front row. After all, I’m the witness, too.” He took Betsy out of John’s arms and then took the little boy’s hand after his mother set him down on the floor.
John’s frown deepened. He hated this! After his last marriage, he’d vowed never to marry again. Never to give some woman power over him. And he wasn’t including that vulnerability as a part of this marriage. He’d told Bill that.
He finally forced himself to look his new wife in the face. She had brown hair, pale skin, vulnerable gray eyes…
No! He stopped himself with a sharp command. Her looks didn’t matter. He was hiring her! That was how he was going to get through this day, by pretending he was hiring her for a job. Not to be his wife.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony,” Reverend Jackson began.
John pressed his lips together, trying to ignore all the wrong things about that statement that seemed to burn a hole in his gut. He felt deceitful—not easy for a man who’d lived an honest life till now.
Before he knew it, the pastor had spoken those terrible words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
John remembered what would naturally follow those words and he hurriedly said, “Uh, thanks, Reverend Jackson. We’ll definitely have you out for dinner after calving season.” Then he shoved a white envelope in the man’s hand and turned to Bill to get his little girl.
As he reached for Betsy, the shaggy-haired boy looked up at him. Shyly he asked, “Are you a cowboy?”
The question surprised him. He looked down at the blue suit he wore. He’d bought it three years ago when his father died. Not the best memory. He shut it down. “Yeah, I’m a cowboy.”
“Not now, Andy,” the woman whispered.
Turning to stare at her, John wondered what was so horrible that the little boy wanted to ask. He nodded at Bill. “You’ll get them back to the ranch? I’ll see you there.”
He ignored Bill’s protest as he walked out of the church, Betsy in his arms.
Debra watched the man walk away. He was a handsome man, in his late twenties, tall and muscular, with sea-blue eyes. The kind of man any young woman would dream of marrying. Unless she was wise enough to know that looks didn’t matter. Her own husband—her first husband, she reminded herself—had been handsome. But he hadn’t been much of a husband. Not that John Richey seemed so marriage-minded, either.
She whirled back around to glare at her uncle. “You told me he was happy with this arrangement. That he would be a father to Andy. That he appreciated what I was doing!” Those had been the assurances her uncle had given her in the foyer of the church. She knew her son needed a daddy, and it seemed she and John could help each other, as Bill had explained it.
“Now, Debbie, don’t get upset. Not in front of Andy,” Bill cautioned.
“You lied to me, Uncle Bill,” she said in a fierce whisper. “You lured me out here, where I have no way of getting back to Kansas City, and then you lied to me!”
“It’s not really like that, Debbie, I swear. He’s just angry at—at the idea of marrying again. After all, he’s a widower. He needs time, but he don’t have any ’cause it’s March and calving season is starting and we need someone to take care of Betsy and cook and clean for us. We’re out in the saddle almost fifteen hours a day. And that’s where you come in.”
Debra stared at her uncle as he drew a deep breath. “Then why didn’t he just hire me as his housekeeper?”
“’Cause he ain’t got no money, honey. He didn’t figure no one would work for him unless he could promise them something.”
“Uncle Bill, you conned me! If I could, I’d head home right now!”
“You’d take Andy back to that tiny apartment when you can go to a wonderful home? Where he can have a place to play and have you around all day? Come on, Debra! You’re a better mother than that. And think about that poor little baby girl, being raised by a couple of cowhands. We hardly know nothing about babies!”
“Oh, give it a rest, Uncle Bill. What’s done is done. Take me to my new home and outstanding future opportunity,” Debra said with a weary sigh.
Bill helped her and Andy back into his truck and continued on down the road, the small town long gone in the rearview mirror. “I really thought you and John could help each other out. He’s just so crazed about getting married, but he’ll settle down if you give him a little while.”
“What choice do I have?” she asked, not expecting an answer.
They rode in silence until Bill stopped the truck in front of a beautiful house. Debra stared at it in shock. Having been told that the man didn’t have money to pay a housekeeper, she’d expected a tiny log cabin she’d have to share with him and her uncle.
Instead, she was looking at a large, two-story farmhouse-style home with large windows and an inviting front porch. Shade trees along the property made it look welcoming and big enough to house a platoon of soldiers. This was to be her home?
Finally she turned to look at her uncle. “What— I expected— Is this a joke?”
“Only on John,” Bill said. When his niece continued to stare at him, he had to explain. “I think he married her too fast, without getting to know her.”
“How’d he meet his first wife?” Debra asked.
“At a rodeo in Cheyenne. His dad had just died. He was off balance, needing to be connected to someone. After they got married, she insisted on a new house, new car, jewelry, anything else she could think of. He was in love and he tried to give her everything he could. Especially when he found out she was pregnant.”
In a whisper, Debra muttered, “And then she died.”
“Not before she ran away with a man who promised to make her a star in Hollywood. She left her two-month-old baby behind without a thought.” Bill couldn’t keep the anger from his voice. “We got in that evening to hear Betsy bawling. She was wet and hungry. We didn’t know what had happened. John almost went crazy until the state highway patrol called.”
Debra stared at him in horror.
“Yeah,” Bill agreed. “John just about went to pieces. He would have if it hadn’t been for Betsy. She needed him.”
“I see,” Debra said slowly. “John and I have more in common than I’d first thought.” Her husband of two months, who’d married her because she was pregnant, even though she was still in high school, gave up his marriage and his job before she got out of high school. His new job choice was drug dealing. He was dead within two weeks.
Bill put a callused hand on hers. “I know. Come on inside.”
Inside, the house lived up to its exterior beauty. Almost. Not that there was anything wrong with the inside that a little cleaning wouldn’t improve. Debra stared at the family room furnished with three leather couches in a U-shape around a massive stone fireplace. The area was larger than her mother’s entire apartment had been.
John came walking into the room from the hallway, holding a piece of paper out to her. “Here’s Betsy’s schedule. You may choose any of the upstairs bedrooms you want, but stay out of the one down here. It’s mine. Dinner should be sometime between seven and eight. There will be four of us at the table in addition to you and the children.” He pointed to the rear of the house. “The laundry room is in that direction. Anything you can do there will be appreciated.” His voice was calm but challenging, as if he thought she wouldn’t be able to do all he asked.
“John—” Bill began, but John didn’t wait.
“I’ll see you in the barn, Bill,” he said and walked out the door.
Debra