Missy Meets the Marshal (Lone Star Love Book 2) (6 page)

"How's this going to work, Grover? What's your plan?"

Chapter 5 - Grover's Plan

Grover knew his plan might be difficult to carry out, not to mention life-changing and potentially dangerous for the both of them. Among other things, it required help from a friend. He saddled his sorrel mustang and set out in the late afternoon for the Barnes' ranch. The day's heat and humidity brought a flush to his skin and caused his horse to break into a sweat, though the journey was no longer than two miles and he rode the mare at a walk.

"Hulloo, the house!" Grover called as he approached the cabin. He hoped to find both Carter and Carter's wife there.

He was in luck. Anna opened the door and walked to the porch holding her infant daughter. "Howdy, Marshal."

Anna Barnes was a strapping farmer's daughter who rose to the height of most men, but not her husband, who stood a few inches taller. Anna had a pragmatic, openhearted way about her. A person always knew where he stood with her, as she was utterly devoid of guile. She also showed disregard for consequence or danger, which was why Grover knew she'd be willing to help him. Her husband, however, was not so flippant about potential danger. Grover knew he'd have to convince him to allow her to help, and it promised to be anything but an easy task.

Carter followed Anna to the porch with their two-year-old boy toddling behind him, while his older son Paddy rushed to greet Grover as he dismounted his horse.

"Marshal, did you arrest any bad guys today?" Paddy asked.

"Not yet, son."

"I want to be your deputy when I grow up. Can I?"

Grover tied his mare to the hitching post, leaving enough slack for her to take a long drink of water from the trough next to it. "Deputy, you say? I might be dragged out by then. Maybe you should be marshal."

The boy's face broke into a wide smile. "You reckon? Will you teach me how to—"

Carter cleared his throat. "Patrick, give the man a minute to rest before you yammer his ear off. Come inside, Grover."

Grover followed Carter, Anna, and their three children into the cabin. He removed his hat and hung it on a hook next to the door. The cabin felt small and cluttered with five people living in it, but Grover could see that the family was happy, if a bit disorganized. Children's blocks and handmade carved animals laid piled in a corner on the hardware floor. The smell of freshly baked bread filled the room, and the sounds of children's cooing and fussing added a pleasant, homey feeling.

Carter settled in a wingback chair across from the sofa and motioned for Grover to sit down too. "What brings you out here, Grover?" He picked up his steaming pipe from the table next to the chair and puffed at it.

Grover sat on the sofa, and Paddy sat next to him and resumed chattering before he could answer Carter's question. "I'm learning how to whittle. Pa got me a knife and showed me how, but now I'm better than he is. I made all those animals." He pointed to the carved wood in the corner.

"Patrick, come here." Carter sounded exasperated.

Paddy sighed and trudged to his father, who frowned at him. "I said to stop talking the marshal's ear off, didn't I?"

"Yeah."

"And did you stop?"

"I guess not." Paddy sighed again.

"Why don't you go to the room for a bit and do some of your figures. You can come out in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, all right." The boy sauntered to the bedroom, his shoulders slumped.

Grover felt a bit sorry for the lad, though Carter hadn't been harsh. He knew his friend, and though the rancher didn't suffer much folly, he was as kindhearted as Anna when it came to his family.

"I'll make some coffee," Anna said. "Mind holding the baby, Grover?"

"Not at all."

Anna settled her daughter into his arms. The baby stared and him and made babbling noises while waving her tiny fists in the air. Anna smiled. "You're a natural, Marshal."

"Believe it or not, this is the second time today I've held a baby girl about this age. I've got a story for you both, which I trust won't leave this room. I need your help. Especially yours, Anna."

# # #

Anna and Carter stared at Grover with similar stunned expressions. Carter rubbed the back of his neck. "Let me get this straight. You want to marry a bank robber after forging papers that give her a new identity."

"I know it sounds crazy," Grover said.

"Crazy? It sure is that, but crazy isn't the first word I'd use. It's criminal. What spell has this woman cast on you?"

"Tell me you wouldn't have done the same for Anna," Grover countered. "Or Nalin," he added. Nalin was Carter's deceased first wife, Paddy's mother.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, Grover. It doesn't compare. Nalin wouldn't have broken the law. She feared it." A mournful affection crossed Carter's face briefly, as it always did when he spoke of Nalin. "Anna here, well," Carter glanced at her and smiled slightly, "Anna would worry about who would get hurt if she stole money from the bank. She'd think about the bankers' families."

Anna poured coffee into two mugs. "I think it's admirable, what the marshal wants to do. The poor girl sounds like she got stuck with the wrong man. She didn't end up with any of the money, so she's not a
real
bank robber." Anna handed Grover his mug of coffee and scooped her daughter out of his arms. "I want to help you, Grover. What do you need?"

"Hold it right there, missus," Carter said. "You're not getting involved in this."

Grover held up a hand. "Hear me out, Carter. I only want Anna's bible. Nothing else."

Anna cocked her head. "My bible? What for?"

"Do you have it? I'll show you." Grover took a sip of coffee.

She scrunched her eyebrows together. "I'm sure it's here somewhere. I'll put the baby to bed and look for it in the bedroom." She walked to the room carrying her daughter and returned holding the bible and leading Paddy.

"Has it been fifteen minutes, Pa?" Paddy asked, a hopeful look in his eyes.

Carter glanced at a clock on the wall opposite him. "Close enough, son. But find something to do out here that doesn't involve wobbling your jaw."

Anna handed Grover the dusty bible. He opened it to the first page and smiled. "This is perfect. See? I knew you were from Maryland, and your parents bought this for you when you were young, as good Christian parents do. It has a Maryland address printed on it."

Carter frowned at him. "So?"

"So I want Missy's story to be that she came as my mail-order bride from some other state. Maryland is as good a place as any. She can use this bible as proof. We can even draw out a fake family tree in the back pages like people do. Understand?"

Carter took a drink of the coffee Anna served him. "I understand your brain's been flogged to mush by a pretty piece of calico. That's what I understand."

"No it hasn't. It's a good idea," Anna said. "You can have my bible, Grover. Heaven knows I never read it."

"Anna," Carter said loudly, setting his mug down next to his pipe on the table. "You don't get to make decisions like this without your husband's permission."

Anna's cheeks took on a light pink color. "Don't bellow at me, Carter."

"I hardly bellowed at you. You haven't heard bellowing yet today, but I promise you will if I hear much more of this nonsense."

Grover observed them glaring at each other. He pulled at his collar, feeling warm and uncomfortable. "Look, I don't want to cause disharmony between you two. I won't take the bible if it's that much of an issue."

"No, Marshal. Take it," Anna said firmly. "Carter will come to agreement. Plus we owe you. Don't we, Carter?" She shot him a meaningful look.

That look referred to three years ago when Carter dragged one of his ranch hands to the marshal's jail. The man had attempted to rape Anna and lay into his son, and Carter whaled him to a bloody pulp. Anna convinced Carter not to kill him and instead do the right thing by handing him over to the law, but it was too late. Carter's beating left him with a head wound that killed him two days later.

Grover believed in the law, but he believed in two other things more strongly—common sense and his solid judge of character. It's what caused him not to charge Carter with excessive force, and it's what allowed his willingness to help Missy.

Carter leaned back in his chair and puffed his pipe with a thoughtful frown. "Is your name anywhere on that bible, Anna?"

"No. See for yourself. It can't be traced to me." Anna took the book from Grover and handed it to Carter.

Carter flipped through with both hands, his pipe in his mouth, and stopped on one of the back pages. Taking the pipe out to speak, he said, "What in the tarnation do you call this then, angel?" He held it up and pointed to large letters written crookedly in a child's unsteady hand—Anna Brown.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I don't remember writing that."

"I imagine not. Looks like you wrote it when you were younger than Paddy." He ripped out the page and crushed it in his hand. He closed the book and held it out to Anna. When she grasped on, he didn't let go, causing her to lift her eyes to meet his. "I'm not pleased with this arrangement," he said before releasing his hold on the bible.

"I'll try to endure your displeasure," she responded with an unconcerned lilt to her voice. She gave the bible back to Grover and grinned at him, appearing delighted that she'd won a battle with her husband.

Carter shook his head and said wearily, "Are you sure you want a wife, Grover? That might be the most addle-headed part of your whole plan."

As he asked the question, his younger son climbed onto his lap and Carter wrapped his arms around him. Anna turned her grin to Carter and let out an amused snort. He winked at her.

"Surer than ever," Grover said. "Thank you both. I know you'll like Missy and understand why I'm doing this when you meet her." He walked to where Paddy sat quietly by his whittled animals. He crouched down. "These are good, Paddy. Real good. Especially the horse. You did a bang-up job with that one."

Paddy's face lit up. He picked up the whittled horse and handed it to him. "You can have it, Marshal."

"That's dreadful generous of you, son. You sure?"

He nodded.

"Come see me at the jail next time you're in town, you hear? I want to know what else you've whittled by then."

Paddy agreed, a huge smile planted on his face. Grover tussled his hair and rose from his crouched position. Carter stood, positioned his toddler on his hip, and walked to Grover.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, Carter said, "You're going to be a real fine father to the little lass, my friend, and a real fine husband. Let me know if you need anything else in this plan of yours. I'll try to be as out-and-out agreeable as my wife next time."

The men shook hands. Grover rode back to town at a trot. He couldn't wait to get home and take the little bank robber into his arms. He'd make love to her, tenderly this time, and hold her all night long.

# # #

Missy and Grover thought out and composed a letter together. They enclosed it in an envelope addressed to Grover with a Maryland return address.

Dear Marshal Grover Huntley,

Thank you for your interest in acquiring a mail-order bride. I understand you heard about me via a mutual friend, Mark Evans, who experienced success using my matchmaking services. I received your information and photograph, as well as your payment, on January 4, 1895. 

Based on your desires and qualifications, I have chosen for you a lovely lady by the name of Melissa Jones. Recently widowed while with child, she seeks a good husband who will provide for her and her infant daughter. Although I understand most men seek virginal brides, I assure you of her virtuous character. I need not assure you of her beauty, since you will witness it when she hands you this letter.

I think you will find Melissa Jones pleasing in many respects. She has a winsome way about her, with light hair, and blue eyes. She is a bit thin, but this is because of her recent grief and misfortune. With some care, attention, and proper meals, she will blossom into a woman you will no doubt find highly desirable, if you don't already. She also has a talent for singing and cooking.

I'm new to the matchmaking business, but I boast a 100% success rate. Melissa Jones is the third woman I have selected as a mail-order bride for a citizen in the west. The previous two are settled and happy, as you no doubt heard from Mr. Evans. I hope you and Melissa will be very happy as well.

Thank you again for your inquiry and payment. Please write to me with an update after you are both settled.

With Warm Regards,

Mrs. Sadie Harris

Next Missy and Grover drew a simple family tree in the back of Anna's bible. They made up names for her husband, parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. Melissa Jones' name appeared near the bottom, orphaned and widowed with every other member marked deceased, except for her daughter, whose name appeared right below hers under the name Hannah Lou. They decided to keep Lou as a middle name in case Missy slipped and said her given name out loud by accident.

Missy's silver bird brooch served as one final proof of identity. With her permission, Grover etched into the back the letters L.W. to stand for Lydia Winters, Missy's mother's made-up name, which they'd written in the bible.

Grover ran a hand over his beard. "This ought to do it, darlin'. We'll show these to the preacher, only if he asks, to prove your identity. Then when we're married, you'll take the name Melissa Huntley, and the proof of your identity will be the marriage certificate."

Missy observed the three proofs on the kitchen table—the letter, bible, and brooch. "I hope it's enough," she said.

"It will be. It's more than many people have out here."

"I can't believe you're doing this for me. Why are you, Grover?"