The Widower's Wife (4 page)

“Let me go! What are you doing?” Jillian attempted to pull her hand out of his firm grip.

“Miss, I . . . uh, I think we need to talk,” the man said, trying to get her to wait.

“We most certainly do not! Now let me go before I scream for help.”

Dalton had no choice but to let go. The young woman darted across the station just as the stranger in the plaid suit moved away from the ticket counter.

All of a sudden, it dawned on him why she had been so anxious and irritated when he had not handed over her handkerchief more quickly.
No
, Dalton thought.
She couldn’t possibly think . . . but she must!
It all made sense now, even all the panicked glances over her shoulder.

Dalton tried to keep a straight face.
Don’t laugh
, he told himself. After all, it was apparent that the poor young woman was having an emotional time, which was probably his fault. He couldn’t suppress a grin, however. He tried to stop her to explain who he was, but she wouldn’t listen. So Dalton decided to wait and see how the scene before him played out.

Dalton really couldn’t hold in a chortle as Miss Grey rushed to the balding man in the horrible plaid suit, practically waving her handkerchief in front of her. He still couldn’t believe that she thought this man could be him. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, but after a couple minutes had passed, he saw her wave her hankie again, a little more obviously this time, while still trying to be somewhat discreet.

Just then, Dalton felt someone tapping him on the shoulder. He turned to see an elderly man, roughly in his early sixties, standing behind him.

“Pardon me, sir, but my wife just got in on the afternoon train from a visit with her sister in Chicago. I’m always telling her when she travels, ‘Now dear, you know you’ll only be gone a few days, so pack only what you need.’ ” He grinned and shook his head. “They never listen. I wouldn’t be surprised to find she’s packed half of the house in that trunk.”

Dalton looked across the station at the frail woman who was obviously the wife of this man. She was looking very chagrined. Surely she must suspect what her husband was saying. They appeared to be a sweet old couple, and he had always imagined that he and Laurellyn would look that way one day, growing old together. The little old man grinned again, boasting an almost toothless smile, and looked up at him hopefully. Dalton couldn’t help thinking to himself that with any luck, he’d have a few more teeth when he reached that age.

He smiled at the couple. He understood what the old man was asking. Certainly it wouldn’t do any harm to help him—it wouldn’t take but a minute or two. Things seemed to be well in hand with Miss Grey and his substitute over at the platform lobby, although he would be sad to miss out on anything interesting. She would figure out her mistake eventually. As he grinned again, Dalton realized that he had smiled more since arriving at the train station today than he had in a very long time. Not wanting to miss anything, Dalton hurried over to the old woman’s trunk, picked it up with almost no effort, and walked out the side door of the station to the old man’s waiting wagon.

Jillian hurried across the lobby before the man in the awful plaid suit could reach the door. She held her handkerchief in front of her where it could not be missed.

“Excuse me, sir.” Still a little out of breath from her mad dash across the platform to the lobby, she willed her voice to sound normal. “Were you looking for someone?”

The man looked startled at first, surprised that she had spoken to him, but then a satisfying smile slowing crossed his face. “Well now, I don’t know. Were you looking for someone?”

Charles Richard Fitzgerald III, or Chuckles, as everyone down at the saloon usually called him, couldn’t believe his luck. He had come to the station to fetch his brother. He had left a perfectly good game of cards to do it too, only to find that Jimmy had missed his connection in Chicago. The ticket clerk had had a telegram waiting for him at the booth.

That blasted brother of mine
, Chuckles thought. He probably decided to pass the time in a nearby saloon and got drunk and passed out. Chuckles was willing to bet that was exactly what had happened, and Chuckles knew when a bet was good. He’d sure had a run of good luck lately. Even now, this fine-looking woman was talking to him. Maybe the long trip to the station had been worth it after all.

Jillian was puzzled by his reply at first. Maybe he was just being cautious. She thought maybe she ought to play it safe too. She gave the handkerchief another little wave in front of him to jog his memory. He looked at it, but didn’t said anything. She thought maybe she ought to try a different approach.

“Were you expecting anyone in on the train from Chicago?” Jillian asked.

“Yep,” he replied. He grinned a little wider as his eyes traveled slowly over her.

What is wrong with the men in this town?
Getting a little angry and irritated, Jillian remembered how the handsome stranger had taken her in with his eyes in much the same way, just moments earlier.
Well no
, she admitted to herself,
that man definitely did not have the same look of hunger in his eyes as this man does
. She realized that the handsome stranger hadn’t made her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Turning back to the balding man, she tried one more time for some sort of recognition. She was starting to feel uneasy.

“Well, who were you waiting for?” She was getting bold and she knew it, but frankly she was tired being ogled, tired of all these games, and especially tired of being in this train station!

“If I told you I had been waiting for you, could I take you home with me?” He reached out to grab a hold of her and missed, just as she realized her terrible mistake. She had no idea who he was, but one thing she knew for sure: This man was not the Dalton McCullough who had written those tender letters. What had she’d been thinking?

Now that the man in the plaid suit was standing closer to her, Jillian could smell the alcohol on his breath. He reached out to grab her again, got a good hold on her arm, and started moving her toward the door.

“Come on, little lady. I’ll find you a nice warm bed to sleep in tonight.”

“Let go of me, you horrible man!” Jillian felt hot tears start to burn her cheeks, and her knees weakened as fear coursed through her body, causing her to tremble.

“Oh, so now I’m horrible, am I? I seen you watching me since I came into the station. You think I didn’t notice all them glances you were givin’ me? I wasn’t sure what you was all about, especially while you were standin’ over there with that other feller. I reckon he wasn’t so interested in your proposition. I figure that’s why you come over a rushin’ after me so quickly.”

Jillian gasped. This new revelation only caused her to shake more uncontrollably than before.
He thinks I’m a—
She couldn’t even finish the thought. What kind of awful place was this? Did she look to be that sort of woman?

Chuckles didn’t like the look on the woman’s face. Not only was she crying, but she was starting to shake something terrible, not to mention she had turned as pale as buttermilk.

He didn’t want no trouble. He had misread her intentions was all. She obviously needed help from someone and it wasn’t gonna be him. He was gettin’ outta there fast and back to the saloon. Suddenly, Chuckles needed a drink, and he needed it badly.

Outside the station, the old man and woman thanked Dalton profusely. He smiled as he wondered how on earth they would ever get that trunk inside the house when they got home. He shook his head at the thought and hurried back to the platform.

Immediately, Dalton sensed something had gone terribly wrong in his absence. Jillian was crying and shaking uncontrollably. Her face had lost all color, and he could see she was in danger of fainting before too long, but apparently that wasn’t the only danger she was facing. The balding man in the plaid suit had grabbed hold of her arm and appeared to be dragging her toward the station door. Dalton’s anger took control, and he crossed the platform and was in the lobby in mere seconds. How dare he handle a woman in such a manner! And this was not just any woman; she was going to be his wife and mother to his children. The awful man would most certainly deserve the blow he would give him.

The room had just started to spin when Jillian thought she saw someone come up next to her and hit the horrible man in the face. Her knees finally buckled under her, and she felt herself falling. As she began to lose consciousness, she felt a pair of strong arms catch her. At the same time, she hit something hard and felt a maddening pain coursing through her head. A second later, everything went black.

As soon as Dalton had made contact with the man’s face, he saw Jillian begin to fall. In one swift move, he caught her up in his arms, but not in time to prevent her head from hitting the wall directly behind her. Cringing at the sound, he quickly carried her over to one of the benches that lined the walls of the station and laid her down. He couldn’t believe he had been laughing at her only minutes before. What had happened in the few moments he had stepped outside?

This was his fault. He shouldn’t have let this happen. He should have insisted she talk to him and not have let her go to converse with that depraved man. What a way to start out their new life together. He hoped it was not a bad omen.

Dalton felt a rush of relief run through him when he saw Miss Grey finally begin to stir. She had been out for almost twenty minutes, and he was beginning to seriously worry. One of the railway attendants had gone to fetch the sheriff, who arrived shortly after Dalton had knocked Chuckles out. Dalton wanted to take her to see the doctor, but the sheriff informed him that the doctor was out of town for the day. Dalton prayed her head injury wasn’t serious. He felt the small bump on the back of her head and then looked down at the finger-sized bruises he could already see beginning to appear on the delicate ivory skin of her left arm.

Dalton felt anger rise in him once more. He knew she would recover from the physical injuries, but it was the emotional injuries that worried him most. Again he felt a great pang of guilt pass through him.

The sheriff had asked Dalton to come with him to the jailhouse to report what he had witnessed of the incident, but Dalton refused to leave Jillian’s side. It was because of him that she lay there unconscious. He wouldn’t leave her unattended again. Apparently though, according to the sheriff, there was some confusion as to who was truly at fault. He couldn’t hide his disgust. How could anyone believe that this innocent woman could have possibly been the cause of any of the atrocities that had occurred here?

Both Chuckles and Jillian were unconscious and therefore unable to explain their sides of the story. Dalton had told the sheriff what he had witnessed. He thought the incident had been pretty clear, but as the sheriff had been making ready to leave, the ticket clerk, of all people, had called the sheriff over to his window and recounted an unbelievably different story. Something about how Miss Grey seemed mentally disturbed and how Chuckles was trying to help.

“Then that man there,” the clerk said, pointing at Dalton, “barreled in the side door of the station, rushed into the lobby, and knocked Chuckles out cold. Next thing I know, that woman fainted and hit her head. Very convenient if you ask me.”

Nobody asked you
, Dalton thought, fighting to control his rising temper.

When the sheriff walked back over to Miss Grey to check on her one last time before he left, Dalton took a moment to speak to him. He explained who Miss Grey was, why she was here, and about how his tardiness had caused so much confusion. Just then, Chuckles started to come around, and the sheriff informed him that he would take Mr. Fitzgerald over to the jailhouse until they could sort everything out.

“As soon as the missus comes around and is able to get about,” the sheriff said, “I’ll be wantin’ ya to come on over to my office to be makin’ sure I got all yer stories straight. I’m sure I’ll have gotten Chuckles’s side by then.” Dalton stood up and started to protest, but the sheriff shook his head. “Now don’t go gettin’ them feathers all ruffled up again, boy. I believe what you been tellin’ me. Chuckles ain’t been no stranger down at the jailhouse over the years.” This did not surprise Dalton. “I ain’t daft in the head. I can see this woman is a genuine lady, as plain as day. Now it’s just a formality, ya see, because of that other witness. I won’t even be makin’ ya bring her inside with ya. She can wait out in yer wagon. Don’t want the sight of old Chuckles causin’ her to faint again in my jailhouse. You just come on in, look over what I wrote down ’bout what you’ve been tellin’ me happened here today, and sign it fer the both of ya. If the story you’ve been tellin’ me is true, you’ll shortly be man and wife anyhow, so I don’t mind ya signing fer the lady.”

The sheriff paused for a moment and scratched at the side of his head. “Though I can’t figure it, I ain’t never seen no mail-order bride lookin’ as good as that one there. Shoot, if I weren’t already married, I might be signin’ up fer one of them gals real quick-like m’self!” He grinned and gave Dalton a wink. “Though I suspect you’re just one heck of a lucky guy. Bet they only come that good lookin’ one in a million.” He chuckled a bit to himself and then added, “Bet you’re relieved, though. I never figured how any man could go sending off fer some woman, promisin’ to marry her afore he ever even got a good look at her. I’d be offering up some extra prayers of thanks tonight if I was you, boy.”