The Cowboy Meets His Match Read online

  Emily’s jaw dropped, and her eyes rounded. She’d heard of cattle stampedes, of course, but had never witnessed one. Even her wedding veil couldn’t keep the dust from clogging her mouth and stinging her eyes. Unable to see or even breathe, she squeezed her eyes shut and clung to the railing until her fingers ached.

  Someone grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back into the courthouse. Grateful for the relatively clean air, she gasped, and her chest heaved. The reprieve lasted for only as long as it took for her vision to clear. The first thing that greeted her startled eyes was the shotgun the man held at his side.

  Her horrified gaze traveled upward to the gun owner’s face. It was the older man with the mustache.

  “I’m here on behalf of my nephew,” he said. It was necessary for him to shout to be heard over the thundering hooves. “I’m hoping you’ll reconsider and wed him as promised.” When she failed to respond, he continued. “Given your, shall we say, dire circumstances? It would be to your advantage to go through with the wedding.”

  Emily’s breath caught in her chest, and her stays pinched her ribs. Was that a threat? And if so, how did this man know of her difficult situation? She’d not written a word in her letters about her true circumstances or why it was necessary to leave Boston.

  Aware suddenly that he still cupped her elbow, she pulled her arm away. “He doesn’t want to marry me.”

  He held a ring-laden hand to his ear. “What?”

  Lifting her voice over the commotion outside, she repeated herself. “He doesn’t want to marry me.”

  “Ah, so that’s the problem. You overheard our…discussion.” Shifting the shotgun to his left hand, he took her by the arm and steered her down the hall. She tried pulling away, but that only made him tighten his hold. “Trust me, my nephew didn’t mean what he said. When it appeared that you wouldn’t show, he was just trying…”

  “What?” She could hardly hear for the turmoil outside.

  He stopped and released his hold on her. “I said, my nephew was trying to save face,” he repeated, his voice louder this time. “A man doesn’t like to be jilted by his bride. But I do believe marriage is best. For you, especially.”

  His meaningful look gave her pause. It certainly sounded like a threat. And if so, then he wasn’t bluffing; he knew her true identity. But how?

  Outside, the cattle kept running; their pounding hooves echoed the hammering of her heart. She dragged air into her mouth and tried to breathe.

  Apparently taking her silence for consent, he crooked his right elbow. His demeanor suggested he’d made some sort of conquest. “Shall we?”

  Feeling trapped both physically and emotionally, Emily hesitated.

  “You won’t be sorry,” he coaxed.

  She was already sorry, but there didn’t appear to be much she could do about it. Alone in a strange town with hardly a dime to her name, she didn’t have much in the way of options. She only hoped that the man’s nephew was as kind as his letters suggested.

  With more than a little anxiety, she slipped her arm through the offered elbow, and together, they walked to the judge’s chambers.

  Neither the groom nor the judge appeared to hear them enter the room. Instead, their attention remained riveted on the mass confusion outside the courthouse window.

  The uncle tapped the floor with his shotgun to get their attention. “Let’s get this wedding over with.” His deep voice barely penetrated the clamor that seemed even louder in this room than in the hall.

  Both men turned. The man she was here to marry stared at her with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked.

  Emily opened her mouth to say something, but the older man by her side answered for her. “She’s sure.” He shot her a warning look, as if daring her to disagree.

  The judge shook his head. “No time,” he said with a glance at his pocket watch.

  “There’s time,” the uncle insisted. “Traffic is blocked. No one can leave or enter town. The next wedding party has been delayed.” His eyes gleamed with triumph. “It seems that providence has intervened on our behalf.”

  The judge shrugged. “All right then.” He raised his voice. “Let’s get on with it.” Turning, he opened the room’s second door and made a motion with his hand. A thin, pasty-faced man entered the room and was introduced as the court clerk.

  “Now that we have our second witness, I believe we’re ready.” The judge pointed to where he wanted the bride and groom to stand.

  Glancing through her thick veil at the man she was about to marry, Emily balked. Sympathetic eyes met hers, and he extended his hand, revealing the same kind nature shown in his letters. “Shall we?” he mouthed.

  Swallowing hard, she placed her hand in his, and he tightened his grip. He was quite tall, and she barely came up to his shoulders. Unlike the other two men in the room, he was clean-shaven, and she caught the pleasant smell of bay-rum aftershave. His hair was trimmed neatly and fell short of his collar.

  Appearance-wise, he was everything she could hope for in a husband. That alone was a surprise. She tried to equate this man with his letters and couldn’t. He’d written he wasn’t much to look at, and that had turned out to be anything but true.

  The modesty he’d shown on paper hardly seemed to match the strong, confident man leading her across the room. Skin bronzed by the sun and wind and blue eyes brimming with intelligence, he flashed her a reassuring smile.

  This man could probably have any woman he wanted. How odd that he would turn to a marriage broker to find a wife! Matrimonial ads were for the desperate, like her, or the lonely, and it was hard to imagine this man being either.

  He drew her to the place in front of the judge and released her hand. “It’ll be all right,” he said, speaking directly into her ear. His breath sent warm shivers down her neck.

  Despite his reassurances, it was hardly the kind of wedding day she’d envisioned, and it wasn’t only because of the stranger by her side. Thanks to the ongoing stampede, the building shook with worrisome creaks. The windows rattled like old bones, and the floorboards trembled beneath her feet. She gave the swinging gaslight a nervous glance before turning her attention to the judge.

  The noise from the cattle all but drowned out the judge’s voice, and she could hardly hear what he said. She glanced over her shoulder at the uncle standing behind them. He held his shotgun ready, as if to bar the door should she try to escape.

  Mouth dry, she looked away and tried to make out the judge’s muffled words.

  Only when he looked directly at her did she whisper, “I do.”

  After they’d exchanged vows, the groom slipped a plain gold band around her ring finger. It felt like a shackle.

  The noise outside gradually died down. The building stopped shaking just in time for the judge to make the final declaration. “By the authority granted me by the state of Texas, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

  With a look of uncertainty, the groom turned to her, and she stiffened.

  He reached for her veil, and her heart jolted against her ribs. Oh no! He was going to kiss her. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about the physical side of marriage, but now that it crossed her mind, she began to panic and pulled back.

  The groom dropped his hands to his sides. Tilting his head with an apologetic look, he accepted her rejection without comment.

  Meanwhile, seated at his desk, the judge handed the groom a pen. He dipped the nib into a bottle of ink and scribbled broad strokes on the page before handing the pen to her.

  Accepting the offered pen from the man who, in the eyes of the law, was now her husband, Emily fought to hold her hand steady as she signed her name. She then handed the pen to the clerk, who scribbled his name beneath hers and then moved aside so the uncle could sign.

  Just as the judge finished signing
the registry, the door flung open, and a second bride entered the room.

  The heads of three small children peered from behind her white calico skirt.

  “Sorry I’m late,” the newcomer said, sounding breathless as if she’d been running. “I couldn’t find Bobby’s shoes, and by the time we found them, the driver had already left the hotel, and the stampede—” Her gaze lit on the shotgun pointed straight at her, and she stopped talking with a gasp.

  Muttering a curse, Emily’s new husband slapped at the muzzle. “Put that thing away,” he snarled angrily. He waited for his uncle to lower the gun before apologizing. “Sorry about that,” he said. “He thought you were someone else.”

  Lifting her young son in her arms, the woman’s gaze swept the room. Her eyes bored into Emily before finally lighting on the groom. “Chase? What…what is the meaning of this?”

  Emily frowned. Who was this woman, and why was she calling Jake Chase? She felt her new husband stiffen by her side.

  “Cassie? Cassie Decker. Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me,” the woman said, removing her veil with her one free hand. She then pointed a finger at Emily. “Who is that?”

  The groom whirled about to face Emily, his face grim. “That’s what I want to know. Who in blazes are you?”

  His voice made Emily flinch, and her mind scrambled in confusion. How could he ask that question of her after they had just exchanged vows? “I’m…” She lifted her veil. “I’m your wife.”

  The groom stared at her with a blank expression, and for several moments, no one uttered a sound. “Your name?” he grated out at last. “Your name.”

  Confused, Emily stared at him, not knowing what he asked of her. “I’m Mrs.—”

  “Your maiden name!”

  “Emily…Emily Rose.” She had dropped her real name, Fields, and used her middle name instead—a precautionary measure. She doubted that anyone in Texas would recognize the name Fields, but she didn’t dare take chances.

  The groom reared back to glance at the registry she’d signed as if to check the legitimacy of her claim.

  A sick feeling washed over her. “Y-you’re not Mr. Garvey? Mr. Jake Garvey?” she stammered.

  A dark look crossed his face. “I’m Chase McKnight, and I was supposed to wed Mrs. Decker here.” He tossed a nod at the other bride, who stood clutching her son and gaping at Emily with an openmouthed stare.

  The uncle pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his forehead. “Oh boy.”

  McKnight’s eyes bored into Emily. “How do you know Garvey?”

  Before she could explain, another man rushed into the chamber. “Sorry I’m late.” He brushed the dust off his trousers and shirt. Unlike the other four men in the room, the newcomer was casually dressed in black trousers, plaid shirt, and vest.

  “Those blasted cattle…” Clamping his mouth shut, the man stared at the uncle’s raised shotgun. “What’s going on?” His gaze swung between the two brides. “I’m looking for Miss Emily Rose from Boston.”

  The full impact of what had happened finally sank in, and Emily felt her knees threaten to buckle. “I-I’m Emily R-Rose.” Or at least she was until a few minutes ago.

  “Well now,” the newcomer said, his face bright with approval. He hung his thumbs from his suspenders and added, “I’m Jake Garvey, and I reckon a man couldn’t ask for a purtier bride.” Grinning, he glanced at the others. “I’m a lucky man!”

  Struck speechless, Emily covered her mouth with both hands and stared over her fingertips with horror-filled eyes.

  A druggist by trade, Mr. Garvey’s face lacked McKnight’s rugged countenance. His arms appeared to be too long, his face too narrow, his clothes ill-fitting. But what he lacked in appearance, he more than made up for in eagerness.

  No one seemed to know what to say, and a stunned silence filled the room.

  At last, the judge cleared his throat. “I’m afraid there’s been what you might call a bit of a hitch.”

  The druggist afforded the judge a questioning look. “What kind of a hitch?”

  With a toss of her head, Mrs. Decker set her son down. “That’s what I want to know.”

  The judge shot the widow a look of apology. “Well, it’s like this.” He eased his hefty bulk into his groaning chair. “The lady—Miss Rose here—is already spoken for.”

  The druggist cast a look in Emily’s direction before turning back to the judge. “What do you mean, ‘spoken for’?”

  McKnight answered for the judge, his voice rough. “He means she’s married to me.”

  Mrs. Decker’s face turned the same creamy white as her dress. “You…you’re already married?” she asked, her voice hollow with disbelief.

  Looking like he’d been shot, the druggist reared back. “Whoa, now. That can’t be right. Miss Rose here sent me a letter agreeing to be my wife.”

  Everyone started talking at once. Emily stared in bewilderment at the angry faces around her. Even the judge jumped into the fray, vehemently denying any wrongdoing. Clutching at their mother’s skirts, the wide-eyed children stared at the battling adults, the youngest with his thumb in his mouth.

  Mrs. Decker shot an angry glance at Chase. “How could you make such a mistake?”

  “That’s what I want to know,” Garvey said, looking to Emily for an answer.

  Wringing her hands, Emily shook her head. “I-I thought you were him.”

  Mrs. Decker scoffed. “That’s a likely story. They don’t even look alike.”

  Emily and Chase took turns trying to explain how such a mistake had happened, but their words fell on deaf ears. Neither Mrs. Decker nor the man Emily was supposed to have married could be placated.

  Hands at her waist, Mrs. Decker glared at Chase McKnight. “If you didn’t want to marry me, why didn’t you just say so?” Scooting her children out the door, she left in a huff, with Mr. Garvey close behind.

  Chase started for the door, but his uncle waylaid him. “Let her go. She’s too upset to hear anything you have to say. Wait till she’s had time to calm down.”

  Chase hesitated for a moment before giving a reluctant nod. Jaw clenched, he spun around and slammed his fist on the judge’s desk. “Fix this!”

  Emily turned toward the desk, hoping for a speedy solution to their problem, but her hopes were dashed the moment she set eyes on the judge.

  Looking befuddled, he ran a finger inside his collar and grimaced. “Well, I…”

  Chase’s uncle shook his head. “There’s no time. Your stepbrother—”

  “I don’t care,” Chase seethed. “I want this fixed! Now!”

  With a glance at the clerk, the judge drew a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at his sweaty forehead. Replacing the handkerchief, he cleared his throat. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time something like this has happened.” The judge’s hollow laugh was met with scowls. Growing serious, he reached for a leather-bound book and thumbed through the pages.

  “Ah, here we are,” he said, sounding relieved. “Annulment.” Adjusting his spectacles, he quickly scanned the page. “This should only take a few minutes. You just have to answer a few questions.” Finger holding his spot, he looked up and asked in all seriousness, “Why do you want an annulment?”

  Chase reared back. “Why? Because I married the wrong woman, that’s why!”

  “Yes, yes, yes, I know that.” The judge stabbed the page with his finger. “But that’s not listed here as legitimate grounds for annulment.”

  The uncle jabbed the muzzle of his shotgun on the floor and placed both hands on the butt. “What are legitimate grounds?”

  The judge’s finger moved down the page. “Bigamy, for one.” He looked up. “Are either of you married?”

  “Yes, we’re married,” Chase said, his voice thick with impatience. “To each other!”

&n
bsp; The uncle stared straight at Emily. “I think he’s asking if either one of you is married to someone else.”

  Emily’s eyes flashed him a look of disdain. If it wasn’t for him and his veiled threats, neither she nor Chase would be in this predicament. “I’m not married. Or at least I wasn’t until a few minutes ago.”

  The judge checked the book again. “Okay, forget that. Are either of you underage?” The judge had directed the question to her.

  “I’m twenty-two,” Emily said.

  “Twenty-six,” Chase said.

  The judge’s finger moved down the page again. “Are either of you related to the other?”

  Chase shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  The judge peered at them over the frame of his spectacles. “Are either of you”—he cleared his throat—“unable to consummate the marriage?”

  Emily’s face flared, and Chase threw up his hands. “This is getting us nowhere.”

  The judge held up the palm of a hand. “Now hold on. There’s more.” He glanced at the uncle’s shotgun. “Were either of you coerced into the marriage?”

  Emily felt a flicker of hope, but before she had a chance to answer in the affirmative, the door flew open. A man stormed into the chambers with a bride in tow, and he looked fit to be tied.

  The uncle stepped in front of the new arrivals, his shotgun raised in a threatening pose. The newly arrived bride gasped and fell back.

  “Sorry, Royce,” the uncle said. “You’re too late. The will said the first one married will have full ownership of the ranch.” He tossed a nod at Emily. “Meet Mrs. Chase McKnight, your new sister-in-law.”

  3

  Chase guided the horse and wagon slowly through town. Though the cattle had been somewhat contained, thick clouds of dust still hung in the air like heavy fog. The dust blocked what little daylight was left and stung the eyes.

  He felt bad, real bad. Felt bad for the widow, Mrs. Decker, and her three children. He’d never meant to let them down. But he also felt bad for Garvey, who had arrived at the courthouse expecting to wed. Chase felt especially sorry for the stoic figure by his side, his accidental bride.