Chapter 3

Jesse sneaked a good look at Miss Hermaning as he walked her toward the boardinghouse. While she wasn’t the kind of woman who made men swivel in their saddles for a second glance, she wasn’t unpleasant to the eye, the way Miss Estelle had described her. The words the reverend’s wife used were “plain” and “uncomely,” and at the time, Jesse assumed the older woman had been overly kind in describing her niece’s looks, as aunties were wont to do. So he’d expected hound-dog ugly, although even hounds were loveable.

And Jesse should know: Sarge was one of those hounds.

Besides, who wanted all the other men in town leering at his wife? Not Jesse, that was for sure.

However, Miss Hermaning was lovely, in a pure yet plucky way, and Jesse felt a niggling of attraction to her. Gray eyes sparked with telltale emotion, and her smile seemed to make an already sunny day that much brighter. And she had to have figured out her uncle’s scheme, at least in part, when she met the preacher minutes ago. Yet she’d shaken off her confusion or disappointment—or both—and made their walk through town downright pleasurable. A lighthearted woman who could laugh at adversity would be a blessing to any lawman.

Days ago, he’d asked God to show him if Reverend Hermaning’s idea had merit—and to show him straightaway if it did. Jesse now believed marrying Leah Hermaning was, indeed, God’s will, based on what he’d heard from the preacher about his niece and seen so far in Miss Hermaning.

Could a man really know so quick that he wanted to marry a woman he’d just met?

But the real question was whether Miss Hermaning would go along with her uncle’s plan. Jesse wouldn’t be able to bear it if she married him and was miserable the rest of her life.

But God knew that, too.

“Whoa, there, Jesse.” A man hailed him from across the street. “Hold up a minute.”

He turned toward the familiar voice he’d come to dread. “Luther Welton.”

The heavyset man, whom some folks called handsome, jogged from the saloon and stopped when he reached the boardwalk in front of Miss Hermaning. He carried a newspaper folded under his arm.

“Now, Jesse, you ol’ scoundrel, what’d you go and do, get one of them mail-order brides so you could win this election?” Welton eyed Miss Hermaning in a way that made Jesse clench his fist. “Ain’t you gonna introduce me?”

“First off, I am not a mail-order bride.” Miss Hermaning’s gray eyes were like sparking flints.

Jesse gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “Miss Leah Hermaning, please meet Luther Welton, owner of the land office and an investor in … other holdings about town.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.” Miss Hermaning gave Welton a dismissive glance and gazed down the street.

Welton grinned, revealing those large, white, even teeth of his that made him look like a wolf. And wouldn’t Jesse like to be the one to turn in that pelt! He’d even forego the five-dollar payment. “A pleasure, Miss … Hermaning, is it? Any relation to Reverend Hermaning?”

“I’m his niece.”

“Ah …” He snickered. “Well, don’t worry none. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Anger flashed in her eyes.

Jesse guided Miss Hermaning beside him so she no longer faced Welton. “Nice to see you, Luther. Have yourself a fine rest of the afternoon.”

“Likewise, Jesse.” He paused. “Miss Hermaning.”

She didn’t reply but gazed in the direction of the river.

Welton ambled back across the street to the saloon.

“Let’s get you settled, shall we?”

She looked up. “I’d appreciate it, Sheriff Waite.”

Jesse gave a nod. Admirable. She’d just met the town’s most notorious resident, and she didn’t seem traumatized.

Now, if she survived meeting Mrs. Rigley, all would be well … at least until she learned of her uncle’s plans to marry her off.

“Where do you live, Sheriff?”

“Near where the Powder and Yellowstone Rivers meet. You can see my homestead from here. It’s right next to that large cottonwood.” He pointed off toward the southeast.

“It’s a pleasant-looking house. Did you build it?”

“Sure did.” He couldn’t wait to show it off to her. If she became his wife, he’d want her to be happy in the house he’d built with his own hands.

“I can see you’re a gifted carpenter. I’m quite impressed.”

“Thank you.” Strange how the back of his neck heated up more from her kind words than from the afternoon sun.

They reached the boardinghouse and Jesse ascended the porch stairs ahead of Miss Hermaning. He rapped on the front door before extending his hand to assist her up the last step.

Within moments, Mrs. Rigley appeared. “Why, Jesse, what are you doing here?”

He slid off his hat. “Afternoon, ma’am. I’m here to introduce Miss Leah Hermaning, the reverend and Miss Estelle’s niece. I believe you’ve been expecting her.”

“So I have.” The older woman crossed her arms over her spindly chest. “Introduce her then.”

Jesse hurled up a silent prayer that the landlady would behave. “Miss Hermaning, this is Mrs. Rigley, the proprietress of the boardinghouse and a longtime family friend.”

Miss Hermaning stepped forward. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. My aunt wrote that you’re a devoted servant of the Lord.”

“God knows, I try my best.” The older woman patted the side of her head as if securing any wayward gray hair. She gave Jesse a frown. “Well, don’t just stand there. Bring the girl inside.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He should have known Mrs. Rigley would be as cantankerous as ever and twice as amusing.

“And wipe that silly grin off your face.”

He tried, unsuccessfully.

“I’ve been telling him to quit smiling since he was knee-high to a deer fly, for pity’s sake.” Mrs. Rigley gave her newest guest a once-over glance. “I never did see a man smile so much when there’s nothing out of the ordinary to smile about.”

This time Jesse chuckled. He couldn’t help himself. He cast a glance at Miss Hermaning and saw her battling a grin of her own.

Mrs. Rigley expelled an exasperated-sounding sigh. “Your room’s up this way, missy.” She pointed at the stairs. “Jesse, fetch her bags.”

“Warren Givens’ll be along with them shortly.”

“That no-good bum?”

At Miss Hermaning’s curious stare, Jesse shrugged. But on the way upstairs, he caught her arm. “Don’t let Mrs. Rigley fool you,” he whispered close to her ear. “She’s a sweet old lady underneath that weathered exterior.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she whispered back.

Then she smiled real sweetlike—not a syrupy simper, but something warm and genuine.

Jesse’s heartbeat quickened. And suddenly it felt awfully warm in this boardinghouse.

“Well, here you go,” Mrs. Rigley said when they reached the end of the hallway. “It’s nothing fancy, mind you, ’cause I ain’t charging the reverend for your room and board.”

Miss Hermaning took a step forward then halted in her tracks. “Mrs. Rigley, there’s no window. While this room is tidy, a person is liable to suffocate in here.”

Jesse cast a look inside. Mrs. Rigley had to be joking. This was the space she’d always kept as a utility room. Now, emptied of buckets, mops, brooms, wood scraps, and other miscellaneous items, only a single bed fit inside it.

“There’s no room for my trunk.”

Mrs. Rigley sniffed. “Put it under the bed.”

“Won’t work.” Jesse shook his head. “I moved that trunk, and I can tell you it’s too tall to fit under that bed.”

Mrs. Rigley settled her hands on her narrow hips and scowled until her eyebrows looked like one long, furry caterpillar. “This is the room I’m offering. Take it or leave it.”

Judging by Miss Hermaning’s horrified expression, she’d leave it. Her next words confirmed Jesse’s suspicions.

“I believe I’ll go on outside and wait for my things to arrive.” She hurried past them and down the stairs.

“You do that.” Mrs. Rigley had the nerve to appear insulted when she ought to be ashamed.

Jesse couldn’t recall feeling more disappointed in a person. He pointed at the offensive room. “You can’t put a guest—the reverend’s own niece—in a closet.”

“But she’s from a missionary family, and missionaries are supposed to stay humble.”

Jesse held back the retort on the tip of his tongue, and that only because she was his elder, a lady, and his late mother’s friend. Instead, he made for the door, following Leah. He found her out front on a shaded part of the boardwalk.

“I think I’ll wait to get settled until I speak with my aunt and uncle.” She kept her gaze averted. “Perhaps they might have different plans for me.”

Indeed they did.

“Miss Hermaning, please believe me when I say I had no idea Mrs. Rigley would behave so rudely. I know she’s tightfisted with the little money she has, but I wouldn’t have guessed she’d put you in a converted closet.”

“A closet? Is that what that was?” Miss Hermaning blinked those big gray eyes of hers as if trying to hold back tears. “I’m grateful that Mrs. Rigley is willing to give me a place to live. But the truth is I’d rather sleep on one of the benches under the church tree.”

“I think we can do better by you than that. We only arranged a room at the boardinghouse in case you—”

“In case I … what?”

“In case you … you objected to the other accommodations.” At his home. As his bride.

But he had to allow the reverend to explain. After all, Miss Hermaning was his niece.

“Other accommodations? Hmmm …” She glanced in the direction of his homestead. “I see.”

Yep, she’d figured it out.

Jesse drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That boxy-looking wagon up ahead, coming this way, is your uncle’s.”

“Good. It’ll be nice to see him again. We obviously have much to discuss.”

They sure did.

Jesse ran his finger along the inside of his collar. He’d been in on some tense meetings in his life, but he’d give his pa’s pearl-handled pistol if he could somehow skip out on this one. But he couldn’t. Miss Hermaning would be the one to decide this matter, and he was no closer to guessing how she’d answer than he was an hour ago.

Taking a step back, Jesse waited for the gavel to fall.