Bride For Marshall Read online

  “Mine too,” Marshall agreed, grinning at the little girl, who then ran off to the ‘fort’ he’d set up for the girls.

  His smile turned into a frown when Callie handed him a paper-thin slice. He glanced up at her, ready to ask for a bigger one, but her stern expression and raised eyebrow stopped him cold. He had no idea why the woman might be mad at him, but she clearly was.

  He shot Colleen a quick glance. Her gaze flitted away as soon as his lit on her. And it wasn’t the first time that night. Of course, he’d been avoiding looking directly at her too. Ever since she’d professed her love for him, Marshall had been on pins and needles, just waiting for everyone to go home so they could discuss what had happened.

  He’d spent the last few days planning the perfect moment to confess his own love for her. He’d wanted to wait until after the dinner party, when everyone had left and they were cleaning up. She would be washing dishes and he would be drying, as had become their routine. The moment she passed the last dish to him, he would tell her exactly how he felt. That he loved her more than he’d ever thought it was possible to love anyone. She’d drop the dish, he’d catch it just before it smashed to smithereens, and then they’d spent the rest of the night showing each other just how much they loved one another.

  Then she’d gone and blurted it out seconds before their guests had arrived. He’d been so profoundly surprised by her confession, he’d become flustered. She’d stolen his glory! After all, wasn’t it the man’s job to say it first? Not for the first time, Marshall realized he had no real frame of reference for this belief, but it just seemed right.

  All evening he’d suffered through inane chit-chat when all he’d wanted to do was to shoo everyone out the door so he could have Colleen all to himself. As the night had progressed, the more antsy he’d grown. At that moment, he was barely holding onto his sanity.

  “It’s really only a matter of time before they try to hit us,” Peter said through a big mouthful of cake.

  Marshall would be lucky if the thin slice he’d received would make an entire mouthful.

  “Surely, the train robbers wouldn’t be so foolish to go up against you four,” Madelyn said, her eyes wide and full of admiration for her husband, Bert.

  “You’d think,” Bert replied, “but from all reports, these fellas are bold. They probably think they’re smarter than us.”

  “Well, I may not know much about what’s going on,” Ida said, her tone practical, “but they really would be fools to test you. From what I’ve seen, you’re all too dedicated and disciplined to fall for any nonsense.”

  “Why, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Andrew said, giving his wife a little wink.

  Marshall envied the intimacy the other couples had developed. Casual touches, little glances filled with meaning, private smiles. Colleen didn’t need to say a word for him to know she wanted that as well. Having all the couples together in one place reinforced how inadequate he was as a husband. But as much as he wanted to give her everything she longed for, physical displays of affection didn’t come naturally for him.

  Especially when the object of said affection was so clearly upset for some reason. She’d barely even touched her cake. Her big slab of cake. Still, he felt as if he should at least try being playful.

  He turned to face Colleen and pointed his fork at her plate. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to eat all of that?”

  All movement at the table ceased and every eye turned toward him. Even the girls playing dolls in front of the fire stopped and looked his way. Colleen’s mouth hung open for a moment, then it snapped shut into a tight, thin, angry line. Her eyes went from shocked to hurt to angrier than he’d ever seen.

  Uh oh.

  Realizing everyone thought he’d just made a comment on his wife’s weight, he quickly backtracked. “I just meant—“

  “Would you look at the time?” Andrew said, tugging a bemused Ida upright in his rush to leave. “Come on, Lily. It’s time to go.”

  “But I haven’t finished—“ the girl started to protest, but Ida bustled over to get her ready to leave.

  The others took their cue from Andrew and Ida, all standing and shuffling around awkwardly. His friends all exchanged pitying glances with Marshall, but he still didn’t really understand why.

  “You don’t have to go just yet,” he said, a touch of panic glinting off his words. Moments earlier, he’d been frantic for them to leave. Now he wanted their protection from his diminutive bride.

  “It’s getting late and we have to be up bright and early,” Bert said, grimacing his sympathy for his friend.

  A lot of good that did.

  Marshall stood and clutched at Peter’s arm. “Stay. Please.”

  Peter cringed as he slapped Marshall on the back and pulled himself free. Callie shot Marshall a dark look before dragging her husband toward the door. Marshall couldn’t help noticing that she paused just long enough to give Colleen a fierce hug.

  Not two minutes after his bone-headed gaffe, the door closed on their guests. They were alone. Just as he’d wanted all evening, but now he was terrified to turn around. How could a big, brave Mountie be so frightened of a tiny, little redhead? Mustering every ounce of grit he possessed, Marshall slowly spun on his heel to face his wife.

  A muscle worked in her jaw as she stood at the head of the table, staring at him. A shudder worked its way up his spine and goosebumps popped out all over his arms at the fire in those blazing emerald eyes.

  “Colleen—“ he started, but she grabbed a plate and stormed off to the kitchen.

  Clearly, talking was not on her agenda for the rest of the night. Or at least, talking to him.

  Slowly and as quietly as he could, Marshall cleaned off and collected all the dishes. He hesitated before taking them into the kitchen, and when he finally gathered up his courage, she didn’t even glance his way.

  “Just put them in the sink,” she said, her tone clipped.

  Not wanting to annoy her any further, he did as she’d commanded and then got to work deconstructing the girls’ fort. Maybe if he gave her a little space to cool off… But each time she finished washing a dish, she slammed it down so hard it was a miracle any survived in one piece.

  After tidying the rest of the cabin, Marshall approached the kitchen like a skittish animal. The tension between them needed to be cut. He just wondered if he had a sharp enough knife.

  “I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” he said quietly. “I realize now it sounded…bad. I truly didn’t mean it that way. I just wanted more cake.”

  Colleen didn’t so much as pause in her work. “I know.”

  Her voice sounded chipper — perky, even — but Marshall’s gut told him she was still upset. And something told him it wasn’t over his faux pas. But if it wasn’t that, he had no clue what it could be. Taking a seat in his rocker, he called on his Mountie training to suss out the real cause.

  Fact: Colleen had proclaimed her love.

  Fact: He’d barely had time to blink before their guests arrived.

  Clue: She appeared to be distant throughout the dinner party.

  Clue: After speaking with Colleen in the kitchen, Callie had given him a paper-thin slice of cake and a scowl. Obviously something Colleen had told her upset her as well — and that something could only be one thing.

  He hadn’t said “I love you” back.

  Marshall had waited for hours — days, really — to tell Colleen how he really felt, but now didn’t seem to be the time. A profession of love should be romantic, not apologetic. It shouldn’t be used as a tool to dig himself out of a hole. At least he didn’t think so. Then again, if it would make her happy — and it was the truth — maybe it was the right time.

  “I’m going to bed,” Colleen said from behind him. “I assume you can manage drying and putting away the dishes on your own?”

  Marshall had been in the Royal Northwest Mounted Police long enough to know a dismissal when he heard one. His heart sa
nk all the way to the floor.

  “Sure,” he said quietly, though he remained seated to give her the privacy to change into her nightgown.

  As soon as he heard her climb into bed, he headed for the kitchen, still wondering how it had all gone so wrong. What should have been a celebration had turned into a disaster. And it was all his fault. All along, he’d known he didn’t have what it took to be a good and dutiful husband, as he’d proven that night. Colleen would have been better off with someone else.

  Marshall’s mood grew darker and darker with each dish he dried. Colleen deserved someone more worthy of her. Someone who could show her how precious she was. Someone who could make her proud, not embarrassed. He’d have a talk with her in the morning — if she was speaking to him by then — and offer her a way out. Her faith was important to her, and he knew enough about Catholicism to know that a divorce wasn’t acceptable. He’d do whatever she needed to get their marriage annulled so she could find someone more worthy of her.

  Long after the last dish had been put away, Marshall lingered in front of the fire, staring into its pulsing depths and wondering if his heart would ever recover. He’d fallen for Colleen the moment she’d leapt off that train and ran straight into his arms. He couldn’t imagine ever loving any woman again, much less as much as he loved her. But his feelings meant nothing. Hers meant everything. He couldn’t stand to see her unhappy, so vowed to set her free.

  Only once her breathing had grown even and steady did Marshall finally head for bed. He probably should have slept in the rocking chair again, but if this was to be their last night together, he wanted to etch it into his memory. Heat radiating off her body. The smell of her lavender soap. The sound of her breathing. The silky soft feel of her skin.

  Resigned to living the rest of his miserable life as a bachelor, Marshall climbed into bed carefully, then scooted over as close to her as he could. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to kiss her face, to breathe in her scent, but he remained as still as a statue, simply basking in her presence. Sleep would elude him and tomorrow would be a trial, but at least he’d remember his last moments with the woman he loved.

  The darkness weighed heavy on him, like a slab of stone on his chest, cutting off his breath. Soon she would be gone from his life, leaving him broken, but at least she would have a chance at happiness. He wouldn’t regret letting her go, but he would always regret not speaking his heart’s truth. She didn’t need to hear it, but he needed to say it. Just once.

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, Marshall stared up into the blackness and whispered, “I love you too.”

  A shriek startled him, and before he knew what was happening, Colleen spun around, flung herself into his arms and was kissing every inch of his confused face. Finally, she pulled back, and grinned down at him, her tears dripping onto his cheeks.

  “That’s all I needed to hear!”

  5

  Good morning!” Colleen thrust a towel-wrapped loaf into Callie’s hands as soon as her friend opened her door. “I brought you a loaf of bread.”

  Callie laughed and showed in her guest. “What’s this for?”

  “To thank you for supporting me during the dinner party. It really meant a lot to me. Sort of like when one of my sisters defended me against a bully.”

  Callie poured them both a cup of tea, then the women settled at the table. “Tell me all about it.”

  Colleen couldn’t stop smiling as she told her friend what had happened after the party — or at least most of it. Some things were better kept between husband and wife.

  “You’re blushing,” Callie teased with a smirk.

  Colleen lifted her head proudly. “I don’t care. I’m just so happy! I honestly never thought it would be possible, even before meeting Marshall. Of course, I read all the books — Jane Austin, the Brontë sisters, Tolstoy — but I never really understood what love would feel like.”

  Callie’s nose twitched and she looked down at her hands, holding the tea cup. She looked almost as if she was having trouble of her own, but before Colleen could press her for details, her friend stood and cleared their cups.

  “I need to go to the mercantile,” she said. “Would you like to join me?”

  Her smiled seemed forced, but Colleen let it go. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Yes, please. I’m running low on a few staples.”

  A few minutes later, they were bundled up and on their way. It was a clear day, but still chilly. The locals said they probably wouldn’t have any more snowstorms, thank goodness, but it still felt as crisp as winter outside.

  “Oh, would you look at that!” Callie pointed toward Ida’s house, where their friend flapped a dish towel at nosy ol’ Chip, who stood peering into her window.

  “I suppose I should feel badly for her,” Colleen said, chuckling and waving at Ida, “but honestly I’m relieved I’m not the only one that silly creature spies on.”

  “Me too! I’d find it creepy if he wasn’t so cute.”

  Colleen gave Chip’s horns a pointed look. “Still, I’m more than happy to keep my distance from him.”

  “Really? Doesn’t he look like he wants to be scratched behind his ears?”

  Colleen laughed. “He’s not a dog, Callie!”

  “I know,” she said, almost pouting. Then she turned her attention back to Colleen. “So things are good between you two?”

  Colleen glanced at her friend, wondering if she should temper her enthusiasm. But then she figured, Why stop now?

  “Perfect! Okay, not perfect, but very good. He’s more attentive and affectionate than ever. Not overly so, but enough. He’s more reserved than I’d like, especially in front of other people, and he probably always will be. It’s just his nature. In fact, I rather hope some of it will rub off on me.”

  “For goodness sakes, why? You’re such a bright ray of sunshine, wherever you go!”

  Colleen blushed at the compliment and did her best to explain. “I know I can be a little too…exuberant at times. Maybe Marshall can help me temper my enthusiasm. Just a bit. Not too much. But I’d like for us to somehow help each other, does that make sense?”

  Callie’s lips pressed together in a grim version of a smile. “I think so.”

  Before Colleen could ask what was troubling her, they were entering the mercantile. Mr. Shepard greeted them with a smile.

  “Mornin’, ladies! What can I do ya for?”

  Colleen did her best to hide a snicker. She simply adored how the older man spoke — it was just as she imagined an old ‘49er might have, back during the great California gold rush. He’d once mentioned having grown up on a hog farm in some town called Missoula — nowhere near California, if her grasp of American geography was right — but Colleen preferred to imagine him panning for gold instead of slopping hogs.

  While he helped Callie, Colleen wandered around inspecting his new inventory and collecting a few items she’d put on Marshall’s account. She was examining a new bolt of pretty green fabric when the bell over the door tinkled.

  A stout older woman wearing trousers, suspenders and a flannel shirt stomped in, a permanent frown creasing her brow. Colleen had seen the woman around town, but they’d never met. Since the shop owner was busy with Callie, Colleen thought the present was as good a time as any.

  “Mrs. Obregon?” she asked, smiling at the woman.

  Sharp brown eyes snapped toward Colleen, almost startling her with their intensity. “What?”

  Undeterred by the woman’s gruffness, Colleen extended her hand. “I’m Colleen Bowman. I’m new in town and wanted to introduce myself.”

  “Bowman?” Mrs. Obregon asked as she pumped Colleen’s hand. “You married to Constable Bowman? The Mountie?”

  Colleen beamed with pride for her husband. “Indeed, I am!”

  Mrs. Obregon huffed and glared at her. “He was supposed to come talk to me about my chickens, but I guess he was too busy with you, huh?”

  “Oh, I… Chickens?”
Colleen had no idea how to respond to that, or what the woman was even talking about. Thankfully, the bell tinkled again, saving her from further conversation with the grump.

  Two men strolled into the store and started browsing. Mr. Shepard quickly finished with Callie, then turned his attention to them.

  “Help ya, gentlemen?”

  Mrs. Obregon said what Colleen was thinking. “Hey, we was here first!”

  “Hush, now,” Mr. Shepard scolded, smiling at the men.

  “How rude!” Callie whispered as she joined Colleen.

  “Psh!” Mrs. Obregon snorted. “Probably thinks they’re silver miners from down the rail. More money to spend.”

  “Why do you say that?” Colleen asked.

  The woman shrugged. “Never seen ‘em before. Silver miners pass through White Fox all the time, and ol’ Shep over there just loves to bleed ‘em dry.”

  Indeed, the shop owner smiled broadly at the men. “Now, what can I do ya for, fellas?”

  “You happen to know what time the train gets in?” asked the taller of the two. The shorter one hung back, his gaze touching on everything in the little store.

  “I sure do,” Mr. Shepard said, pointing to a schedule tacked to the wall behind him. “Three-ten. If you’re going on a trip, you’ll want to stock up on jerky and tobacco. I even have some nice bottles of whiskey in the back, if you’re keen.”

  “Nah,” the tall man said. “We got a valuable shipment coming in, just want to make sure it gets here safe, is all. Ain’t seen the Mounties around. Don’t they usually guard the train?”

  “Yup,” Mr. Shepard’s reply was curt as he shoved the box of cigars he’d just pulled from behind the counter back into its hiding spot.

  “I’m sorry for eavesdropping,” Colleen started, but Mrs. Obregon chimed in.

  “Hard not to when they cut in front of us like that.”

  Colleen ignored her. “The Mounties were called to a flood outside of town. I’m afraid they’ll be gone all day.”

  The short man’s fidgety gaze stopped on her. “How do you know that?”