Marrying the Preacher's Daughter. Cheryl St.John

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      He had protected her from harm, saved her ring and had become injured in the process. Why did she have so much difficulty forming the words?

      “Thank you, Mr. Taggart.”

      He curled his lip. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

      Irritating man. She spun and fled.

      “He’s wike Wyatt Eawp.”

      “Where’s his six-shooter?” another child asked. “Jimmy Fuller said he shot the robbers with a six-shooter.”

      Gabe rolled his woozy head toward the open door and caught sight of three little boys. They scattered like chicks in the wake of a bantam rooster, and Elisabeth Hart entered with a laden tray.

      In disbelief, he blinked sleep from his eyes. “You have kids?”

      Elisabeth frowned. “I’m barely twenty years old, Mr. Taggart.” She set the tray on the bureau and opened the curtains, the thick blond braid hanging down her back swaying with her movements. She slid the window open wider. “Those are my young brothers.”

      He blinked at the glare of the late-afternoon light, but the breeze gusting in was most welcome. The sheet stuck to his skin and he plucked it loose. “Your father only mentioned daughters.”

      Gabe hadn’t thought she looked old enough to have all those kids, but looks were often deceiving. She stepped close to arrange the pillows behind him. He sat forward with her scent, a combination of freshly ironed linen and meadow grass, enveloping him. He hadn’t expected the alarming effect she had on his senses. He scratched his chin. “He said there was a house full of females.”

      “My sisters have come home from school, but they have lessons to complete. My stepmother needs her rest, so…” She snapped open a napkin and draped it over his chest. “You’re stuck with me.” She uncovered the plate of food and carried the bed tray to him. “I prepared a roast while you slept, along with potatoes and carrots. Beef will build up your strength.”

      Spotting the plate of food and the savory aroma of meat and gravy made his belly rumble. At least she could cook. He picked up the fork in anticipation. “I haven’t eaten anything that looked half this appetizin’ in a long while.”

      “I’m not the cook my stepmother is, but I’m not half-bad. My skills lie in accounting and organization, but I can do most anything I set my mind to.”

      He took a bite and savored the taste of the tender roast. She could cook well. “You’re used to getting your way.”

      She studied him and shrugged. “I see that things get done.”

      He ate several bites, then pointed at the nearby wooden chair with his fork. “Where were you returnin’ from when we met?”

      Stiffly, she seated herself. “Morning Creek. I’m the notary public for this county.”

      “Unusual job for a female.” He couldn’t say he was surprised. She seemed anything but usual, and her persnickety ways probably made her good with details.

      “The position fell into my lap after an elderly parishioner passed away a year ago. The post required someone willing to travel to nearby towns once a month or so.” She raised one shoulder in a delicate shrug. “The job sounded like a good way to do a bit of traveling. And it has been. Until yesterday.” A frown formed between her pale eyebrows. “Nothing like the incident on the train has happened before.”

      Her perfect speech amused him. “So the body count’s been low until now.”

      She averted her attention to the window, and he was almost sorry for the jibe. Almost. “Ruffle your tail feathers, don’t I?”

      She swung her attention back. “You’re the first person I ever met who is deliberately antagonistic. Why do you do that?”

      Her directness did surprise him. The females he’d known invariably played coy and solicitous. “I’m not the one who provoked a robber holding a loaded .45.”

      She lifted her chin to say, “I was going to give him the ring. I was ready to take it off and hand it over.”

      “So you say now.”

      Her blue eyes flashed with aggravation. “I’m not a liar, Mr. Taggart.”

      Amused, he set down his fork and reached for the cup of coffee. It was strong and black, the best he’d tasted in a long time.

      She delved into the pocket of her apron, withdrew a timepiece and glanced at it. She stood. “It’s time for your medicine.”

      And then he’d sleep again. He didn’t like the vulnerability of being unconscious for hours at a time. He tested the pain by raising his arm, then glanced at the forested mountainside visible from the windows she’d opened. “This place looks to be set against a foothill,” he said when she approached with the spoon and bottle of medicine. “Is there a main road close by?”

      “No. Just the mountain behind us,” she replied. “And a few homes farther down the hillside. Only one street leads up here.” The Hart home stood silhouetted against the lush green pines and above most of the town, protected by the shadow of the mountain.

      “I’ll pass on the medicine this time.” He reached for his coffee again, wincing at the pain that shot through his ribs. “And I’d be obliged if you’d run an errand on my behalf.”

      Her expression hinted at reluctance. “It’s the least I can do. What’s the task?”

      “I need you to inquire about taxes on my land.”

      She set away the bottle of medicine. “You’ll be settling here then.”

      “Jackson Springs strikes me as a quiet place.”

      “What did you do before?”

      “Traveled.” He set down his cup. “The roast was tasty. Thanks.”

      She picked up his tray. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

      “I’m grateful for the care, no matter how begrudgingly it’s given.”

      She ignored that comment. “I’ll visit the real estate office tomorrow. Is there anything else you need?”

      He shook his head.

      She headed for the door. “I’ll check on you later.”

      Gabe reached to move a pillow from behind his back and winced. He lay back as gently as he could. The house was silent, save for a clock ticking somewhere.

      He didn’t like lying around, and neither did he cotton to having the Hart woman waiting on him. Besides the fact that he didn’t like her seeing him this way, he had things to do. He needed to find a place to live before his sister, Irene, got here in another four weeks. That should have been plenty of time, but now…

      He hadn’t counted on this setback.

      As far as anyone knew he was a businessman here to establish СКАЧАТЬ