Jodi Thomas - Give Me A Texan

She watched Charlie hurrying down the platform. A chubby young man, trying to pull on his long black coat, rushed behind him.

“I finally found a preacher,” Charlie grumbled. “We can get this done now.”

The preacher introduced himself as Brother Philip Milton. He shook Hank’s hand with a strong pumping motion. “First,” the young man said, straightening to his full height, “I have to ask if you’re still wanting to marry this lady.” He looked nervous, as if this might be his first ceremony. “I don’t push nobody down matrimony road that don’t want to go.”

Hank swallowed, then nodded. Aggie wished she could see his face and know for sure that he wasn’t having second thoughts. She wanted to warn the lean cowboy that all she’d ever been was trouble. Her mother died giving her birth. Her sisters had to take care of her when they were little more than babies themselves. Her father carted her to work with him until she’d been old enough to go to school. She didn’t like, or trust, people, and she smelled of gun power and oil most of the time. If this man had any sense, he’d run now while he still had the chance.

Brother Milton patted Hank on the shoulder and turned to her. “You feel the same about him?”

She fought down a scream as she managed to whisper, “Yes.”

While the preacher continued, she told herself nothing could be worse than being passed around. At least she’d have a home, no matter how small or plain.

Brushing the Colt at her waist she remembered his offer. A partnership. If he was fool enough to offer, she was crazy enough to take him up on it.

The preacher asked them to join hands as the first whistle to load sounded. Hank’s fingers closed around hers and she tried to hear Brother Milton’s words over the pounding of her heart. She was doing what her father had ordered. She was marrying.

Steam filled the night air, fogging the lights on the platform as travelers rushed by, unaware that two people were joining their lives together, forever. Aggie gripped Hank’s hand and breathed in the damp air. Silently, she said good-bye to all she’d ever known, and hung her hopes on his promise.

The preacher pronounced them man and wife as the second whistle sounded. Hank reached in his pocket and handed Brother Milton two dollars.

Charlie yelled for them to hurry and suddenly they were running-her hand still in Hank’s-toward their new life.

Hank paused a few feet ahead of her as the train began to move. Then, without warning, he reached for her and lifted her up to the second step as the train picked up speed. A moment later, he jumped aboard.

Aggie backed up another step, giving him room, and found herself at eye level with the stranger she’d just married. She should have been afraid, but all she saw was a pair of walnut-colored eyes reflecting the questions and uncertainty she felt. She knew without asking that he hadn’t come to dinner planning to leave with a wife. He didn’t even seem all that happy with the turn of events. He looked more confused and worried.

He might be clean and not swear, but for all she knew he’d murdered and buried several wives out on that ranch of his. No one, not even her brother-in-law, knew Hank Harris well enough to pay him an honest compliment. He might be a raving maniac living way off in a town she’d never heard about. But then, who was she to question his sanity. She’d married a giant she’d talked to for five minutes in the dark.

The wind tugged a strand of her hair free. She turned away from his stare and tried to push it back beneath her bonnet. When she looked back, he was still staring at her as if she were the first woman he’d ever encountered. He had a strong face, made of all plains and angles. Not handsome, but solid with character.

Aggie let out a breath and told herself that a man’s face didn’t lie.

One corner of his mouth lifted. “How are we doing so far?”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I haven’t shot you yet so I guess the marriage is lasting.”

“You think we might try sitting down? It’ll get mighty cold out here in the next eight hours.”

Turning around just as the car shifted, Aggie lost her footing on the narrow step.

Hank’s hand touched her waist only long enough to steady her. When he pulled away, she thought she heard him whisper, “Sorry.”

They moved inside and found an empty seat. While she slid close to the window, Hank tugged at the top half of the bench in front of them, shifting the back so it made the seat face them. He sat his saddlebags on the empty bench. The tiny square he’d created offered them space and the hint of privacy. With an almost empty train, no one would be close to them for the journey.

He stood, halfway between the seat next to her and the one across from them as if debating where to sit.

“Do you like to ride facing backward?” she asked, thinking he looked so cramped having to lean forward to keep from hitting the top of the car.

“No,” he said but didn’t move.

She pulled her skirts close against her leg, making room for him.

When he sat, his knee brushed hers and he apologized again.

Relaxing, she almost giggled. Any man who’d said he was sorry twice in ten minutes of marriage couldn’t be as bad as her fears. “It’s all right,” she said. “We’re married. We’re bound to touch now and then.”

He nodded and tossed his hat and coat on top of his saddlebags. “We probably need to talk about the rules of this partnership. I’d sure hate to do something to make you think you’d just as soon be a widow.”

She patted the gun belt at her waist and smiled. “It’s a long way to Amarillo. Maybe we should set a few rules so we both know what the other expects.”

And they did. He told her of his house and how he’d change one room to be hers. She said she only knew how to fix breakfast, but she’d do that every morning if he’d cook dinner. He explained that his land was less than a mile from town so they could manage to eat at the hotel café some nights.

When he talked of his home, he relaxed, describing it so well she could almost see the ranch with its endless sunsets and room to breathe. From the train window the land turned flat, but he painted the beauty in it with his words so clearly she could almost see it through the night.

Somewhere between Fort Worth and home, Aggie fell asleep on her new husband’s shoulder, dreaming of a life where her time was her own and no one ordered her around.

Hank put up with her wiggling beside him, trying to get comfortable, for as long as he could stand it, then he shifted and circled his arm around her shoulder. Her head settled against his heart. She sighed softly in sleep and stilled as if she’d found the place where she could relax.

He thought back over everything he’d done or said all evening, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how he’d ended up heading back home with a beautiful woman sleeping on him. Not just a woman…his wife. He’d always said he liked his solitude, but he looked forward to seeing what tomorrow would bring for the first time in years.

He felt like a miner who’d been breathing stale air for so long that a fresh breeze made him dizzy. Everything in his life had seemed fine until he met Aggie, then he noticed the emptiness. And, it had happened in the darkness outside, before he’d seen her face. He admired her honesty, her spirit, but her beauty made him nervous.

For a while he worried about what she’d think of his house, then he remembered Charlie’s dugout and decided she’d like his place just fine. She wasn’t his real wife, he reminded himself. Not in the true sense of it. But to the town, to his friends, she would be. Somewhere in their discussion of the rules for this partnership, they’d agreed to keep the arrangement between them. Which suited him fine. He wasn’t sure anyone would believe him even if he tried to explain. She’d told him that he could touch her in any way that would be acceptable in public, but that she’d not be ordered around anywhere. He grinned, guessing she’d had enough bossing with four older sisters.