Cheryl St.John - Marrying the Preacher's Daughter

“Don’t want to horn in on your company.”

“Nonsense. You’re a new citizen to Jackson Springs. It’s time you meet a few townsfolk and let them get to know you. My wife and I enjoy having additional guests at our table.”

Gabe nodded. “All right, then.”

That evening Phillip showed up to assist him in dressing, though Gabe was able to prepare on his own. The lad talked nonstop, telling Gabe about a litter of kittens born under their back porch and how he’d been taking scraps to the mother cat.

Gabe handled the stairs more easily than the last time he’d attempted the descent, and Phillip directed him to the sitting room.

Sam stood from where he’d been sitting on a sofa beside a matronly woman and greeted them. He thanked Phillip and made the introductions.

The stout woman offered her hand in greeting and he touched her fingers briefly, ruefully remembering how he’d asked Elisabeth if their guest was a pretty widow woman. “Mrs. Jackson.”

Getting to his feet, her son gave Gabe the once-over. His brown hair had been cut short and oiled into order with a precise part just shy of the center of his head. The lines from the teeth of his comb were visible. He wore shiny brown boots with a pinstriped brown suit. Not a bad-looking fellow. He extended a hand.

It came as no surprise to Gabe that Rhys Jackson didn’t have any calluses on his palms. “Any connection to the town of Jackson Springs?” he asked.

“My father’s father founded this town thirty-six years ago,” Rhys answered.

He wasn’t overly tall, but he was built sturdily, with wide shoulders and a broad chest. “Where are you from?” Rhys asked.

“Born in Illinois but traveled of late.”

“What’s your trade?” he asked.

“Worked in a machine shop for a spell,” he replied. “I’ve made shingles and built bridges. Even mined salt for a time.”

“Couldn’t make up your mind?” Rhys asked.

Gabe picked up on the barb. “Like to keep my options open.”

One of Elisabeth’s sisters was seated on a bench near a window, and she studied Gabe curiously.

Sam glanced at her. “Have you met Anna?”

“I haven’t.”

“Anna is my youngest daughter—at least for the time being. Anna, meet Mr. Taggart.”

“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” she said and rose to greet him with a little bow and a bashful nod.

“Your daughters are equally lovely,” Gabe said to his host.

Anna’s hair was paler than Elisabeth’s, not as dense or wavy however, and her smile was warm and infectious. He guessed her to be about sixteen. She held a closed book, her index finger keeping her spot. Once the attention was turned away from her, she opened the book and apparently picked up where she’d left off. She seemed content and confident. Watching her made him think about his sister and wonder about the years of her childhood and youth, growing up at the academy and not with a family like this one. He’d never had experience with this kind of atmosphere before.

He’d always believed he’d made the best choice for her, and he still did.

He couldn’t have provided her education or safe upbringing if he’d had to work in a mine or a factory. The few times he visited the school, he’d been impressed by the stability and routine. Irene had been given every opportunity that an education and a respectable background could provide.

Now she needed a husband with a good job and a secure future. Someone established and responsible.

He glanced at Rhys. At a break in the conversation, he asked, “What do you do, Mr. Jackson?”

“After his death, I took over my father’s position as president of Rocky Mountain Savings and Trust.”

“Banking,” Gabe acknowledged with a nod.

Another fair-haired young lady came to announce it was time to take their places in the dining room, and he was introduced to Abigail.

“I’ve heard all about you from my little brothers,” she told him with a twinkle in her eye. “Of course their descriptions are exciting and involve guns and robbers.”

She was younger than Elisabeth, not quite as slender, but just as pretty. He had to wonder if Elisabeth would shine in the same way if she allowed herself a charming smile and the same exuberance.

They reached an enormous dining room with a long table suited to dinners such as this. The table itself had a covering made of fancy needlework, and atop it were platters and bowls holding a mound of mashed potatoes, mouthwatering sliced beef, a slaw and other vegetables. He’d never seen so much food outside a restaurant in his life.

Rhys seated his mother and took the chair beside her as though familiar with the arrangement. Gabe waited for instruction.

“Please, sit here,” Josie said, standing behind an empty chair.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He stood behind the chair she indicated, but waited until she sat to take his own seat.

Sam sat at the head of the table, his wife at his right and Mrs. Jackson on his left, putting Rhys directly across from Gabe. Josie was on Gabe’s right.

Sam continued with introductions, and Gabe learned the twin to his left was John. Beside John sat their nanny, Miss Tyler, and then Peter. Phillip sat at the foot of the table, and along the other side were Abigail, Anna and beside Rhys, Elisabeth.

As the food was passed and he helped himself, he considered the seating arrangement. Were Elisabeth and Rhys courting? He couldn’t picture her accompanying him for a buggy ride or a picnic, but then maybe it was only Gabe she behaved so poorly toward. He made a point to pay close attention to her interaction with the others.

She chatted with Anna on her right, and Anna told her about a dress one of her classmates had worn that day. Elisabeth lent her undivided attention to the description.

“We might want to spend a few days in Denver,” Elisabeth suggested. “That shop where we found the periwinkle gabardine might have a similar lace.”

She appeared sincerely interested in helping her sister create a dress like her friend’s.

There was a loud rasp, like the turn of a doorbell, and Elisabeth stood, holding out her hand as though to stop Josie from standing. She dropped her napkin on the seat of her chair, reminding him he hadn’t even unfolded his. “I’ll get it,” she said.

Gabe opened his napkin discreetly.

“Where are you from?” Josie asked from beside him.

“Born in Illinois,” he replied.

“I’m from Nebraska. Sam found me there and brought me to Colorado.”

“A divine appointment to be sure,” Sam said with a fond smile directed at his wife.

Elisabeth returned. “It’s a telegram for Mr. Taggart.” She handed him the folded and sealed paper and went back to her seat.

Uncertain what to expect, Gabe opened the telegram. His examination shot directly to the sender. Irene Taggart.

Tired of waiting STOP Will arrive on the tenth STOP Cannot wait to see you STOP.

His food rested uncomfortably in his belly. He hadn’t told his sister he’d been shot. The last time he’d contacted her he’d told her his arrival date in Jackson Springs and assured her he’d send for her when he had a home ready.

He didn’t have a home ready.

“Bad news?” Sam asked, and Gabe realized everyone’s attention had focused on him and the piece of paper he held.

“No. No, it’s good news, actually.” He folded the telegram and tucked it into his shirt pocket. “My sister will be arriving sooner than I’d expected.”

“You have a sister?” Elisabeth asked, the first time she’d spoken to him since he’d entered the dining room.

“Is that so hard to believe?”

Sam looked at his daughter, and she attempted to cover her surprise. “I just never pictured you with a family.”