Page 8 of The Marshal's Bride
“The ladies seem well today.”
“Did it sound like I asked you how the weather was?” Weston glanced at him sharply.
Sam dropped his hand and stood up tall at the tone in Weston’s voice. It was the same tone his father used when Sam was a child.
“No sir. The Widow McGuthry is frustrated today. Apparently, she had a meeting at the bank that did not go well.”
Why was he telling Weston these things?
“That’s unfortunate. I understand she’s still in mourning, but it won’t be long now before the other men are stepping forward to offer their hats and horses.”
“Hats and horses?” Sam gave a little snort. “You’ve clearly been spending too much time with your wife lately. The widow still has several months of mourning to observe. I’m sure whatever choice she makes when the time is right will be a sound one.”
Sam was proud of getting the statement out without choking or laughing. And he should be. He’d been practicing it for several weeks now. As much as he would like to claim the lovely widow and her charming daughter, it would have to be Justine’s choice.
Weston crossed his arms and stared at Sam. It made him want to lift his hand again and rub his neck once more, but the marshal held his ground.
With a lift of his shoulders, Weston relaxed. “I’m sure Ingrid will guide her in the right direction. Any idea what the banker did to upset her?”
Giving a quick glance back towards the small park, Sam glanced around the town. Tilting his head towards the sheriff’s office, he stepped down into the street. “This town has ears everywhere.”
“No, it really doesn’t,” Weston said, following him. “It just has Ingrid and Rose.”
“Justine went to the banker, and he told her she needed a husband to make her current dreams come true. She’s right offended on Marmee’s behalf about that idea as well.”
Weston threw his head back and gave a hearty belly laugh. The recent widow was certainly right. Ingrid did not enjoy being told that she must seek her husband’s help in getting her own way. Even Sam knew that much, and he hadn’t been in town all that long.
“I have yet to deny Ingrid anything. Except her insistence on getting an office here in town.”
“Why is that?”
“She doesn’t need to be in town that often. The town is growing, and I don’t like the idea of her traveling from the ranch to town alone. I can’t always bring her, and I don’t have someone I can send to escort her when she gets a hankering to drop everything and come visit. It’s a safety issue first. Her place is at home with the grandbabies and helping all her daughters become better mothers.” Weston lowered himself into one of the rocking chairs on the small, covered porch.
“Does she know this?” Sam asked.
“Yep. Doesn’t mean she won’t ask again the next time something comes up.”
Sam went inside the small office and returned with two cups of coffee, handing one to Weston. “What will you do then?”
“I’ll let her ask. Tell her no. Tell her why, then kiss her senseless until she forgets.”
“Until she asks again.” Sam slid into the other rocker.
“Until she asks again.” Weston blew on his coffee. “You know Ingrid is likely to suggest she get a husband, even if it is in name only.”
“That seems to be a theme recently,” Sam nodded thoughtfully.
“Can I offer you some advice, son?” Weston looked at him, his large hands wrapped around the enamel mug. Sam nodded. “If the idea of someone else helping Justine solve all her problems or cuddling that little girl when she’s upset causes your gut to tighten, then you need to dig in and find out why. You don’t get anywhere out here by waiting around. Perhaps get ahead of all the hats and horses and have a chat with Ingrid yourself. You can either be the first in line or the last. The choice is yours. We will head back to the ranch this afternoon, so there is plenty of time to speak to Ingrid.”
“Someone chatting with Marmee?” Whit Hartman asked, stepping onto the porch with a wide grin.
“The marshal might need to speak with her before I take her home.”
“Well, I’ll be.” Whit slapped his hat against this leg, causing a small cloud of dust to explode into the air. “Suppose I’ll have to keep my eye out. Though if you could wait another week, Sam, I won’t owe Ranger a package of licorice.”
“You’re betting on me?” Sam could feel the warmth of humiliation on the back of his neck.
“We are simply making some observations, my friend. We both agree that if her mourning period were to finish, it would limit her courting options because of the way you are hovering over her.” Whit was still grinning, friendly teasing clear in his tone.
