Chapter Twenty-Six: Noah

Finally! I'd kissed her, and she hadn't been repulsed by my awkwardness. The pain of my nose hitting her nose faded quicker than the embarrassment that it had happened at all.

Naturally, Mrs. Harper was ecstatic when she heard our news. She insisted that I remain for supper. I had the feeling that Marshal Westler would make himself at home and eat the meal I'd left cooking, so I accepted.

I returned home that evening with my thoughts in a whirl. There were three days until it would be Sunday. That would be plenty of time to organize any details, wouldn't it? I wasn't sure what there was that needed to be planned. It wasn't as if there was a wedding party that would happen or a wedding feast, like my sister had insisted upon when she married.

Though I hadn't attended any weddings since I'd come west, I had read about some in the newspapers that had made their way to my town from Cheyenne. The couple would meet in front of the preacher, say their vows, and that was that. If they had friends in the town, maybe there would be a celebration. Music, dancing, but I knew better than to expect that.

The sun was still just above the horizon when I pulled up to my place. Westler was sitting on the front porch. The sight of his rifle on his lap made my heart sink. What had happened now?

"You were gone long," Westler called out. Was that disapproval in his voice or was I just being paranoid? "I thought you were just taking your lady and coming right back."

His words made me feel like a truant school boy, and I did not appreciate it. Why would I need to answer to him concerning what I did and where I was? "The neighbors asked me to stay for supper," I responded. Not that I felt like I needed to explain myself. "You look like you're expecting trouble."

"Your neighbor stopped by again," he said, s​etting his rifle aside. "And your potatoes burned while I was dealing with him."

The loss of food was immaterial. "Burns was here?" I asked as I climbed to the ground.

"He and some other of your neighbors."

Worse and worse! "Who was with him?" If more of my neighbors were willing to ride with Burns for what I could only assume was not a congenial conversation, I needed to know who they were. Had they intended to cause trouble? Burn down my house? Worse?

Lynch me?

"No one mentioned any names," Westler answered. "They were looking for you. That's all they said."

Of course they were. Heaving a sigh, I pinched my nose. The day had been going so well. I should have known it would all come crashing down at some point. "Did they say why they were looking for me?"

"They didn't give an exact reason, but they insisted they needed to know when you would be back."

Given that Mr. Jones had approached me when I was with Elizabeth to speak to her about the rumors, maybe they hoped to interfere with my marriage? In any event, it hadn't been a cordial visit.

"What did you tell them?"

Westler shrugged. "That you weren't here and I couldn't say when you would be back. It took a while before they finally left, but none of them were very happy about it." He stood up and shook his head. "Burns' brother wasn't with him, so I'm wondering if he's moved on from the area."

That seemed like an improbable leap of logic. "So are you planning on leaving?" I asked.

"No must yet. If I stick around, I might be able to learn something from Jake Burns," Westler responded. "I have to say that staying here has been an interesting thing. It's not every week I get drawn into such a dramatic situation."

"And there is nothing you can do about anything that has happened?"

"Well, not exactly," Westler admitted. "It's likely they planned on burning down your place. Why else would they come out in the middle of the night with torches? But the thing is, they didn't. You can't arrest someone for something they didn't do and you can't prove they ever intended to do it."

Scowling, I began leading the horses to the barn. It would be hard to recover from anymore loss. And there was nothing Westler could do about it? Something about that didn't seem right, but what could I do?

"Your neighbors did ask about your girl."

Westler's words brought me to a halt. Why hadn't he mentioned that in the first place? "Why were they asking about Elizabeth?" I asked, turning to face him. He'd come off the porch to follow me.

"The one gentleman, a portly fellow, expressed some concern about her whereabouts. Seemed to think there was some question about whether you really intended to marry her or had other plans."

My free hand curled into a fist. Other plans? What other plans? Did my neighbors, men I'd known for nearly ten years, believe I would trick a woman into coming out west and then...what? Ruin her?

"Did you tell them where she is?" I asked.

"It didn't seem like any of their business where she was staying," Westler answered, his tone serious. Then, a grin appeared on his face. "I wouldn't be that cruel to them. Your girl would go up one side and down the other giving them what for."

Elizabeth might well have been able to defend herself, but I refused to put her in a position where she would have to. "We're going to be married on Sunday," I informed him.

He held his hands up. "There's no call for you to get upset with me. What you and the lady do is entirely your business. She had her opportunity to complain of mistreatment, but instead she decided to take offense at me."

Was that supposed to make me feel better? That Elizabeth could have complained, but since she didn't, all was well? Taking a deep breath, I reminded myself that Westler was a stranger. He didn't know me. All he had to go by was what he'd seen and heard.

"You're welcome to come to the wedding," I said, setting off once again. "Since you're supposed to be an old friend."

"Weddings aren't my thing." He fell into step beside me. "So that's your plan? You're going to ride into town with your girl and just marry her?"

"Do you have a different idea? I'll be glad to hear it."

That seemed to give him pause because he didn't have anything to suggest. I set about unhitching the horses, remembering how just a few hours earlier I had shown Elizabeth how it was done. She had watched with interest and had even adjusted some of the straps.

Once I milked the cow, I stepped out of the barn. I found Westler leaning against the wall, watching the horizon. "Are you expecting more trouble?" I asked wearily.

"No, but trouble seems to follow you," he answered, straightening up. "I fed your burnt potatoes to the pig."

I waved my free hand. "Fine." What had happened to ruined food wasn't high on my list of concerns. "I hope you helped yourself to whatever was in the kitchen."

"I did."

Somehow, I'd known he would. Was it too much to hope he'd cleaned up after himself?

Yes. There were burned pans that needed to be cleaned. Westler made a very poor guest, for all the help he had given me. Hopefully, we would be able to get through the night without incident.

~*~

Maybe it was Westler's concerns, but I did not sleep well. I startled awake at every sound. Strong coffee was the remedy when I rose at dawn, so I set a pot on to brew. I might have drank it before starting on my chores, but I didn't want to disturb my guest.

Stretched out on the floor, Westler slept on as I went out to care for the morning chores.

The sun was just rising over the horizon, making the sky glow red. The old saying ran through my mind: Red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.

Oh, dear. Looked like there might be some bad weather. It had been too warm for snow, but it wouldn't have been unusual for the time of year. Hopefully it would be nothing more than a thunderstorm.

By the time I had finished feeding the horses and mucking the stalls, the sky had become cloudy. Yet, the air was still. Definitely a storm brewing, though it was impossible to tell when it would hit.

Westler was sipping a cup of coffee when I walked in. "What are your plans for today?" he asked.

"I'm going over to the Harpers' place to spend the day with Elizabeth," I told him honestly. "We have a wedding to plan."

The marshal snorted. "What is there to plan?" he asked. "You just have to show up in front of the preacher, say your vows, and that's it. Your girl isn't going to want a big fuss, is she?"

I needed coffee before I felt up to conversing with the man. Years of living on my own had made conversation this early in the morning unusual.

"If Elizabeth wants a fuss, I think she deserves a fuss."

"I never would have imagined a man could be wound around the finger of a woman he just met," Westler commented, shaking his head.

It might have been a combination of stress and lack of sleep, but my temper was rising. "You have some nerve," I said to him, trying to keep my voice even, "to sit in my home and drink my coffe, and think that gives you the right to critisize how I do things."

Immediately, Westlr raised his hands. "If I've offended—"

"Yes. You have," I interrupted.

"Alright. I've offended you. I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth Garrison and I have been exchanging letters for months now," I informed him, though it really was none of his business. "She is not someone I just met. She is the woman I have come to know and love. I will not stand for anyone to insult her."

Westler had kept his hands up. "It was not my intention to disparage the lady. I was simply making a joke. A little levity seemed like a good idea after yesterday."

"It wasn't a very good joke."

"Alright. Again, I'm sorry." Slowly, he lowered his hands to grab his cup of coffee. "I won't say another word about your bride-to-be, I promise. What you do is your business after all."

Satisfied he would keep his word, I poured myself some coffee. "Do you have plans today?" I asked to change the subject.

"I'm going to head into town," Westler answered, looking relieved. "I'll see if I can find someone who might have seen Owen Burns around or might know something about where he is."

"If you haven't already, talk to Collins at the general store. He knows more about what's going on than anyone I've ever met. But," I added, just for the sake of honesty, "that doesn't mean he's always got the facts right."

"The town gossip?"

I shrugged. Collins was a gossip, but there was no reason to call anyone names. "He talks to everyone who comes into his store, and he can see who comes into town," I said. "The only other personw ho would have eyes on the town is Mrs. Royal, who runs the restauraunt."

"Who would have thought a little place like your town could support a restaraunt," he commented.

"Mrs. Royal lost her husband, and it was the only way she could support her family," I told him sharply. "A woman like her...she won't take charity. We do our best to make sure she and her children have what they need. And she's a good cook."

For the second time, the marshal looked abashed. "I seem to be running my mouth today."

"Just today?" left my lips before I could think better of it. Westler scowled at me. "Sorry. I don't know you. It's not my place to comment or judge anything you do. Just...you might want to mind what you say when it comes to Mrs. Royal. Some of the other men in town are very protective of her."

"I know how to do my job, Coleman."

I was starting to have my doubts about that, but what did I know about being a US marshal?

"So are you planning on making breakfast?" he asked.

~*~

It must have been shortly after nine o'clock by the time I reached the Harpers' place. I'd never been over there so much in one year as I had this year. Did that make me a bad neighbor or a respectful one who minded my own business?

Mr. Harper was in the corral with one of his son's when I brought my wagon to a halt. "I was almost convinced you were going to stay away after last night," he called out. He ducked under one of the rails to join me. "The women are inside talking fashion still."

Still? When I'd left, Elizabeth and Mrs. Harper had been talking about dress trimmings. Was there really that much to say about a woman's dress? Wasn't it enough that it looked nice once they had it on?

My face must have shown some of my thoughts because my neighbor laughed. "I'm sure if you go on up, Miss Elizabeth will be glad to take a walk with you," he assured me. "Martha can get a little passionate when she has a new project on her mind."

I glanced up at the sky. Clouds had begun to gather, not yet a threatening dark but a warning that rain was possible. "I don't think a walk would be a wise thing to do," I responded with a slight laugh. "I wouldn't want Elizabeth to get caught in one of our soaking storms."

Harper tilted his head back to look at the sky. He gave an understanding nod. "Probably wise. A woman completely soaked is worse than a wet hen."

"Why on earth would you compare us to wet hens?" Martha Harper's voice rang out.

We both turned to see the woman on the porch, her hands on her hips. "Now my dear, that isn't what I was saying," her husband immediately said, his tone soothing. "I was just telling Noah—"

"That a woman who is wet is worse than a wet hen, yes. I heard you," Mrs. Harper interrupted, coming down the steps.

"Why don't we leave Noah and Miss Elizabeth and go for a walk?" Mr. Harper suggested. He held his hand out to his wife. "Then you can berate me all you like without interruption."

"When it is about to rain? Why would you make that kind of suggestion?" was her tart response. Then, her expression relaxed into a smile. "But I will walk with you to the barn so they can sit on the porch."

"That sounds good," Mr. Harper said, catching her hand. Hand in hand, the couple walked towards the barn.

"There are times they remind me of my parents, and then there are other times when I don't understand why they behave the way they do," Elizabeth commented, sitting down on the steps.

"Not every married couple looks the same," I told her. My parents had been happy, but they had hardly spoken to each other except in company. I didn't want a marriage like that. "What they have works."

She looked up at me with a questioning expression. "Do you think we will work well together like them?"

Taking off my hat, I sat beside her. "I'm sure of it. We might not look like the Harpers, your parents, or anyone else you might know, but we'll be happy." I was determined to do my best to accomplish that. "Do you think otherwise?"

A smile flickered on her lips, making me want to kiss her. "I'd be a fool if I thought we would be horrible together but I was marrying you anyway." Elizabeth shrugged. "I just wanted to be sure we were both on the same page about it."

I leaned over and bumped my shoulder against her's. "Yes, we are."

"Well, then. Are you going to tell me why you look so tired?" she asked bluntly. "You look even more tired today than you did yesterday, which is something of a . Did you have another unwelcome visitor in the middle of the night?"

Should I feel flattered that she had noticed when Mr. Harper hadn't? Shaking my head, I told her about the visitors that had stopped by after we had left. Her face scrunched up in a frown. "They're behaving worse than my brother ever did," she muttered. "What makes them think they have the right to question what I do?"

"Well, they're probably just concerned you're going to run into trouble because I'm...the villain, I guess."

"I would have thought that man—what was his name? The one who came into the cafe to give his unasked for opinion when I first arrived."

I held back a laugh. "You mean Mr. Jones. He's the blacksmith."

"Yes. Him. What he does isn't important right now. I would have thought he would have known better than to go along with this. I thought I made it clear that I know my own mind."

"To be fair, I don't know if he was with them or not."

"Whether he was or not, you expect me to believe he didn't immediately tell his neighbors that he tried to talk to me?"

Given what I had told her about the town, her opinion shouldn't have surprised me. "They probably assumed he misunderstood or didn't explain the situation in the right way," I said, doing my best to remain reasonable.

Elizabeth huffed. "Will they make a fuss on Sunday?"

"I hope not." I couldn't be sure of that, though. Wasn't there a part where the preacher asked if anyone knew a reason the couple shouldn't be married? Would any of my neighbors stand up to interrupt the wedding? "We may be able to get the preacher to marry us in private."

Heaving a sigh, she rested her elbows on her knees. "I hate to act as though we are doing something secret, but I don't know if I will be able to keep my temper if they try to stop us or they cause trouble," she admitted in a low voice. "Why can't people just mind their own business?"

Reaching over, I took her hand in mine. "Try not to worry about it. We'll be married, rain or shine. Trouble or no trouble."

Around us, the wind picked up. I glanced up to see that the clouds had taken on a darker gray. "Speaking of rain or shine, it looks like we're in for some."

"I wasn't sure if there were the same signs here as there are back in Indiana," Elizabeth said, standing up. I also stood up so I could keep her hand in mine. "So. Are the storms the same as well or are they different somehow?"

"Well. you tell me. We have wind, rain, thunder, and lightning," I informed her. "Sometimes hail."

She smiled at me. "Sounds the same, but I will let you know after I've seen this storm."

As the first drops of rain came down, I leaned over to kiss her.

~*~

Dear Elizabeth,

This seems silly, to write you a letter when I just spoke to you today. Maybe I'm just trying to avoid talking to Westler, who is taking up most of my kitchen table, and you won't ever read this letter. Or maybe I will give it to you after we are married so you know how much I think of you. I hope you don't mind.

I have never enjoyed being inside for a storm as much as I did today. I liked hearing you tell the story you've been reading in the newspapers, the one by Charles Dickens. But I think you could make even the dullest reading sound intriguing with the way you speak.

Has anyone ever told you your voice is beautiful? I think I could listen to you talk all day, even if you were scolding me for some bad habit that annoyed you. Maybe that wouldn't be a good thing. I would be listening to your voice and completely miss what correctiony ou were giving me.

When we next meet, it will be Sunday and the day we marry. I'm looking forward to it.