Handpicked Husband

Chapter Four

Sharp barking shattered the glass of their water globe, bringing Adam back to earth with a crash.

Regina started and the color in her cheeks deepened.

He turned away, as much to regain his own composure as to allow her to regain hers.

What was wrong with him? She was the judge’s granddaughter and he was supposed to be looking out for her interests, not taking advantage of her. Even if he’d been interested in pursuing her—which he wasn’t—his whole reason for being here was to make sure she married one of the other men.

“Are you going to signal for Jack and Mr. Peavy also?” The question came out more sharply than he’d intended and he moderated his tone. “I’m sure the men would like to get to know the boy as well. After all, the one who wins your favor won’t just be gaining you as a wife, but also a son.”

“Not yet.” The steel was back in her voice. “I need to reach an understanding with you all on a few things before I bring Jack into this.”

Adam didn’t care for her tone. Did she think she was running this show?

Then he gave a mental shrug. She was probably as disconcerted by what had just happened as he was. Besides, he was merely an observer and enforcer. The three suitors would be the ones required to deal with her bossy ways.

And regardless of her posturing, she couldn’t get around the judge’s terms. She could toy with them all she wanted, he wouldn’t stop her. But in the end she’d have to submit to her grandfather’s dictates.

It would be interesting, though, to see what she meant when she said they needed to “reach an understanding.”

A few moments later, the hikers came into sight. Adam hid a grin as he got a good look at them. While Mrs. Peavy seemed totally composed, the trio trailing behind her did not.

Chance’s step lacked its usual bounce. Not surprising, given that his left leg, from the tip of his boot, to about six inches up his trouser leg, was damp and muddy.

Everett was red-faced and breathing heavily, as if unused to whatever exertions he’d just been through.

Mitchell had his sleeves rolled up and was vigorously scratching his left arm. Even from here Adam could see the angry red welts forming. Insect bites? Stinging nettles?

In any case, if it had been the housekeeper’s intent to take the visitors down a notch, she’d certainly succeeded.

Behind him he heard a softly uttered, “Oh, dear.” When he glanced back, he saw as much sympathy as amusement in Regina’s expression.

She stepped forward. “I hope you gentlemen enjoyed your walk.”

“Oh, we had a grand time,” Mrs. Peavy answered for them. “Did run into a bit of unpleasantness, though.” As she reached the porch, the housekeeper turned back to her entourage. “You gents have another glass of cider while I get something for Mr. Parker’s rash. Mr. Dawson, if you’ll slip off your boot, I’ll get it cleaned up.”

As Mrs. Peavy disappeared inside, the three men trudged onto the porch.

The judge’s granddaughter waved her hand in a lady-of-the-manor gesture. “Please be seated. There’s no need to stand on ceremony out here.”

Without further prompting, the men plopped down onto various benches and chairs. The wind had definitely been taken out of their sails.

But when Regina joined them on the porch, Adam was amused to note they all came to wary attention.

“Well, gentlemen,” she began, “now that I’ve read my grandfather’s letter and accompanying contract, it’s time we talked.”

Mrs. Peavy opened the door just then and hesitated. “Should I step back inside until you’re finished?”

To Adam’s surprise, Regina shook her head.

Not that it really mattered. With no panes on the window, the housekeeper would still be able to hear every word.

“I think it best you know what’s going on,” the soon-to-be bride said. “It seems these three were sent by my grandfather to start a new life in Turnabout. He’s generously providing each of them the means to join our little community as men of influence. All they have to do in return is participate in a marriage lottery, with me as the prize.”

Her tone was pleasant enough, but Adam watched each man shift uneasily under her stare. At the moment it was hard to believe she wasn’t Judge Madison’s blood kinswoman.

“For my part,” the self-proclaimed lottery prize continued, “all I have to do is select a groom and marry him within three weeks. Otherwise, Mr. Barr will take Jack to Philadelphia so Grandfather can ship him off to a boarding school.”

Mrs. Peavy’s reaction was an indrawn breath and a glare directed toward Adam.

“Did I sum the situation up correctly, gentlemen?” Regina crossed her arms across her chest and stared them down.

“I believe you covered the relevant facts,” Everett answered. The dandy had apparently recovered his aplomb.

“Thank you, Mr. Fulton. From a reporter, I’ll accept that as a compliment.”

Mrs. Peavy approached Mitchell and motioned for him to hold out his arm. She slathered her ointment on the rash with perhaps more vigor than was necessary, but the man bore it without flinching.

The judge’s granddaughter ignored this bit of by-play. “First off, to put things baldly, you should know I’m not happy with this situation. I’m not interested in getting married to anyone, much less a stranger who’s been bribed to offer for me.”

Her tone remained pleasant. Her expressive eyes, however, carried a different message.

“Grandfather couched his letter in polite terms, assuring me any one of you would happily step into the role of my husband. However, I have the distinct impression that the only vying you’ll do over the next few days is to see how best to avoid drawing the short straw.”

She met each of their gazes in turn. “Would any of you care to dispute that?”

When no one spoke up, she nodded and her tone hardened. “Well, it seems our wishes in this matter don’t amount to a hill of beans. My grandfather wants me hitched, and since he knows I’d do anything to keep Jack with me, it looks like wedding bells are in my future. But I want to make it plain from the get-go that I intend to call the shots in how we run this farce.”

Adam watched the men’s reactions.

Chance glared with sullen belligerence.

Mitchell, his forearm still an angry red, twisted his hat uneasily.

Everett, surprisingly, met her gaze with a condescending smile. “My dear Miss Nash,” he said with exaggerated deference, “there’s no need for such dramatic posturing. We are all agreed that the selection lies squarely with you, and we are firmly committed to abide by your decision. In fact, you can make the selection right here and now if you like.”

Everett shrugged. “Or you can keep us all guessing by drawing it out the full two weeks.” He half rose and executed a mocking bow. “We are entirely at your disposal.”

“Yes, you are.” Her expression conveyed quite clearly that she had something specific and very likely unpalatable in mind.

Adam tried not to grin. The lady had obviously learned a thing or two from the judge. If she had her way, these three would pay a steep price for their part in this scheme.

“Now that we’ve agreed who’s in charge,” she continued, “let’s get down to business. First and most importantly, under no circumstances is Jack or anyone else outside of this group to learn about our arrangement. As far as everyone in Turnabout is concerned, you are here as friends of my grandfather.”

She nodded as if making up the story as she went along. “I will, quite naturally, wish to see you comfortably settled, and you’ll return my neighborly attention with courtesy calls. My subsequent engagement to one of you will appear as a delightfully unexpected result of those calls.”

She tucked a stray hair behind her ear. Did her finger tremble slightly or was that his imagination?

“I read the contract,” she continued, “and it clearly states that you are to court me, and I intend to see that you do it properly. I want it all, gentlemen—attention, pretty words, love tokens, flowers and gewgaws.”

Her gaze sharpened. “And I expect a good faith effort from you. No just going through the motions, no begrudging attentions. You have to actually vie for my favors.”

Her color heightened, but her tone never faltered. “It has to look and feel real to everyone who sees us. And I’ll not have a reluctant martyr for a husband. If I get even a hint that any of you are holding back, I’ll cry foul, and Mr. Barr here will have no choice but to tell my grandfather you failed to abide by the terms of the contract.”

She swung around and met Adam’s gaze. “Isn’t that so?”

Adam had labored over that contract to get exactly the nuances Judge Madison wanted, and he had it all but memorized by the time they were both satisfied. He mulled it over in his mind now, and slowly nodded his head. “One could interpret the terms that way.”

Was that her plan? Well, she’d have to come up with some pretty convincing proof to get him to disqualify anyone, unless that suitor out-and-out refused her selection.

Besides, the judge had done a thorough job of interviewing candidates before settling on these three. They all knew what was expected. Adam would be more than a little surprised if anyone backed down at this point.

But he was an observer, not a confidante. If they couldn’t figure out she was all bluster, that was their problem.

She clearly intended to extract her pound of flesh in terms of their pride. And she wanted pretty words and showy trinkets, even if they were insincerely offered.

A typical woman.

Well, he’d be watching her. With the power the judge had given him, he wouldn’t hesitate to whisk Jack away to Philadelphia if she gave him reason to. But the judge had made it clear that wasn’t the outcome he desired.

Regina nodded. “Okay gentlemen, then let’s open the curtain on my grandfather’s ridiculous play. I’ll call Jack, and I expect you to honor your word. You’re friends of my grandfather visiting from Philadelphia and are here paying your respects.”

At some point, Mrs. Peavy had slipped into the cabin to put away her ointment. Now she stepped back outside and set Chance’s freshly cleaned boot next to the door.

Regina gave her housekeeper a quick nod, then turned back to the men. “It’s too late for you to return to Turnabout today, so you’ll be spending the night here. We’ll head back together in the morning.”

She lifted her chin. “We’re not set up for visitors, though. Mrs. Peavy and Ira sleep in the alcove off the kitchen and Jack and I share the loft. That means you can either spend the night on the cabin floor or here on the porch.

Adam failed to detect any sympathy in her tone. It seemed she intended to make sure the hapless trio jumped through some unpleasant hoops over the next few weeks.

He had to hand it to her, she wasn’t one to wring her hands and bemoan her fate when faced with unpleasantness. Instead, she showed amazing determination.

If he wasn’t in such a hurry to get back to Philadelphia he could find himself amused by her performance.

* * *

Reggie paused, reluctant to take the next step. But she’d put it off long enough. “I suppose it’s time for you to meet the rest of my household.”

She stepped off the porch. Taking a deep breath, she blasted out a long, drawn-out whistle, followed by two shorter ones.

The answering whistles confirmed Ira and Jack were headed their way. Reggie forcibly relaxed her hands at her sides, but she didn’t turn back to her visitors.

She had to fight the urge to tense again when Buck stood, his tail wagging in anticipation. For Jack’s sake, she must pretend nothing was wrong, that these men were welcome guests. But if they did anything to upset Jack...

Grandfather, you’re going to have a lot to answer for next time we meet.

Ira and Jack appeared a moment later, and the dog bounded forward to greet them. Jack danced around with Buck for a minute, trying to keep the string of fish he carried out of harm’s way. Not an easy task for a slender six-year-old. “Look at all the fish we caught, Aunt Reggie,” he said rushing forward, his brown eyes sparkling with excitement.

“My goodness!” Reggie smiled down at the light of her life. “It looks like we’re going to have some mighty good eating tonight.”

“I caught more’n half of them myself.”

Ira, hunting rifle slung over his shoulder, hefted the two cane poles he carried in his other hand. “Our boy is turning into quite a fisherman, all right.” His words were addressed to Reggie but his gaze was fixed on the men behind her.

Mrs. Peavy joined them and reached for the string of fish. “Here, let me have those. I’ll get them cleaned and ready to cook.” She bobbed the string, as if gauging the weight. “Yes, sir, add a few potatoes and that cobbler I baked this morning and we’ll have more than enough to feed everybody.”

Jack seemed to notice the visitors for the first time. “Hello.”

Adam stepped forward. “You must be Jack.”

“Yes sir.” Jack seemed more curious than concerned.

Reggie stepped behind Jack, pulling him against her skirts with a hand on each shoulder. “Jack, these men have come all the way from Philadelphia for a visit.” She managed to keep her voice friendly enough. “This one is Mr. Barr. The others are Mr. Fulton, Mr. Parker and Mr. Dawson.”

Each man nodded acknowledgment as she called his name.

“Gentlemen, this is Jack.” She nodded over her shoulder. “And the other fisherman is Mrs. Peavy’s husband, Ira.”

“Hydee, fellas,” Ira welcomed. “You all are a ways from home, aren’t you?”

Reggie smiled as she saw a few brows go up. If they had expected the wiry old handyman to act like one of her grandfather’s servants, they now knew better. Ira and Mrs. Peavy were like part of her family.

“Do you know Grandfather Madison?” Jack asked before anyone could respond to Ira’s question.

“We sure do.” Again it was Adam who spoke up. “And he wanted us to make certain we told you he said hello and that he wishes he could have come.”

Reggie barely swallowed her snort of disbelief. The old coot had never set foot in Turnabout before. And she sure as sunshine knew this particular trip was one he hadn’t wanted to be along on.

“Is that why y’all came all the way out here?”

“Jack,” Reggie warned. “It’s not polite to pester our guests with questions.”

“That’s all right.” Adam brushed Reggie’s concern aside and met Jack’s gaze again. “How’s a fellow to find out anything if he doesn’t ask. And yes, Jack, that’s one of the reasons we came out here. I promised your great-grandfather to deliver that message just as soon as I arrived in Turnabout.”

Jack glanced up over his shoulder. “Are they staying here with us, Aunt Reggie?”

“Just for tonight. We’re all going back into town tomorrow.”

That brought a frown to the boy’s face. “But I thought we were gonna stay another two days,” he protested.

She ruffled his sandy red hair. “I know. But you don’t mind leaving a bit early, do you? This cabin wasn’t built to hold more than a few folk. As it is, our guests are going to have to sleep on the floor tonight.” Not that she gave a fig for the four men’s comfort. She was more concerned with the wagging tongues back home.

“Besides, our visitors are eager to get settled in town, and we wouldn’t want to send Grandfather Madison’s friends off without our help, would we?”

“No, ma’am.” He turned back to the men. “If you like, you can go frogging with me and Ira tonight.”

Pride shimmered through Reggie. That was her boy—quick to get over his disappointment and generously willing to include the troublemakers in his fun.

“Frogging?” The question came from Mr. Fulton.

“Yes, sir,” Jack said with a nod. Then, apparently realizing an explanation was in order, “You know, hunting bullfrogs. If we catch enough, Mrs. Peavy promised to fry up some frog legs for lunch tomorrow.”

Reggie didn’t bother to hide her grin at the sight of the dandy’s horrified expression.

“Sounds like fun.” The young Mr. Dawson was obviously not as squeamish. “I’ve never hunted frogs before.”

“Don’t worry. Me and Ira’ll teach you,” Jack promised.

Reggie gave Jack’s shoulders a light squeeze then stepped back and dropped her hands. “You go along and help Ira put away the fishing gear. Then see if Mrs. Peavy needs any kindling brought in.”

She turned to the others. “I’m afraid we live a pretty simple life out here. Not much to offer you in the way of fancy amenities, and everyone pitches in to help with the chores. There’s a place around back where you can feed and tend to your horses. Then you can get washed up down by the lake if you’ve a mind to.”

“I’ll take care of the horses and the buggy,” Mr. Parker volunteered.

Adam straightened. “Thanks, but I’ll take care of Trib myself.”

“Come along then,” Ira instructed. “Jack and I’ll show you where we keep the feed.”

Reggie watched them disappear around the corner, then turned to her two remaining guests. “You’ll find some buckets on the other side of the porch. I’d appreciate it if you’d each grab one and go down to the lake to fetch some fresh water. We’ll be needing it to clean the dishes and the like later.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Chance immediately stood and reached for his still-damp boot.

Mr. Fulton didn’t respond right away, but at her unblinking stare, he finally gave a short, mocking bow and turned to grab the bucket.

As the two headed down the trail, Reggie found herself alone for the first time since the men had swooped into her life like hounds on the scent of game.

Feeling suddenly tired beyond reckoning, she sagged down on the porch step and put her chin on her knees.

It wasn’t fair! The pieces of her life had just started to fall into place. With Lemuel’s passing, God rest his soul, she was independent, answerable to no one for the first time in her twenty-three years. Her grandfather had known how restricted she felt living in her brother-in-law’s household, and how she’d only stayed there to be close to Jack.

Now, to have that sweet, newfound freedom snatched away before she’d had time to truly savor it was more than cruel. It was downright spiteful.

Grandfather, why did you do this to me?

Chapter Five

As Adam followed Ira and Jack around the cabin, he studied the older man, trying to sort through the jumble of contradictory impressions he presented.

Though nearly bald and sporting a chin full of gray whiskers, the housekeeper’s husband was as spry as a schoolboy. His leathery skin and crow’s feet were offset by eyes that shone as blue and clear as a newborn’s.

Slightly built and a head shorter than Adam, he had a puckish quality about him. Maybe it had something to do with that glint of a gold tooth Adam had spotted earlier, or with the abundance of laugh lines bracketing his mouth.

A flash of color distracted Adam from his musings.

What in the world...

He stopped dead in his tracks, blinking at the exotic contraption perched beside the small feed crib.

It was a wagon, he finally decided. But he’d never seen its like outside of a circus parade. To call it gaudy was doing it a kindness.

From this angle, only the back and part of one side was visible, but it was enough. More than enough. Not only was the caravan-style conveyance painted in garish shades of green, maroon and gold, but it was constructed in an overblown design, complete with exuberant scrollwork and elaborately carved panels.

“What kind of rig is that?”

Adam tore his gaze away from the flamboyant sight long enough to glance at Mitchell over his shoulder. The man wore a bemused, dumbfounded expression. Adam realized his own was probably similar.

“Looks like a circus wagon,” he said, stroking Trib’s nose. “Though what it’s doing out here—”

Ira, dusting his hands after sliding the fishing poles up under the eaves of the crib, grinned. “I see you spied Reggie’s photography wagon. She’s a beauty, ain’t she?”

Photography wagon? Adam led Trib forward with a click of his tongue. “Did she inherit it from her father?”

The balding leprechaun cackled. “You didn’t know Reggie’s daddy, did you? Warren Nash would never have been caught driving such a fanciful contraption as this. Plain and simple was more his style.”

Ira Peavy patted the wagon as if it were an old friend. “No, Reggie designed this herself after one of them traveling circuses passed through here.”

She’d actually intended it to look like this? Miss Nash was either as bereft of taste as she was of singing ability, or she had a wicked sense of humor.

“It’s the fanciest wagon in all of Turnabout,” Jack announced proudly. “Everyone stops to stare when we pass by.”

“That I’ll believe,” Mitchell muttered.

“So, your aunt’s a photographer, is she?” Adam asked Jack.

“Yes, sir. Photographs people mostly. But she does plants and animals, too. Some of ’em turn out real pretty.” He gave Adam a big smile. “I’ll bet she’d be glad to take a picture of you and your friends if you wanted.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Adam responded noncommittally. He knew her father had been a photographer, and Judge Madison had mentioned something about her following in her father’s footsteps. But Adam had assumed it was a slightly eccentric pastime of hers, something she toyed with when she was bored, the way other women did with watercolors or the piano.

But if she’d gone to the trouble of designing her own wagon...

“You’ll find feed for the horses over here,” Ira said, interrupting Adam’s thoughts. “You can water them down by the lake and there’s lots of good grazing there as well. I’m afraid the lean-to is only big enough for our two horses, so you’ll have to tether yours under the trees tonight. Weather’s fair, though, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”