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What was with the women in this town? And he used that term lightly, because if he remembered correctly, the only other marriageable woman in town was barely seventeen years old. Did they not know how regular folk courted? It certainly did not involve tricking a man into matrimony or forcing him into it at gunpoint!
He froze as a half-dressed man sleepily staggered in through the nonexistent doorway.
The man glanced at him, frowned in confusion, and scratched at his chest. “Sorry, pal. All these rooms look alike without a door and walls.”
Then he turned with a face-cracking yawn and stumbled in the direction of Adam’s room. His snores filled the air before Adam could draw a full breath. He didn’t spare a second to pity the poor man who was about to find himself in front of an irate father and a preacher. He was probably better off. He looked like a nice enough fellow, young enough to make Sally happy, even had all his teeth from what Adam could tell from that yawn. The devious Miss Sally could certainly do worse.
Adam slung his saddlebags over his shoulder and scurried down the stairs. He’d just made it to the parlor when the front door burst open and an older gentleman with wild eyes and what Adam presumed to be a fully loaded shotgun barged inside. A startled, girlish squeal emanated from above their heads, and the man who’d just come in roared something incoherent and ran for the stairs. Adam wasn’t too sure if the scream had come from Sally or the poor sod she’d found in his bed, but her father didn’t seem inclined to wait to find out. Adam had never seen an old man move so quickly.
He didn’t stick around to see what became of sweet Sally and her soon-to-be husband. Instead, he hightailed it down the street just as fast as he could. To the last place he’d ever thought he’d willingly go. But he’d just run out of options. It was far too dangerous for a single man on the streets of Desolation. He just hoped he could find the place in the dark. He’d only been past it the once, when he’d wandered about town in search of a good nap. But it wasn’t too far from the center of town.
It only took him a few minutes and one wrong turn before he was standing in front of Nora’s neat little homestead. The white house shone slightly in the moonlight, and though the shutters were in need of repair, and the fence line could use a few nails and some paint, it didn’t look quite as bedraggled as it had during the day.
The yard was neat and tidy with its flower beds and trimmed bushes. And what he’d seen of the back of the house looked like most of the land had been put to gardening, though there was a decent-size barn and a chicken coop that was a bit worse for wear.
He took a deep breath, girding his loins, steeling his nerves, bracing his ship for impact…
Who knew how long he’d have stood there gathering his courage, because before he could hesitate any longer, the door opened, releasing a beam of warm light into the night.
“Well, well, well,” Nora said, her voice thick with amusement. “If it isn’t the prodigal husband.”
Chapter Fifteen
Nora folded her arms and watched Adam until he reached her porch. He dropped his saddlebags at his feet and looked up at her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Come to sign the papers, then?”
His eyes widened, though he couldn’t possibly be surprised that she was asking.
“No, but—”
“Then good night.” She slammed the door in his face before he had a second to say anything else, and she didn’t feel a lick of guilt about it. Well…maybe a little lick. A nibble.
He knocked again, and she shook her head. She hadn’t really thought slamming the door would work, but there was no way she was going to just happily invite him into her home unless he agreed to her terms.
She opened the door again. “Yes?”
“You know, you were a lot nicer to me at the bathhouse.”
Her cheeks burned at the reminder of her brazen display. She clenched her hands against the memory of how his wet skin had felt beneath her fingers and stood straighter, determined not to let him see her squirm.
“Yes, well, that was earlier. It’s been a very long week.”
“I completely agree. And in the spirit of that, I’d hoped you’d feel some Christian compassion and take in a poor stranger who needs a place to rest his weary head.”
She cocked her eyebrow. “But you aren’t a poor stranger. You’re my husband.”
He sighed. “Can’t we just agree to disagree on that point?”
She pursed her lips, her eyes boring into his, but he held her gaze until she took a deep breath and pasted on her most insincere smile. “Fine. I agree that I disagree with you. Good night.”
She slammed the door again.
He sighed so loudly, she could hear it through the door. “That’s not what I meant. And I’m not going away, Miss Schumacher.”
She waited a few more seconds and then opened the door again. “Are you going to sign the papers?”
“No, but—”
