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It wasn't only that Justin didn't want her to share his nights, it was the fact that this marriage was a farce from beginning to end. For now, they shared a roof, but what would happen when his year was up? Would he still be leaving? What would they do about Bonnie? Would they separate? Get a divorce? It was unthinkable. Megan turned back to the hamper and started unpacking food. She wasn't worried about the scandal his leaving would create. Instead, she wondered how she would survive losing Justin for the second time in her life.
"You let me know if you want my special recipe." Mrs. Brown winked, then tapped the side of her nose. "It sure keeps men coming back. Not that a pretty thing like you will have any trouble keeping your husband happy."
Megan smiled. "Thank you. You're too kind."
The farmer's wife picked up her basket of supplies and left the general store. Megan stared after her, then glanced around at the crowded aisles. It had been three weeks since she'd married Justin, three weeks since that night they'd spent together at the hotel and three weeks since Gene had threatened her.
Megan picked up a bolt of fabric from the others that were scattered on the counter. Mrs. Brown had been choosing cloth to make her eldest daughter a dress. The weather had been fine this year, and crops were growing well. If the grasshoppers didn't come back, if the prairie fires kept west
and north of them, if it didn't hail in July, then this would be the best harvest in almost ten years. Everyone seemed happy and optimistic. Even friendly. Gene had threatened her with ruin, but so far nothing had happened.
She climbed up her short ladder so that she could push the bolt of fabric in place. Since her first day back at the store, people had been stopping by to congratulate her on her marriage. She'd been afraid of censure, especially from Colleen's most loyal supporters. Mrs. Greeley had sniffed a rude comment, one or two others had stopped frequenting her store, but the rest of the town had seemed pleased. Megan smiled to herself. Everything was working out.
"Megan, Megan, come quick!" Bonnie dashed into the store and across the swept floor. Her new shoes skidded on the smooth surface. "They're here, they're here!"
She climbed down the ladder and turned to the child. Bonnie's big eyes glowed with excitement. Her braids flapped with each turn of her head. "Who's here?" Megan asked, teasing her by pretending ignorance.
"The supply stage." The little girl practically quivered with anticipation. "You think they brung my readers?"
Along with her regular order, Megan had sent for some primers for the girl. Bonnie had been waiting impatiently ever since she'd finally mastered her letters and had started reading simple words. She was anxious to "read a whole story by myself."
Megan crossed over to her and bent down to smooth the child's lace collar. That morning, Bonnie had left the house all clean and tidy. Now there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek, her shoes were scuffed and there was a new tear in the elbow of her blue calico dress. "I'm sure they brought your readers. But let's go find out for sure." She took Bonnie's hand and led her to the door.
Outside, a crowd was already collecting around the stagecoach. There was only one passenger climbing down. He was dusting himself off as if he'd had to share his seat with dirty cargo. Megan grinned. He probably had. Every inch of the vehicle had been filled with boxes, barrels and sacks.
Justin's Bride 235
"Where are they?" Bonnie asked, dancing and ducking, trying to look around the people in front of her. "I don't see em.
"They'll be in a box for the store," Megan said. "Don't worry. I'm sure they're here."
Mrs. Dobson came out onto the boardwalk and marched over to the stage driver. "Don't forget to give me the mail, young man."
The driver, closer to fifty than forty, looked down at the darkly-clad woman and grinned, exposing white teeth. "Now, Miz Dobson, did I ever forgit your mail?"
"Just because you haven't yet, doesn't mean you won't."
"All right, ma'am, I'll be gittin' it fer you right quick." He leaned close and winked. "I don't suppose you'd have time to share a cuppa coffee with me?"
Mrs. Dobson glanced from his shiny, leather boots to his black Stetson. Megan watched the exchange, all the while wondering when the widow was going to light into the man. She'd taken hides off of much bigger men than this one, and for much less of an offense. It was a pity, though, she thought sadly. The driver was handsome, in a gruff sort of way, and he was a lot cleaner and better mannered than many men in town.
