A Bride at Last (38 page)

Will stood beside Reverend Finch, arms crossed, with a stupid grin on his face. Mrs. Finch was looking between the two of them as if she wasn’t sure she shouldn’t speak up and stop the whole thing.

But there was no reason to stop them at all. “You can continue, Reverend, if you would.”

The man straightened, shoved his glasses back up his nose, and rattled off the vows for Silas, which he answered with a determined “I will.”

When it was Kate’s turn to respond to the recitation of vows, she looked down at her feet, her lips pressed together.

Trying not to squeeze her any harder or let go, Silas closed his eyes, worried his heart could actually break. He’d just told her she didn’t have to go through with the wedding, that she could run if she needed to, but evidently he hadn’t really thought she’d do it, otherwise his body wouldn’t feel so heavy and his stomach slightly nauseous right now.

“I just . . .” She exhaled through her pursed lips. “I wanted to add to the vows a bit.”

He opened his eyes and stared into hers.

Squeezing his hands, she nodded. “I vow not to disappear for more than a few hours without making every effort to let you know where I’m headed. And I do intend to stay, ’til death do us part—not Anthony’s, not anyone else’s, but yours or mine.” She smiled up at him. “Anything else you might be worried about that I should address?”

He couldn’t help the joy inside him from bubbling up onto his lips. “No.”

“Then all those things, I vow.”

Slipping his hands against her jawline, he kissed her softly on the lips, his heart warming even more with the way the tension left her body and her knees stopped knocking.

Reverend Finch loudly cleared his throat, making him pull away.

“I haven’t told you to kiss the bride yet.” The laughter in the pastor’s voice was barely contained. “You’re messing up my speech, here.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Will snickered, and Kate covered her cheeks with her hands, not that anyone could miss the fact she was blushing—as usual.

“Shall I continue?” The reverend grinned.

Silas shrugged. “I almost feel like maybe you should go back, so I can promise some extra stuff.”

Grabbing his hands again, Kate shook her head. “Go on, Reverend. He’s got a long train ride to promise me whatever he wants to.”

After Reverend Finch pronounced them man and wife, he shut his book with a loud thump. “Here’s where I would normally tell you to kiss your bride, but I don’t want to force you to do such a thing twice.”

“What about thrice?” Silas wrapped her up in his arms and kissed her once for a second, and then again.

Will clasped on to his shoulder. “You got a train to catch, my friend. Plus I got to get home to my wife. Can’t sit around here watching you smooch all day.”

Kate looked at Will sheepishly before following the reverend to his desk, where he handed her a pen to sign the license.

“And I’d told Eliza just last week I was about to write you up an official diagnosis of insanity for not marrying your woman. I just didn’t know what to prescribe.” Will’s amused voice sobered with a quick clearing of his throat. “I’m sorry for the boy’s disappearance, but Kate will do you good. I’m sure of it.”

Silas thumped Will on the shoulder, too choked up to say anything to him, then walked over to take the pen from Kate, who’d signed her name:
Kathryn Anne Jonesey
.

“I wish I had my real name to give you.”

She laced her hand through his left arm. “We’re not letting the past affect our future, remember? Jonesey will do as long as it’s attached to you.”

Will was correct. He’d been insane not to marry this woman the moment she stepped off the train. “You’re right. I need to let go of the unknown, painful parts of my past before they hurt me anymore.”

But had his fear of repeating his past already cost him the future with his son?

Trudging past Richard’s house, Kate scanned the sidewalks for Silas. She’d left an hour ago to intercept the teachers leaving the Hartfield school Anthony had once attended, but only received blank stares from teachers who’d never met the boy.

For all her desire never to enter into a hasty marriage, she’d
thrown herself into this one thinking Anthony would certainly be in Missouri.

Not that she wouldn’t have married Silas yesterday or any day after that, but she’d been so sure coming here would be the answer.

Surely Richard wasn’t desperate enough to kidnap Anthony, knowing they’d foiled him once and would suspect him again. If Anthony wasn’t here, would Silas be upset she’d wasted money to appease her ridiculous suspicions?

Sure, they were using the cash Silas had given her when he proposed, but they could’ve used the money for so many other things. Would his inability to purchase replacements for what Peter Hicks had stolen cause them to lose the farm along with Anthony?

Would Silas regret their hasty marriage if that happened?

Leaning against a clock post at the intersection, Silas smiled when he caught sight of her, but his smile, though genuine, didn’t quite reach his dark-circled eyes.

The poor man had hardly slept at all on the train. Every time she’d been jolted from her sleep when her neck rolled forward, he’d been awake praying.

She held up the bag of sandwiches she’d purchased. They hadn’t eaten since they’d detrained early that morning, when the sky was barely gray enough to see the steps the porter had plopped down in front of them. “I’m sorry if you don’t care for corned beef, but I don’t know what you do or do not like yet.”

He took the bag from her. “At the moment, I’d kiss you even if you handed me boiled cow tongue.”

She couldn’t help the laugh, though the weight of Anthony’s missing presence snuffed it quickly. “If you’re that easy to please, I’ll have no trouble keeping you happy.”

He let his gaze roam her face and then strayed to her mouth
for so long her lips practically begged her to kiss him despite being in the middle of a street.

He dragged his gaze up to her eyes, his pupils, dark and captivating.

The shiver that ran through her warmed her body despite the November chill.

“Oh, Kate.” He pulled her to sit with him on the bench by the clock post. “This is not how I wanted to spend the day after our wedding.”

What could she say to that? Though she’d claimed not to be a romantic, eating lunch with frozen fingers on a bench in a strange neighborhood was surely one of the worst honeymoons she’d ever heard of. “I’m fairly certain eating on the street will make us appear more suspicious than we already are.”

He scooted closer to her, wrapping his arm around her. “We can’t leave this spot until we’ve seen Richard either coming or going.”

Tugging up the collar on her coat, she wished for the hundredth time she’d packed hats. Frowning at Silas’s reddened ears, she wanted to apologize for her lack of foresight.

Hadn’t he promised to stop any future apologies with a kiss? The heat of a blush might warm her up.

“Why are you blushing?”

Goodness, just thinking about kissing caused her to blush—but considering the tips of her ears and nose were still cold, blushing was no match for today’s weather. “I was trying to come up with something not worth apologizing for so you could stop me with a kiss again.”

He kissed the top of her hairline and sniffed her hair with a little groan. “There’s been a sad lack of kissing since you became my wife.” His stomach rumbled. “And a sad lack of food apparently.”

She took the bag back from him and handed him a wrapped
sandwich. “I can take care of the second problem, but the first should probably be taken care of elsewhere.”

“Right.” He sighed and took the corned beef. “I figure you can stay and watch the house while I look for Richard at the taverns and find us a place to stay.”

“Hopefully nowhere near any of those taverns.”

He let out a small chuckle. “No.” Taking a bite of his sandwich, he stared out at the empty street.

How long would Silas want them to keep an eye on Richard’s house? Until dark?

The dread of repeating the weeks of searching for Anthony, not knowing where to look next or when to give up, made her want to curl up into a ball and cry. If Richard didn’t have him . . .

Kate took a bite of her sandwich before tucking her fingers under her arms to try to warm them. She’d not cry here in front of random passersby.

Keep Anthony safe, Lord. Show us where to
go.

Out of the corner of her eye, a flash of navy appeared in front of Richard’s house. A woman with dark, graying hair shut the front door, then stalked toward the sidewalk with purpose—glancing their way every few steps.

“Silas, I think we’re about to have a visitor.”

The woman’s face was scrunched with suspicion, and one of her arms awkwardly stayed stiff and hidden behind her skirt as she walked.

“And I think she’s got a weapon,” Kate whispered. Her heart thumped wildly. It was one thing to watch a house; it was another to stand face-to-face with one of the people they were spying on.

Silas stood, his napkin blowing away in the breeze. “Good afternoon, ma’am.” He held out his hands as if he were surrendering.

Stopping a few feet away, the woman didn’t appear to be
the least bit intimidated by Silas, who stood at least half a foot taller than her. “Why do you keep walking past my house? I’ve caught you staring at my windows more than five times now.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you.” Silas kept his hands in front of him. “But we’re looking for Richard Fitzgerald.”

“Then why don’t you knock and ask?”

Silas blinked, his mouth moved, but he shut it without saying anything. Would he admit they wouldn’t believe her no matter what she said?

“He’s not here. You aren’t the only one he owes money, so he won’t be coming home until he’s won enough to satisfy at least the lenders willing to kill him.” The woman’s arm tensed at her side, her eyes narrowing. “And I don’t have money to give you neither. A woman’s got to eat.”

“Oh no, ma’am. We don’t want money. I’m actually searching for my son, Anthony Riverton. Richard, uh . . . used to think Anthony was his son, and—”

“The dark-headed boy the sheriff asked me about?”

“Yes.”

“I already told him—the boy and his mother moved away years ago.”

“Yes, well, did your husband tell you he saw Anthony in Breton last month?”

The woman raised an eyebrow. “You think a man who keeps a mistress informs his wife where he is when he doesn’t come home?”

“I suppose not, ma’am.”

Kate brushed bread crumbs off her lap and stood up next to Silas. “It turns out Anthony wasn’t your husband’s son, and he didn’t react very well to that news. We think he might have tried to take him. We’d not blame you at all if you were caring for him.”

The woman sighed. “As I already told the sheriff, as far as
I know, Richard’s in town but not here, and I have no boy. If I let you look inside, will you stop pacing in front of my house?”

Putting a hand to Silas’s arm, Kate nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind, it would set our minds at ease.” Maybe a little anyway.

“Fine.” The woman pivoted and marched away.

“I don’t know if we should go traipsing around in her house.” Silas’s steps were slow to follow.

Kate tugged on him. “She invited us in, and it’ll free us to look elsewhere.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald swung her door wide open. “Come in.”

They ducked inside, and Kate caught a glimpse of the small pistol she was hiding in her skirt.

“Go on and look, but I’m not going to bother going with you. I got nothing worth stealing with the way Richard gambles.”

“This is kind of you, ma’am.” The resignation in Silas’s voice indicated he figured searching was a waste of time, but he slipped into the parlor anyway.

“Want coffee?”

Kate looked between Mrs. Fitzgerald and Silas opening a door in the darkened room. “No thank you, we’ve already inconvenienced you enough. I’m sorry we didn’t feel as if we could take your word for things. If it wasn’t for Mr. Fitzgerald trying to—”

“Honey, I was a headstrong seventeen-year-old who married a charmer I’d known for a few weeks. The loan sharks, the sheriff, and all manners of scum started showing up on my front step soon after. I don’t blame you for not trusting anyone associated with Richard.”

Silas came out of the room and ducked into another. Mrs. Fitzgerald motioned for her to have a seat.

She’d do whatever a woman carrying a gun told her to do, so she sat.

Mrs. Fitzgerald settled into a chair across from her and they
both watched Silas as he trudged up the stairs. A clock ticked loudly from somewhere behind them, counting off the minutes Silas walked around the second floor.

She shouldn’t have refused the coffee—at least she’d have had something to occupy herself with. “Do you know of a decent place to board in town? I once stayed at Mrs. Levett’s, but she’s no longer in business.”

“The Blue Lantern’s run by a Christian woman. It’s on Pine and Lookout.”

Silas’s slow, heavy tread descended the stairs. His frown was deeper than before. “As she said, he’s not here.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald’s face was blank, seemingly not too offended by them thinking she’d been lying.