The Texan's Inherited Family. Noelle Marchand
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to know if he had one, but he wasn’t sure what qualified a man to be considered “eligible.” If it was looks, education or riches, he didn’t have a chance. Women never seemed to get silly or swoony over him—at least not that he’d ever noticed.
Of course, that didn’t mean one hadn’t captured his attention.
Helen McKenna, the town’s schoolmarm, caught him watching her from across the crowd of folks who’d gathered for a good old-fashioned shivaree at the ranch where the newlyweds lived. Her mahogany eyes seemed to sparkle in the lantern light as she tilted her head inquisitively and stared right back at him. A blush spread just below her high cheekbones, making him wonder just how long he’d been staring. He sent her a nod as if that’s all he’d been trying to do in the first place, then glanced away.
He’d noticed her in church the first Sunday after she’d arrived in town, but hadn’t met her until he’d enrolled his eldest nephew and niece in school. That first meeting had confirmed everything he’d feared about the schoolmarm. She was beautiful, refined, intelligent and far too good for him. Every time he looked at her, Nana’s warnings rang in his ears. Chasing after more than you deserve will only get you hurt or dead.
Hadn’t his pa and his brother proven her right? No need for Quinn to follow their example. He’d best stay far away from Miss McKenna—not that he actually had a chance with her, anyway.
Staying away from her tonight would have been a sight easier if she hadn’t hung back to talk to him. The rest of the group followed Sheriff Sean O’Brien, who was the bride’s brother and Quinn’s closest neighbor, toward the cabin where the newlyweds lived. Quinn’s grip tightened on the neck of his banjo in his left hand as Helen’s generous smile set his heart thumping in his chest. Not wanting her to stumble in the dark, uneven field they traipsed across, he dared to place a cautionary hand near the small of her back. She angled closer to his side and chanced a whisper.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. Who’s with the children?”
“The groom’s parents were kind enough to insist on watching them for me,” he whispered back. “You can’t get much better than the town doctor and Mrs. Lettie Williams for temporary caregivers. They even brought us supper.”
Her lips tipped upward in a brief smile. “What about Reece? How is his black eye?”
“All right, I suppose, but it’s turning an awful shade of green.” Reece was Quinn’s oldest nephew at nine years old and was the self-designated protector of the siblings. He hadn’t taken kindly to one of the other schoolboys picking on his younger sister Clara. The seven-year-old was a true sweetheart and destined to be a heartbreaker with her rich brown curls and big blue eyes. “I’m not sure what to do. I don’t want to encourage him to fight, but I don’t want Clara to be bullied, either.”
She nodded with understanding and concern written across her face in a frown. “I’ve already spoken to the other student’s father about it. Hopefully, the teasing will stop. As for Reece, I’m sure he’ll settle in soon.”
“I hope so. He’s been through a lot with his father and stepmother dying in that boating accident on their honeymoon only two years after his mother died in childbirth. Then he traveled thousands of miles to live with an uncle he’d never even met.”
“It couldn’t have been an easy transition for you, either.” The empathy in her tone wrapped around him like a warm blanket.
“I manage well enough.” At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. Helen started to respond but someone shushed them, so she just nodded. He counted about twelve or thirteen people creeping along beside her to where a cozy cabin for two sat at the edge of the woods. Even the katydids stopped singing. A snicker sounded above the soft rustle of grass but was quickly drowned out by more shushes.
Sean lit the lantern he held and gave a single nod. A cacophony of sound shattered the stillness. Quinn’s lightning-fast fingers picked an out-of-tune melody on his banjo. On his right, Helen banged an old frying pan with a mangled metal spoon while her good friend Isabelle Bradley rang the bell that usually sat on the Bradley Boardinghouse’s front desk. On his left side, his best friend, Rhett Granger, played a jumbled assortment of chords on his harmonica before settling in on a single warbling note. Beside Rhett, Chris Johansen’s fiddle screeched. Other folks added to the discordance by banging more pots and pans, whooping, hollering and whistling.
A cheer went up when the door opened a few seconds later. Lawson appeared, looking startled and drowsy but with a wide grin on his face. Ellie followed him out, laughing even as she covered her ears. In true shivaree fashion, the husband and wife were each made to sit in wheelbarrows. The ride ended on the banks of the farm’s creek where the couple was finally allowed to stand. The noise and the music died down so that Sean’s wife, Lorelei, could speak.
“Lawson and Ellie, this shivaree is to show you that your marriage has the full blessing of your family, friends and community.” Lorelei gestured toward the creek. “As you take the plunge into married life, we take it with you.”
Ellie eyed the creek then tilted her head and stared at her friends with calculating mischief. “Does that mean if we jump in, everyone else has to, as well?”
Quinn grinned at Ellie’s exuberance. It was a pretty balmy night for mid-October. Of course, that didn’t mean the creek would be anything but frigid.
Sean nodded. “That’s the deal. Afterward, women will change in the cabin. Men will change in the barn.”
Lawson gave a slow grin and winked. “Well, in that case...”
Ellie didn’t seem the least bit surprised when Lawson lifted her into his arms and barreled into the creek with what could only be described as a war cry. Pandemonium broke out as folks tossed their noisemakers on the ground and men started picking up whichever woman was handy to follow their leader into battle. Quinn spotted Helen backing away from the melee as he set his banjo in the cushioned wheelbarrow with the other instruments. He cut off Helen’s escape, swept her off her feet and plunged into the creek.
Rushing water muted the sound of Helen’s shriek and the rest of the hollering until Quinn resurfaced, gasping from the cold. Helen pushed away from him and immediately headed to the creek bank. A wave of water rushed over Quinn’s head. He soon found himself embroiled in a water fight with Rhett and Chris. Once they’d had all they could stand of the cold, they staggered to the creek bank to follow the rest of the party in the rush toward warmth and dry clothes.
Quinn didn’t make it very far along the path before he realized he hadn’t seen Helen head for the trees. She was probably on the path ahead of him, but even with only three weeks of experience in the role, the parent in him already knew not to leave the creek without making sure she wasn’t straggling behind the group. Quinn doubled back to the creek bank. Sure enough, she was staring at the ground as she walked back and forth along the bank of the creek. “Miss McKenna, what are you doing?”
“I’m looking for something.”
“Well, you aren’t going to find it in the dark.”
She sighed. “You’re probably right.”
“You should change before you catch cold. You must be freezing.”
“I certainly am.” Her gaze swept the creek bank one last time before she joined him at the edge of the woods. “Thanks to you.”
His caught her elbow to escort her onto the path. “Aw, I just gave you a little help getting in the creek, that’s all. You would have jumped in eventually.”
“Yes, but not quite so enthusiastically.” Her smile flashed in the darkness before she gave him a stern look she must have perfected on her students. “Is there a particular reason why you seemed to take such sheer pleasure in throwing me into that creek?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Maybe I don’t like schoolteachers.”
“What did they ever do to you?”
“Plenty.”