My Baby, My Bride. Tina Leonard
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“I had a weak moment.”
“Ouch.”
“No! I didn’t mean that. I meant that I allowed them to coerce me into trying it on.” She put a hand on his arm. “Duke, it wasn’t you as much as it was me, really and truly.”
“You spend too much time around women, listening to them gripe about their men,” he said gruffly, “and it scared you.”
“No, frankly just the thought of marrying you spooked me.” She sighed. “You can’t blame them. I had my own doubts.”
“I’m not so terrible,” he complained.
She turned away. “You’ll be wonderful for the right woman.”
“You are the right woman!” he roared. “Or at least you would be if you’d act right.”
“Duke,” she said, “we’d end up like the Carmines.”
“Only you’d be the one running off. Even Mrs. Carmine said I’m stalwart.” He was proud of that. “By the way, you still look good enough to eat in that dress. It always reminds me of a big, fluffy piece of Ms. Pansy’s divinity when I see you in it.”
“Ugh. I’m not sure that’s what it was supposed to evoke.”
“I like dessert, so the dress was perfect, in my opinion.”
“There he is,” Liberty said, pointing.
Duke slowed the truck as he saw the old man sitting propped against a tree, watching ducks fly overhead. His rifle was on the ground next to him but the elderly man didn’t have a hand on it. He appeared to be watching the wedge of ducks as they flew, perfectly content to enjoy the silence and the heat of the day. “He doesn’t look ready to go home.”
“You tell him,” Liberty said. “I’m not in a position to tell someone they should return home.”
“You got that right,” Duke said, “and I might remind you, based on the popular opinion of my stalwartness, you should tell your lady friends that their idea to write Zach and Pepper into the ballot hurt my feelings.”
Liberty laughed. Then she saw the seriousness of his face as he parked the truck. “Did it really?”
“Yes, damn it.” He switched off the engine, keeping an eye on Mr. Carmine. “How would you feel if you knew all your townfolk that you’d sworn to serve and protect were always conspiring against you?”
“It’s not actually against you,” Liberty said, but Duke waved her comforting words aside.
“Sure it is. They’ve got some bee in their bonnets over something. Like I haven’t given in to them enough. They wanted to change the name of the town to reflect the Dutch ancestry of the settlers, so I agreed. They wanted to change the name of a perfectly good establishment to make it more of a tourist attraction, and I agreed to that, with great reservation. Now they’re trying to run me out by writing in my siblings’ names—one of whom hasn’t been here in a year—with their little wizened hands. Judases!” He frowned. “Or would that be Jezebels?”
“Oh, gosh.” Liberty got out of the truck. “Duke, come on. We’ve got a job to do.”
He got out, his heart heavy. What was the matter with all the females in his world? Clearly none of them cared that he was so easy to get along with.
It wasn’t fair.
“Hello, Mr. Carmine,” he said.
“Howdy, Sheriff,” Bug said, not surprised to see him at all. “Nice day, isn’t it?” He nodded to Liberty. “Glad to see you back in town, girl.”
Liberty sat next to him. She picked up his bottle, which looked empty and probably had been for some time. From her jeans pocket, she pulled out a package of spearmint gum, and they each had a piece. Duke raised an eyebrow, watching this silent communication.
“Mrs. Carmine is wondering about you,” Duke said.
Bug looked back at the sky as if searching for the ducks he’d been watching before. But they were long gone and only small white clouds trailed across the blue in cumulus strings. Bug’s gaze came to rest on Duke. “How’s your jail, Sheriff?”
“It’s a jail,” Duke said. “And occupied,” he continued quickly, in case Bug was looking for a place to stay. “Mr. Parsons is still in residence.”
Bug nodded. “Marriage is a jail, and I’m still in residence, too.”
Liberty shot a worried glance at Duke. He remained silent. Maybe his powers of communication weren’t quite what he’d thought they’d been.
Liberty stood, putting her hand out to Mr. Carmine. After a moment, Bug took her hand and lifted himself to his feet, giving all appearances of using Liberty’s strength as emotional support. Duke watched as the two of them headed to the truck. Bug silently settled himself into the back seat of the double cab. Liberty nodded at him, telling him they were ready to go, so he got behind the wheel and drove back to the ranch house.
Mrs. Carmine came out onto the porch, her face lit with a gentle smile. Bug got out of the truck, and walked toward the house, where he was enveloped in a big hug he seemed happy to return. The two of them went inside the house arm in arm and closed the front door.
Duke blinked. Checking the back seat, he saw Bug’s shotgun and empty whiskey bottle.
“He won’t need the gun ’til next time,” Liberty said. “Why don’t you just keep it with you at the jail for now? He’ll come get it soon enough.”
He didn’t understand any of what had just happened. But Liberty seemed to, and he was happy to take her suggestion. “What happens now?”
She shrugged. “Now Mrs. Carmine ignores that he went away because she loves him, and he ignores the fact that he’s unhappy because it’s not her fault.”
What a prison. A curse, maybe. Like something out of a Grimm’s fairy tale. Duke plucked at the steering wheel. Maybe Liberty was on to something where they were concerned, though he was hard-pressed to admit it.
Still, he didn’t want her to ever think marriage to him was a jail, though Mr. Parsons seemed to like his own prison well enough. “Ye gods, you people are hard to live with,” he said, and Liberty looked at him.
“So?” she asked. “Your conclusion?”
“That you’re right,” he said slowly. “There really is no happy ending.”
“I think not,” Liberty said, “which is a very scary thought.”
“Damn,” Duke said. “I need to get home and feed my dog.” He started the engine, glad to have an excuse to hurry back to town.
“I thought Mr. Parsons took care of Molly-Jimbo.”
“He feeds her peanuts as a snack,” Duke said righteously. “I want to make certain I head him off at the pass.”
“Does she like the peanuts?”
“Molly likes anything that comes from a human hand.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Liberty asked.
“I don’t like it. A dog should eat dry dog food.”
Liberty raised a brow. “Duke, do you ever bend the rules?”
“No,” Duke said, surprised. “If I did, I wouldn’t be sheriff, would I? At least not a very good one.”
Liberty turned her head to look out the opposite window. “I suppose not.”
They rode in silence until they reached the town square.
“Please drop me off at the Tulips Saloon,” Liberty said.
“It should be closed. No one will be there.”
“I