Wrong Husband Read online

  The Wrong Husband

  Ruth Ann Nordin

  Ruth Ann Nordin’s Books

  Springfield, Nebraska 68059

  The Wrong Husband - Smashwords Edition

  Published by Ruth Ann Nordin at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2010 by Ruth Ann Nordin

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Photo images Copyright Shutterstock Images LLC. All rights reserved – used with permission.

  Dedication page:

  For April Dawn Mitchell who can brighten my day with an inspiring post or friendly email. I’m glad to have you as a friend, and I hope God continues to bless your marriage and that you’ll be holding your own little one someday!

  And for Toyette Hazzard who inspired the sub-plot between Sally and Rick in this book. I think you’ll find the special dinner turned out to be a great success—not necessarily for Sally and Rick but for Owen and Jenny. I’ll let you read that part to see what I mean. It’s been a pleasure to become your friend, and I hope God also blesses you!

  Chapter One

  Omaha, Nebraska

  July 1876

  “I said I’m here to see my son,” Clyde Jenkins said, standing firm in the doorway.

  Jenny Larson tried to slam the door on his face, but he stopped her by putting his foot out so she couldn’t shut it. Her heart hammered in her ears. No. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t! She pressed on the door with all of her weight but it wouldn’t budge. “You didn’t want to have anything to do with him when you found out I was expecting. Why are you interested now?” she finally snapped.

  “He’s my son.” He shoved the door open and stormed past her.

  She ran after him as he strode down the hallway of the boarding house. “You can’t do this!”

  He ignored her and opened the kitchen door.

  “Get out of here!” Jenny demanded.

  “You can’t keep me from him, Jen,” he said as he paced toward the four-year-old boy who stopped eating his soup.

  Jenny shot Mrs. Jones an apologetic look as she raced to the small round kitchen table and put her hands protectively on her son’s shoulders. “You’re not taking him, Clyde. I won’t let you!”

  Jeremy looked at Clyde but didn’t say anything.

  Smiling at the boy, Clyde knelt in front of him. “Good morning, Jeremy. I’m your pa.”

  Jenny’s gaze shifted from Clyde to Mrs. Jones who set down the stack of newspapers and gave her a questioning look. Jenny silently pleaded with her landlady to help her. Turning back to Clyde, she said, “You can’t do this.”

  His cold brown eyes met hers. “Jen, I believe I have a right to my own flesh and blood.” He pulled out a chair and sat on it so he could be eye level with the boy. “Now, Jeremy, I hope your ma told you something about me.”

  Jeremy looked up at her. “Is he my pa?”

  Taking a deep breath, she debated how to answer his question. All Clyde did was make it possible for her to conceive the child. She hardly considered him a real father. Who would have thought five minutes could change everything?

  “Ma?”

  “Yes.” The confirmation tore at her heart. She knew the day might come when she’d have to reveal the truth of his lineage but hoped it would be when he was older, when he could fully understand the situation.

  Clyde shook his head at her. “You didn’t mention me at all?”

  She gritted her teeth. “You weren’t around.”

  He smiled at Jeremy. “Your pa had some important business to do. I’m done now, and you and your ma will come with me to St. Louis.”

  “We will not!” Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Mrs. Jones quietly left the room. Her grip on Jeremy’s shoulders tightened.

  “Come on, Jen,” Clyde argued. “Be reasonable.”

  “Our home is here. We’re not leaving, and we’re certainly not leaving with you.”

  “Jeremy needs a father.”

  “You didn’t think so five years ago.”

  “And I was wrong.” He attempted to rest his hand on hers, but she pulled away from him as if his touch burned her. “People make mistakes, and I made a horrible one. I intend to be a part of your life.”

  “No!” Scared, she grabbed Jeremy from his chair and picked him up. Holding him close to her, she rushed toward the kitchen door.

  Clyde blocked her exit. “You’re not going anywhere. He’s my son and I have every right to talk to him.”

  Despite her shaky hands, she refused to back down. “You gave up those rights when you abandoned us.”

  He threw his hands up in the air. “I had to get settled. I didn’t have the money to support you and a child.”

  “You hopped on the first train out of here. You said it was my fault I got in the family way. You even said someone else could be his father.”

  Shrugging, he stepped toward them. “How could I tell that you weren’t sleeping around with other men?”

  Indignation swept through her. How dare he! Could he easily forget that he took her virginity? Used goods. That’s all I am and that’s all I’ll ever be. However, it wasn’t time for regrets. She had to protect her son.

  “I know Jeremy is mine.” He took another step closer to her. “I want to do right by you and him.”

  “No, no you don’t.”

  She didn’t trust him. Something was wrong. After five years, he showed up at the boarding house and asked her to marry him. She refused, figuring she was better off continuing on as she was rather than condemning her life to a man who left when she needed him most. And now he was threatening to take Jeremy from her!

  Standing in front of him, holding an overwhelmed little boy, she refused to budge.

  “What is the problem?” he demanded, anger creeping into his voice.

  She nearly cried with relief when Sheriff Meyer and Mrs. Jones entered the kitchen.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Jenkins?” the sheriff asked. He straightened his vest, causing sunlight to bounce off his shiny badge.

  Clyde faced him, his hands relaxing at his sides. “Hello, Sheriff.” His tone cordial, he smiled. “I’m just saying hi to Jenny and my son.”

  “Oh, Sheriff, don’t you believe him for a minute.” Mrs. Jones slipped between Jenny and Clyde. “She’s been asking him to leave but he won’t.”

  Sheriff Meyer looked at Jenny. “Is that true, ma’am?”

  Forcing her tears back, she nodded. “Yes, sir. I don’t want him here.”

  Turning to Clyde, he said, “This is a personal residence. You must leave.”

  “A father has a right to talk to his son, doesn’t he?” Clyde asked.

  “You have to consider the mother’s thoughts on that. I’d say you have to wait until she’s willing.”

  His mouth formed a thin line. “We’ll see about that
.” He stormed out of the kitchen, letting the front door bang shut behind him.

  Jenny exhaled, unaware that she’d been holding her breath.

  Mrs. Jones gave her a hug. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. You have family and friends who are here to help you.”

  “Thank you, Martha.” She let Jeremy stand on his feet.

  Though her son looked bewildered, she decided she would talk to him later. She needed time to think. Clyde’s arrival had been unexpected.

  The sheriff led Jeremy back to his soup before urging Jenny to the other side of the room. Resting one hand on the work table and the other on his hip, he whispered, “I don’t think he’ll stay away. I’ve dealt with this before, and some men can get persistent.”

  She folded her hands together, squeezing them. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Sheriff, from the way it sounded, he wants to take Jeremy away. He can’t do that, can he?”

  “There have been kidnappings.”

  Her stomach knotted up, making her feel queasy. She glanced at her son who hadn’t touched his food. Though he didn’t fully understand what happened, he knew it wasn’t good. Never once did she imagine Clyde would return, much less want his son.

  “What should she do?” Martha asked.

  He stared at the floor for a good moment before he said, “A married woman has an easier time than a single one when it comes to certain men coming around uninvited.”

  Marriage? She long since gave up on the idea of getting married when she discovered her pregnancy and Clyde bailed on her.

  “A man would provide a stable environment for a family. He’d be the protector if Clyde returns. Men like Clyde tend to stay away when there’s another man around.”

  She sighed in despair. The sheriff was right. Clyde ran from her brothers when they searched for him and he just backed off when the sheriff came, so she knew he’d back down when confronted by another man. She failed to be intimidating enough to make him leave.

  “No reputable man will marry me,” she replied. In fact, single men avoided her because of the stigma associated with her.

  “I have a new deputy who’s due to arrive in September.” He rubbed his chin. “His name is Irving Spencer, and he’d probably be willing to take a wife. He’s one of my cousins. Since he can’t have children, no woman’s been interested in him. But you have Jeremy already, and he won’t mind the fact that the boy’s not his.”

  “But won’t his reputation suffer for it?”

  “I’ve been told that Irving is a force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t care what others think. He’s tough as nails and strong as steel. A few rumors won’t bother him.”

  Feeling overwhelmed, she rested her head in her hands. This is happening too fast. First, Clyde shows up and now the sheriff’s trying to pair me up with his distant relative. I can’t process all of this at once.

  “I’ll tell you what.” The man cleared his throat and stood up straight, making her look his way. “I’ll send him a letter and see what he thinks. We still have two months before he arrives. That should be plenty of time for the two of you to make a decision. Nothing has to be done today.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, glad that she had time to think.

  “What do we do about Clyde in the meantime?” Martha wondered.

  “Keep Jeremy in this house. As long as Jeremy’s here, Clyde has no right to intrude on your property.”

  “Why can’t you just arrest him?”

  “On what grounds? He hasn’t committed a crime.”

  She groaned. “I know you’re right, Sheriff, but I don’t like it. Alright. Off with you. The poor boy and his mother need to calm down.”

  As Mrs. Jones shooed him out, Jenny murmured her thanks and looked at her son. His eyes met hers and tears formed in her eyes. Spinning on her heel, she reached for a clean washcloth to wipe her wet cheeks. I don’t know what to do. Though it was true that she didn’t have to make a decision today, she didn’t want Clyde coming back. She saw the determination in his eyes. He wanted Jeremy for something, and whatever that something was, there was no way it could be good.

  ***

  Baton Rogue, Louisiana

  August 2,1876

  Owen Russell held the cards firmly in his grip. Play it calm. You’re almost there. He eyed the money in the center of the round table. After seven hours of playing poker, it all came down to this moment. If I win this hand, Aunt Rachel will be financially stable again.

  The dim light in the saloon and the heavy smoke gave him a headache but he pressed forward. He hated being here. But he had to do this. If he didn’t, his aunt would end up homeless. Ignoring the drunk patrons and the prostitutes lingering around, he straightened in his chair and focused on the cards in front of him.

  Forcing his attention from the whispers as people bet on who would win, he peaked at the clock. Almost five in the morning. Almost there. Just be calm. This game was too important. Out of the eight players who started the game, only he and Big Roy Hawke were left. A quick glance at Big Roy, aptly named for his overweight frame, notified him that the bearded, dirty man worried that he’d lose his money. Though Big Roy prided himself on his ability to bluff, he had a habit of chewing his toothpick faster when he didn’t have a good hand, just as other players had their own subtle cues that told Owen when to raise the ante and when to fold. In this case, Owen had raised the ante. The remaining sum of his aunt’s life savings sat in that sizable pile of coins in front of him.

  Owen slowly exhaled, willing his fingers steady so he couldn’t grab the stash and run. He had to play it cool. He studied his cards again, just to make sure he had a possible winning hand. The royal flush stared back at him, the charming diamonds and clovers seeming to dance in tune with his heartbeat.

  “I call.” Big Roy’s gruff voice interrupted the murmurs around them. He shoved his remaining money forward. Downing his shot of whiskey, he glared at Owen. “What’d you got, boy?”

  Without bravado, he laid his cards on the table. “Diamond King, Queen, and Jack with Clover Ace and King.”

  Big Roy swore and threw his cards on the table. He had been holding three of a kind.

  Loud shouts and harsh pats on Owen’s back from the men who bet for him brought him to his senses. He did it! He got his aunt’s money back! Accepting the bag the bartender handed him, he collected the money, hoping he didn’t look too eager. He needed to act like he did this kind of thing all the time. Unsure of what the winner usually did but not wishing to offend the bartender who’d been kind to him, he gave the man a tip and headed out. He bypassed several prostitutes who flirted with him and left the establishment. He breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. He never wanted to go into another place like that ever again!

  With the adrenaline rushing through him, Owen took his horse and rode the steed hard until he arrived at his aunt’s small wooden shack that rested along the bayou. He couldn’t wait to see her face when he showed her the money! He anxiously knocked on the door. One glance at the light filtering through the canopy of trees surrounding the house told him it was dawn. This would wake her up, but it was for a good reason. He knocked again, this time making his rapping louder.

  He heard the creaking of the floorboards as she shuffled to the closed door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Aunt Rachel,” he said.

  “Owen?” She opened the door, surprise written on her face. “Come on in, son.”

  He did as she bid and entered her kitchen that didn’t have room for more than two chairs and a wobbly table.

  She hastened to make a pot of coffee while he set his bag of winnings on the table. “How is that fishing business of yours doing?”

  “Great. I got two new customers last week.” Sitting in his usual spot, he took his ratty hat and put it on the table. He ran his hand through his light blond wavy hair. “I’m sorry I woke you. I know you like to sleep until nine.”

  She waved her hand. “I always have time for my favorite nephew.”<
br />
  “I’m your only nephew.”

  “That doesn’t stop you from being my favorite.” She set the pot on the old cookstove. The open window allowed fresh air in, and though no breeze wafted in, it did serve to cool the place down at night.

  He chuckled. “Why don’t you sit and talk?” He leaned forward, his elbows resting gently on the table lest he knock it over.

  “I’m comin’.” She turned and froze in place. Eyebrows furrowed, she shot him a curious look with the same blue eyes he and his father shared with her. “You haven’t been misbehavin’, have you?”

  “Take a look before you jump to conclusions.”

  “Boy, you’ll send me to an early grave if you’ve been misbehavin’.”

  “I only set things right for you.”

  Not looking convinced, she gingerly opened the brown sack, her jaw dropping when she saw the money inside. “Oh Lord, he’s fallen in his uncle’s footsteps.” Her words choked on a threatening sob.

  “I’m not going back there, Aunt Rachel. I made enough to gain back the savings Uncle Jim lost gambling. That’s why I went. Now, I want you to move out of here and get a good home like you always wanted. I promise I won’t gamble again.”

  Her lower lip trembling, she sorted through the cash. “Owen, I...” Breaking off, she reached across the table and gave him a big hug and kiss on the forehead. “It was a foolish thing you did, but I’m glad you did it.”

  He returned her hug and laughed. “Now, don’t spend it all in one place.”

  She playfully swatted him on the arm and settled into her chair. “Alright. Since you saved me from the poor house, the least I can do is feed you. Are you hungry for biscuits and eggs?”

  His stomach rumbled. “I sure am. No one makes biscuits as tasty as you do.”

  “Then you just sit back and relax. I’ll have your meal ready soon.”