Wrong Husband Read online

He put his hands behind his head and enjoyed their easygoing conversation for the rest of the morning.

  Chapter Two

  Three days later

  Baton Rogue, Louisiana

  Owen was leaving the bait shop to go fishing at sunrise when he saw Big Roy’s two cronies, Mitch and Lance, walking toward him. Despite the six men who lingered inside, talking and laughing, and the old man crossing the street from the pier to the shop, he felt isolated. He recognized the twin rail-thin brothers from the saloon. By the looks on their faces, he knew that they meant business...and that business was him. Without waiting for them to catch up to him, he bolted down the street.

  “Come back here!”

  As if I’m that stupid! Owen didn’t bother glancing back as he raced passed an elderly couple and a small group of men. A dog jumped in front of him, barking, and he tumbled, his fishing supplies flying out of his hands. He quickly debated picking them up, but the sound of eagerly approaching footsteps behind him made up his mind. Scrambling to his feet, he turned the corner of a street and ducked into an alley. He found a large dumpster and huddled behind it.

  Taking deep breaths to calm the pounding in his heart, he focused on the sounds around him. He heard the click-clack of horses as they made their way down the street and the chitter-chatter of women. He didn’t hear Big Roy or his goons. That was a good sign. That meant they didn’t know where he was. He’d lost them. Just to be extra sure, he waited a good five minutes before he felt safe enough to emerge from his hiding place.

  “Took you long enough to come out of there.”

  Owen jerked.

  Lance and Mitch had been waiting for him on the other side of the dumpster. And Lance was smiling at him as he rubbed his new beard with a knife.

  Stupid, Owen. You should know to examine all your surroundings! Without thinking, he ran down the alley, aware that the two men were in close pursuit. The wind blew trash around his feet but he hardly noticed the debris. He was quickly approaching a well-traveled street. If he could make it there, then Lance and Mitch would have to back off since they couldn’t afford to be seen trying to kill someone. Big Roy had trouble with the law, and one more mess would be his undoing.

  Owen was only five meters away from the street when Mitch jumped on him and knocked him to the ground. Grunting, he dodged the knife in Mitch’s hand and quickly pushed him away so he could jump up. He took out his own knife and waited for one of the two men to make their move. This wasn’t good. It wasn’t good at all! He’d never been in a fatal encounter in his entire life. If only he could get out of this...alive.

  “If you would just reimburse Big Roy the money you stole from him, then you wouldn’t have to run.” Lance spat the tobacco he’d been chewing onto the ground.

  Do they know about Rachel? The last thing his aunt needed was these men tracking her down.

  “Just take us to the bank where you deposited the money or show us your little hiding place for the cash and we’ll let you go,” Lance continued, his grin showing off his yellow teeth.

  Owen breathed a sigh of thanks for the small fortune in knowing his aunt was safe.

  “Where’s the money?” Mitch snapped.

  He forced the man’s words to make sense over the loud pounding in his ears. His heart beat with a nervous dread. He wasn’t strong enough to fight both of them. He knew it. He was about to die. But he decided that if he was going to die, then he’d die fighting, even if it did scare him.

  “Give us the money,” Mitch ordered.

  “I don’t have it,” Owen replied. “I lost it in another game.” As long as he could take their mind off of his aunt, then his death would be worth it.

  “How could you have done something that stupid?” Lance hissed.

  “I got greedy,” he explained, though in the back of his mind, he knew it was pointless to do so. “I had no idea my opponent was cheating.”

  “Too bad for you that we don’t believe you,” Mitch sneered. “Someone as smart as you wouldn’t be done in by a cheat.”

  He wasn’t sure which man lunged at him first, but he stuck out his knife and plunged it into Mitch’s gut. He let go of his weapon and fought against Lance who got behind him and wrapped his arm around his throat. Owen backed up and rammed into a wall. The force of the impact caused Lance to let go of him. Glancing down at Mitch, he realized that he had mortally wounded the skinny man. Though Mitch was still breathing, he wouldn’t be much longer. Lance glanced at Owen for a moment in disbelief. Owen took Lance’s hesitation and bolted for the street.

  Just as he reached the brick road, a horse neighed at him, startling him. The driver of the buggy stopped the horse.

  “He killed my brother!” Lance pointed an accusing finger at Owen. “Murderer!”

  This caused a great upset from the people watching them, and a marshal called out for Owen to stop. Before he considered the fact that running only made things look worse, Owen took off down the street. He managed to lose the marshal and get to his meager home where he grabbed his horse and ran the poor animal out of town. He didn’t have a destination in mind. He just rode north.

  ***

  Omaha, Nebraska

  Two Weeks Later

  Sally Johnson held Jenny’s hand as they sat on the bench at the park and watched their sons play. Jenny hadn’t slept a wink in nearly a week, and she willed her pounding headache aside. This couldn’t be happening. It was like a nightmare. Clyde had been hovering around the place and following her and Jeremy ever since that day he’d asked her to marry him. She knew he was using her to get Jeremy.

  Why should he care so much about Jeremy now? Why? After all this time? She closed her eyes, determined that she wouldn’t cry.

  Jenny swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away from the two laughing boys who threw a rubber ball back and forth. “I don’t know what else to do but find a husband.”

  Sally shook her head in dismay. “Do you have any idea why he wants to be a father all of the sudden?”

  “I keep telling you no.”

  Sally squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Forcing a smile, she patted her hand. “Thank you for being here through all of this.”

  “What are sisters for?”

  A round of laughter coming from Clyde brought Jenny’s attention to him. She stiffened. He was strolling through the park with his mother and pointing at Jeremy—as if he had any right! He glanced at her and turned to say something to his mother before he walked over to them.

  She briefly noted Sally’s sharp intake of breath as he knelt in front of her. Pressing her back to the bench, Jenny shifted as far from him as possible. Though she was a grown woman of twenty-two, he made her feel as if she were a child.

  “I’m willing to be reasonable about this,” he smoothly stated. “All you have to do is marry me, and I can do right by our son.”

  “No,” she firmly stated despite her trembling hands.

  “It’s not fair to keep a man from his boy, Jen.”

  “It’s also not fair to leave an expectant mother to fend for herself,” Sally snapped. “Now, you get away from here before I hit you with my purse.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” Clyde smiled, as if enjoying the possibility.

  “Is there a problem here?” the sheriff asked as he quickly approached the bench.

  Clyde jerked to his feet and cleared his throat. Without a glance in the other man’s direction, he scampered back to his mother.

  The sheriff sighed. “I can see that he’s as bad as I feared. Are you alright, ma’am?”

  Jenny nodded, even as a flush of anger and frustration warmed her cheeks. She hated this. She hated how Clyde refused to go away. Rubbing her eyes, she willed herself to remain strong.

  “I have good news,” he said, unfolding a letter he’d been holding.

  “That’s good because we could use some,” Sally replied, letting go of Jenny’s hand so she could hug her. “Clyde won’t leave her alone.”

>   “I just got word today that Irving is in Tennessee. He says he’ll marry you.” He handed Jenny the letter which she took in shaky hands. “He’s riding horseback out here with his goods as we speak. I didn’t read the part he wrote to you, but I read enough to know he’ll be here by October 1st.”

  The knots twisting in her stomach nearly overwhelmed her. She glanced at Clyde who continued to watch Jeremy. The sooner, the better.

  “Keep praying.” He turned and headed in Clyde’s direction to suggest Clyde and his mother move along and enjoy the nice day, which they finally did.

  “I hope that Irving Spencer is as big and strong as the sheriff claims,” Sally muttered, crossing her arms. “I can’t believe Clyde or his mother.”

  Jenny turned her attention to the letter so she could read it.

  Jenny,

  Forgive my delay. I had a last minute run in with some bandits in South Carolina. They have been apprehended. I proceed west. I agree to marry you. You should know that it is physically impossible for me to consummate our relationship. There was a showdown I had ten years ago with an unruly young man. Needless to say, I lived through it but it left me unable to conceive children. I will give Jeremy my name and protection. You don’t need to worry about that. I think over time we might be good friends.

  Signed,

  Irving Spencer

  It wasn’t a love letter, but Jenny was hardly in the position to be taking suitors. What she needed was a husband and he volunteered to be one so she could keep Clyde away. It’s enough. After all, that’s all a woman like me can hope for.

  Sighing, she closed her eyes, once again wishing she had done things differently five years ago. As much as she loved her son, she mourned the fact that she hadn’t waited to get married before she had him. If she had, then she wouldn’t be in this situation right now.

  But she couldn’t live in a world of if only’s. She’d marry Irving and be glad for the favor he was doing her. She wouldn’t concern herself with childhood fantasies of love. Love had no place in doing what was best for her and her son.

  Never look back. Keep moving forward.

  ***

  One week later

  On the outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee

  Late at night

  Don’t look back. Keep going forward. Owen rode his poor horse so hard that it finally stopped in the middle of a forest, not caring that its owner poked it in the sides with his spurs.

  Wiping the sweat off his forehead, Owen wearily set the hat back on his head. His blond hair was matted down with sweat and his three week old beard lined his jaw. He spied a river close by, so he slipped from the horse and winced. Being on a horse for almost three weeks made his entire body stiff, especially in the saddle area. He tied the horse’s reigns to the tree before he waddled to the shore of the river which dipped out of sight from the place his horse stood.

  He cupped his hand in the cool water and brought the refreshing liquid to his mouth. Water never tasted so good! Deciding to take a swim to wash nearly a month’s worth of grime off his body, he eagerly threw off his clothes and dipped into the water. Though it chilled him, he couldn’t recall a time when he felt better. He really was lucky that he got out of Louisiana alive.

  He washed his body off the best he could. At least, he felt much better. Dipping into the water for another drink, he paused when he heard a gunshot. Tensing, he stilled his swimming as he listened to his horse’s neighing. Another gunshot silenced the animal. He winced. Poor Charlie. He loved that horse.

  “That’s his horse alright.” After a moment’s pause and snapping twigs, the man said, “I want him alive.”

  Owen would have recognized Big Roy’s gruff voice anywhere. How did he find me? He passed through so many forests, he thought for sure he’d lost the intimidating gambler.

  “I want to kill him for what he did to Mitch,” Lance whined.

  “You’ll get your chance, but no one harms a hair on his head until I deal with him.”

  Though Lance grumbled, he didn’t protest.

  Owen tried not to make any sudden movements as he slowly made his way to the shore. He gingerly stepped on the dry soil and darted behind one of the many trees in the vicinity, glad he swam far enough from his horse to avoid being seen by the three men who crowded around Big Roy and Lance.

  The trees hid the moonlight, making his task of hiding easier. He had to figure a way out of there. But how? He didn’t have his horse anymore. He glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of a campfire in the distance. Perhaps he could enlist help? He shook his head. The last thing he wanted to do was involve an innocent party into this mess.

  But maybe the man would be willing to give him some clothing and a ride into Nashville. Liking the idea, he cautiously made his way to the fire. When he reached the spot, he frowned, realizing that the man had left his bedroll to go off somewhere, probably to take care of personal business.

  “Boss, there’s a fire up ahead!” Lance yelled.

  Though Lance was still far enough away to not spot Owen, Owen didn’t want to risk being found. He grimaced at the thought of stealing another man’s clothes but saw little choice as the five men ran in his direction. He sorted through the traveling bag and pulled out a large brown shirt, long black pants and leather boots. The clothes were too long and loose but he wasn’t in the mood to be picky. He shoved a brown hat on his head and shuffled his way to the horse that was tied to a tree. Cringing at the realization that he had to steal the horse, he quickly threw the saddle and bridle on and jumped on the animal.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” A tall man with a hefty build emerged from the trees, pulling up the pants of his longjohns.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t have a choice,” he hastily whispered.

  “Who’s there?” Big Roy yelled, his voice closer.

  Frightened, Owen fled from the site. The last thing he heard as he maneuvered the steed through the maze of trees was the tall man saying, “Well, well...If it isn’t Big Roy and his men. Interesting running into you here.”

  What that meant, Owen didn’t know, nor did he care to find out. He kept moving. He made it to Nashville and snuck aboard a supply car on the train, hoping he succeeded in evading the group for good.

  Chapter Three

  Owen entered the restaurant, aware of the looks he was getting. Oh well. He’d just have to act like he didn’t notice the snickers. He was lucky to even be alive. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, he found a seat in the corner of the spacious room and sat down. The boots that were much too big for him scraped across the hardwood floor. He had to pull up his pants so they didn’t fall down. Rope. He needed rope. Or a belt. But then, a pair of pants that fit would do even better.

  He took a deep breath and allowed himself to relax. He made it to Omaha. That meant his problems were finally over. No one would be looking for him this far out west.

  “What can I get you?” a woman wearing an apron asked, holding a pad and pencil in her hands.

  Right. Food. He quickly picked up the piece of paper in front of him and read the list of menu items. “Do you have any fish?”

  She grinned. “No. We don’t. Hey, you sound funny. You aren’t from here, are you?”

  “No, ma’am.” And that’s all he’d tell her. The less anyone knew, the better.

  “Well, I just love the way you southern men talk. It’s adorable.”

  He stopped himself from rolling his eyes. Great. Just what he wanted to be: adorable. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’ll start with a cup of coffee please.”

  “You’re so polite too!” she squealed in obvious delight before she skipped off past the other patrons who filled the place.

  He took off the hat that was too big for his head and placed it beside him on the table. Leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, he gave himself permission to relax. His muscles loosened and the beating of his heart slowed to a normal pace. Now he’d get a good meal, find a place to stay, and shave
this horrible bush off his face. He hated beards. He didn’t understand why other men wore them. They itched and food got stuck to them. He rubbed his jaw, the irritating beard scraping his fingers. Definitely get a shave. Maybe he could go to the barber.

  He dug his hand into the pocket of his pants and pulled out the coins. He hadn’t realized the man had pocketed some money in his pants when he took the clothes. As bad as he felt about spending it, he didn’t see that he had much of a choice. It wasn’t like he could repay the man, so what did it matter at this point? Hopefully, the man would be compensated somehow.

  “Here you go,” the woman sweetly spoke.

  He opened his eyes and straightened in his chair. “Thank you.”

  “Have you decided on what you want to eat?”

  “Yes. I’ll have the pork chops.”

  “A wise choice. Barry isn’t in the kitchen today.”

  His eyes widened. Whatever did that mean?

  She walked off before he could ask.

  He grimaced. It was better that he didn’t know. He pulled out a napkin and folded it. As he did, he scanned the room, checking the group of about fifty people who assembled into the restaurant at the noon hour. He figured that only two tables remained vacant. That was just as well. He could blend into the background better in a crowded room.

  A man sauntered past him and joined what looked to be his friends at the table close by. He sat down and picked up a glass of water.

  “Well, Clyde,” the man across from him began, “it’s almost October 1.”

  “September 29,” he replied, lifting his glass and chuckling. “Here’s to October 1st.”

  “Here, here,” another man said.

  Owen wondered what was so important to the four men but decided it didn’t matter. He took a scoop of sugar and put it into his coffee before he stirred it. Lifting his eyes, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror on the other side of the wall. Maybe he’d get a haircut while he was getting the shave.

  “You know, she should be glad I came here to do the right thing,” Clyde said. “I don’t understand what her problem is.”