Their Conquered Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 9) (Grace Goodwin)

When finished, the sheriff looked at me. “Tell me, ma’am. Who do you want for a husband? Ford here?” He flicked his gaze to Ford. “Or Mr. Jenkins?”

I licked my lips and looked at both my men. “I want Ford.” There was no hesitation. I wanted him. I wanted Logan. “That’s just a piece of paper. A paper that means I’m legally tied to another, but it doesn’t show what I feel for Ford. I consider him my husband.”

“All right then.”

I whipped my head about and frowned at the sheriff.

He took another sip of his coffee. “You see, ma’am, this proxy letter is for your own good. When a woman travels across the country to marry a stranger, a proxy letter protects her from a man changing his mind. There’s nothing worse—and I’ve seen a few—than a woman arriving on the stage and her intended takes one look at her and changes his mind. She has no money, no way to return home. She’s stranded and destitute and often forced to work in less than savory of conditions.”

I understood what he was saying. The idea of being rejected had crossed my mind the entire ride from Omaha.

The sheriff shrugged. “I’ve seen a dozen just like this. A judge in these parts will force the marriage, but only at the woman’s insistence. I would bet fifty dollars Mr. Jenkins knows nothing of this paper.”

My eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?” I whispered.

“He told me to find a woman named Elizabeth Lewis, not his wife. He doesn’t know you were married by proxy. All he knows is you didn’t show up when you were supposed to, and this bunch…” the sheriff pointed at Logan, Ford and other men in the room, “…was passing through town and he saw them with some pretty ladies.”

“I don’t understand.” My heart beat too fast, like a hummingbird and I couldn’t process what the sheriff was saying. It was too good to be true. “What does that mean?”

“Do you want Ford?” he asked, instead of answering my question.

“Yes,” I replied, tilting my chin up.

The sheriff smiled and handed the document back to me. “As a man sworn to uphold the letter of the law, I can’t do anything about your predicament. You, however, have the power to solve this problem yourself.”

Confused, I reached out and accepted the marriage document, staring at the sheriff like he’d grown two heads. “I don’t understand.”

With a twinkle in his eye, he walked over to the side of the room where a small log fire burned low on the grate, just enough to keep the morning chill out of the room. His gaze lingered on the fire, moved to the letter in my hands, and then rose to meet my startled gaze, his eyebrow raised as if I sho

uld be able to read his mind.

The fire crackled and popped, a log breaking in two as embers flew into the air in a spray of glowing orange sparks. My mouth fell open as I realized what he was telling me. If Mr. Jenkins didn’t know the proxy letter existed, then this very fragile, very flammable piece of paper in my hand was the only evidence, anywhere, that I had signed my name and agreed to accept him as my husband. If what the sheriff said was true, there would be no record at all, not in any township or courthouse, not in a single church or law office.

“Unless Mr. Jenkins decides to take a gander at the church ledger in town, which, based on what I’ve been told about him, will never happen, he’ll never know you arrived in Hayes at all, let alone married someone else.” The sheriff cleared his throat and stepped back, away from the fireplace, giving me plenty of room to get closer.

“Even if he did head into that church, Lizzie is mine,” Ford added, his eyes holding mine in a stare I’d come to recognize, the gaze he used when he was making me a promise. As I’d learned over the last few days, when he made his wife a vow, he kept his word. Ford spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear him, but I knew he was only speaking to me. “Jenkins can scream all he likes, but I signed my full, legal name in that church ledger. Lizzie is my wife in the eyes of God and the church. And I’m not going to give her up.”

I crumbled the marriage paper between my palms, rolling it into a nice ball as the sheriff crossed his arms over his chest with a grin. “What God has joined together, let no man put asunder. I believe those are the proper words.”

I smiled, too, the force of it stretching my cheeks until they stung as I took three steps and tossed the marriage document onto the fire. As the edges turned back and curled in on themselves, I watched with an intensity I could barely contain. I needed that paper to burn, to become the smallest flakes of ash scattered like dust under the flames.

Logan knelt down next to the grate with a hint of mischief in his eyes and blew softly until the paper caught fire, burning hot and fast until it was completely engulfed in dancing orange and gold flames.

The sheriff slapped his hand on Ford’s back. “Guess that takes care of that. I got a message for you and Logan from the rest of your boys. Someone by the name of Garrett.”

Ford nodded. “He’s with me. What’s the message?”

The sheriff grinned. “Seems he’s been delayed. Got himself hitched to a beautiful little thing, named Rebekah. Said they were all running a bit late, but to let you know they were all safe and sound.” I gasped, shocked at the news that Garrett had married my little sister! And with who? I knew these men, knew how they thought. Rebekah didn’t have just one husband now, but two. “What about my sister Judith, sheriff? Did Garrett say anything about her?”

“Nope. Just Rebekah. Sorry I don’t have more news. Garrett said they’ll be arriving in a day or two.” With a congenial grin, he nodded to everyone in the room and bowed to me. “I’ll be heading back to town, Mrs. Ellison, unless there’s anything else I can do for you?”

“No, thank you, sheriff.” I bowed my head in gratitude to him, but he just laughed. His gaze was warm and friendly, and I forced myself to turn away from the sight of the final remnants of paper turning black when he spoke. “I guess I’ll have to inform poor Mr. Jenkins that there’s no sign of his intended bride up in these parts.”

With that, he nodded at Ian, put his hat back on his head and walked out of the house.

Mrs. Ellison! I was free!

Ford and Logan surrounded me, holding me between them where I felt safe and cherished and very loved. I heard the others scatter to give us privacy. When I knew we were alone, I felt myself begin to tremble, the shock of the sheriff’s arrival and the events of the past few minutes finally catching up to my body. It felt so good to be in their arms, to feel the press of their hard bodies, to breathe in their scents, to know I was truly theirs, forever.