Morning Comes Softly Read online

  Travis felt his nerves stand on edge the way they did before he entered a fight. By heaven, he wasn’t going to let a twelve-year-old punk kid get his goat.

  “She’s about to become my wife and as such is due your respect,” he said calmly. “Is that understood?”

  Resentment flashed into the boy’s eyes.

  “We should just be grateful she agreed to marry me,” Travis said stiffly, doing his best to avoid yet another confrontation.

  “Right,” Jim continued, snickering. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “Listen here, you smart ass,” Travis exploded, taking hold of the twelve-year-old by the elbow and jerking him to his feet.

  “Travis.” Mary’s soft drawl reached through the fog of his anger, reminding him he was playing directly into Jim’s hands. “I’m ready to leave now.”

  Indignantly Jim pulled his arm free of Travis’s grasp and straightened the sleeves of his suit jacket with an air of superiority.

  Exhaling sharply, Travis composed himself before turning to face his bride. He wasn’t expecting miracles. Mary was as sweet and gentle as a lamb, but it was going to take a whole lot more than a pretty dress and her hair done up all fancy to transform her into a beauty.

  “Mary…” Scotty was the first one to speak, and he did so with a youthful enthusiasm. “You’re pretty.”

  “She’s downright beautiful,” Travis added, struggling to sound convincing.

  Mary blushed becomingly and lowered her long lashes. Beautiful was a stretch, but it made Travis feel good to know that he’d pleased her. Her dress was a delicate shade of pink, with lace and other girly stuff. She held on to a small bouquet of flowers, as did Beth Ann, who was standing demurely at her side.

  Mary did look nice, and it was clear she’d gone to a good deal of effort. Every woman deserved to be told she was lovely on her wedding day, Travis reasoned, even if it was an exaggeration. He’d made it clear from the first that he wasn’t one for a bunch of romantic words, but for her sake he tried.

  Mostly he was grateful for Mary’s willingness to marry him and help him raise Lee’s children. At the moment he didn’t feel especially lucky to be saddled with a soon-to-be wife and three children; nevertheless this was his fate, and he was determined to do his damnedest by those he loved.

  “Can we leave now?” Jim’s surly voice intervened.

  “Yes, of course,” Mary answered, her gaze seeking out Travis’s. She smiled shyly and steered the two younger children out the door.

  Mary couldn’t think of much to say on the twenty-minute ride into town. Beth Ann was wedged in the cab of the pickup between her and Travis while the boys rode in the back. At the best of times Travis wasn’t much of a talker, and after darting a look in his direction, she decided they really didn’t have a whole lot to say, either.

  Doubts had crowded her heart from the moment she’d arrived in Montana, but the din of her questions had quieted with Travis’s compliment. He was trying so hard to make this day special for her. His effort touched her heart far stronger than anything he might have said or done.

  Within an hour she was about to pledge her life to this man she barely knew and these children who so badly needed her love. She hoped…

  Hope.

  It seemed like such a fragile thing to base her future upon. So intangible and frail. In many ways Mary felt as though she were looking to achieve the impossible. Travis had bluntly warned her that he wasn’t likely ever to love her. Although his words had cut at her pride, she recognized what it had cost him to admit as much. He was an honest man, hardworking, gruff in some ways, gentle in others. All things considered, she could have done a lot worse.

  Travis drove the truck into the church asphalt parking lot and cut the engine. For a moment no one moved or spoke. Mary studied the small white church with the tall, spindly steeple and silently approved. This was exactly the sort of picturesque church she would wish for her wedding. It wouldn’t be filled with organ music, orange blossoms, and a parade of friends who’d shower her with rice, but then she’d never expected to marry anyway.

  Travis turned to Mary. “You’re sure you wouldn’t prefer a justice of the peace?”

  Mary smiled at his less-than-subtle attempt to persuade her to forgo a church wedding. “I’m sure.”

  Grumbling, Travis opened the cab door and climbed out of the pickup. “I don’t hold much with religion,” he announced unnecessarily when he came around and helped her out of the truck. “Never have and never will.”

  “He makes sure we go to Sunday School, though,” Scotty complained, jumping down from the truck bed. He landed solidly on both feet. Jim leaped directly behind him.

  “Churching you three is what your mother would have wanted,” Travis muttered. “Women are like that,” he added as though it were a character fault.

  Travis stood, arms akimbo, feet braced slightly apart, as he stared at the Methodist church. From his stance, one would think he was facing a gunslinger in the streets. Or something he dreaded.

  Mary was much too practical to fill her head with romantic dreams. For that matter, so was Travis. This wedding was a major ingredient to melding their lives together, and she refused to be shortchanged. Especially since she’d been cheated in so many other areas. That they would be married by clergy had been her one and only stipulation, and Travis had agreed. He hadn’t liked it, but he’d agreed.

  “Come on,” Travis said, stiffening his shoulders. “We might as well be done with this.” His smile was apologetic as he reached for Mary’s hand, lacing their fingers. Other than helping her in and out of the truck, it was the first time she could remember him touching her.

  Pastor Brian Kennedy looked up from his desk when they walked into his office. He unfolded his lanky frame from the chair and nodded toward Travis and the boys.

  “You must be Mary,” he said, stepping around his cluttered desk.

  “I am,” she returned, holding out her hand, which he gripped and shook politely. “I’m honored to meet you.”

  “You too. Hello, Travis, it’s so good to see you again,” he greeted.

  “I understand you talked to Mary yesterday about marrying us.”

  “Yes, I did.” The reverend spoke slowly, rubbing his palms together. “Generally I don’t perform the ceremony without several counseling sessions first. This arrangement is highly unusual.”

  “We don’t have time for any counseling.”

  “Our circumstances are a bit out of the ordinary,” Mary assured him with a warm, confident smile. “We know what we’re doing.”

  “Are you going to marry us or not?” Travis demanded with a complete lack of patience. “If not, Judge Green will, so I suggest you make up your mind.”

  Reverend Kennedy looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Perhaps if I could speak to each of you alone for a few moments.”

  “For what purpose?” Mary asked softly.

  “He wants to talk you out of marrying me,” Travis flared.

  The reverend wiped his brow and shifted his weight from one foot to the next. “I assure you that’s not the case. It’s just that this is all rather unusual, and—”

  “Then shall we get on with it?’ Travis asked impatiently.

  “Of course. I never intended…Why, I think it’s wonderful that…” He let the rest fade, then nodded eagerly, looking like a convict who’d been granted a stay of execution.

  Tilly was busy delivering three plates of Martha’s chicken-fried steak with mashed potatoes and country gravy when Travis, a sweet-looking woman, and Lee and Janice’s three youngsters entered the cafe. They sat in the large circular booth in the corner in her section.

  When she had a free moment, Tilly filled five water glasses and tucked the plastic-coated menus under her arm. Every movement she made was appraised by Doc Anderson. She’d been as nervous as a worm in hot ashes from the moment Logan’s father had walked into the cafe a half hour earlier.

  One minute she was convinced Doc knew abo
ut her and Logan, and the next she would have staked a month’s wages that he didn’t have a clue. Logan loved his father, but from the little he’d said, she knew the two men didn’t get along well. When Tilly had first met Logan he’d told her he’d moved to Grandview to be closer to his father, yet it seemed the two were barely on speaking terms. One thing was sure, Doc would never approve of her dating his son.

  “Howdy, Travis, kids,” Tilly said with her brightest smile as she set the glasses on the table.

  “Uncle Travis just got married,” Beth Ann announced without forewarning, leaning against the tabletop. Her hair was curled in pretty blond ringlets, and she wore a lacy white dress, new from the looks of it.

  “Congratulations, you two,” Tilly said to the happy couple. She hadn’t seen Travis’s bride around town, but she’d heard a rumor he’d found himself a woman. His new wife was a bit on the plain side, but outward beauty didn’t hold much weight with Tilly. She’d seen just how shallow it could be in her own life. Frankly she was surprised Travis didn’t put more stock in good looks. Most men did. Since she was so freely tossing stones, Tilly had to admit women were often guilty of the same thing.

  “Tilly, this is Mary,” Travis said.

  “Hello, Mary.”

  “Hello.”

  Her voice was soft, with a soothing smoky molasses drawl. Tilly didn’t know where Travis had met up with Mary, but then the cowboy had always been full of surprises. The way he’d taken his brother’s children under his wing had given most folks in town pause. Nearly everyone viewed Travis Thompson as a hotheaded troublemaker. Personally, Tilly never had understood why. He worked his ranch as hard as the next man, and if he chose to let off a little steam now and again, that didn’t make him any different from several other more “respectable” ranchers she could name. That he’d gone and found himself a wife, someone who was clearly a lady, was sure to set tongues around town wagging.

  The gossip mongers would forever find fault with Travis, but the problems he’d had raising his brother’s youngsters were sure to be eased now. Tilly wished them all a truckload of happiness. God knew it had been in short supply the last few months.

  “Can we order dessert first?” the middle boy asked, looking to his uncle.

  “Why not?” Travis answered, setting aside his menu. “It isn’t every day a man gets married.”

  It seemed to Tilly that his voice was a tad loud, as though it were important for everyone in town to know he’d found himself a wife. Which was likely the reason he’d stopped in at Martha’s. Most folks frequented the cafe for coffee and idle chatter. News spread faster than a brushfire once it hit Martha’s. Not only did the grandmotherly owner serve the best food in town, but the cafe was like a watering hole for the latest gossip.

  Working at Martha’s had complicated Tilly’s own sense of what was happening between her and Logan. She was convinced anyone watching her with Logan knew of their affair, but she wasn’t sure if it had become common knowledge.

  Doc didn’t often drop in, which led her to believe he’d heard something. A rumor, perhaps an innocent comment. Tilly was left to guess, but whatever the reason for his visit, she was convinced he was there to scrutinize her, to determine if she was worth his only son’s affections.

  It didn’t take much of an imagination for Tilly to know what Doc was thinking. She was a two-bit waitress who’d circled the block more times than the ice-cream man. She wasn’t good enough for Logan, but she knew that already. It was the reason she’d insisted they keep their meetings clandestine despite Logan’s protests. Even now, as she walked back into the kitchen for five slices of warm apple pie for Travis and his family, Tilly could feel Doc’s gaze following her.

  She didn’t know how to explain to someone as dignified and respected as the local doctor that a waitress was crazy in love with his lawyer son. What she felt for Logan, what they shared, made every other relationship she’d ever been in seem dirty and cheap. She’d never felt like this with any other man. Only Logan.

  Maybe Logan had mentioned her to his father. Surely he would have said something if he had. The least he could have done was warn her. But the last time she remembered Logan saying anything about his father had been several weeks earlier, after he and Doc had had a falling-out over…Logan hadn’t said, now that she thought about it.

  Her stomach clenched in painful spasms. They’d fought over her. Dear God, she should have realized it sooner. It all added up now. Of course, that was it. That was the reason Doc had come. He was here to size her up.

  “Excuse me?”

  Tilly turned to face the man who’d occupied her thoughts from the moment he’d walked in the door. Her heart filled her throat. Somehow she was able to speak normally. “Is there anything more I can get you, Doc?”

  “Yes. My check. I’ve been waiting five minutes for you to bring it.”

  “I’m sorry…I got busy.” Her hands fumbled inside the small apron pocket, fishing for the slip. “I hope you’ll come again soon.”

  The older man scowled and reached for his wallet. He seemed in a hurry to leave. “I’m sure I’ll be back.” He stood, reached for the tab, and headed for the cash register.

  She’d tried so hard to impress him, to be the best waitress he’d ever seen, prove to him she was worthy of Logan’s love.

  But she’d failed. Dear God, why did it have always be like this?

  Travis, Mary, and the kids all ordered the chicken-fried steak special and left the cafe a half hour later. Tilly, who’d worked a split shift, was home by six. Her feet hurt, but that didn’t keep the nervous energy at bay. By eight she’d run three loads through the washing machine, mopped the kitchen floor, and cleaned out her bedroom closet.

  Logan knocked at her front door shortly after eight-thirty, then let himself in. She’d given him his own key. There wasn’t any reason for him to risk being seen standing under her porch light, Tilly reasoned.

  “You told him, didn’t you?” she demanded, holding a load of freshly laundered dried towels against her middle.

  Stunned, Logan paused. “Told who? What?”

  Tilly jerked a strand of hair around her ear, hating the way her hand trembled. “Your father…about us. He stopped into the cafe this afternoon.”

  “Dad?” Logan’s features tightened. “Did he say anything to you?”

  “He didn’t have to. He knows, and you told him.”

  Logan’s shoulders sagged. “Baby, I swear I didn’t say a word, but not because I don’t want to. I’ve thought of it a half a dozen times. Why should I care what Dad thinks? I’m long past seeking his approval.”

  “I don’t want him to know about us.”

  Logan raised both hands in abject frustration. “Why not?”

  “Logan, we’ve gone over this a hundred times. I don’t see the need to rehash it all now.”

  “I’m not ashamed of you.”

  “I’m a waitress. Your father isn’t ever going to accept me.” She set the towels aside.

  “Why should you care what Dad thinks, anyway?”

  The last thing Tilly wanted to do was fight. She’d had a rough day, and she needed Logan, needed his touch, his tenderness, his love.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on the recliner.

  Without giving him warning, Tilly rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She’d spent the afternoon under a microscope and was left feeling small and inadequate. What she needed now was Logan’s special brand of comfort, and she wasn’t going to be cheated out of it by rehashing an old argument. Not tonight.

  “Kiss me,” she whispered. “Don’t ask any more questions, just kiss me. I need you.” She brought her hungry mouth up to his. Logan sighed as their tongues mated. Soon their panting breaths echoed each other.

  Logan broke off with a groan. “I want to talk about this.”

  Tilly sighed softly and shook her head. “He doesn’t like me. I could tell.”

  �
��Who cares if he does? Not me. I’m crazy about you, Tilly. It doesn’t feel right for the two of us to sneak around like this. It never has. I don’t care what people think, and you shouldn’t, either.”

  “Logan, please, can’t you see I need you?”

  “I think we should talk first.”

  She rotated her hips against him and sighed with satisfaction at the hard evidence of his need. “Why don’t we do that later?” she suggested softly. “There seem to be more pressing matters to attend to first.”

  Travis had made it known from the time Mary stepped off the plane in Miles City that their marriage would be a real one. If she’d held on to some doubt about her place in his life, he’d dispelled it the first night.

  Now that they were man and wife, she was to share his bed. The fact they’d soon be sleeping together had had a vague, unreal quality about it, until they’d walked into the house following their wedding.

  When they’d arrived back on the ranch, Travis had hurried into the house, immediately changed clothes, and gone out to finish up the day’s chores. Mary had been left standing in the kitchen, feeling like an unwanted guest.

  The dinner in town had been a nice touch, and the children had enjoyed the outing. Mary had seen Travis’s motive almost immediately. He wanted the word out that he’d married, and this was the best way to do it. Whoever was filing complaints against him could stop now. He had taken the necessary measure to correct the problem. Marrying Mary.

  Okay, she reasoned as she tucked Beth Ann into bed, he hadn’t followed tradition and swept her into his arms when they arrived home. She hadn’t excepted to be romanced and wasn’t disappointed. Little about this marriage would ever be traditional. Except that she was expected to sleep in his bed.

  Mary’s heart was pounding as she turned off the light to the five-year-old’s room and stepped into the dimly lit hallway. She should probably tell Travis she was a virgin. The thought mortified her. Could she speak of such a thing, even to her husband?

  She could hear Travis rumbling around in the kitchen. His back was to her as she entered the room. He was bent in half in front of the refrigerator.