Julia: Bride of New York (Amercan Mail-Order Bride 11) Read Online Free PDF Page B

him a measured look.
    “Oh, yeah, sure. Coming right up. Breakfast for two, right?”
    “Yes.”
    He lumbered away, back to the kitchen. She looked around at the crowded dining room. One man sitting at a table in the back of the restaurant kept staring at her. She shifted a couple of times, ignoring him. Each time she glanced back, he was still watching her.
    He picked up the check on his table, took one last sip of coffee, and stood. As he drew closer, she realized it was Mr. Johnson. She’d only seen him from a distance at the train station when he talked to the sheriff, and then in the darkened hallway of the hotel when he shoved money at her. Now, when she took in his overall appearance, she breathed a sigh of relief that he’d rejected her. Something about his fixed stare, the sweat beading his forehead, and his wrinkled clothing told her she would not have been happy as the man’s wife. Add to that his brutal rejection of her. If she were forced to choose between marriage to this man and starvation, she’d go hungry.
    “Whatcha doin’ in here? I thought you’d go back home.”
    Her lips tightened at the gall of the man to even speak to her. “No, Mr. Johnson. I am not going back home. In fact, I am gainfully employed.”
    “Is that right?” He handed the check and a few coins to the cashier. “Where ya working?”
    “I am working as the sheriff’s assistant. Now if you will excuse me, I have to deliver this.” She took the box of food from the large man and headed toward the door.
    “Wait a minute.” Mr. Johnson followed her out of the restaurant. “If you’re working for the sheriff, why did he make me give you money?”
    The man had gone beyond a nuisance. At this point she wanted to hit him over the head with the breakfasts she’d just gotten. She smiled at the thought of eggs running down his sweaty face. “I returned the money to the sheriff, Mr. Johnson. I don’t want anything from you.”
    “Well, I’ll just walk along with you then, and get my money back.”
    She ignored him and continued on her way.
    “How’d ya get crippled? Were ya born that way?”
    She whirled on him, almost losing her balance. “Mr. Johnson. This is a public street, so I cannot tell you not to walk it. However, I do not wish to speak with you, walk beside you, or have anything to do with you. Is that clear?”
    He clamped his lips shut as they made their way the distance to the jailhouse. Mr. Johnson opened the door for her, and she passed through. The sheriff turned from where he’d been looking through papers in the file cabinet. “Ah, breakfast.”
    His expression changed from a smile to a frown. “What brings you here, Johnson?”
    “I want my money back. You made me give you money so Miss Benson could eat, but now she tells me she’s working for you.”
    “I also told you I gave the money back to the sheriff.” She drew her bonnet off and removed her jacket. Mr. Johnson looked at her in a strange, very uncomfortable way, his eyes drifting up and down her body, a smirk on his face.
    “You know, close up you ain’t so bad looking. Maybe I made a mistake. I can ignore that limp of yours. I think I’ll go ahead and marry you anyway.”
    Julia gasped and glanced at the sheriff.
    “She can’t marry you, Johnson,” he said.
    “Oh, yeah. Why not? I sent for her. I paid the bridal agency and her fare here. I’m entitled to marry her.”
    Julia’s hand fisted at her throat. Lord above, she couldn’t marry this man. She’d rather try her hand at serving drinks in a skimpy costume at one of the saloons.
    The sheriff got toe-to-toe with the man. “She can’t marry you, Johnson,” he growled, “because she’s going to marry me.”
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    Johnson reared back as if Fletcher struck him. “What? I paid for her. She belongs to me.”
    If he hadn’t thoroughly disliked the man before, he could barely tolerate him now. “In case you didn’t know it, Johnson, you cannot ‘buy’ a