Secondhand Bride Read Online Free PDF

not come inside. Becky asked him what he thought he was doing, and his answer was indecipherable. He hurled the rest of Chloe’s belongings into the lobby, and that, apparently, was that.
    “Great Scot,” Becky said, closing the door after the last reticule. “I’ve never seen Jeb in such a state. He’s usually so easygoing. What on earth happened?”
    Chloe sighed. “It’s a very long story,” she replied, “and, frankly, I haven’t the stamina to recount it just now. I’m perishing for a room, a cup of tea, and a hot bath.”
    Becky smiled, and this time there was nothing shaky about the effort, though her eyes betrayed a variety of misgivings. “You’ve come to the right place, then,” she said. “We have a great deal to talk about, Chloe, but it can certainly wait until morning.”
    Chloe was full of questions, but, thanks to the most recent round with Jeb McKettrick, she was almost totally spent. She simply nodded.
    Becky showed her to a small but pretty room at the top of the stairs, and presently a Chinese man brought her bags up, one by one. While Chloe was unpacking, Becky appeared with a tea tray, set it on the small table under the window, and studied her newest guest with thoughtful eyes.
    “We’ve been renovating the hotel,” she said, at last. “There’s a bathtub, with hot and cold running water, just down the hall.”
    Not since she’d sneaked out of Sacramento had Chloe availed herself of such a luxury. Before her ignoble dismissal from her teaching position in Tombstone, courtesy of Jeb, she’d lived in a cheap rooming house, where she’d employed a sponge and basin for purposes of personal hygiene, after carrying and heating her own water.
    “That sounds lovely,” she said.
    Becky was still watching her intently, and a frown had formed between her perfect eyebrows. “Chloe—”
    “Yes?” Chloe prompted, suppressing a sigh.
    “You know that John passed away a few months ago, don’t you?” The question was gently put and held a degree of dread.
    Chloe’s throat seemed to swell shut. She blinked back tears and nodded. “Jeb told me,” she managed.
    “You didn’t get the telegram Kade sent?”
    Chloe stopped, with a nightgown in her hands, and faced Becky directly. “It was delayed,” she said. “Someone at the telegraph office found it and brought it to me, just yesterday. I came immediately.”
    “That explains it, then,” Becky said softly, and her eyes glistened again. Then, seemingly by force of will, she rallied. “Sit down and have your tea, dear. I’ll go and see that the bathroom is ready.” She crossed to the door, put one hand on the knob.
    “Becky?” Chloe ventured.
    Becky stopped, without turning around.
    “I’d give anything to have been here to say good-bye.”
    “I know,” Becky said, and went out, closing the door behind her.

4
     
     
    W hen Chloe made her way downstairs the next morning, rested and ravenous, and thus in search of breakfast, she was disconcerted to find Jeb dozing on one of the leather-covered settees in the lobby. His hat rested over his eyes, cowboy-style, and he was fully dressed. He hadn’t even bothered to remove his boots, which extended some distance beyond the arm of the sofa.
    Chloe resisted an unseemly but compelling urge to bat both his feet to the floor, but she was half-afraid he’d think he was being set upon by brigands and come up shooting. She’d seen, in Tombstone, how fast that .45 of his could spring into his hand, and the memory gave her chills. She doubted it had ever occurred to him that, fast as he was, there surely must be someone out there who was faster.
    She put the thought aside, touched her hair, now washed and brushed and bound into a tidy chignon, and smoothed her black sateen skirt with both hands. She was wearing her best white shirtwaist, with her grandmother’s cameo pinned at the throat, and wanted to be perceived as a lady when she met with Becky again.
    “Jeb McKettrick,” she said