Joe's Wife by Cheryl St.john Read Free Book Online

O-oh! I'll never be able to hold my head up in this town again."
    "Joe would want me to do whatever it took to hang on to our ranch," Meg disagreed, refusing to be swayed by her mother-in-law's histrionics. "It's not you who's marrying Tye Hatcher—"
    "Don't speak that name to me!"
    "It's me, and you don't have to approve of what I'm doing. I'm doing it no matter what anyone thinks. There's no law against it. I'm an adult and a free woman, and I'll marry whomever I please. Harley and Miles will have to forsake their plans to disburse my land. It's going to stay mine."
    "Yours! It's going to fall into the hands of that man, and who knows what he'll do with it or what will become of you after he's drunk and gambled away your last dollar!"
    "He promised me he would never sell."
    "Promised? What good is the promise of a heathen like that? Meg Telford, you've lost your mind! He'll make you miserable. He'll take you down with him! Why, he spends his money and his time in the saloons. He drinks and consorts with floozies! I've a notion to send you to the doctor in…"
    And so it had gone, with Edwina ranting about Meg dishonoring Joe's memory, and poor Wilsie trembling and casting Meg fearful sidelong glances. Meg had driven the team home, fully expecting Harley to be close on her heels. He hadn't arrived until after the accounting office where he worked had closed for the day.
    And then she'd gone over the same arguments with him. Mother Telford had a room all ready for her. Meg wouldn't have to bother herself with the running of a ranch. Edwina needed the company. Tye Hatcher was a sorry excuse for a man. He would ruin her good name and hurt her.
    But Meg had stood her ground, firm in her belief that she was doing the right thing—the only thing—to keep Joe's ranch. Harley had ridden off, anger and disapproval leaving a dusty trail behind him.
    It was too much to expect them to understand this soon, she could see that, but they would come around. They had to. Eventually they'd see that she'd made a wise choice in taking Tye Hatcher on to save her land. Tye couldn't possibly be as bad as they'd made him out to be. Why, it would take three men to do all the things he'd reportedly done and would soon repeat.
    Meg had to concentrate on taking care of business. Preparing for this wedding certainly wasn't like anticipating the first. With no time to have invitations printed, she wrote several notes to her friends and family and posted them, but no one showed up to help her, and the only responses she received were regrets.
    Their treatment hurt, but she refused to let it deter her. As soon as they saw that what she'd done was for the best, they would change their minds.
    Saturday morning, she gave the house a last-minute cleaning before bathing and dressing, then Gus and Purdy accompanied her into Aspen Grove.
    Only a pitiful handful of guests sat in the pews when she made her way to the front of the church. Glancing at them, she recalled her first wedding, the freshly polished pews packed with friends and family in their best clothing, the scent of chrysanthemums drifting on the summer air. That had been the happiest day of her life.
    Meg recognized Gwynn immediately and breathed a sigh of relief that at least one person from her family had chosen to bless this union.
    A dark-haired woman whom she'd seen in town and knew only as Rosa sat several rows behind Gwynn.
    Jed Wheeler sat alone at the opposite end of the hard, polished pew Rosa occupied. He slipped a finger into his shirt collar and adjusted it.
    Meg smiled at Aldo and Hunt Eaton's shy, grinning faces, wondering if they'd asked their parents' permission or if they'd simply left her cattle long enough to attend.
    Reverend Baker smiled warmly and gestured for Meg to take her place beside Tye.
    Finally, she allowed herself to look at him, the man she was about to marry. His deep blue eyes gave away nothing of what he was feeling. He held his solid jaw stiff and met her gaze