so far as to arrest you,” Big Jim said, “but there is one small wrinkle we need to iron out.”
“Wrinkle?”
Big Jim inclined his head toward Rachel. “My little girl spent the night here with you unchaperoned. It don’t look good. Don’t look good at all.”
Rachel’s heart caught. “Daddy?”
Big Jim seemed not to hear her. “The way I see it—”
“Daddy!”
“Shut up, Rachel Marie,” her father said with a wave of his hand, his gaze fixed on Clint. “The way I see it, Rafferty, my little girl’s good name has been ruined. Plumb ruined. And only you can set things right.”
“Right?” Rachel echoed. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Yeah, what exactly do you mean?” Clint asked.
Rachel didn’t need to see Rafferty’s face all that clearly to know he was fast regaining his senses. Unless she missed her guess, he was only inches away from losing his temper. The heels of his boots hit the floor in a sharp stacatto as he stepped over to retrieve his Colt revolvers. She watched in horrified silence as he strapped the crisscrossed gun belt around his hips and tied the holsters down to his lean, muscular thighs. In that moment, it began to occur to her that it might end up being her father, not Clint Rafferty, who was in danger of losing his life during this confrontation. The younger man had the devil’s reputation as being fast with those guns.
Without consciously making the decision to do so, Rachel inched closer to her sire. “Daddy, this entire situation should be simple enough to resolve. I mean, as I’ve just explained, none of this was Mr. Rafferty’s fault. The way I see it, we should all just go home and forget it happened.”
“Be quiet, Rachel.”
Afraid for her father, Rachel turned an imploring gaze on Clint. “Don’t you agree? That we should just forget any of this happened, I mean?” With a nervous little laugh, she added, “Big uh-oh, end of story. Right?”
“Rachel Marie,” her father said with exaggerated patience, “this is a far sight more serious than that. Your reputation is destroyed. Mr. Rafferty understands the implications, even if you don’t.”
Rachel understood far more than her father gave her credit for, and she, for one, had an awful feeling this situation was getting out of control. Gesturing toward the church members, she said, “But, Daddy, everyone here heard my explanation. They all know now that nothing untoward happened.”
“It’s not that simple, Rachel. When a young lady spends the night with a man unchaperoned, there’s only one thing that can save her good name, and that’s marriage. It don’t matter if anything actually happened or not. All that counts is how it looks.”
“Marriage?” Molly cried. “You can’t mean it!”
“Marriage?” Rachel echoed weakly. “Did you say marriage?”
“Marriage,” Big Jim affirmed.
With that proclamation still ringing in the air, Big Jim caught both Clint and Rachel by the arms and, ignoring Rachel’s shrill protests, hauled them to the front of the church. Once there, he immediately began hollering for the preacher. Meanwhile, Rachel tried to talk sense to him, a task that proved impossible Her father wasn’t just big and tall; he was mule-headed. When he got it into his head to do something, no one, not even his daughters were going to stop him.
Reverend Wells, a tall, rawboned man with thinning gray hair, kindly brown eyes, and a beak nose, fought his way free of the throng and rushed to his pulpit, prayer book in hand. “Big Jim, this is highly irregular. We haven’t even posted any banns.”
“To hell with banns: just get them married.”
The minister gave an eloquent shrug. “I was just making an observation.”
“Daddy, have you lost your mind? I can’t marry this man!” Rachel turned on Clint. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”
Apparently unperturbed, he shrugged a muscular shoulder. “Like what? Shoot him? Sorry, darlin’, but I’m not that
M. R. James, Darryl Jones