Learning to Love (Cowboys and Angels Book 21) Read online

  Learning to Love

  Jo Noelle

  Contents

  Learning to Love: A Cowboys and Angels Romance

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  About the Author

  Cowboys and Angels Series

  Also by Jo Noelle

  Learning to Love: A Cowboys and Angels Romance

  Jo Noelle’s Website Join our Readers’ Club on our website.

  Visit Jo's site at http://JoNoelle.com or connect with us on Facebook @JoNoelle.

  Connect with Jo Noelle online:

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  Amazon Author Page

  Chapter 1

  Bernard Newell

  Bernard Newell skidded to a stop when he walked into Hearth and Home. “What the—?” The table where he usually sat was turned upside down, perching on top of the clustered chairs.

  He put his leather portfolio on the floor and looked around. The place was empty.

  This was the temporary business address for his law practice. The sun had been up for an hour, and the breakfast crowd was gone. There would be relative peace until the midday meal was prepared. He’d been working out of here for the past few months since Hugh and Edwin had opened their doors. In fact, he sat at that same table next to the door and on the left where there were only two tables. All the rest of them were to the right. This gave him more privacy for the discussion of delicate legal matters.

  Clara, who was always his waitress, approached him. She looked at the table, then looked at Bernard. “Did you—?” She pointed but didn’t finish that sentence. Instead she shook her head. “Do you want your usual?” she asked as he stood by the table.

  “Yes, the usual,” he answered slowly, considering what to do. “There’s a problem with my table.”

  “There does appear to be. Hmm.” She glanced at the table, then looked him over another time. Bernard thought she might suspect that he had done it. “Let me put your order in. I’ll be right back.”

  Bernard wondered if he should flip the table over, but that might make him seem the guilty party. Maybe it was turned that way for repairs, and he’d have to choose a different one. He hoped not. He admitted he was a creature of habit. The only other table on that side of the room was too far away from the window. Maybe he should just trade it with this one. Millie would skin him if he scuffed her new floor dragging things around.

  “Here you go,” Clara said, handing Bernard a plate of flapjacks topped with butter and several slices of bacon. Then she passed him a small pitcher of syrup. “Enjoy your breakfast.” A smile quirked her lips as she spun away and went back toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right back with your coffee.” She snickered a bit and asked over her shoulder, “Where would you like me to put it since your hands are full?”

  He nodded toward the upright table. He’d have to make do with sitting at the farther table and settling what had happened after he ate.

  He’d eaten half his breakfast when Edwin walked into the dining room. “What’s wrong with my table, Newell?” he asked.

  “I was wondering the same thing. I thought maybe you flipped it over to hint that I needed to move my business elsewhere.”

  Edwin laughed. “This isn’t the first strange occurrence, but it’s the biggest. Help me, and we’ll get it set to rights.” Bernard and Edwin unstacked and rearranged the table and chairs.

  Bernard moved his plate to his regular table to finish his meal but wondered what Edwin meant by strange. He put that out of his mind and resumed eating. He knew his mouth was playing tricks on him, but the food tasted better when he sat near the window.

  Clara cleaned up his table when he was finished. “You dropped a cent,” she said, pointing to the table where his plate had been. He picked up the penny. It wasn’t his, and he had no idea how it had gotten there since the table had been tipped over. He was going to give it to Clara, but she trotted up the stairs. Instead, he placed it on the floor, heads up, where he was sure someone would find it. Then that person could have good luck all day.

  Bernard pulled the placard out of his leather portfolio, Bernard Newell, Attorney at Law, admiring it before he tucked it in the front window by the door of Hearth and Home. He’d been carrying it all over the state of Colorado for seven years. All that traveling gave him a good sense of the law as he’d tried to put his past behind him before he decided to settle in Creede permanently. He arranged his paperwork in a stack on the table for the clients he’d meet with today. Since he wasn’t paying for the space, he ordered all his meals while he worked and a generous number of snacks and drinks while he was there, too. Mid-morning and mid-afternoon were the best times to consult people on legal matters since he wouldn’t be in the way of Edwin’s mealtime customers.

  He opened the newspaper to read until his first client arrived. A banner headline caught his attention. “Another Bank Hit in Colorado.” He’d read about two robberies previous to this one, and all of them near Creede—Ouray, Silverton, and Gunnison. The problems seem to have a pattern. Someone tried to damage the bank to gain entry. They were thwarted before they got money. Each time, the bandits got away.

  “You will come, and now,” a man’s voice shouted from the hallway upstairs.

  It was often quiet but not today. He heard a man and woman arguing.

  Overhearing the business of families who rented rooms here came with the territory, Bernard supposed. Still, he tried not to listen. He pulled his papers closer to his face to concentrate on reading it. It didn’t help. The voices drove into his ears. The way the man’s voice was demanding set him on edge and had him wanting to jump to the woman’s protection. He pushed the feelings down. It was his reaction to threats left over from his upbringing. He didn’t grow up in a happy home, and they’d all learned to fight early.

  He was anxious to have an office where he’d only have to hear the woes of his clients. He’d been intruding on Edwin’s kindness for a few months by meeting with clients in his restaurant. Soon, Bernard would move into his own offices being built next door to the bank. There were a few finishing touches that still needed to be made. He was already living in the apartment upstairs from it.

  He walked into the kitchen to escape the racket and found Edwin there. “I want to thank you for putting up with me and my business for the past couple of months.”

  “You’re welcome,” Edwin replied, pausing from cutting meat and exchanging his knife for a tenderizing mallet. “How are things getting along for you?”

  “I think I’ll have my new office open next week, but I’ll still be over regularly to eat.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  Bernard returned to his seat and could hear Edwin hammering on the meat behind him.

  “Please don’t make me. I don’t want to.” The woman’s voice was fearful and distressed.

  The sound made Bernard take notice and triggered something primitive and protective deep within him.

  “Didn’t ask what you want. I ain’t got no other way to pay. Get your wrap or freeze—don’t care.”

  Bernard wondered how many times this scenario played out in life, trapping women in lives they didn’t choose. He’d never experienced that exactly, but he knew what feeling trapped was like. He’d given up family and home to escape it years ago. However, he thought it was easier for a man to do th
at than a woman. How would she provide for herself?

  “Arlo, please . . . I can’t . . . I can’t get married. I . . . Not again.” She sobbed as she begged.

  Did she say Arlo? Bernard listened closely. He knew that voice. It was Clara’s, and truth be told, she was one of the reasons it was a pleasure to do business here and a reason he’d come back for meals even when he didn’t have clients. At first she’d been shy, serving food or coffee to him on request, but she’d warmed to him, and they now chatted daily. Not about anything important—the weather, the growth in town, the food—topics that were never personal.

  In fact, he didn’t know anything about her except that she had been a captive with Julianne a couple of years ago. After they were rescued, Clara lived with her brother, Arlo Hatfield. She had blonde hair that looked to be shot through with gold when she walked through the sunlight coming through the window. Most people could glance at her and think her eyes were blue, but when he’d been close enough to study them, they were only rimmed with dark, clear blue while the center was green. He’d studied them many times.

  “We’re going to the judge, and you’ll agree or else. I’ve been paying for your keep, and now it’s time for you to pay me back.”

  Bernard could only see Arlo’s legs from the knees down, and about the same amount of Clara’s skirt as they stood at the top of the stairs.

  “I’ve been bringing home money from working here. I could do more. I don’t want to marry Quint.” Clara shrugged against the man’s grasp.

  “You and me together couldn’t make enough money to pay back what I owe to Quint, but he’s willing to wipe it all off when you marry him. I think I’m getting the better of that deal.”

  “Quint Doolin is a snake. I’ll never marry him. Never.”

  Bernard heard a loud slap, and Clara begin crying. He was on his feet. He had to do something about this. But what? Even if he stopped Arlo today, he’d just force her into a marriage when Bernard wasn’t around. The thought made him swallow hard, pushing down anger. This was a family dispute. Stay out of it.

  “You will if you want to have food and a place to live. I’ll make sure you starve to death if you don’t marry him.”

  Arlo pulled Clara by the arm and started down the stairs. She looked up for a moment in the middle of the staircase right into Bernard’s gaze. Her free hand covered her mouth, and she sobbed louder. Her head dropped down, and she turned her face away from him.

  Her haunted expression burned indelibly behind Bernard’s eyes. His mind quickly ran through the laws of marriage. She obviously wasn’t a willing participant to the wedding. He knew that kind of marriage was illegal, but it happened through family coercion all too often. He knew that to make it binding, the judge would still require that she consent, but women often did when faced with abandonment. He also knew that once she was married, her rights would be severely limited, and it would be near impossible for her to get out.

  Arlo and Clara left the restaurant, and Bernard watched them through the large pane glass window. His pulse raced, and his muscles bunched with wanting to act.

  Clara’s feet shuffled as Arlo hauled her across the snow-dusted street, her feet leaving dark skids where she struggled against Arlo’s pull. Quint Doolin, with a smirk on his face, stood by the door to the marshal’s office where the judge set up court when he was in town. Marriages were simple in Colorado with only a required “yes” from each person that they agreed for it to be binding. Once Clara entered, she’d be married in sixty seconds or less.

  “Go, now!” a female voice shouted through his head, and he felt a sharp poke in his back.

  Bernard’s boots clicked against the wood floor as he bolted through the door and across the veranda without even grabbing his greatcoat from the back of his chair. His heart burned with urgency. He had to get there fast. Clara was pulled onto the boardwalk, but she held onto the hitching post and shook her head violently. Quint walked inside, leaving Arlo to deal with Clara. After he pried her fingers from the wood, he hauled her into the building.

  Bernard ran across the street, startling a few horses and barely missing being trampled. He pushed open the door not knowing what to do next. The doorjamb framed Clara standing in front of the judge. Her face was buried in her hands, and her shoulders shook. The picture of her standing there unleashed something within him. He knew what he had to do.

  “A wedding is gonna cost you ten dollars,” Judge Milton announced without looking at the men.

  “That’s robbery,” Quint said. “There’s never been a fee over two bits before.”

  “You’d know. You’ve married three times in so many years. Where are all your past wives?” the judge asked.

  “They ran off to California and divorced me.” His voice rang out strong, but his eyes shifted from the judge to Clara and back.

  Suspicion and disgust filled Bernard. His answer sounded too rehearsed.

  “So you say. The ten dollar fee is not negotiable, and it’s payable in advance of whether or not the lady says yes,” Judge Milton added. “Or you can get on out of my court and stop wasting my time.”

  “Oh, she’ll say yes,” Arlo growled. His hand around Clara’s arm squeezed, and she gave a strangled moan.

  “Pay up first.” The judge waited a good ten seconds and then announced, “Next.”

  Bernard was grateful the judge recognized the duress Clara was obviously experiencing and tried to discourage the men from following their plan. Even if Quint or Arlo didn’t pay up, what would happen to Clara? He felt assured she’d be abandoned or abused. He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  Finally, the men dug around and gathered ten dollar’s worth of various coins and a few bills. “We got it,” Arlo said.

  “Get to the I do’s, Judge. I paid for her fair and square.” Quint stepped up next to her, and she shied away from him, but her brother stood on the other side and pushed her toward the filthy man.

  Clara’s back was rounded, and her shoulders slumped. As Bernard walked around the table, he could see her eyes were closed, and her lips trembled though no words escaped. She looked broken.

  The bright smile she’d always greeted him with was gone. Her eyes, usually bright, were red and swollen. He longed to see them brighten with happiness. Would that ever happen again? He knew it would not. No. He was wrong. It would happen. He’d make sure.

  Ten silver dollars hit the table. This time they were in front of Bernard, who had come to stand beside the judge. “You have another option, Clara. Marry me instead.”

  “I’ll take it. Yes, I’ll marry you, Bernard,” she said without pause.

  Arlo grabbed Clara’s arm, and she squeaked with pain. Before anyone could exhale, Bernard had drawn the silver pistols from his sides and had them trained on the men across the table.

  “I don’t think Mr. Newell takes kindly to you touching his wife. Let go of her before he spills blood on the floor again. Marshal KC don’t take to that in his place,” Judge Milton drawled.

  The men looked down the guns Bernard had trained on them. Over their shoulders, they noticed the bailiff had done the same.

  “Clara agreed. You take Clara Hatfield to be your wife, Bernard?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then the court agrees. You’re married. Sign here.” The judge turned a book around to Clara, and she signed as Bernard stepped up beside her.

  He wanted to put a ring around her finger and claim her. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket and wiggled the red and gold foil band off of it. He slid the band over her finger and handed the cigar to Judge Milton.

  “Thank you, and congratulations,” the judge said, then pointed at Arlo and Quint. “Get them out of my court. They don’t have business here today,” he told the bailiff.

  Quint scrambled to retrieve his coins. Then the bailiff walked them out and stood by the door. “We’re running a special today,” the judge announced. “Marriages are two bits for the next three minutes.” He slipped one of the dollars ou
t of Bernard’s pile and returned a few coins.

  As Bernard signed the logbook, he heard Clara whisper beside him, “I’m sorry, Bernard. I’m real sorry.” She sniffed at the words, not controlling her tears.

  “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Newell,” he replied.

  That earned him another glance from Clara. Her face—with red blotches, swollen pink eyes, and tears still running in tracks down her cheeks—tipped upward to him. “I think you saved my life. Thank you.” Her breath hitched and hiccupped.

  Bernard couldn’t talk, not a word. His heart seemed to grow twice its size from looking down at her lovely face. He hadn’t been sweet on her, at least not that he’d ever considered. He’d enjoyed their conversations, but they weren’t the kind of thing where he would get to know her. Just pleasant. Then suddenly today, he’d saved her from being married—by marrying her. His brain stalled at that thought. He couldn’t even examine that right now. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a white linen handkerchief, tenderly caressing her face with it and dabbing her eyes.

  He barely registered her words. Every thought he had was aimed at her comfort and protection, but there was more. A strong desire to love and be loved rattled with warmth in his chest. It was a small desire but vibrant and demanding that he notice. He didn’t know exactly what one did about that when one married a near stranger. He tucked Clara’s hand in the crook of his elbow and turned them toward their future.

  Chapter 2

  Clara Hatfield

  Clara was completely silent exiting the court. What had she just done? She’d condemned herself to a loveless marriage and guaranteed Bernard a future without children. And she did it to save herself. It sounded selfish and ugly when she admitted it, but that’s what it was. She’d have to find a way out of this mess. First, she’d have to figure out where to go and what she’d do.