“I don't need my good name tarnished.” He put a hand to his chest. “His departure was timely, for it was easy to tell everyone he took your virtue, then abandoned you. He'll return and discover he won't even be able to buy flour from the Mercantile. Your ruin means his ruin. I will swoop in and save you, even from yourself. I'm such a kind man to take pity on a virtueless woman, when I know you're a virgin.”
This scheme wasn't just a whim. He'd planned this well. While I was the focus of his malicious intent, it seemed his anger was directed at Garrett. It was all so horrid.
“I'll be known as that kind of woman.” Why would he want to marry me when everyone in town thought so poorly of me?
“Even better. When I take you to the brothel no one will question. You're the whore and everyone will be expecting me to treat you as such.”
I gulped. “Brothel?”
He looked at me for a moment, and then shook his head. “You really are an innocent. I'll rectify that soon enough.”
I retreated another step and bumped into the unforgiving cell bars. He was insane. “Why...why are you doing this?” I whispered. The tears I'd kept at bay slipped down my cheeks. His cruel sneer blurred.
“Because I can. Because Rivers is going to get what he deserves.”
What had Garrett done to Mr. Simpson to make him seek such horrible retribution?
“You're doing all this because of your hatred for Garrett?”
“I am finally besting him.”
I didn't know of the feud between the men, but it must have been longstanding and very bitter for Mr. Simpson to marry me against my wishes just to hurt Garrett.
He just grunted a reply as the sheriff came through the door. A blast of cold air and snow swirled in behind him. Stomping his boots, he left a small pile of snow on the wood floor. “The fight was settled by the time I arrived, but I needed to warm my bones with some whiskey before I made my way back. Christmas Eve hasn't dampened anyone's spirits, in fact, it's just the opposite.” He hung his coat up on a peg by the door and then went to the wood stove to add another log. When finished, he turned to face us. “I think that's a blizzard out there. Ready?” The sheriff looked to Mr. Simpson.
“Absolutely,” Mr. Simpson said as he pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to the lawman. Bribe money? Payment to perform the ceremony?
“Don't you need me to consent to this marriage, Sheriff?” I asked, my words clogged with tears. This was really going to happen.
I didn't miss the look of disappointment and distaste on the older man's face. “You should be ashamed of yourself, being the schoolteacher and all. You should be thankful Mr. Simpson here would lower himself to marry you. He's saving you.”
The strong aroma of liquor wafted from the man. He truly believed the lies that Mr. Simpson had spread.
“You should be saving me from marrying a man against my will,” I countered. “Don't you want to hear from Mr. Rivers in this matter?”
He opened the envelope and showed me the money within. Grinning, he said, “No, I do not.”
“The likes of Rivers should be shot.” Mr. Simpson cut off my words. “Using this woman in such a fashion, then leaving town under the guise of visiting family...really.” His voice dripped of lies and false shame. Why he was stating this now seemed irrelevant as the money spoke more to the sheriff than the lies.
If Garrett knew what Mr. Simpson was doing, he'd save me. I felt a slight hint of hope, but knew it was completely futile. Garrett was miles and miles away, enjoying the Christmas spirit with his sister's family. There would be no rescue. I was going to be Mrs. Gregory Simpson in a matter of minutes and after, there would be nothing anyone, including Garrett, could do about it.
I began to cry harder.
“In this case, I'll leave off the dearly beloved part,” the sheriff said.
“Perhaps the short version is all that is needed,” Mr. Simpson replied. “You are the justice of the peace, not a man of God.”
I tried to stem the tide of tears on the sleeve of my dress, but they continued to fall.
The sheriff grunted. “Do you, Gregory Simpson, take this woman, to be your legal wife, from this day forward, until death parts you?”
My future husband took a deep breath and I watched as his chest puffed out. He was probably more pleased that his plan had worked than the fact that he was marrying me. “I do.”
I began to sob, and I lifted my hands to my face, perhaps to hide behind and perhaps to shield myself from the question that was to come. I was going to be Mrs. Gregory Simpson.
“Do you, Julia Talbot, take this man….”
I ignored the words of the sheriff, turning my back on the man. On both men. It was only when Mr. Simpson grabbed my arm again, spun me around and shook me did I pay attention. My teeth clacked together as he spoke. Through tear-filled eyes, I looked into his dark, menacing ones. “I don't need your words. I don't even need you to smile. Say it, Sheriff.”