She Asked the Gunsmith to Wed Her Before Her Uncle Sold Her Land — “I’ll Want to Court You After,” the Gunsmith Said
Chapter 6
The magistrate at Ashford examined the documents.
He was an old man named Jonathan Bell.
He read the deed twice.
Then the payment ledger.
Then the marriage certificate.
He looked at Margaret.
“Your uncle has no legal authority to sell this land.”
Margaret exhaled.
“Then the sale can be stopped?”
“Yes.”
Samuel looked relieved.
“But,” Bell continued, “Crowe has already filed a claim.”
“On what grounds?”
“He claims Thomas Vale owed him money.”
Margaret shook her head.
“My uncle did.”
“Your uncle may have.”
Bell tapped the deed.
“But your uncle did not own the property.”
“Then Crowe has nothing.”
“Not necessarily.”
Bell leaned forward.
“Your father’s estate was placed under guardianship because you were unmarried.”
Margaret stiffened.
“But I am married now.”
“Yes.”
“And my husband has rights under the marriage law.”
“Yes.”
Samuel frowned.
“So why can Crowe still claim it?”
Bell sighed.
“Because someone has presented a second deed.”
Margaret stared.
“A forgery.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Where is it?”
“The county office.”
“Then we go there.”
Bell shook his head.
“It is closed until morning.”
Samuel looked outside.
“Then we wait.”
Bell studied them.
“You should leave town.”
“Why?”
“Because the men who forged that document know you have the original.”
Margaret understood.
“They will come.”
Bell nodded.
That night, Samuel and Margaret stayed in a small room above the magistrate’s office.
They sat beside the window.
Neither slept.
Margaret looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“This.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“You had a life.”
“I still do.”
“You had a shop.”
“I still have one.”
“You had no wife.”
Samuel smiled.
“That’s true.”
She laughed softly.
Then grew serious.
“You said you wanted to court me.”
“I do.”
“But we are already married.”
“That does not mean I cannot court you.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She smiled.
“You could begin by telling me something you have never told me.”
Samuel thought.
“I hate cinnamon.”
Margaret laughed.
“That is not romantic.”
“You asked for honesty.”
“Something else.”
He looked at her.
“I have loved you since the summer your father bought a rifle from my father.”
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
“That long?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of my father?”
“Of losing you.”
She reached for his hand.
“You never had me.”
Samuel looked down.
“Perhaps I do now.”
Margaret squeezed his fingers.
“Yes.”
Outside, a floorboard creaked.
Samuel immediately stood.
The door handle moved.
Someone was coming.
