A riot of jingling bells greeted her as she pushed the door open and walked into the drugstore. A strong medicinal smell assaulted her nose. There seemed to be no subtle odors in Haywire.

She spotted Mr. Garvey immediately in the back of the store, sweeping the floor. He looked up and appeared neither surprised nor pleased to see her.

He simply leaned his broom against the counter and stepped over the pile of broken glass as if she were just another customer. Today, he appeared taller than she remembered but still failed to measure up to McKnight in height. He also lacked McKnight’s robust physique and sun-bronzed complexion. Instead, Garvey’s shirt and trousers hung loosely from his lanky frame, and his pale skin stretched over hollow cheeks and a narrow nose.

Surprised, even dismayed, to find herself comparing him unfavorably to McKnight, Emily tried to remember the speech she had rehearsed.

“Dang cattle,” he muttered by way of a greeting. “Cost me big in inventory. Lucky they didn’t start a fire.”

Emily eyed him with more than a little concern. The fact that the cattle had also cost him a wife didn’t seem to merit mention.

Save for the broken glass, the rest of the store was neatly organized and well stocked, offering every possible remedy for whatever might ail a person. An assortment of sundries, including fancy soaps, perfumery, and fireworks, was also on display.

Emily’s gaze fell on the broken glass at his feet. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Mustache twitching, he looked her over, his gaze lingering a moment on her feathered hat. Only then did he turn down her offer with a shake of his head.

“That’s all right, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to mess up your purty clothes.”

She gripped her purse with both gloved hands. “I just want you to know that what happened was a mistake.” She drew in her breath. “I fully intend to keep my promise to marry you. That is, if you’ll still have me.”

For the longest while, Garvey studied her and said nothing. His unhurried demeanor was no more than what she had expected. His letters had been neatly written, with no crossovers or ink smudges. He seemed just as careful in person, his every move thoughtful and precise. His ill-fitting shirt and trousers were nonetheless neatly pressed; his dark hair was cut collar-length and parted in the middle.

“Don’t know how it is in Boston, ma’am,” he said, his voice gentle and unassuming. “But here in Texas, it’s against the law for a man to have hisself two wives. I reckon the same applies to a woman with two husbands.”

“Oh no! I didn’t mean… Soon as I leave here, I’m heading straight to the courthouse to straighten out the mess.” She gave an indignant nod. “I have grounds for an annulment.” When he failed to comment, she continued. “The marriage was a mistake and should never have happened. I thought he was you.”