The Tenderfoot Bride

by Cheryl St. John

  "I didn't want a rich man," she said, her voice shaking now. "I wanted you."

  "I always had feelin's for you, Corinne," he said. "That never stopped. I never wanted another woman. After I left and I heard you got married, I got drunk and shot up a saloon in Oklahoma. I sat in jail for a week."

  Corinne stared at him.

  Linnea edged toward the door, though neither of them seemed to notice she was still there.

  "You told me to marry Edward," she said.

  "Because he could give you everythin' I couldn't. I wanted you to be happy."

  "You stupid man," she said, angry now. "You would have made me happy."

  Linnea reached the door and bolted into the night. She escaped into the yard and breathed the refreshing air, her heart pounding at what she'd overheard. She pressed a hand to her breast.

  "What's goin' on in there?" Will asked from beside her.

  She jumped and turned to face him. "Roy's in there with Corinne."

  "Oh? Is it gettin' good?" He took a step forward, and she stopped him with a hand on his sleeve.

  "Leave them alone, Will, it's personal."

  "Maybe we can hear."

  "I heard enough."

  "Tell me."

  "She loved him when they were young. Roy told her to marry Edward, because he thought the man would make a better husband."

  "So did my father. Thought he knew what was best for everybody."

  "Did Roy really shoot up a saloon?"

  Will grinned. "Yup."

  Crickets chirped from the nearby bushes. In the distance a coyote howled.

  "If I can't talk you into listening, let's walk," he said.

  She hesitated.

  "Just a walk, Linnea. I know you want to leave."

  "Okay."

  They strolled to one of the corrals.

  "Watch this," Will said. He gave a warbling whistle. Seconds later, a magnificent stallion pranced forward, neck arched, mane flying. The animal bobbed his head and Will spoke to him, but he didn't come nearer the fence.

  "I caught 'im last spring. For months, whenever I tried to get close, he'd rear up or run."

  "What made him change?"

  "Patience. Getting used to my voice. Learning I wasn't going to hurt 'im."

  Linnea understood perfectly.

  "I call 'im Whiskey, because he's that color."

  They walked along the fence, and the stallion followed. Eventually their steps led them back to the house.

  Hesitantly, Linnea placed one foot on the first step. With his hand spread firmly over the small of her back, Will urged her forward.

  She never had a chance to reach the door, because the screen burst open and Corinne rushed out. "Linnea! Will! Oh, Will," she said, seeing her brother. "The most wonderful thing has happened!"

  She flung herself at Will and he grasped her waist in surprise.

  Over her shoulder, he looked from Linnea to the man in the doorway. Roy stepped out onto the porch, favoring one leg.

  "Roy has asked me to marry him!" Corinne said, her voice breathless with joy.

  "He has?" Will returned her hug, and after she'd released him and stepped back, asked, "And what did you answer?"

  He was looking at Roy with amusement when he asked the question.

  "Why, I said yes, of course," she replied. "I've never wanted anything so much."

  Will stepped forward and shook his friend's hand. "None too soon, was it?"

  Roy chuckled and Corinne moved to press herself against him and gaze up into his face. Roy wrapped his arm around her and smiled down, and seeing their happiness, Linnea's heart rejoiced with them.

  "Now, you must give Roy some time off to join me in Saint Louis," she said to her brother. "We have a wedding and a honeymoon to plan."

  "Am I losin' a foreman, then?" Will asked.

  "Corinne and I have a lot to think about," Roy replied. "She has her business investments to see to, and that's important."

  "But you'd never be happy in the city," she said. "I can sell my house and hire someone to handle my affairs. With the right help, I could handle them from wherever I choose to live."

  "You sure you'd wanna do that?" Roy asked.

  Corinne studied him. "It doesn't matter where we live," she said softly. "I'll be happy anywhere."

  "I've saved some," Roy told her. '"Nough to buy a spread of our own, that is if you wanted to be a rancher's wife. I've had my eye on the place to the west, and the owner could probably be talked into sellin'."

  "Looks like I'm losin' a foreman, either way," Will grumbled, but his tone wasn't the least perturbed.

  "And gaining a brother-in-law," Corrine replied cheerfully.

  The four of them laughed at her giddy happiness.

  Linnea barely slept that night. Corinne was already making plans to leave, and Linnea had determined that she would leave with her.

  With steely determination, she distanced herself from the men's nightly activities, from her lessons with Cimarron, from Aggie's knowing looks and— with the most difficulty—from Will.

  "Why are you leavin'?" Cimarron asked her one evening, when he'd stayed in the kitchen after supper. Roy and Corinne had gone for a ride.

  "I don't belong here," she said simply.

  "I don't believe that," he said. "You've done a good job ever since you first got here. You were so determined that you could do the work, and all the hands were pullin' for ya."

  "I do thank you and the others. Everyone made me feel welcome. That's something I never had before."

  "Then why go?"

  "Because…" She took a breath and confessed, "Will asked me to marry him."

  "I figured it was somethin' like that. You don't wanna marry him?"

  "I'm all wrong," she said, vigorously drying a pan. "Nobody knows the life I lived before I came here."

  "Nobody cares here."

  The words hung in the air.

  She examined Cimarron's face.

  "This country is about fresh starts," he said. "Out here a man don't ask another man about his past. Women ain't no different."

  Linnea couldn't explain to Cimarron any more than she could to Will. It wasn't so much what she'd done before, but how she felt about who she was and where she'd come from. It was the lack of value that was bred in her bones.

  Will kept his distance, too, no doubt preparing himself for her absence and not wanting to make their parting any more awkward or painful.

  The morning they planned to leave dawned as ordinarily as any other. Linnea woke and painstakingly packed her belongings in a bag Aggie had given her. Linnea now owned more than she had when she'd arrived, counting her dresses and the baby's clothing and gifts. She stowed Rebecca's flannels and sheets and dressed her in the dress and bonnet Corinne had given her.

  Corinne had offered Linnea a place to stay until she could find work, and Linnea had assured the woman she would earn her keep. "You could stay and work for me indefinitely," Corinne had told her, "but I don't know how long I'll stay in Saint Louis. Roy and I might move back here to Colorado soon."

  So far, just having a place to go when she left the Double T was better luck than she'd anticipated, and Linnea was grateful for the chance to get a new start.

  "I feel responsible for sending you here," Corinne had told her. "I thought for sure the position would work out."

  The men ate breakfast without their usual vitality, and one by one, they wished Linnea goodbye. She gave each one a heartfelt hug. Most of them bent over the cradle to grin or wave at Rebecca one last time. Cimarron stayed to carry her bags and help Roy and Will load the wagon.

  She picked up Rebecca and her daisy hat and walked to where Aggie sat in her chair. She knelt in front of her, holding the baby where Aggie could see her. "Thank you for everything. For the hat and the aprons and the satchel. And for being my friend. Mostly for that."

  Aggie's eyes filled with tears behind her spectacles. "Thanks for the glasses, girl. And for showing that ornery polecat he
wasn't so tough. If he had half a brain, he'd hang on to you."

  Linnea smiled through tears that blurred her vision and leaned forward to give Aggie a hug. "I wrote a letter to Mavis, saying goodbye," she told her. "If you see her, will you tell her I wished I could have said it in person?"

  Aggie nodded. She reached out and affectionately touched Rebecca's smooth white cheek with a wrinkled hand.

  "And," Linnea told her, "I mentioned to Mavis that she should come this way once in a while, so you can have your baths.''

  Aggie sniffed and waved her off.

  Will came in the door and paused to pick up Rebecca's cradle. He carried it out the door to the wagon, and Linnea observed from the doorway as he wrapped the bed in a tarp and placed it beside the trunks. Finished with the task, he stood to the side of the wagon.

  Cimarron came for Linnea and walked her out behind Roy and Corinne. Corinne hugged her brother and Roy shook his hand. Will hugged Zach and Margaret and settled them on blankets in the back of the wagon.

  "You're sure you want to do this?" Cimarron asked her.

  Avoiding looking at Will, Linnea nodded. She cleared her throat. "I can never thank you enough," she said. "For being my friend and for teaching me to read. You gave me something that has changed my life forever."

  "Aw, I was happy't' do it," he said, his voice gruff. He helped her up to the wagon seat and chucked Rebecca under the chin. "Bye, squirt. Take care of your mom." To Linnea he said, "You'll write to me?"

  She smiled through her tears. "I'll write to you."

  Roy assisted Corinne to the seat and climbed up beside her. Corinne took Linnea's hand and squeezed it. "Ready?"

  Linnea nodded.

  Roy picked up the reins.

  Linnea's heart hammered in her chest. She hugged Rebecca to her breast. An unseen force drew her gaze, and against her will, she turned her head and found Will Tucker.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Will stood, thumbs in his pockets, a look of calculated indifference on his face. He wore the familiar black Stetson, which shadowed his eyes, but she could see the set of his jaw, the hard line his mouth made.

  Her heart felt as though a hand was squeezing the life from it. Linnea pressed her lips to the top of Rebecca's bonnet and held back a cry.

  He hadn't said goodbye. Hadn't looked twice at the baby. Linnea knew his distance was to make her leaving easier on both of them, but it hadn't. Nothing could have eased the bone-deep pain she felt at this moment.

  Dozens of memories assailed her: Will dabbing ointment on her burned hand; Will placing a lock on her bedroom door; she and Will dancing under the starlit sky; the two of them alone in the darkness of her bedroom—Linnea, I love you; her finding him in the barn and telling him she wouldn't stay and be his wife.

  At the thought of never seeing him again, Linnea felt as though her soul was being torn from her body.

  A lifetime without him stretched out before her, and the realization made it hard to draw sufficient breath.

  Her brief time on the Double T flooded back to her in a hundred vivid memories. She didn't have much to be ashamed of when it came to her accomplishments here—her only faults had been in initially deceiving Will about the baby and in being afraid to tell him she couldn't read. She'd made those poor choices because of her past. And he'd forgiven those mistakes.

  She'd never before had a choice over her life. As a child, she'd been dominated by her heartless father. As a young girl, she'd been turned over to another man who controlled her every movement. Shame was a constant part of who she was.

  For the first time she had a choice in what happened to her. Will hadn't held her against her wishes, hadn't coerced her, hadn't blackmailed her, hadn't bribed her, hadn't bought her—hadn't sold her.

  Will had given her the freedom to choose.

  She couldn't change the past. The past had made her who she was, good or bad, right or wrong. What was it Cimarron had said about her past? Nobody cares here.

  Well, she cared. And Will would care if she told him. But would he hold it against her? Would he be ashamed of her? She would never know unless she took a chance.

  No, she couldn't change the past. But she could work on the present. And the future.

  I'll be a good father to Rebecca, she'll be my own…I'd be proud for her to have my name.

  He wasn't a man to make promises lightly. He wasn't a man to speak his heart or ask her to marry him unless he was deadly serious. Unless he truly loved her.

  And she loved him. She hadn't allowed herself to think it, let alone say it, because a lifetime of experience taught her not to want anything. Not to hope.

  Roy and Corinne, sitting beside her on this wagon seat, were proof of what happened when one didn't admit what they wanted, and instead imagined what was best for the other.

  "Wait!" Linnea shouted the word, startling Corinne. "Stop! Stop the wagon!" Linnea handed Rebecca to Corinne.

  Their eyes locked and Corinne smiled encouragement. "Yes," she said and touched Linnea's cheek.

  Clumsily holding her hem to keep from plunging headfirst to the ground, Linnea climbed down from the wagon. The moment her feet touched the ground, she started running. The daisy hat fell behind her.

  Will saw her coming. He took a step forward. Another. And in the next heartbeat, he was running, too.

  Skirt hem flying, her heart racing, she reached him and he held her by her upper arms. Will stared down into her upturned face.

  She caught her breath. "I can't change what happened to me in the past," she said, discarding her shame for the sake of hanging on to her first glimpse of hope.

  "It doesn't—"

  "No." She placed her fingers over his lips. "Listen."

  He nodded and she dropped her hand.

  Linnea drew a breath. "My father sold me to my husband for two hundred dollars and a box of Havana cigars."

  She'd just admitted her most shameful truth, and her heart fluttered with the pain of that secret. Will's expression didn't change, but his jaw tensed.

  "That's not much of a price for a person's life," she went on, baring her soul. "My value lessened once he missed the money and the cigars. My husband thought he'd paid too much for me and never let me forget my lack of worth. I never knew I was worth having someone love me. Especially someone like you, Will—a good man like you. You work hard and take care of people. You're honest and straightforward. And you'd never deliberately hurt anybody."

  She looked Will in the eye. "My husband forced himself on me. Every time. I never knew anything different. If you can forget that, maybe I can."

  "It's not your shame, Linnea," Will said. "It's your father's. Your husband's."

  "You said you love me, Will. But you have to love me enough to forget my past. And there's more. Pratt was a thief. He and his friends robbed people. They held up trains. They shot people in cold blood. I spent most of the years of my marriage on the run or waiting in a shack. We didn't have a home. We lived in hideouts—caves and back rooms and woods."

  Will cupped her cheek, and she realized there were tears trailing down her skin.

  "I ran away once."

  "He found you?"

  She nodded. "He hurt me so bad I never tried again."

  "I'm sorry," Will said, his voice a ragged tone. "And I'm sorry I ever frightened you. Or raised my voice. Even once."

  She shook her head as if there was no comparison.

  "Finally Pratt got shot trying to rob a bank. I doctored him for a week, but we had to keep on the run, and he died. I helped dig a hole and bury him in the pouring rain. Kansas somewhere."

  "And his partners?"

  "They rode off. I went the opposite way and found work wherever I could. Then I found out I was gonna have a baby. And you know the rest." She looked up at him, pleading with her eyes. "That's who I am," she said. "Do you love me enough to forget my past?"

  "I love you…" he said, with emotion choking his usually strong voice "… enough for anything. And I'l
l spend the rest of my life making you forget."

  She loved this man so much it hurt.

  He kissed her with a love and passion neither had ever known, kissing all traces of tears from her cheeks and absorbing them as if to take her pain.

  Revealing her ugly past to Will made her feel as though she'd dropped a lead weight that she'd been carrying her whole life. The burden was gone. She took a breath, and even breathing was easier. If he hadn't been holding her, she'd have floated off the ground.

  Linnea clung to him, to his strength and the heady promise of his love, to the bright promise of their future.

  Will hugged her soundly, knocking his hat to the ground. A joyous laugh bubbled up from deep inside her and carried across the land, startling a jay from a clump of chokecherry bushes.

  From their observation point at the corner of the barn, the hands sent up a cheer.

  Will lifted his head and called to Roy. "Turn that wagon around and bring our baby girl back here!"

  Roy and Corinne hugged and Roy led the team in a circle, heading the horses back toward the house.

  Will and Linnea walked with their arms around each other's waists, carrying their hats and smiling into each other's faces. The Colorado sun beat on their shoulders. In the corral, a horse whinnied. Four hands came running to help unload the wagon.

  And on the front porch of their house an old woman rocked…and cackled.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven