by Kristin Holt
“Where are you going?” She addressed her brother-in-law.
Adam’s smile lit his eyes as he focused on Josie. “Mrs. Taylor and I will make a wedding trip to New Mexico Territory.”
So far away. “Why?”
“Forgive me if I combine business with the desire to show my wife the uncommon beauty of the desert. I want to spend time alone, just she and I.”
“Did you know of this, Mr. Cannon?” If he’d had foreknowledge and still promised everything would be all right…
His expression, together with a look swapped between the men, told the tale. Richard had known. He’d known things would not be all right and yet he’d promised. That either made him a fool or a liar. Perhaps both.
Or maybe she was the fool and he the liar.
She distinctly recalled her marriage vows. She’d promised to obey and honor and respect this man. In the moment, to do so seemed impossible.
Mr. Cannon sighed. As if he were the one inconvenienced. “This opportunity presented itself just yesterday. The Taylors will be away only a short while.”
A wedding trip through the desert all the way to New Mexico Territory didn’t seem short. But she was most unfamiliar with the West. All she knew was the state and territory boundaries were significantly larger than at home.
“How short a time?” She pressed Adam Taylor for an answer. “How long will you be away?”
“A matter of weeks. I hope to have the family together for the holidays.”
Anguish stole into her heart and chased away every scrap of anger and disappointment.
Nearly three months. How would she manage without Josie? Worse, how would tender-hearted Josie survive without her?
Chapter Five
“I will have your word of honor,” Richard’s new wife demand of Adam, “that you’ll look out for my sister. Josie has never been on her own. You must ensure she is comfortable, safe, protected.”
Thankfully, Adam had handed off his many trunks to a porter when they’d first arrived at the station before finding the women, and tipped the man generously. His belongings would be aboard the private Pullman. With or without him and his wife.
Saying goodbye was taking far longer than Richard could have expected. When he dropped Adam off at the station with his bags, they said goodbye and parted. A brief interaction of mere seconds.
But Adam seemed to understand how important this parting conversation was to Lessie. “I vow I will.”
Richard knew his cousin well, knew him to be a gentleman through and through.
Josie would be fine.
He might have spoken in defense of his cousin’s honor, but he witnessed stark terror in Lessie’s expression. By contrast, Josie’s eyes had filled with tears. Probably just sadness.
But Lessie…
The enormity of the pain he’d caused his bride, in separating identical twins— who’d never before been apart— slammed into him.
He’d not known, hadn’t suspected separating his wife from her twin would hurt her.
Not like this.
He and Adam were as close as two men could be yet they went separate ways with ease and reunited easily, like no time had passed. They could spend three months in separate states without a pang of loneliness.
Not so for his bride and her twin. He was learning that truth the hard way and at her expense.
Richard winced at the panic in Lessie’s tone. Much to his surprise, tenderness swirled about his heart, warming him from the chest on out.
He risked touching her with a gentle palm to her back. “You’re right, my dear. We, I—” for he never shirked responsibility, “—hadn’t warned you adequately, and for that I apologize.”
Lessie’s expression calmed almost immediately, softened, and she gave him a sad smile. “Apology accepted. Thank you.”
He nodded, solemn. “Please, say goodbye to your sister. I promise she is in excellent hands with her husband.” He ached to soothe her. “You may write daily, send wires almost as often.”
Hope sparked in her eyes. “You mean it?”
“I mean it.” Never had he meant anything more. If she needed daily correspondence in order to accept what must be he wouldn’t just allow it. He’d encourage it.
The greater the distance separating Lessie from her twin, the greater her desperation to learn why Adam and Josie went to New Mexico Territory while she and Richard stayed behind.
The second time she rephrased her question, seeking a plausible answer, Richard finally spoke.
“We’ll discuss it when we arrive home. Until then, I suggest you enjoy the scenery. This is a beautiful autumn day, and a shame to waste it.”
“I don’t care about scenery— I care about my sister.”
“Before long, we’ll have frost and snow. Last winter was particularly severe.”
She bit her tongue rather than respond in a fit of temper.
He navigated the buggy through the business district and into the tree-lined streets of a residential neighborhood. Here, saplings seemed spaced too perfectly. And so very few, as if they only grew where planted.
Hundreds of miles of train travel through the Great Plains had made her crave the beauty of New England with its luscious vegetation and dense forests. Here, so few trees lined the drive it was easy to see the houses set back from the wide, straight streets.
How odd… “Ogden City appears to be laid out on perfect parallel lines, each block a precise square. Why do none of your streets curve?”
“Mormons are a peculiar people.” He flicked the reins, urging the team to pick up the pace. “They like their streets straight, wide enough to turn a team around without the work of unhitching.”
“Compared to the crowded, narrow streets of Lawrence, this is…” She searched for the right word. Peculiar didn’t fit. “Nice.”
“Note the numbering system from 25th street, the heart of downtown. Moving south, 26th street, 27th street, and to the north the street numbers decrease.”
He tipped his head at the corner. “The avenues running north and south are named after Presidents. New this year, renamed by the first gentile mayor in Ogden City’s history.”
“Why?” The work of renaming avenues, and the expense of new signs, made no sense.
“Streets named after their church people don’t properly reflect a desire for statehood. Our newly elected gentile mayor is doing all he can to put Utah Territory on the path to statehood.” He waved a hand in greeting at a passing fellow on horseback.
Interesting. Her husband would speak, as long as the topic of conversation had nothing to do with Adam, Josie, or New Mexico.
But he had managed to stir her curiosity. “You referred twice to the mayor as gentile. His political party?”
“No. It’s the Mormons’ word for those who aren’t. Around here, people are Mormon or gentile.”
“You are gentile.”
“Yes.”
Good to know she’d been right when defending this man to her friends. “How do you know so much about them? The Mormons?”
“I’ve lived among them for two years. I read the newspaper. I associate with businessmen. And listen to the talk.”
“I see.” Questions about Josie and Adam swirled in her mind… but Richard had said they’d discuss it at home. “This is why your advertisement said no Mormons?”
He cut her a glance. “If we’d wanted Mormon wives, we could’ve found some around here.”
But he didn’t sound convinced. Maybe they already had their quota.
“Are you or Mr. Taylor polygamist?”
He choked and his expression revealed a touch of distaste. “Do I look like a man who can handle more than one wife? As you so aptly put it this afternoon, I don’t comprehend women.”
She giggled at that. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“No, Mrs. Cannon, I most certainly am not polygamist. Neither is Adam. Josie is his first and only wife, as you are mine.”
Mine.
&nbs
p; The way he subtly emphasized ownership made her insides tingle… and effectively ended her ability to gather questions.
“Just so you know, Mrs. Richard Cannon, I’ll never marry another— not while you live. Perhaps not ever.”
That vow stunned her. “Excuse me?”
He cast her a momentary glance, then returned his attention to the road and other vehicles. “I mean it.”
“You speak as though you married me for typical American reasons… but this is an arranged marriage. More like the Old World. Isn’t it?”
“All I meant was that I take our marriage seriously.” Now he seemed uncomfortable, as if he, too, had revealed too many secrets, opened himself to her inspection… and regretted it.
“Thank you.” Gratitude welled within her, ripe and heavy and genuine. He’d given her far more than she’d expected.
She could have done far worse than a man who took marital vows seriously, given he didn’t love her and probably never would.
Within a few minutes, they arrived at a grand two-and-one-half story home. By the freshness of the paint, the tender blades of grass and saplings staked in strategic places about the grounds, she assumed the house’s construction had been recently completed.
Most of the neighborhood dwellings were new, too, some under construction.
An expensive, attractive neighborhood.
Richard drove the buggy up the drive and behind the residence toward the carriage house, set back more than fifty feet.
The house was ever so much deeper than wide, and yet the property seemed to go on forever. A pasture in the middle of the block was fenced off, allowing someone’s horses room to grace and stretch their legs.
Clapboard siding, painted in stylish and inviting pastels, snagged her attention. Gabled roof, curtains at the windows, gingerbread cutouts adorning the eaves.
She’d never had cause to enter such a palace, much less live in one.
Just how wealthy was her new husband?
Richard cleared his throat. He stood at her side of the carriage, offering a hand down. She accepted his help, but only because dizziness affected her from staring upward.
The minute her second boot touched the gravel drive, he released her. “Go inside, Mrs. Cannon, and make yourself at home.”
She had no idea how to help with the horses, and was most curious about the house, so she turned do to as he bid… but her gaze fell on the smudged sheet tied about everything she and Josie owned.
“Oh, no!” The make-do valise rested on the back seat of the carriage. “I have Josie’s change of clothing.” And undergarments.
And all the remaining, carefully saved money, tied into the handkerchief pinned inside the pocket of her dress. She should have divided the money into equal halves, sent her sister with a financial reserve.
She snatched up the bundle, so carefully guarded through their journey, used as a pillow and never allowed out of their sight for fear of theft. She’d never anticipated separation so there’d been no need to divide their meager clothing.
Richard shrugged. “She won’t need her old clothes. Neither will you.”
Irritation flared. “How can you say that? She’s on a train, bound for the middle of nowhere.”
He hefted the heavy, huge door to the carriage house open. Scents of sawdust, fresh hay, and animals mingled with the warm, lazy fragrance of an Indian Summer day.
Loneliness more acute than anything she’d ever known bombarded her, drowned her. She never should have allowed Richard or Adam to take Josie away— lawfully wedded husbands or not.
Some bonds were stronger than others and ‘husband’ meant nothing compared to twin sisters who’ve shared everything, including a reflection in the mirror.
Grief, hot and cloying, swelled in her breast and clogged her throat. She turned away as Richard fiddled with straps and harnesses to free one of the horses. Her pulse pounded in her ears and still she couldn’t draw breath past the gaping void of loneliness.
The knotted bundle was a sorry substitute for Josie, but Lessie clung to it, hugged it close, and closed her eyes against the torrent of threatening tears.
Don’t cry. Don’t.
Tears solved nothing and wasted precious energy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed herself to cry.
A warm, big hand settled on her shoulder.
Richard.
With a gentle nudge, he turned her into his arms. He held her against him, the bundle of containing her entire life clutched between them.
Her father must’ve held her, when she and Josie were little, but she had no memory of him. There had been no one else. No man had held her like this, ever.
His show of kindness and compassion was so unexpected and yet so utterly soothing, she didn’t know what to do. Without releasing her, he smoothed a warm, open hand along her upper arms, inviting her to relax.
His touch knocked the sharp edges from her grief and rendered it somehow bearable.
How very odd that this man could chase loneliness away. She didn’t miss him. She missed her twin… the one constant in her life.
“I’ve not spent a single night away from my sister.” Her words muffled against his vest and coat. Surely he hadn’t heard words she’d not intended to disclose.
“I promise you it will be all right.”
Her fickle heart wanted to believe him, wanted desperately to trust in his promises. He had apologized, hadn’t he?
“The only reason we remained together through childhood is luck and constant diligence. Plenty of people tried to separate us after Mama died.” Her throat closed again and she wondered why she spoke of this at all.
Details of her life could not be important to a man like Richard Cannon.
Yet he rested his cheek against her crown and held her. As if he didn’t have a buggy to put away and a team to feed and water.
Most disturbing of all, he held her as if she mattered.
The mere suggestion that this man, her husband, cared destroyed her resistance.
How that was possible, when she really ought to hate him for succeeding where others had failed— he and Adam had separated Lessie from the only person in the world she loved.
“I apologize, dear, for inflicting this grief upon you. I can only imagine how desperately you miss your sister.”
An onslaught of emotion rendered her unable to speak. What would she have said in response, had she been able? She merely nodded and savored the sense of safety and protection in Richard’s embrace.
He shifted slightly… had he kissed her hair? “I’ll do everything within my power to see you cared for, happy, and content, Mrs. Cannon, and I have every confidence Adam will do the same for Mrs. Taylor.”
In that moment, she trusted him completely. He knew Adam and trusted Adam… and for now, it was enough.
Chapter Six
Richard had suspected marriage would change his relationship with his cousin. He’d not realized, until now, just how much.
There he stood, his brand-new wife in his arms while two patient horses waited on him. And that wife of a mere hour and a half wanted information he’d promised Adam he’d deliver… and win her over in the process.
Adam had sat across the desk from him, that very morning and waxed poetic about his determination to love his wife. Love is a choice, he’d said. And my marriage will be full of love, laughter, understanding… the list had gone on and on, but Richard hadn’t really been listening. His mind had been on business.
But with his bride in his arms and Adam on his way to New Mexico, he suddenly understood which relationship deserved, required the best he had to give.
After all, this marriage had come about not because of love but because he needed her. Cannon Mining needed her.
He eased back, nudged Lessie’s chin up with the touch of his forefinger. He searched the dark chocolate-brown of her eyes. Slowly enough she could see his intention, he lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. He lingered, treasuring the sw
eetest of kisses.
Without hurry, he ended that kiss… that brushing of lips that felt more like a promise than expression of affection. “I need to see to the horses. You’re welcome to wait here. On the porch in the shade, on the stairs in the sun, or at my side. You choose.”
He must’ve said something right because her smile, so natural, so sincere and so quick lit her features and reached her eyes.
“When the team is settled, dear wife, you and I are going inside. We’ll pour a tall glass of lemonade and then we’ll sit and talk. You’ve asked important questions, and you deserve answers.”
Forty-five minutes later, Richard sat in the front parlor in a wingback chair. Lessie sat in the chair opposite, sipping icy lemonade. He’d opened two windows so they might enjoy a whisper of air movement.
Given Lessie’s interest in the house when they’d driven onto the property, he thought she might show interest in the room’s decor. She surprised him yet again by choosing her seat and remaining silent, ready to hear the explanation he’d promised.
She set her glass upon a coaster on the end table, effectively asking him to begin.
“Our grandfather built Cannon Mining from the foundation on up.” He drained his own lemonade glass. It went against nearly everything he’d ever been taught to talk business with a lady, but this time, he must bend the rules.
He started with the easy part, the family history. “George Cannon determined to make something of himself, and he succeeded. He expanded his single mine to two, then three. His first yielded enough gold to have a unique and beautiful wedding ring made for my grandmother.”
Lessie smiled at that bit of history and nodded for him to continue.
“By the time my father was born, he’d expanded his operations and amassed enough wealth to live an easy life.”
Move it along, move it along. He’d known for more than a full day he would confide everything to her, but that didn’t make the words come easily.