These Rough Dreams

by Cheryl Pierson

  Her thoughts turned to tonight…her wedding night…and what that would bring. The smile faded from her features as she remembered why she’d answered Mr. Maynard’s ad in the first place.

  Pregnant already. It wasn’t as if she was any blushing virgin. Not anymore. She was going to have Elliott’s baby.

  Elliott Remington...the man she’d fancied herself in love with. The man who’d begged and pleaded with her to give herself to him. Who’d spoken of marriage and their future…a home, and children. She’d believed him—because she’d wanted it so badly. Now, she realized she hadn’t truly loved him at all—she’d only loved the dreams they’d shared of a future together.

  When she’d told him about the baby, he’d stepped away from her—actually recoiled—and told her he didn’t know what she could be talking about. He’d even intimated he believed she’d had other lovers. How could he possibly think of marriage to her, now?

  She wanted to say her heart had been broken; but, the truth was, she’d just been plain scared. Knowing how her family would react, she’d made her own plans to slip away, and lie in the bed she’d made that her mother so often brought up to her.

  And Elliott was now a forgotten part of her past. She’d come to think of the baby she carried as hers, and hers alone. Oh, yes, she knew better. She had the shameful ‘night of sin’ as Mama referred to it, burned into her brain; but oddly, the details were becoming fuzzy.

  Had it been the wine she and Elliott had enjoyed before they’d gone to bed that made the details so uncertain now? Or had time and space given her the separation she needed to intentionally allow herself a bit of forgetfulness to soothe her wounded spirit?

  Or was the forgetfulness due to her new husband—the way his dark eyes spoke to her without words; the reassurance in his touch; the sincere honesty in the things they spoke between them from the very outset…

  Her excitement was something she had not counted on. When she’d answered Ferrin Maynard’s ad, it was with trepidation and bone-scalding guilt over what she’d done to put herself in these circumstances.

  Yet, when she’d confessed her greatest sin to Johnny, he’d given her a quick smile and the touch of his hand on hers in reassurance.

  “His loss is my gain, Gabby. I’ve always wondered what a big family would be like. I guess we’re gonna find out, sweetheart.”

  He’d called her sweetheart! After her confession of sleeping with another man, and being stupid enough to get pregnant. Tears stung her eyes. He would never know how grateful she was for his understanding acceptance. It was then she knew it didn’t matter to her that she’d been a young, naïve fool when she’d believed Elliott’s lies. None of that mattered now.

  Ferrin Maynard didn’t matter, either. Oh, what if he hadn’t had that fatal heart attack when he had? Not that she purposely wished him dead—but…

  She swallowed hard. Yes. Yes, she did wish him dead, because otherwise, she’d have ended up married to him and all his bad habits.

  Another woman was something she simply couldn’t live with.

  Did…Johnny have other women? Would he give them up, if he did? She sighed heavily.

  He was one of the handsomest men she’d ever laid eyes on. It would be nearly impossible to hope that he hadn’t had some serious romances along the way.

  But, she comforted herself, if he had another woman, why would he have asked her to marry him?

  Watching him reappear from down the street, driving the supply-loaded wagon, her heart skipped a beat.

  He drew up in front of where she stood, just inside the cooler temperature of the building. In a moment, he was making a space for her trunks and boxes.

  “Need some help, Johnny?” Marty came around the counter and nodded at Gabby. “Miss. You were so quiet, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Hey, Marty. Give me a hand with these trunks?” Johnny greeted him.

  “Sure thing.”

  In a few short moments, all her belongings were loaded into the wagon. Johnny helped her up on the seat.

  Marty looked bewildered. “She stayin’ out at your place, Johnny?”

  Gabby raised her left hand, showing off the plain gold band that had been hastily purchased. “I plan to be staying a good long while,” she said with a smile.

  “Well…congratulations! Congratulations, Mrs. Rainbolt!”

  “Thank you, Marty.”

  Mrs. Rainbolt. Gabby liked the sound of that very much, indeed.

  ****

  As they drove toward Johnny’s place, Gabby fell silent. The heat was oppressive, even this early in the summer.

  Back home, she’d be sitting in the cool of the parlor with her sisters and Mama. Papa and the boys would be working on the books that kept what was left of their tobacco plantation running, after the war and taken most everything. A wave of homesickness swept over her. It took a few moments for her to strengthen her inner resolve. What had she done?

  An out-of-wedlock pregnancy, a dead fiancé, and now…Johnny Rainbolt was someone she could trust. At least, she felt she could. She hoped her sense of picking up on dishonest scoundrels had improved since she’d fallen under Elliott Remington’s spell.

  She flushed every time she thought of her own naiveté; how she’d thought she meant the world to Elliott, and he to her. And then, for him to say he doubted the baby was his—it made her almost as angry as the hurt it caused her.

  And what if—God forbid—he had married her…thrown it up in her face the rest of their lives…never loved this child as his own?

  Running to Ferrin Maynard had seemed like the perfect answer—only to have him caught out in his infidelity before they ever had a chance to wed. He’d seemed so…so pious in his letters. All two of them.

  She’d been so anxious to get away from her situation she’d never stopped to think what she was running to. Not that it mattered.

  She gave a grim smile at the turn her thoughts had taken. She’d left herself no choices, by her own foolishness. But even so, this was better than marriage to Elliott Remington. Or, Ferrin Maynard.

  “A penny for your thoughts, Mrs. Rainbolt.” Johnny cast her a quick glance. “We’ll be home soon. This heat can’t be good for you—in your condition.”

  There was genuine concern in his voice, bringing quick tears to Gabby’s eyes. It had been weeks since anyone had shown that kind of caring. Once her family had learned of her situation, they had completely frozen her out. She couldn’t leave quickly enough to suit them—or her. A penny for her thoughts? They weren’t worth a penny.

  “Thank you, Johnny. Thank you for being so kind.”

  He reached over and patted her arm. “No need for that. I got a feelin’ there’s a lot more botherin’ you than your—condition.” He quirked a dark brow at her. “I reckon we got time enough for you to tell me—so I can figure out how to help.”

  “You’ve already helped. I don’t know what I’d’ve done if you hadn’t come along and rescued me.”

  He shook his head and glanced away. “I think it’s the other way around. Gabby, about the kids—I’m not even sure what we’re getting into—I’ve never seen them—” He broke off and let go a sigh of uncertainty.

  “Do you know why their father is sending them to you?”

  “Sure. My sister didn’t tell him about her Cherokee blood. She was…beautiful, exotic-looking. She passed herself off as a Grecian goddess—” He gave a wry smile. “I don’t know what she really told him—but it wasn’t the truth, or he never would’ve married her. When James came along, there was no denying his Cherokee blood.

  “Monty removed all doubt.” He turned his attention steadily to the road. “When Rema was born, I believe Sarah’s husband meant to rid himself of her and the children at that point, through divorce.”

  “Why didn’t he?”

  Johnny’s features hardened. “Piecing it together, I think, shortly afterward, she must have learned she was dying.”

  Gabby sucked in a deep breath. He was
trying to be strong, and she could do no less—for both of them.

  “Well. He certainly wasted no time in remarrying, did he?” she murmured.

  Johnny’s smile was faint. “Or, in getting himself a proper heir.”

  “Is he well-off, then? Oh, he must be, if he can afford to send a governess along to deliver the children this far away—” Her thoughts rushed out as they so often managed to do before she could ‘close the gate’, as she thought of it. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks. Money was a subject ladies did not discuss, where she came from.

  “Yes, he’s got plenty of money,” Johnny said, as if he didn’t notice. “But she married him before he struck it rich.”

  “Poor children,” Gabby said softly. “They’ve been through so much.”

  Johnny glanced at her. “You sound as if you truly care. You haven’t met them yet. What if they’re little hellions?”

  Gabby gave him an indignant look. “Well, what if they are? I might be a hellion, too, if my mother had died and my father had sent me away. That man is a—a—”

  “Yes. A bastard.”

  “Yes!”

  Johnny smiled at her. “Somehow, I think you’d have taken them in if they needed you, even if I wasn’t around.”

  “Well, of course I would have! All I’ve ever wanted is to have a home, a family—”

  “Doesn’t it matter to you that they’re someone else’s? That they’re half-Cherokee?”

  Gabby didn’t know any other answer but the one she gave, from her heart. She reached to take Johnny’s hand, and placed it on her stomach. “Does it matter to you that he’s someone else’s? That he isn’t Indian?”

  ****

  Johnny swallowed hard, unable to answer for a moment. Gabby’s gaze held his and he knew she was looking into his soul; looking for the answers she needed so desperately.

  Reassuringly, he shook his head. “No. It doesn’t matter to me, Gabby. But this baby is part of you. My sister’s kids—”

  “Oh, Johnny, don’t you see? They’re part of you because they’re your blood. They belonged to someone you loved very much. How could I say I love you and yet turn them away from my heart’s door?”

  He pulled the wagon to a slow stop and turned to face her. “And, are you saying you love me, Gabby?”

  At her flustered look, he went on. “Look, I don’t know how this happened, but it did. I came in to town for supplies and three orphans, and here I am on my way home with supplies and a new wife—a new wife that I’m realizing is the answer to an unasked prayer for me. Not just because of the kids, but for me. I’m feeling pretty selfish—and very lucky—right now.”

  Gabby’s smile was wide and beautiful. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears of happiness. “Oh, Johnny—that means so much to me!”

  Suddenly, he realized they were sitting in the open heat. He muttered a low curse at his thoughtlessness and got the horses moving again.

  He’d never said that much of his heart’s desire to a woman before; of his feelings…But the memory of her happiness let him know it had been the right thing…the very best thing he could have said in that moment.

  This woman was an angel. And she’d been sent straight to him. He only hoped he could measure up.

  ****

  The small cabin came into view, and Gabby’s heart caught as Johnny said, “Well, there it is.”

  There was pride in his tone, and Gabby realized she’d been holding her breath. He was waiting for her reaction. Nestled beside a singing creek bed with large trees framing it and giving plentiful shade, it looked like a picture.

  It wasn’t nearly as grand as the home she’d been raised in—but already, she found herself imagining the inside, the things she could do to make it ready for their family, and where she’d like to plant some flowers.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. She realized she was talking about the dream of what could be, and the ideas that had sprung to life in her mind, just as much as the reality of the storybook setting.

  “It’s not what you’re accustomed to, I’m sure, Gabby. But—at least it’s a wood house. Ferrin Maynard lived in a room on the second floor of The Ivory Tower saloon.”

  Horror gripped her as she whirled toward him. “He—told me he had a lovely home waiting for us. That it had been left to him—”

  “—by his parents?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s true. His parents did leave him a beautiful old house near town. But he lost it in a game of poker.”

  “Recently?” Maybe it had only happened since they’d corresponded.

  Johnny shook his head. “’Bout five years ago, from all accounts. Before I came back here to settle.” He drove the team up near the front porch to make unloading the supplies easier.

  “Whoa.” He set the brake and jumped down, walking around to Gabby’s side of the wagon and putting his hands up to help her.

  He grinned as their eyes met. “Things’re lookin’ better all around, Gabby. This might not be a grand palace, but it’s a damn sight better than a one-room hole above the saloon.”

  She nodded, going into his outstretched arms as he lifted her down carefully.

  “Johnny, it’s lovely.” She stood in the enclosure of his arms, looking up into the warm, brown depths of his eyes.

  “I’m glad you think so. And I want you to feel free to make changes—it’s your home now, too.”

  Those words, so quietly spoken, were a balm to her heart and soul. To have been forced from the only home she’d ever known, to travel all these miles to reach a stranger in order to marry and save her good name and that of her family—

  Oh, thank the Good Lord Johnny had come upon her at the stage station! Ferrin Maynard had turned out to be a despicable man—a man who had died in the most compromising of circumstances. It wasn’t that she didn’t know some men kept mistresses—but somehow, she just couldn’t allow herself to think on the fact that her former fiancé, Ferrin Maynard, and her new husband, Johnny Rainbolt, might both have indulged in that realm.

  Suddenly, she had to know.

  “Johnny—” She laid a hand on his arm as he reached to help her up the front steps. “Did you ever—oh, well, of course, you must have.”

  “Must have?”

  “Never mind. I probably shouldn’t ask—most men do—”

  “Do what? You’re talking in riddles, Gabby.”

  She huffed a breath out sharply, not looking at him. “A mistress.” She turned a direct gaze on him. “Do you have one?”

  He gave her a slow smile. “Would you care if I did?”

  “Well, of course!”

  “But why? If ‘most men do’—why would you care?’

  “I-I—Johnny—”

  He pulled her to him gently, and lowered his head. Gabby shivered as his mouth met hers, his lips claiming hers gently at first. But as she stood there, letting him kiss her in broad daylight, her heart twisted and turned and knocked against her chest. As he started to lift his head, Gabby reached out and put her arms around his neck.

  She couldn’t bear for the kiss to be over—not yet.

  Johnny groaned and pulled her even closer, plundering her mouth. Even so, she could feel something tightly leashed within him, ready to spring free. After what might have been seconds—or hours—he lifted his head from hers. It was then she realized his hat lay discarded on the first porch step, and her fingers were threaded through the clean, inky blackness of his hair, still luxuriating in the feel of it.

  It was all she could do to manage to gently loosen her fingers, and as she did so, he took one hand and kissed her palm.

  “That’s a resounding ‘no’, Mrs. Rainbolt. A mistress is one thing you’ll never have to worry about with me. I’m definitely a one-woman man—and that marriage certificate says you’re my one woman.”

  ****

  As Johnny unloaded the supplies, Gabby looked around the cabin. She delighted in her small discoveries; a real feather bed being one of the
first. She sat on the edge, wondering what the evening would bring. The feeling of hopeful eagerness was a pleasant surprise—and again, she shuddered to think of how close she’d come to marrying someone who wouldn’t have suited at all.

  But Johnny was…perfect. In every way, so far. She couldn’t have predicted how safe she felt in his arms; how reassured she felt in her new future; and how the very sight of him pitched a flock of butterflies into her stomach. And the way he’d kissed her—

  Could they truly have fallen so hard for each other in this short amount of time? Or was it merely a marriage of convenience for them both?

  For her part, she knew she had gotten a much better husband than the one she’d thought she would be marrying. And for Johnny—she was a solution to a problem, for certain—the children—but the pledge he’d made to her and her own unborn child counted for more than he could ever know.

  She stood up quickly as she heard him come back through the front door with more supplies. She’d discovered a small, neat pantry for canned and packaged goods in the kitchen, and he’d told her there was a root cellar out back of the house, for fruits and vegetables.

  The front room boasted a large fireplace that would be welcome in the cold winter months, and though it was sparse in furnishings, the braided rugs scattered throughout the room made it feel homey.

  There was a small loft room that overlooked the front room and dining area, and an extra bedroom across the hall from Johnny’s.

  Gabby wandered into the smaller spare room, noticing he’d tried to do what he could to make it ready for the children.

  “Looks like I’m gonna need to build us another room or two,” he said from behind her.

  She turned to him with a smile. “Do you imagine we can do it before winter?”

  “When’s our baby due?”

  Her breath caught at his simple question; at the casual way he’d included himself so completely in her very being, and that of her unborn child.

  “Right about Christmas time.”

  He grinned, as if the timing pleased him. “I bet we can do it. A Christmas baby, huh?”