Bartered Bride Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Luke’s a nice man, but his opinion doesn’t count for much in this matter.”

  Jim chuckled. “Matty, my darlin’, I fought tooth and nail against falling in love with you because you deserve better than living out here in the wilds with a bunch of rough men. Problem was, my heart didn’t pay any attention to my mind.

  “You can’t begin to imagine how many sleepless nights I’ve spent in the stable, wrestling with God over this. The day of the barbecue, I made an utter fool of myself because I couldn’t bear to think of you leaving here, let alone think of you leaving here with another man.”

  “You were simply being protective.”

  “I was protective—of your sisters. You? Oh, Matty, I was downright, unashamedly possessive of you. Haven’t you noticed the way I’ve been assigning chores, just so we could be together?”

  “I didn’t know what to think. Corrie told me to guard my heart since you were trying to get rid of us.”

  He groaned. “I was an idiot. I went to that trial today ready to do whatever I had to, to make up for my foolishness and keep you here. I’d sell every last horse and cow to pay off Ellis, get down on my knees, and beg you to stay. And if all of that failed, I was going to bribe your sisters so they’d nudge you into my arms. If you don’t have the sense to run from me, I’m going to lasso you and drag you to the altar.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  He cupped her chin and growled. “I want to.” Before she could reply, he branded her with a toe-curling kiss. When he lifted his head, he whispered, “Matty, God knows the desires of our hearts even better than we do. Why can’t you trust Him to do a work in your heart so you can learn to love me back?”

  His words made her heart sing. Matty nestled close and confessed, “I already do love you.”

  “It’s about time!”

  After they kissed again, Jim put his arm around her waist and started to lead her toward the house. “Jim?”

  “Yes, darlin’?”

  “You don’t have to lasso me.”

  He threw back his head and started to chuckle. “I suppose not. I should have seen it from the start. I ordered a halter. Instead, God sent you to meet me at the altar. You can’t escape His will any more than I could.”

  “I don’t even want to. You’re every wish and prayer I ever had for my husband.”

  Epilogue

  Ten days later, it was the Sunday for Parson Harris to complete his circuit and preach in Lickwind. Instead of a standard service in the jailhouse or one out by the railroad tracks, he and the township all went out to the Rough Cs. Bess made it quite clear no sister of hers would ever get married in a saloon, and the porch would make a nice setting for a wedding.

  Bertie didn’t want to wear a fancy dress and carry flowers, so the Craig sisters managed to compromise as only they could. Bertie agreed to wear a new blue-and-green-striped dress and carried Rhubarb, who sported a ribbon to match. Next came Bess, looking somehow softer than usual in a violet dress with lavender trim. Ramon trotted by her side with great dignity in spite of the fact that his fur had been trimmed so it looked like a bunch of cotton bolls. Corrie was maid of honor in an appropriately sedate gray and mauve gown. Rhubarb’s kittens filled the beribboned basket she carried, which managed to hide her tummy quite discreetly. The sisters lined up on the veranda and watched as Jim tried not to look impatient.

  The open windows allowed the strains of “The Wedding March” to filter out. Harry, the barkeep, knew the tune and had volunteered to play it on the piano. Matty appeared on Luke’s arm. She wore a wondrous white satin creation that sounded like the brush of a thousand angel wings as she walked toward Jim.

  He could see her bright smile beneath the sheer veil. Over the past days, they’d not had to hide their feelings for one another, and she came to him now with her eyes sparkling with joy.

  “Dearly beloved,” Parson Harris began.

  Matty and James exchanged a tender smile and mouthed the words to one another. Indeed, they were dearly beloved of one another and of the Lord.

  Gooseberry Jam

  3 pounds gooseberries, slightly underripe, stemmed and washed

  1 pint water

  3 pounds cane sugar

  ¼ ounce butter

  Gently simmer gooseberries and water for about 30 minutes until soft and reduced. Pulp with wooden spoon or potato masher. Remove from heat and add sugar to fruit pulp. Stir until dissolved. Add butter. Bring to boil and boil rapidly for about 10 minutes. Stir to keep from scorching. When setting point is reached, take pan off heat and skim surface with slotted spoon. Pour into freshly boiled jars and seal.

  Cathy Marie Hake is a Southern California native. She met her two loves at church: Jesus and her husband, Christopher. An RN, she loved working in oncology as well as teaching Lamaze. Health issues forced her to retire, but God opened new possibilities with writing. Since their children have moved out and are married, Cathy and Chris dote on dogs they rescue from a local shelter. A sentimental pack rat, Cathy enjoys scrap-booking and collecting antiques. “I’m easily distracted during prayer, so I devote certain tasks and chores to specific requests or persons so I can keep faithful in my prayer life.” Since her first book in 2000, she’s been on multiple best-seller and readers’ favorite lists.

  FROM CARRIAGE TO MARRIAGE

  by Janelle Burnham Schneider

  Dedication

  To my own two babies, Elisabeth and Johnathan,

  who are growing into beautiful young people,

  and to their dad and my best friend, Mark, who won’t let me give up.

  Chapter 1

  Luke Collingswood dragged himself out of the bed that had proved no friendlier in the past six hours than it had in the past fifteen nights. He grunted as he pulled on long underwear and then a worn flannel shirt. Now that he had his own room in the ranch house, rather than sleeping in the barn with his brother, his sleep should be more restful. But warmth and comfort weren’t enough to settle his mind.

  Jim and Matty’s marriage had sealed the destiny of the four sisters. The thought terrified Luke. He couldn’t wish Matty gone. She’d brought too much light and joy to his solemn brother’s life. And Bess would thrive no matter where she found herself. The woman wouldn’t permit it any other way. Young Bertie had enough of the wild mustang in her that she’d likely do right well in Wyoming. But the little widow with the baby on the way caused Luke enough concern for all four of them. He just couldn’t see how Corrie would survive in this harsh place.

  He tried to push the thoughts aside as he poked kindling into the cookstove and waited for the banked embers to turn to flame. Once the fire caught, he added some larger chunks of wood to ensure the stove would be hot and the kitchen warm when the sisters came down to begin breakfast preparation. Quietly, he grabbed his coat and slipped out the back door toward the chicken coop. Gathering eggs was definitely women’s work, and Jim would rib him severely if he caught him. But Luke knew gathering eggs was Corrie’s chore. He also knew from the shadows under her eyes each morning that nights proved no more restful for her than they did for him. The least he could do was save her the trip out into the cold.

  Such a wealth of sorrow lay in the widow’s blue gaze.

  Luke had always been drawn to the wounded creatures on their ranch. He’d even developed a knack for healing them—so much so that neighboring ranchers often asked for his assistance. However, it would take a lot more than warm mash or Matty’s special liniment to set little Corrie to rights.

  He’d seen what this country did to fragile women. He’d helped two neighbors bury their wives. His own mother, sturdy of both soul and body, had returned east as soon as possible after Pa’s death. He’d pondered writing to see if Ma would take in the Widow Taylor but dismissed the idea instantly. One had only to spend a day around Corrie and Matty to see the bond between them. Corrie simply wouldn’t survive separation.

  As he left the henhouse with a full basket of eggs, he noticed a figure walkin
g swiftly toward the barn. Jim? While Luke loved early morning hours, Jim was rarely at his best until he’d had his coffee and his breakfast. Something of importance must have enticed him out of his bed so early. Luke set the basket of eggs just outside the chicken yard then quietly followed his brother. He pulled the barn door open slowly so the hinge wouldn’t squeak then almost let it bang shut in his delight at what he saw. His brother, who had strongly resisted the sisters’ plea for a milk cow, now hunched on the milking stool, sending streams of milk into the tin bucket. Luke backed away from the barn, grinning. In the tradition of Collingswood men, Jim had obviously given his heart away in full. Only love would put Jim to work milking, rather than herding or butchering, a cow.

  Corrie turned over in her bed yet again, seeking an ever-elusive position of comfort. In recent weeks, her pregnancy had mounded her belly to the point that lying on her stomach was no longer comfortable. But it wasn’t this physical change that disrupted her nights.

  For the first time in her life, she slept alone.

  From the day of her birth, a stronger person had shared her bed. First, it was her twin, Matty. Whereas Corrie felt intimidated by life, Matty embraced it with delight. Events of the day often penetrated Corrie’s nights, waking her from troubling dreams. Matty had always been able to talk the troubles away with her cheerful common sense.

  Then Brian entered their lives. The day he professed his love for her, Corrie felt as if the most impossible of dreams had come true. She’d always feared the day Matty would marry, leaving her to stumble through life alone. Instead, this handsome, smart, and personable young fisherman had chosen Corrie, ensuring she’d never be alone.

  Corrie turned in her bed yet again, grabbing the coverlet, which seemed determined to slide onto the floor. Fall had come to Wyoming, bringing cold nights. She tugged the covering firmly over her shoulders and settled onto her side, hoping her memories would carry her back into sleep. The babe within gave a sharp kick, as if to tell Mama that her tossing and turning weren’t helping. Corrie grinned to herself in the darkness. From the moment she’d begun to suspect her pregnancy, the thought of being a mama had delighted her. She just knew this little one would have Brian’s charm and intelligence and her own depth of devotion. Perhaps being a mother would help her find her own place in life. As much as she loved being Brian’s wife and Matty’s sister, she secretly hoped to find an identity all her own.

  But that dream belonged to happier days. Just two weeks after Doc Timmons confirmed her impending motherhood, a freak Atlantic storm turned Corrie into a widow. Matty immediately rushed to Corrie’s side and stayed with her night and day. The bank repossessed the cheery little home Brian had worked so hard to provide for his bride, so Corrie moved back to the family farm, back to the bed she and Matty had always shared. Less than two months later, their brother-in-law, Ellis, had announced he was sending them and their other two unmarried sisters, Bess and Bertie, to the wilds of Wyoming to find husbands.

  At least for her three sisters, the enforced adventure had worked out well. Bertie loved the freedom of the ranch, spending more time outdoors with the animals than indoors learning how to be the woman her sisters wanted her to be. Bess thrived on the constant work and activity.

  And dear Matty. Corrie couldn’t help but sigh over her twin’s happiness. Jim Collingswood certainly wasn’t the kind of husband Corrie would have chosen. Taciturn and sometimes downright grumpy—when Matty was around, the man turned to butter. One of her ever-present smiles softened him up for hours afterward.

  But now Corrie was on her own for the first time ever. Yes, she had a roof over her head and good food to eat, but she couldn’t depend on Jim and Matty’s generosity forever. In a mere four months, the babe would be born, which would result in an endless list of needs to be met for many years to come. Corrie simply had to find a way to begin providing for herself and the little one. Marrying again might be the easy solution for some, but the mere thought gave Corrie shivers. She’d given her heart to Brian, and he’d taken it with him when he died. Some of the men hereabouts—that sleazy Clyde Kincaid for one—would quite happily accept a loveless marriage just to get a woman. The mere memory of his smell turned her stomach.

  She shifted to her other side, untangling her flannel nightdress from around her legs. Ever since Matty’s marriage two weeks ago, Corrie had spent night after night like this, unable to get comfortable, unable to come up with a solution for her own future. Useless as it was, she fervently wished she could set the calendar back six months and keep it there.

  Slumber eventually claimed her, only to be nudged aside by faint daybreak. It took her a moment to realize she’d overslept again. She knew her sisters would be understanding, but she hated not pulling her own weight. If milking were her duty, the cow would be bellowing in discomfort by now. With a groan, she pulled herself from her bed. Her black dress lay draped across a nearby chair, frequent washings having dulled it to a muddy gray. She hated the thought of putting it on again. Though cut generously, it no longer fit properly. Besides, she’d been wearing it almost every day. Part of her longed for a more cheerful color, even while her conscience accused her of disloyalty. The love she and Brian had shared deserved at least a full year of mourning.

  She firmly turned her thoughts away from the sadness. She’d never stop loving her husband, but one thing she’d learned in the past four months—if she let the grief dominate her thoughts upon waking, the entire day would be shrouded.

  She pulled her fingers through the braid that she had plaited in her hair for sleep. Then she combed her hair smooth. With the speed of much practice, she rebraided it and wound the braid into a simple bun at the back of her head, not letting herself dwell on the memory of how Brian had loved to let her hair sift through his fingers. She carefully pinned her mourning brooch in place. The feel of its weight on her dress brought a fragment of comfort. Though she could no longer embrace Brian himself, this brooch made her feel as though he were still near. As she opened her bedroom door, the scent of coffee lured her downstairs.

  As she expected, Matty stood at the stove, a steaming pail of milk on the counter beside her and a basket of eggs near the sink.

  “You’ve been busy, Matty.”

  “Good morning.” Matty’s usual cheerful smile looked softer these days, even as her eyes narrowed with intense observation. “You look pale, Corrie. Are you okay?”

  Corrie shrugged off her twin’s concern. “I’m okay. Just slow waking up this morning, I guess.”

  Matty crossed the kitchen to put a hand on each of Corrie’s arms as she continued her inspection, looking intently into Corrie’s eyes. The twins had few secrets from one another; those that Corrie tried to keep, Matty could often discern with a mere look. But this time, Corrie refused to let her grief shadow Matty’s fresh happiness.

  Matty still saw more than Corrie wanted her to. “It’s okay, little sister. I’m not going to pry. I just worry about you. You have more than yourself to take care of, remember?” She patted the as-yet-small bulge of Corrie’s abdomen affectionately.

  Though she wouldn’t have appreciated anyone else touching her so intimately, Corrie cherished Matty’s hands on her. They soothed, and she liked to think they pleased the baby, too. She wanted her little one to bask in Matty’s abundant love even before birth. Matty moved her hands back to Corrie’s shoulders. “Promise me you’ll try to nap after lunch, okay?”

  Corrie favored her with a small nod. “I’ll try.” She let herself relax in Matty’s embrace for a moment, then she moved toward the counter. “Thanks for gathering the eggs.”

  Matty grinned. “That wasn’t me. I think Luke must have done it while Jim was milking Betty.”

  Corrie exaggerated her gasp of surprise. “The grumpy cowboy actually did wimmen’s work? Marriage must be making him soft.”

  Matty’s face took on a pink tinge. “He’d be terribly embarrassed if he knew I told you. Please don’t tell the other two.”

 
; “As long as you don’t let on that I didn’t do my chores, either,” Corrie promised with a wink. “Perhaps I should stir up a batch of Mama’s coffee cake as a thank-you.”

  “I’ve no doubt they’d leave nothing but crumbs,” Matty assured her with a laugh. “How you do it, I don’t know. I use the same recipes you use, but my baking turns out like bricks while yours is as light as anything Mama used to make.”

  This time Corrie’s cheeks warmed. She would never say so out loud for fear of sounding boastful, but she knew she’d inherited her mama’s touch with baked goods. Baking always made her feel connected to the mother she still missed, especially now that she was in a motherly way herself. She continued cleaning eggs in silence, wiping each shell carefully with a damp cloth then setting the cleaned eggs in a cloth-lined basket. The chickens Matty had talked Jim into buying were obviously settling in well. Every few days, egg production increased. Thankfully, with cooler weather coming on, they’d be able to keep the eggs for more than a day. Still, they’d need to think of ways to use the bounty. It would be a sin to have to feed the eggs to the pigs.

  Then as she stirred ingredients together for the coffee cake, an idea began to form. Neighboring ranchers often dropped by, much to Jim’s disgust. With the only three unmarried women for miles living at the Rough Cs, it wasn’t hard to figure out what drew the male visitors. Corrie had noticed the way the men inhaled the home-baked goods. What if she made extra bread and cookies to sell to them? It seemed inhospitable to think about luring money out of guests at their table, but circumstances gave her some leeway, she felt sure. She wasn’t at all interested in being courted, and neither was Bess, as near as she could tell. Bertie was just plain too young. So, if the men persisted in coming, why not turn the visits into something profitable? She’d have to start out using the supplies the Collingswood brothers had already purchased; but if her business did well, she’d be able to repay them.