Bartered Bride Romance Collection

by Cathy Marie Hake

  “Do you like roses?”

  James’s low voice broke into her thoughts as she bent slightly to sniff a large blossom.

  “This is exquisite.” She glanced up at him then swept the arid landscape with questioning eyes. “Wherever did you get a rosebush way out here?”

  He shrugged. “I have friends who just made a trip back East. Had them bring it back for me.” He smiled down at her. “I thought my new wife might like something pretty to welcome her.”

  Her eyes widened. What a thoughtful man! “How very kind…. I don’t know what to—” Her sentence ended in a shriek as something cold and wet pressed into her hand. She whirled around, her heart pounding as she came nose to nose with the largest dog she had ever seen. She backed up a step, her legs shaking.

  Where had the dreadful creature come from? She cast a pleading glance at James. “Can you get it away from me?”

  He chuckled, reaching for the dog’s collar. “Sit, Frank,” he commanded.

  Abby sighed in relief, sinking down onto the porch steps. “Is that yours?” she asked.

  James grinned. “Now, that’s no way to talk about a family member, Abby,” he drawled. “This is Frank. He’s quite a feller.”

  “I’ll say.” Abby eyed the panting animal distrustfully. “So, he’s a male dog?”

  “Yep.”

  She swallowed hard, almost afraid to ask. “Does it … live in the house?”

  James appeared to be trying not to laugh. “No. Frank is a farm dog.” He scratched the dog’s floppy ears. “Though he does sneak in at night every once in a while when it’s cold out.”

  “Oh.” Abby peered at the dog again. Was he smirking at her? She didn’t like the look in his eye. “I haven’t been around dogs very much,” she said.

  “I kind of figured that.” James plunked down next to her on the step. “But Frank won’t hurt you. He likes you. See, just let him sniff your hand, like this.” He reached out a hand, which Frank obligingly covered with dog kisses.

  Be brave, Abby, she told herself. She reached her hand out toward the dog, stopping midway. “Why is it thumping its tail?” she whispered to James nervously. Maybe dogs thumped their tails right before they pounced on their prey.

  James sighed, but she could still see the laughter in his eyes. “Frank is a he, not an it. And he’s thumping his tail because he’s happy.”

  “Oh.” Abby folded her hands safely under her watermelon-sized stomach. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Frank,” she said. “I’m sure we’ll be friends,” she added, fervently hoping that it would be so.

  She glanced up at James, frowning. Why was the man making such strange noises?

  The look on her face must have been the last straw, because his suppressed chuckles suddenly broke into hearty laughter.

  “What is so funny?” she demanded. “All I said was—”

  “I know!” James grinned. “I’ve just never heard such a polite speech to a dog!” He chuckled again. “I like you, Abby,” he said, taking her hand.

  She smiled back at him, her heart warming at his sincerity. “I like you, too, James,” she said.

  Frank gave a hearty woof, and Abby jumped. She would have to get used to the creature, she supposed.

  James pulled her to her feet, keeping her hand in his. “Come on, Mrs. Parrish. I’ll show you through your new home.”

  It didn’t take long for Abby to get settled. She hadn’t brought many things with her, since she had thought she was coming to be a hired housekeeper. A few dresses, her Bible, and a few items she had sewn for the baby.

  James sat watching her one night as she hemmed yet another tiny garment. “Is it a boy or a girl?” he asked.

  She glanced up at him. “Only the good Lord knows that,” she said. “But I like to think that my baby is a girl.” She studied his face in the flickering light of the fire. “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged. “Just curious, I guess.”

  She smiled then turned her attention back to the soft white material.

  He settled back in his rocker, watching her. She seemed happy enough, he thought, noticing the adorable way she held her lips in a slight pucker while she worked. He had memorized every line of her lovely face in the past few weeks, often watching her when she was unaware.

  They had fallen into a comfortable routine. He would spend the days out in the wheat fields, while she tended the house and garden. She hadn’t been exaggerating when she said she was a good cook. It was comforting to know that when he finished with his chores, she would be waiting for him with a smile and a delicious meal.

  Yet she had withdrawn from him since their wedding day. He had given her his bed, while he slept on a bedroll in front of the fire. She had seemed distressed that he had to sleep on the floor, he remembered with a smile. With such a kind and gentle spirit about her, how could anyone help but love her?

  His eyes roamed to her stomach, and he watched in amusement as it moved with the baby’s antics. He wondered if Abby was afraid. He had heard so many terrible stories about the travails of childbirth. Even his own mama…. He sighed. They would simply have to face any problems should they come and trust the Lord to protect Abby when her time of delivery arrived. Stewing about tomorrow’s problems would do no good.

  In the meantime, he wanted to get to know Abby a little better. She seemed so remote since that first day when they had talked and laughed so easily. Oh, she was friendly, but aloof. Distant. He had hoped that at least they could be friends, even if they couldn’t be lovers. He sighed again. Maybe he had been dreaming to think that this marriage, a marriage in name only, could really work.

  Father, I was so sure I heard Your voice that day, he prayed inwardly. Please show me what to do. I want to love Abby and care for her, but I feel like she regrets marrying me.

  Show her the way to Me. The still small voice echoed in his heart, reminding him of the first day they had met. Wasn’t that what God had told him that first day? But how could he accomplish the task?

  He glanced over at her bowed head. Her dark hair glinted in the light of the oil lamp beside her.

  “Abby.”

  She looked up, her hands resting on her stomach. “Did you need something?”

  Yes, I need you, he thought, his heart suddenly pounding. What he wouldn’t give right now to have the right to take her in his arms. However, he must be patient. “I was wondering if you would like to have a time of prayer together in the evenings.”

  She looked surprised, and his heart sank. “I’d like that very much, James,” she said quietly.

  “You would?”

  She nodded. “My mama and my sisters and I used to pray together every night. I’ve missed that since Charles and I … since … for a long time,” she finished quickly.

  One of these days he would ask her to tell him the whole story, James decided. But not right now. Reaching for his Bible, he laid it on his knees. “Would you like me to read anything in particular?”

  She thought for a moment, her head tilted to one side. “I guess my favorite has always been the psalms,” she said. “Maybe Psalm 91?”

  “That’s one of my favorites, too,” he said, smiling into her eyes. In fact, he could have recited it from memory, but he lowered his gaze to the page, deciding it would be safer to read than to lose himself in her large, hazel eyes.

  “ ‘He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord….’” Before he was halfway through, he heard her reciting it softly with him. Closing the Bible with a soft thud, he laid it back down on the hearth then scooted his chair closer to hers. He reached for her hand, gently kissing her work-roughened fingertips before enfolding them in his grasp.

  “Father God, Abby and I come before you tonight as your humble children. Lord, You have searched us and known us. You know our downsitting and our uprising and are acquainted with all our ways. There is not a word in our tongue, but Thou knowest it altogether. Thou ha
st beset us behind and before and laid Thine hand upon us. Such knowledge is too wonderful for us. It is high, and we cannot attain unto it. For where shall we go from Your presence? Where can we flee from Your Spirit? Even if we take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost part of the sea, even there shall You be. When we awake, we are still with Thee. Thank You, Father God, that by Your Holy Spirit, You are present with us always. Please teach me how to be a good husband to Abby, Father. Bless her and the child abundantly. We thank You, Father. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  He raised his head, his heart too full for words, and saw the same written on his wife’s face. And his soul rejoiced within him.

  Chapter 4

  Abby lay in bed, feeling her spirit moving within her as much as the child who kicked in her womb. She had never heard anyone pray like James had prayed tonight. Of course she recognized that he had borrowed a portion of his prayer from Psalm 139. Yet the way that he had prayed, with such assurance and fervor, amazed her. It had been so long since she had allowed herself to think of God as anything other than a tyrant. What used to be second nature now seemed unreal.

  James was such a good person. She could tell from that very first day that she would face a constant battle to keep her vow. How easy it would be to love James and let him love her. She couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes followed her around the kitchen. And he always remembered to thank her for the meals she prepared.

  “Mmph!” The baby gave a hard kick, and Abby grimaced. It was getting harder and harder to find a comfortable sleeping position. She rolled over on her side, trying to concentrate on the soothing smell of lavender that wafted from the fat bouquets she had hung in the attic to dry.

  The fire had died down, but in the moonlight she could see enough to make out the features of James’s face as he lay asleep on his bedroll. How many times had she caught herself in the last few days, just before she reached up to caress his cheek or to smooth his fair hair off of his forehead?

  He was becoming dear to her. But that must not be. She would not allow it. If she started to love him, he would be taken away. Just like Papa. Just like Charles. Just like—she wrapped her arms around her stomach, hugging the babe to her in the cold night. No, she wouldn’t even think it. Not her child, too. Even God wouldn’t be so cruel, would He?

  She squeezed her eyes shut against the pain and fear that threatened to overwhelm her. But her efforts did no good. The fear was like a living thing, threatening to squeeze the very breath out of her body.

  “Abby! What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes flew open to see James standing over her. She must have cried out. She shook her head, taking a couple of deep breaths.

  He sank down on his knees next to the bed and laid a cool hand on her forehead. “What is it, love?” he whispered. “Are you in pain? Is it the child?”

  She shook her head again, tears welling up into her eyes. Swallowing against the lump in her throat, she grasped his hand and clung to it. Slowly the bands of fear loosened from around her chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just that sometimes I’m so afraid.”

  She felt him nod.

  “Do you want me to sit with you for a while?” he whispered.

  No, she wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her until she felt safe again. She wanted him to lie next to her so she could feel protected. Loved. Secure. But that could never be. She was being weak to even let him sit near her and hold her hand.

  She sighed. “I know you’re tired. I’ll be fine.” She thought if he could have seen her face, he would have known she was lying.

  He sat still for a few moments then brushed his lips across her forehead. “He will never leave you nor forsake you, Abby,” he whispered.

  The outdoorsy smell of his warm skin lingered in her senses as he returned to his makeshift bed to lie back down. She squeezed her eyes shut against the lonely tears that seemed determined to fall. Surely morning would come soon.

  Morning did finally dawn, and with it a new resolve. She would gather the eggs today, no matter how the task frightened her.

  James had shown her how to do it once or twice, but she still felt intimidated by the chore. The very idea of reaching under a squawking bird into its warm nest was unnerving, not to mention the possibility of roosters pecking at her shoes and fluttering in her face.

  James had chuckled at her timidity and told her he’d take care of it. But egg gathering was really woman’s work, she knew. Besides, he already had enough to do.

  She timidly approached the front of the coop, basket in hand. She had first made certain that the hound, Frank, was nowhere in sight. She wasn’t quite so afraid of the dog now, but her heart still skipped a beat when he came galloping up to her. She hoped he was as nice as James said he was, because he had awfully big teeth.

  As the sun beat down on her head, Abby decided she had procrastinated long enough. “Well, little one, it’s now or never,” she said to her unborn child. Flinging open the door of the coop, she hollered, “Rise and shine!”

  The startled birds flew everywhere, and Abby backed out of the coop, flailing her arms. “Shoo! Shoo!” she yelled, feeling ridiculous.

  “I’ve never seen it done quite like that before,” came an amused voice behind her.

  Abby turned with a groan. “Hello, Iris.”

  James’s sister grinned. “What are you doing, Abby?”

  “Gathering eggs.” She tried to keep a straight face then gave up. “I thought maybe if I made them all get out first, it might be easier.”

  “Hmmm.” Iris made a comical face, and both women giggled. “Didn’t your know-it-all husband show you how to do it?”

  “Yes, but I can’t stand reaching under those poor hens.” Abby grimaced. “Besides, the smell makes me feel ill.”

  “You do look a little green, dear,” Iris said. “Why don’t you go put the teakettle on the stove. I’ll gather these eggs.”

  “You’re an angel,” Abby said.

  Iris snorted. “Don’t think I’ve ever been called that before,” she replied. “Here, take this pie into your kitchen. I’ll be in before you know it.”

  Abby headed toward the back door, feeling guilty for allowing her sister-in-law to do her work.

  “Hello, girls,” she heard Iris say soothingly, and she had to grin. She had never thought of chickens as girls before. She had a lot to learn about farming, that was for sure.

  James had been pleased that the eggs were gathered, but Abby felt compelled to admit it was Iris who had done it.

  “She’s a sweet gal,” he said. “She reminds me of my mama.”

  Abby knew his mother had died in childbirth years ago. “Mothers are very special people,” she said softly.

  He appeared to be very interested in the piece of pie on his fork, but she could see that his eyes had misted over. “You’ll be a wonderful mother, Abby,” he whispered.

  She stared at him for a moment in silence. Why would he bring that up right now? She cleared her throat. “What kind of pie is this that Iris brought? It’s very good.”

  He speared another bite and took her cue to change the subject. “You’ve never had rhubarb pie before?”

  “Rhubarb?” She poked at the tart red and green chunks that swam in the sweet pink juice, the flaky crust crumbling under her fork. “I’ve never even heard of it. Perhaps rhubarb doesn’t grow in New York.”

  “Come here and I’ll show you.” James pushed his chair away from the table and led Abby to a garden patch next to the well. He pointed to a leafy plant growing in the moist, black dirt. Abby had noticed it before, vaguely wondering at its enormous leaves.

  “This is a rhubarb plant,” he said. “You just reach down and twist on the stalk a little bit.” He straightened back up with a slender stalk in his hand. “It’s best in the spring.”

  She smiled up at him, conscious of his nearness as his arm brushed hers. “I think I’ll do without the reaching down part for now.”
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br />   He chuckled, reaching out to pat her stomach. Then apparently catching himself, he jerked his hand away. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean—”

  “It’s all right, James,” she said, touching his arm. “After all, you are going to be the child’s father.” My goodness! She hadn’t really said that aloud, had she? She had thought of it before, of course, but wouldn’t he think that she was being rather presumptuous?

  The smile that lit his face was enough to reassure her that she hadn’t said the wrong thing. He laid his hand gently on her stomach for a brief moment. “You’re right, Abby,” he said, his voice husky.

  She froze, ensnared by the tenderness that glowed in his sea-blue eyes. What was he thinking?

  She didn’t have long to wonder. Somehow all of a sudden, she was enfolded in his strong arms. And in that moment, she couldn’t think of anywhere else she’d rather be. Couldn’t think at all, actually. She just knew that she had come home. She sighed, feeling safe and secure. Loved.

  “Uhhh!” The baby kicked. Hard.

  James backed away, his eyes wide. Abby had to laugh at the expression on his face, though she wished the moment had not ended so abruptly. “Guess this little one is getting impatient,” she murmured, smiling up into James’s face.

  He grinned. “Me, too.”

  The look he gave her made her pulse pound, and she lowered her gaze to the rhubarb plant. Her commitment to keep her vow was becoming increasingly difficult.

  Chapter 5

  Mmm! Something smells good in here!”

  “James!” Abby whirled from the stove. “I didn’t hear you come in.” He grinned at her, and her heart lurched. He truly is a handsome man, she thought. What would it be like—? ”

  Did you fall in?”

  “What?” She blinked up at him, feeling flustered.

  He chuckled. “Did you fall into the flour bin?”

  “Oh.” She brushed at her face with her apron then glanced up to find him directly in front of her. His blue gaze twinkled into hers as his hands gently cupped her face.