The Accidental Bride

by Denise Hunter

  The calf rolled its eyes up toward Olivia, and Maddy smiled. “She thinks you’re her mama. Don’t you, Cocoa?”

  “I think you’re right, Maddy. Doing a fine job, Olivia.” Travis rumpled her hair, and she gave him a shy smile.

  Travis had grown fond of her in the two and a half weeks he’d been at Shay’s. She ate up his attention, and she was a good kid, respectful and helpful. Regardless of what she wore.

  “Yoo-hoo!” a female voice called from the yard. “Time to go, girls!”

  “Abigail’s taking us to the Chuckwagon.” Olivia eyed the half-full bottle and then looked at Travis.

  “Go on. I’ll finish up.”

  “Thanks, Travis!”

  “Have fun, girls.” He lowered himself in the hay, listening to their giddy laughter. He wished he could take Shay to the Chuckwagon tonight. Dancing was out, but she was gonna go stir crazy if she didn’t get out again soon.

  He offered the bottle, and the calf sucked vigorously. “Greedy little thing, aren’t you?”

  A shadow fell in the doorway. He looked up to see Abigail standing there, her arms crossed.

  “Afternoon, Travis.”

  “Howdy. Glad you stopped in to see Shay. She needed the company.”

  “She’s bored all right.” Abigail leaned against the door frame.

  “Not easy for her, staying put. I think she gets lonesome.”

  She nodded. He got the feeling she had something to say, though he couldn’t imagine what.

  “Wade all right?” he asked.

  “Just fine. We’re taking the girls to the Chuckwagon.”

  “So Olivia said.”

  That meant a whole evening alone with Shay. He’d look forward to it if she weren’t so prickly. She’d probably lock herself in her room with a book all night just to avoid him.

  “Look, I’ll just get right to the point,” Abigail said. “I’m worried about Shay.”

  He frowned. He’d wondered if Dr. Garvin had really promoted her to crutches after her last appointment. “Her foot hurting?”

  “It’s not her foot I’m worried about. What are your intentions here, Travis?”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “First thing I hear she broke her foot, then I find out you’ve had some kind of accidental marriage, and now you’re here 24-7, pretending to be her doting husband. No offense, but from what I hear, you weren’t too interested last time.”

  “My intentions are honorable, Abigail.”

  “Wade seems to think you’re a decent guy. Maybe it’s my journalism background, but I require a little more evidence—especially when things are so lopsided.”

  The calf emptied the bottle, and Travis stood, glad to be on even ground with Abigail. “Not following.”

  “Shay’s getting a pretty sweet deal here. Someone doing all her work while her foot heals, watching over Olivia, and apparently helping her out financially too . . . ?”

  If she was fishing for information, she was wasting her time. If Shay’d wanted her friend to know the details, she would’ve told her.

  “Obviously you’re under no obligation to tell me a thing, but I can’t help but wonder what’s in it for you.”

  “What’s in it for me.”

  Abigail raised a brow. She wasn’t feisty in the way Shay was, just direct. Despite his discomfort, he was glad Shay had a friend like this in her corner.

  Hadn’t Shay told Abigail why he was doing this? Or did Abigail not buy in? “Shay knows the answer to that.”

  “You love her.”

  He felt heat rise on his neck and he rubbed his jaw. He’d never used that word, exactly. Maybe it was true—okay, it was true—but a guy liked to keep a few cards to himself. A cowboy had his pride.

  “That so hard to believe?”

  “You don’t exactly have the best track record.”

  He was a little tired of his past hanging over his head, following him around like an ugly storm cloud. “Give me a break. I was eighteen, a kid.”

  “You hurt her.”

  “Think I don’t know that? I lost the best thing I ever had, lost her to another man for fourteen years. I come back here thinking I might finally have a chance to win her back, and I end up accidentally married to her. So if you think I’m taking advantage of that, if it seems like I’m taking my best shot at getting her back, you’d be right. If that makes me the bad guy, so be it.”

  He tipped his hat back and pocketed his hands while Abigail seemed to assess his words.

  “Mom, let’s go!” Maddy called from the yard.

  Travis remembered what Shay had told him. How Wade had hired Abigail as Maddy’s nanny last summer, how they’d fallen in love against all odds. Now they were married, and Maddy was calling her Mom. He only wanted what Abigail had found for herself. He wondered if the woman saw the parallel.

  She straightened, tossed her blond hair over her shoulder. The look in her eyes assured him she was every bit as astute as he imagined.

  “I just want what’s best for her.”

  “Then that makes two of us.”

  She regarded him an extra second before she gave a nod and left the barn. She was a tough cookie, a skeptic despite her own happy ending with Wade. But Abigail wasn’t the one he had to convince.

  Shay felt like crying. The brief visit with her friend had been the highlight of her week. She was bored out of her skull sitting around this house day after day while Travis fed her stock, rode her circle, mended her fences.

  She pulled herself upright and hobbled on her crutches to the window where a plume of dust billowed behind Abigail’s car. And there went her daughter, off for a fun night. Shay liked the way Olivia’s new clothes looked on her, the way they made her carry herself differently.

  She didn’t fault Olivia for getting out of Dodge. She’d go herself if she didn’t think Travis would be right behind her, hand on the small of her back. All her elderly neighbors would cluck over what a sweet couple they made while everyone else laid down bets on how long it would be before she sent Travis running for the hills.

  One thing was sure: she had a long night ahead of her. Olivia would be out late, and the house was going to seem small and quiet with just Travis and her filling it up. What had she been thinking, letting Olivia go out?

  She heard the back door open and shut.

  “Got an idea,” Travis called from the kitchen.

  “No.” If he thought he was taking her out tonight, he had another think coming.

  “Shoot, woman, hear me out. Fishing. Bass are biting up by Boulder Pass.”

  She hadn’t fished in a month of Sundays. “Says who?”

  “Jacob Whitehorse.” Travis appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room. “Said he took home enough for a week of suppers. What d’ya say?”

  It was tempting, but as her eyes lingered on his sturdy form, she realized the last thing she needed was an outing with Travis. She faced the window. “Why don’t you go on? It’s too hard to get around.”

  “Not leaving you here alone. Come on, I’ll help. You need out of this house. Can’t tell me you’re not getting restless.”

  If they had to be alone, she’d just as soon be outdoors than trapped in the house with nothing to do but stare at each other.

  “Fine. Abigail brought sandwiches for supper.”

  “We’ll take ’em with us. Wait here and I’ll load the gear.”

  Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to the Yellowstone River in Travis’s pickup. Travis had stopped at Jacob’s house to bum fishing worms and check on his parents’ ranch.

  Now he parked under a mammoth oak tree, a stone’s throw from the shore, and got out of the cab. “Be right back.”

  Shay opened her door to let the breeze in while he removed their supplies. She hated this helplessness. She wanted to get her own tackle and food, but the frustrating fact was, she couldn’t even get herself to the shore without help.

  Travis fetched her crutches, and she worked her
way carefully through the tall grass to the bank where he’d spread a large sleeping bag. The sack of food Abigail had brought was dead center, and they wasted no time digging in. Travis had remembered the ketchup, and Shay added it to her turkey sandwich.

  “Olivia looks real pretty in her new clothes,” he said. “She showed me everything you got her.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was conceding that she was right or hinting that she’d spent too much. “Got some great bargains, even at the fancy stores.”

  “Wasn’t worried about that.”

  Maybe he was only making conversation.

  Fifteen minutes later, after they cast their lines into the deep pool of water, she broke the silence. “Heard from your parents?”

  “They called last week. Mom’s helping with children and Dad’s building a new church. They’re right where they’re supposed to be.”

  “Mission trips can really change people.” Her line had drifted too far, so she reeled in.

  “They sound pretty excited about what God’s doing down there. Tried to call Dad a couple times this week, but I guess reception’s spotty. Have a question about his books, so hope he calls soon.”

  Travis’s bait was drifting fast. He jerked the pole and reeled in a smallmouth.

  “Nice.” Her own line was as still as an August morning.

  He removed the hook and strung up the fish before rebaiting his hook and recasting. “I’m enjoying working your spread, Shay. You’ve got a nice piece of property.”

  “My grandparents thought so.”

  “All those springs and river frontage—prime piece of land.”

  A quiet moment passed.

  When her line drifted too far, she reeled in.

  “Mind if I ask you something?” he asked after she recasted, hitting a prime spot.

  “Guess not.” She felt him looking at her.

  “What happened between you and your ex? I mean, did you just grow apart or . . . ?”

  Shay shrugged. “We were a bad match from the start. Tried to make the best of it but—well, in the end, he went off to chase his dream of stardom. Never got far.”

  “I’m sorry. That must’ve been rough on you and Olivia both.”

  She tightened her line. “It was, but at least we had each other. God brought us through.”

  They settled into a thoughtful silence, adjusting their lines and soaking in the peace and quiet.

  “Man, I’ve missed this place.” Travis drew in a deep breath of the pine-scented air. “Doesn’t smell like this in Texas, let me tell you.” He scanned the distant Absaroka Range. “Missed those too.”

  Shay followed his gaze to the mountains, majestic beasts jutting up from Paradise Valley, painted dusky purple by the evening light.

  He may have missed Moose Creek, but not enough to return. It was a point of contention that he hadn’t, even if she had been married.

  “Missed the people,” he said. “Jacob, Miss Lucy, even people I thought I’d never miss.”

  “Like who?”

  The corner of his mouth tipped. “Oh, you know . . .” He switched to a high-pitched twang. “Like, oh my, Ida Mae Perkins. Isn’t that right, Vern?”

  She smiled. She’d forgotten his talent for impersonations. Once Mr. Orenbeck, their algebra teacher, had interrupted a disturbingly accurate imitation of himself. Travis had spent the afternoon in detention.

  “Or our favorite banker,” Travis said in a familiar nasal tone. “John Oakley.”

  Shay laughed. “That was dead-on.” Her line began drifting and she tightened it.

  “Should’ve heard him when I paid up your mortgage.” He switched to the nasal tone. “Shay’s mortgage? Shay Brandenberger? You’re what? Married?” Travis poked up a pair of invisible spectacles. “Priceless.”

  Shay laughed at his facial expression, so John-like. “Wish I’d been there. Just to see the look on his face.”

  “Think he was hoping to rip the ranch out from under you. Little weasel.”

  “Wouldn’t doubt it.”

  And if she didn’t come up with some kind of plan, the man might still have his way. She was going to line up another job after Travis left. She couldn’t let the debt pile up like it had before. Next time God might not send a miracle her way.

  She felt the weight of a fish on her line and gave the pole a sharp tug. “Got him.”

  Seconds later she was removing the hook from another small-mouth bass. “I do believe it’s bigger than yours, McCoy.”

  “Night’s young, Miss Smarty-pants. In fact, I’m so certain of my fishing prowess, what d’ya say loser cleans and cooks?”

  “I say you’re on.”

  Despite Travis’s bluster, an hour and a half later when they were bumping home in the truck, it was Shay’s string that held more fish, including the largest bass caught.

  Shay leaned back against the worn leather seat. “Yep, looking forward to some nice fresh-cooked fish tomorrow night.”

  Travis scowled. “You never were a gracious winner.”

  Her lips curled. “And you always were a sore loser.”

  He humphed. “Like when?”

  “Like when you had a conniption over that stupid bottle game at the festival.” It had been the summer of their junior year.

  “That ring was over the bottle.”

  “Not the whole bottle.”

  “Well, that’s not what Riley Raines said.” He imitated the deep, slow drawl. “Just get the ring ’round the bottle and win yer lady a prize.”

  Shay chuckled, remembering the brawl that ensued. “Yeah, you got me a prize all right.” Shay had stepped between the two boys, trying to break it up, and had walked away with a shiner.

  Travis winced. “I was a real knucklehead, wasn’t I.”

  It was humorous in retrospect, though her parents sure hadn’t thought so at the time. Travis had fetched a bag of ice from the lemonade stand and held it to her eye in the back of his pickup while they listened to the band play on the town square.

  “You had your moments,” she said.

  And that was God’s honest truth. He’d had a way of making her feel like she was one in a million. And his skills in the kissing arena had never been lacking. A fact that hadn’t changed, she thought, recalling their wedding kiss.

  “I missed you most of all, you know,” he said. “You were my best friend.”

  She felt more than saw Travis looking her way. She wasn’t going to look. Wasn’t going to take another ride down Memory Lane and ruin the easy companionship they’d found.

  “More’n that, of course,” he said. “But always my best friend. I could tell you anything.”

  They’d shared so many secrets, things they’d never told anyone else.

  Gravel popped under the tires as he pulled into the drive.

  “I enjoyed tonight,” he said. “Just being with you, it was almost like old times.”

  It had been pleasant, once she’d relaxed. He was fun to be with, easy to be with. She’d forgotten that.

  “Go to church with us tomorrow?” he asked a minute later as he put the truck in park and shut off the engine.

  She’d already made an appearance at the festival earlier in the week. And now that she was mobile, there was no excuse. It was just that she dreaded seeing Beau. And folks at church probably thought she and Beau had been closer than they actually were—Beau had a tendency to exaggerate their relationship. Did they think she’d done him wrong? Would they hold that against her?

  “Have to face him sometime,” he said as if reading her thoughts. “He ever call back?”

  If there was any rancor in his tone, she didn’t hear it. “No. But there’ll be no avoiding him at church.”

  Or anyone else. Travis was right, though. She had to face him eventually. Besides, she’d missed church. Singing as a congregation, Pastor Blevins’s thoughtful sermons . . .

  “I’ll go,” she said, then wondered suddenly about Travis’s life in Texas and the string of women he’d pro
bably left behind. “You haven’t mentioned leaving a broken heart in Texas. There some girlfriend you devastated with news of our accidental vows?”

  “Nope. No one in Texas, or anywhere else for that matter.” He started to say something, then seemed to change his mind. “Part of me pities Beau. I know what it’s like, losing you.”

  She worked to steady her breath, reminded herself it had been Travis who left, his decision. But maybe he had grown up. Least she could do was lower her wall of righteous indignation enough for a little peace to flow across. It would be a long five months otherwise.

  Travis exited the truck and brought her crutches around. On the porch, he opened the front door and she hobbled through. She checked the time as a yawn escaped. It was early, but her eyes felt heavy, her body worn from the crutches. Olivia wouldn’t be home for a couple hours.

  “You’re tired,” he said. “Go on to bed.”

  His words prompted another yawn. “Need to wait up for Olivia.”

  “I’ll do it.” He emptied his pockets on the end table that had become his nightstand. “Have a passel of fish to clean anyway.” The corner of his lip hitched up.

  She hesitated in the middle of the room.

  “Go on. I’ll be up late.” He looked unbothered in the dim room, the lamplight casting a yellow glow over his features.

  “Okay. Thanks.” She shuffled toward her room.

  “ ’Night,” he called.

  Once in her room, she closed the door and washed up. His toothbrush and standard black comb sat beside her own toiletries.

  Tonight had given her hope. Maybe he had grown up, learned a thing or two over the years. Maybe it was time to put the past behind her. Maybe they could live in harmony for the next several months. If she could just ignore the chemistry and block out his handsome face, maybe they could manage a cautious friendship.

  20

  Shay was trying hard to focus on Pastor Blevins’s words, but it wasn’t easy. Every minute, someone was turning to look at her. She didn’t take her eyes off the pastor’s round face, but she could feel their stares.