The Cripple’s Bride_Family of Love Series_A Western Romance Story

by Elliee Atkinson

He looked back down at the stick. Rachel was a blessing. One of the most important ones he would ever have in his lifetime.

  He used the stick to push himself to his feet. Once he was sure he was balanced, he took a few hobbled steps to the window by the front door. He pushed aside the drapes and looked out. What he saw made him grunt with displeasure. He could barely see the barn, which was no more than 25 feet from the house to the right. The ground was completely covered with white snow, as were the surrounding trees and any other plant life that grew around her house. He stared at it in dismay. His sister and her family were probably worried sick about him. They probably thought he was caught out it in somewhere, freezing and close to death.

  Fear pushed through him. What if they decided to go searching for him, despite the weather? Would Charles be fool enough to do that? If he was caught in the storm while searching for him, Daryl would never be able to live with it. He hoped they had done the most intelligent thing, which would be to wait it out. When the storm was over, everything would go back to normal. Everyone would be fine. However, they had to stay indoors.

  You’d better stay indoors, he thought, picking out small packets of snowflakes to focus on and watching them disappear into the fluffy white piles stacked up on the ground.

  “It’s a blizzard.” He spun around when he heard Rachel’s voice behind him. She was standing near the fireplace, holding up a lit lantern. She was dressed in a long white nightgown and had a shawl over her shoulders. Her long hair was messy on top of her head, coming down to her shoulders in wild abandon.

  “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t wake you.” Suddenly Daryl wanted to be back on the couch. He didn’t want to walk over there. He just wanted to be there. He looked at it and then back at her. Regretfully, he hobbled back to the couch. When she reached out to help him, he felt a bit annoyed. He kept it to himself. He was a man and he didn’t want her to see him as anything less. Having to rely on her help just to walk was humiliating.

  He dropped onto the couch and stared sullenly into the fire. He was aware she was looking at him in confusion, but was too ashamed to return her gaze.

  “I am going to put on some water for coffee. Do you want some?”

  He shook his head, finally sliding his eyes to her beautiful face. “No thanks, it will keep me up.”

  “I notice you found the second whiskey bottle. Do you want me to put another bottle of something out here for when that is gone?”

  “I don’t think I should be drinking so much whiskey,” he replied.

  “I don’t think you should try going without something to kill the pain until you at least see the doc and he sets your leg. And what if you get an infection? You know whiskey will help that not happen.”

  Daryl burst out laughing. She sat across from him in a tall chair, setting the lantern on the table next to her. “Why are you laughing? Did I say something funny?”

  He shook his head. “It was funny to me. I am just used to hearing my friends say their wives don’t want them to drink and here you are… Not that you’re my wife…” He almost lost his train of thought when the picture of her as his wife floated through his mind. “I mean women just don’t usually encourage men to drink heavily.”

  She grinned at him. “This is a special circumstance, Daryl. And I think most wives… not that I am your wife… would recognize that, especially if they really cared about their men.”

  “I like your way of thinking, Rachel.”

  She chuckled.

  “You forgot to put on water for coffee.”

  She laughed out loud then and shook her head. “I was only going to put some on if you wanted some. I… I don’t drink it a lot and… well, I will be honest with you, I heard you moving around and I thought I would come out and see how you are doing. I don’t want you to think I’m mothering you or trying to invade your privacy.”

  Daryl shook his head. “No, no, you mustn’t think that. I am happy you are here. I am in need right now and you are like an angel come to save me.”

  “I suppose I did save you from the weather,” Rachel conceded. “But I’m no angel. Just ask the men who have tried to make me their wife.”

  He scanned her pretty features, thinking there must have been many, many suitors vying for her hand. And she was the type to handle each of them soundly. “Will you ever marry? Or are you opposed to it?”

  “Oh, I could never be opposed to it,” she replied. “It is the natural order of things. I am still young enough to find a good husband and have a child or two. But it must be the right man. I cannot be in a marriage with a brutal or cruel man. I must guard my heart against that because I have seen what it does to women I know. I remember them from my childhood in Ireland.”

  “Were they neighbors?”

  Rachel nodded. “As a matter of fact, they were. I was small when we left Ireland, you see, just seven, I think, or eight. Before that, my family and I lived on a street with a row of houses and in nearly every house, I can remember the men being cruel and hitting their wives. I didn’t understand it. My father was never like that. He didn’t mistreat my mother. He loved my mother.”

  Daryl nodded. “I can understand why you would want to make sure your marriage doesn’t turn out like that.”

  She gazed past him, lost in a memory. He took the opportunity to look at her directly, admiring the way the flames lit up her face and danced across her profile. Her eyes flashed in the light, especially when she blinked. He could see her dark lips move when she pushed the lower one in between her teeth and chewed on it lightly.

  He had to pull his attention away from her before he said something he might later regret. “I want a good marriage, too. I don’t have strong reasons for not doing it yet, I just haven’t met a woman that strikes my fancy enough to make a permanent commitment with her.”

  “I find that surprising, I must say.” Rachel sat back, folding her hands over her lap.

  “Oh? Why is that? Do you think I am a ladies’ man?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you mean by that. If you are asking do I believe you see many women at one time, no, I don’t believe that. Do I believe you’ve left some broken hearts in your past? Yes, I do. But not intentionally, mind you,” she hurried to add in that part. “I can tell you are not a mean man. You are not a tyrant. That is what I fear the most. And I fear a tyrant the most because I know I wouldn’t put up with such nonsense and would have to kill him. Then I’d end up in the jailhouse or they would stone me to death, or hang me. Whatever it is they do to punish women who kill their husbands.”

  “I don’t know what they would do. But it sounds like you would have a good reason to react that way.”

  She was quiet for a moment before smiling at him. “Why are we talking about murdering a man in the wee hours of the morning? We should be sleeping.”

  He shook his head, returning her smile. “You should be asleep, my dear. I won’t be able to until the pain isn’t cutting me to the bone.” As if he had forgotten he had his medicine right in his hand, he lifted the bottle of whiskey and took two long swallows.

  “I am worried about your leg. I wish I could get the doctor here. There must be someone with the knowledge to tell us how bad it is.”

  “I’m sure it’s just a broken bone. Ain’t nothin’ that can be done about that except let it heal. You know that.” Somehow, he knew she knew that. She confirmed it by nodding.

  “I do know it.”

  “I bet you’ve broken a bone before, haven’t you?” Daryl asked, leaning toward her curiously.

  She licked her lips, grinning mischievously. “How did you know?”

  “You look like the type of girl who might have been swinging through the tree branches with her brother when she was little.”

  She burst out laughing. “I do believe you already know me. Yes, I was just like that, such as I could be. We had it hard when I was young. It wasn’t until we came to America that we were able to be free and build a good life for ourselves.
”

  “Does your brother help take care of you?”

  She nodded. “Always. But I don’t need too much. I am self-sufficient in most ways and can get by on very little. And there’s always my art work.”

  “Art work?”

  “Yes.”

  He waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, he tilted his head to the side. “What kind of art work do you do?”

  “I sketch faces. I can sketch faces from memory or when they are standing in front of me. I use white paper and a piece of coal. It produces some real nice portraits of people. I get a few coins for each one unless it’s for someone wealthy. They always pay me more. I don’t ask them to. They just do.”

  “Can I see some of it?”

  “I’ll tell you what, Daryl,” Rachel stood, picking up the lantern. “I’ll draw you while we wait for sleep to come. How does that sound?”

  “Isn’t it a bit dark out for that? Don’t you need sunlight?”

  She shook her head, stopping in front of him as she went to the other side of the room where her desk sat. She looked down at him. “I usually draw from memory. I’ll do that again tonight.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ART WORK

  ART WORK

  He turned to watch her open a long, deep drawer in the desk and pull out a large sketch pad. She opened a smaller drawer and took out a black piece of softened coal.

  “How did you know you could use coal to sketch portraits?” he asked as she came back with the items and sat down where she had been. She set the lantern on the table.

  “I made this. It took me many tries before I succeeded. I like the way it looks on paper.”

  “You made it?” He couldn’t help feeling surprised by that fact. “Where did you get the coal?”

  She grinned at him. “It’s delivered. My papa knew a lot of people in America; that’s why we successfully immigrated here. Papa was a brilliant man and made friends wherever he went. He never kept his children out of his life and now we know everyone he knows and so forth. You see?”

  Daryl nodded. “I do. That’s right nice that you have options like that.”

  “I think so, too. Now you will have to sit still and not gab or I won’t be able to get it right. Can you do that?” She giggled. “I know it might be hard for you.”

  Daryl laughed. “I will certainly try. No guarantees.”

  She laughed with him and they both fell quiet as she ran the coal over the paper. He couldn’t see what she was drawing. Her eyes flicked from the paper to him and back again rapidly. Her hand flew from one side of the paper to the other.

  “I can’t believe you’re sketching me in the dark,” he murmured, causing her to burst out laughing.

  “I wondered how long it would take you to say something.” She threw her head back and laughed so that her shoulders shook up and down.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Everything she did made him want to grab her and give her a long, deep kiss. “I’m sorry, did I mess it up?”

  She shook her head, still giggling. “No, of course not, I’m going by memory more than sight, anyway.”

  “I didn’t know you looked at me so closely.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I tend to study the features of men who show up unexpectedly at my house in the middle of a snowstorm with a broken leg and other injuries.”

  “A snowstorm with a broken leg?” he repeated. They both laughed.

  “You know what I mean.”

  He nodded. “I do. I don’t suppose you’ve had a lot of encounters with injured men showing up at your door. At least, I hope not.”

  “Fortunately for me, you are the first one. Most people don’t see my house from the road out there. It’s on the other side of those trees and the stream.”

  “I only saw it because your lantern was lit and sitting in the window.”

  She continued to draw as she spoke. “That was another coincidence that I have been thinking about. I rarely put that lantern on the window sill. Typically, it’s right here.” She gestured to where the lantern was sitting on the table by the chair. “I sit here most of the time. The couch is too big for just me. And it usually isn’t lit during the day. But it was dark because of the storm and I was cold. I thought it might give me a little extra heat. Not much, but some. I put it on the window sill so that I could see the pretty reflection off the snow outside. Then I went in the kitchen to make some tea. Next thing I know, you are in my yard with your covered wagon and your frozen horses.”

  “I hope they are content in the barn. I don’t want them to come to harm.”

  Rachel shook her head. “You don’t need to worry about that. They are fine in there. They are sheltered from the storm and covered with warm blankets. They have feed and company. Don’t worry about them. Worry about getting yourself better.”

  “I’m not going to worry about anything,” Daryl responded. “That just makes it worse. I’ll be fine in a few days and I’ll go to my sister’s place and be out of your hair. I appreciate all you’re doing for me, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  She gave him a direct look. He wondered if he already had.

  “You can’t overstay your welcome, Daryl,” she said softly. “My home is open to you for as long as you need it.” Ever since the man had shown up at her door, Rachel had felt like a different person. She had been alone for many years. No one had stayed with her for even a night. She was always alone. Now, a man had come into her home and she didn’t know how to handle it.

  Before she came out to see him standing at the window, Rachel was laying in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, much the same as him. She wasn’t able to sleep, mostly because she had to keep getting up every hour or so and adding logs to the fires. She couldn’t let the temperature drop in the house or it might take longer for Daryl to heal. She didn’t mind it cold in her house, but she didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

  He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. At least, that was the conclusion she’d come to by the time she went to bed that night. He was taller than her, which was a bonus because she was not a short girl. He still had her by several inches. That made him more attractive to her. He had dark eyes and dark hair, and a trim beard and mustache that worked perfectly on him.

  He looked like he took care of himself on a general basis. He didn’t look like the drinking, gambling, wandering eye type of man. He looked mature, solid, and he had a great sense of humor. His dry wit matched hers almost perfectly. That alone would have been enough to turn her head, but the rest of the package made it complete for her.

  Knowing that she was highly attracted to him made Rachel feel a bit uncomfortable. She’d never been in a position like that before. She spent most of her life in total control of everything that went on around her. What she couldn’t control, she found a way around.

  Now she was in a position where she wanted to attract a man, had no idea how to do so, and not being in control scared her.

  She was glad she had suggested sketching him. It was true, she typically sketched from memory. She’d looked at his face so many times as the day turned into night that she had it embedded in front of her eyelids when she closed them. She knew when she did fall asleep, he would be in her dreams. Probably saving her from something dangerous. She imagined his arms around her and it gave her chills. She looked up at him and put the final touches on her sketch.

  Then she picked it up and turned it around for him to see. “What do you think?”

  “I can’t see it very well. It looks good from here, though.”

  Rachel stood, picked up the lantern and stepped over to the couch. She sat down next to him, immediately aware that their thighs touched, sending chills down her legs. She set the lantern down between them and held the sketch up behind it so the light would shine directly on it.

  “Oh damn,” Daryl reached out and took the sketch. “I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to curse in front of you.”

  Rachel shook h
er head, smiling.

  Daryl leaned over and picked up the lantern, holding the sketch and the light up closer to his face. He scanned the near-perfect image of his likeness. “You are amazing. This is amazing. You should be famous. You could be a famous artist.”

  “I don’t want that,” Rachel said softly as she shook her head. “I don’t want everyone to know who I am or where I am. I want to be alone most of the time. Companionship is nice, but I usually spend my time alone. I have for so long, I don’t know how to be any other way.”

  Daryl thought about what she was saying. He wondered if she was hinting to him that she was not interested in courting. “You don’t want anything more than companionship?” he asked, lowering the sketch but not taking his eyes from it. “Don’t you want love? Most people want love.”

  She nodded. “I suppose I do long for love. But I just haven’t found anyone who has taken my heart.” Until now… She didn’t dare say it out loud.

  “It’s the same for me.”

  “Well I guess we are unlucky in love.” Rachel breathed softly, looking up at his handsome face in the flickering firelight. He looked into her eyes.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” His voice was equally low. “Things can always change.”

  They gazed at each other for a few seconds, saying nothing.

  She wanted to move into his arms and press her lips against his, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t shame her brother that way. He was one of the most popular men in Wickenburg.

  No one could blame her if she did though. He was so near, he was obviously attracted to her…

  She restrained herself. She stood up and pulled her shawl around her shoulders so that it met in the middle of her chest. “You may keep the sketch to take with you when you go.”

  He looked up at her. “Are you saying you want me to leave soon? I don’t wanna bother you.”

  “No, no,” she protested, shaking her head and one hand at him. “I didn’t mean it like that. You can stay until you need to leave or want to leave. You’re welcome in my home.” She took a few steps around the chair she’d been sitting in, heading toward her room.