“I wish they’d hurry, Miss Julia. I’m awful hungry.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re always hungry.”
The others were finishing a section of fence. Everett wasn’t as tall as Dex, which was a good thing. She didn’t want to spend her life with a crick in her neck talking to her husband.
“Still wish they’d go faster.” John rolled over onto his back and caterwauled, his little hands gripping his shirt at the stomach.
She jabbed tickling fingers into his armpit. His high tenor giggles burst forth way too easily.
The men sauntered over and lowered themselves to the ground. Julia adjusted her posture to sit more ladylike. Her body’s awareness of Everett’s closeness tripped her heart into a chaotic rhythm. Deep breaths did nothing to steady the tempo.
Only John’s eyes held a sparkle of merriment. The others simply looked weary. And something more in Everett’s intent gaze unnerved her. Julia poured milk into tin cups. “Have you had a good morning of work?”
Dex took the first cup. “I’d say so. I think we can get it done before supper.”
“That would be good.” Everett took a cup from her, his eyes meeting hers for only a second.
William downed his milk as soon as she set it in his hands and then returned it for more. She shook her head at his bottomless stomach and refilled. “I’ll have supper waiting whenever that time comes. But for lunch, I’ve got bacon, buttered rolls, cheese, and . . .” She brought the basket to her face with an exaggerated look of astonishment. “What is this I have in here? I think the pie jumped into my lunch basket.” She pulled the apple pie out and smiled at the joyous look on John’s face. “Maybe it ought to be eaten for lunch after all.”
“Yes!” John’s two big front teeth poked through his face-wide smile. He held out his hands.
She laughed. “After we eat.”
“That’s all right.” He rubbed his tummy. “I’ll still have room enough to eat it all up.”
“You’ll be sharing that, boy.” Dex clamped his hand over John’s head, hat and all.
Chuckling, Julia glanced at Everett. A tiny smile graced his face, but when she caught his gaze, his mouth tightened. He took a sip from his cup and looked out over the land.
Despite the sun overhead, she shivered.
The adults ate while listening to John talk about his recent fishing exploits, the fun he was having fencing, and anything else the boy’s mind lighted upon.
Her heart beat harder as the food disappeared and the grown men grew restless. Dex pushed off the blanket and thanked her for the meal. Everett tipped his hat to her while the boys’ chorus of gratitude echoed their father.
Now or never. “Everett?”
He stood, head cocked to the side as the other three headed to the fence.
How in the world could she make her galloping heart calm itself? “Might we talk?”
“Sure. Said we could.” He didn’t move.
She glanced behind him toward the Stantons. They’d hear at this distance. And with Everett’s reactions, she was pretty sure she was going to get turned down. She didn’t want them to hear that. Her fingers found her brooch. Not sure she wanted to hear that either. Not now that she’d reconciled herself to the decision. “Would you mind walking with me? My legs need stretching.” Actually, they were about to collapse, but she’d get them to move.
He pointed to a nearby pond. “That’s a good place to walk if you’ve a mind to.” He smashed his hat on his head and set off with long strides.
She gathered her skirts and followed him. Evidently, talking while walking was not something Everett did.
At the edge of the pond, he gestured toward the willow tree’s long branches sweeping the water’s surface. Its tiny light green buds shone against the still-brown grasses of the bank. “Prettiest tree on the place.”
She nodded though he wasn’t looking at her. “It’s lovely.” Her teeth chewed on her inner cheek. An army of tiny frogs jumped into the rippling water.
“So?” He turned to her. His biceps bulged where his arms crossed.
If only he was less distant, she wouldn’t feel like she’d plucked this subject out of thin air. But if he had been eager for this arrangement, she would have run away the first day she’d arrived.
Now, Julia, or you won’t do it.
“Do you attend the same church as Rachel and Dex?”
“Yes.”
“They made mention your preacher comes out here once a month.”
“He’s scheduled to preach this week. Salt Flatts holds services every Sunday, but I can’t justify the time and expense. Did you want to attend?”
She colored. More than attend. “Well, seeing that the preacher won’t be here again for quite some time . . .” The phlegm in her throat caught. “If we were to do this marrying thing, it’d probably be best to do it this week.”
She forced herself to look at him. His face hadn’t changed.
The warmth of blood rushed from her face. “That is, if you’re still agreeable to the arrangement. I know I don’t know much about farming, but I’ve learned a lot from the Stantons these last two weeks.”
His features didn’t waver. He didn’t even blink. She almost reached over to poke him to see if he was still alive. She rubbed at the gooseflesh forming along her arms. If he refused, her life looked more than bleak. But she wouldn’t beg him to say yes, lest he get the wrong idea.
“So—” she coughed—“that’s what I wanted to talk about.” She stole another glance at him. Her gaze lowered to the squashed grass at his feet. Time to get the hardest part over with. “It’d just be, you know, for companionship . . . nothing more. I know you want help, and that’s what I can offer.”
“A companion?” He blinked.
Now she’d have to rip apart his dreams just like Theodore had hers—but at least Everett got to choose. “We are nothing more than strangers. And we need to acknowledge that one or both of us might never be comfortable with each other beyond friendship.” Namely, her.
Did he take a step back? “You’d be all right married to someone you have no feelings for? To give up ever having that?”
Julia shrugged. “I’ve given up on a lot of dreams.” She plunged on. “I thought with the new house you were building, you could build us separate rooms for us to use until . . .” No, she wouldn’t offer him any hope.
She went on. “You told me the first day you didn’t hold me under any obligation, and I think it only fair to give you the same deal.” She dared a peek up from under her lashes, but his face was still unreadable. “In other words, don’t feel bound to your proposal. But I know how it is to live with no one to talk to, so surely we can be friends. But . . . but of course, you may not want to be tied down to me given I’m not interested in . . . having children.” What if he did want kids? She scrambled around for an alternative. “Maybe an orphan . . .”
His expression hadn’t changed, but his gaze intensified. “An orphan?”
Julia picked a long stem of grass and started to peel it. “That’s if you want children. I’m not opposed to raising orphans once we settle into a routine.”
“You don’t want any of your own?” His face was so hard. Had his lips even moved?
What little girl didn’t dream of children? But that dream was dead. Perhaps Theodore had done her a favor—she’d never become like her mother. “My mother had eleven miscarriages and stillbirths, plus one baby that didn’t live through his first day. I was the first and only child to live. My grandmother had about as many children but only two survived. And her mother before that . . .” She wrapped the stem tight around her finger. It broke. “I watched my mother’s heartbreak hollow out her insides until she had nothing to give me. She was too busy mourning and pining for the other twelve.” Especially the last one who’d been born alive. But he’d died because she’d been too inept at caring for her hours-old brother. “I can’t live through that again.”
“You’re afraid you’ll h
ave the same trouble?”
“A doctor pretty much confirmed I would.” She dropped the spent grass to the ground. “Of course, in light of . . . my conditions . . . I don’t expect you to answer right away.” He’d told her the same thing two weeks ago. Would she have to wait weeks for him to respond in turn?
“But you want to marry me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. For what else could she do? If he agreed to her conditions, then he was the right man for her.
“Why?”
She stared at her hands. “I have nowhere else to go. I could get a job as a cook, maybe a clerk somewhere, but I did that once, and . . . and . . .” Her mouth grew so dry, she wasn’t sure she could form any more words.
“And?”
She glanced up at him for a second but couldn’t hold his searching gaze. “I’m a small woman. Once a man with ill intentions realizes no one will call him to task over how he treats me, what’ll stand in his way?” The tears in her throat threatened to shut off her voice. She’d written to Rachel the night she was cornered in the tavern stairwell. Thankfully, her boss heard the scuffle, but she’d realized how precarious life was as a hired girl. She’d hoped Rachel could advise her on how to find a better situation.
Well, Rachel’s suggestion stood before her now. But would Everett want to provide for her this way? She shook her head a bit. She wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t, but she had to try. “A girl usually looks to her father for that kind of protection or has money to stay away from the riffraff—but neither of those are true for me. An understanding husband is my only choice.”
After hearing nothing but the whooshing sound of her heart in her ears for what seemed like forever, she watched him turn his back on her. She wished she could run. Wished she’d run earlier, but the lack of reply cemented her to the ground.
———
Everett swallowed and turned from Julia’s fidgeting form. With his back to her, he let his face contort to mirror the confusion inside. He ached to talk to God aloud, but she’d hear.
Lord, I don’t understand. She said she’d hoped to get away as soon as possible. Said she didn’t want this life.
Her cough sounded behind him.
He had to give her a reply. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he said, “Give me a minute.”
She gave him a sharp nod. “Take as many as you need.”
He stepped farther away, swiped his sweaty hair off his forehead, and took a deep breath.
I said I wasn’t doing this again. And I wasn’t kidding. Not one more time. Figured you done made it clear I’d remain single my whole life. I’d reconciled myself to that.
He looked up at the fluffy clouds hanging low overhead, bright and cheery, the antithesis to the storm rolling in his gut. Whatever plans she was talking about last night must have fallen through. But he’d given his word. He’d said if she wanted to marry, he would. Despite her ramblings about not holding him to it, would he be able to live with himself if he didn’t?
And if I don’t take her up on this, Lord, I’m not trying this torturous wife-acquiring business again. That’s for sure. No matter what you say.
He kicked a rock into the pond. The wind blew across the water, causing the ripples to cascade across its surface.
She can cook and do farm chores well enough, and that’s what I need. I’d be mad to think love comes without time. It’s not her fault I was immediately attracted to her.
He looked back at her. She was staring out over the prairie, arms clasped across her waist. She might think marrying for protection was worth the commitment, but what would happen when she decided she had enough of this life? She could sneak away, leaving him unable to marry ever again.
But then, he’d already vowed never to get tangled up with another bride.
The rippling grasses undulated in the breeze all around her, tall enough to whip around her slight hips.
How could he live with her platonically? He looked up at the clouds as they breezed past. Would you truly ask that of me? No answer sounded from the sky, but he felt a peace. How he kept his thoughts pure when looking upon other attractive women would work . . . for now.
Julia was right, though; they were strangers. But they wouldn’t be strangers for long. And with time, caring—if not love—would come. He’d not force her faster than he’d force any woman he might court. They were just going through the marriage ceremony first for convenience.
“Julia?” He crossed the distance between them.
Her glistening eyes turned to him. Pink tinged her cheeks. Never before had he been so tempted to comfort someone. He grabbed both of her elbows and held on, though she tried to step from his hold. “I can build an extra bedroom. It can always be a nursery later on.” He kept his gaze locked on her to see her reaction.
Her arms pulled in closer to her body. “For . . . for an orphan?”
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He tried to talk as soothingly as possible. “We’ll go slowly. Goodness knows we’ve known each other for less than a month. But I’d never force you to do anything until you were ready.”
“And what if I’m never ready?” Her chin tilted up in the air, and her words came out strangled. “Would you keep your word?”
He examined the faraway look in her eyes and the sheen of wetness that had taken up residence across the big, beautiful brown centers. Her tremble reverberated through his fingers. Scared. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he knew that would not help. “Did someone hurt you?”
She quickly looked down to the side and swallowed several times in a row. He kept his hands from gripping her any harder. Someone had hurt her. Thinking of a man harming her made him want to punch something. A lot of things.
Her lips stayed pressed against each other. She wasn’t going to talk about it.
Tugging ever so slowly, he finally convinced her to take a step toward him. When she was close enough, he pushed her head against his chest.
Could he help her overcome her hurt? Once she realized she had nothing to fear from him, she’d come around. He’d have to be sensitive. And patient.
“You have my word.”
Chapter 7
Julia toweled her hair while looking at herself in the glass in the Stantons’ cabin. No wonder Dex and Rachel hadn’t said much when she’d asked them to witness at her wedding. Her face looked like she’d met with death itself.
She picked up the mother-of-pearl brush that had belonged to her mother. Losing count of her strokes, she absentmindedly continued until her hand tired. It was hard enough keeping her eyes open.
The feel of Everett’s arms around her had disturbed her sleep for three nights in a row. Being enwrapped in a man’s arms whom she never intended to get close to was wrong.
But it felt right.
And the mental churning of what was right and wrong had stolen the sleep she’d needed to look beautiful on her wedding day. She examined her reflection. Puffy eyelids. Red-streaked eyes. Pale, blotchy skin. No bride should look like this.
Maybe her face was trying to tell her something.
Everett tried not to squirm in the rickety chair in the back of the church. The preacher spat and hollered. Hard to imagine this fiery man performing his wedding ceremony. Reverend Vale favored the same rant, scaring his parishioners enough to lace their consciences with guilt if they didn’t return to hear him spew the same thing the next month. Everett assessed the preacher’s speech and identified repeated bits of monologue. The sermon was almost over. His pocket watch said 11:38. He’d be marrying Julia anytime now.
Next to him, old Lady Fritz cleared her throat and glared.
He stopped his jiggling feet.
His ears tuned out the rest of the sermon, and his gaze sought Julia sitting up front next to Rachel and Emma. He had paced outside church before the service, so the chairs near them had filled before he calmed enough to sit still.
He halted his restless feet again.
Julia sat ramrod straight in
the dress she’d worn when she stepped off the train. An ivory dress full of little flowers. He remembered a huge red bow around her waist, though he couldn’t see it. Her hat seemed alive, topped with feathers that moved in the drafts blowing through the structure that doubled as a school during the winter.
He’d been afraid she wouldn’t come to church. He’d been afraid she would.
“Our Father, which art in heaven . . .”
Everett bowed his head and crushed the hat in his hands. He tried to focus on the prayer, but his mind refused.
“It is with great pleasure that I announce the engagement and nuptials between Everett Cline and . . .” Reverend Vale glanced at a piece of paper in his hand, “Julia Lockwood following the service. Before you leave, please stay and witness the first wedding I have the pleasure of performing among you.”
Everett choked and covered it with a cough. Murmurs floated around him. He didn’t know where to look. He’d not asked for the congregation to witness.
“Congratulations, Everett!” Mr. Fritz clapped him on the shoulder. “Couldn’t find a prettier girl this side of the Mississippi, I reckon.”
A whisper rasped behind him. “She’s actually going to do it?”
Sweat formed on his brow.
“The last mail-order bride that pretty was Jonesey’s wife.” Another low male voice responded to the previous man. “And you know how long that lasted.”
A snigger popped out. “She wasn’t anywhere near that pretty. I give her three months.”
Everett’s hat was an unrecognizable wad in his hands. Had he fooled himself? He’d never met Jonesey’s wife, but he knew the man had fallen for the pretty mail-order bride he’d married. Then half a year later, she’d left him with no warning.
The abandoned man had advised him not to trust a mail-order bride after he’d heard about Kathleen marrying Carl, but Everett had dismissed Jonesey’s counsel.
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