Texas Bride: A Bitter Creek Novel

by Joan Johnston

  Perfect so long as Miranda was willing to do her part, Jake thought.

  He could see the whites of the horse’s eyes and the skittish animal was sidestepping to get away from the fire. “We need to blindfold that horse,” Jake said.

  “Take my shirt,” Slim said, ripping at the buttons and pulling it down off his arms. He handed it to Harry, who handed it to Nick.

  “As soon as you get that horse blindfolded, bring him over here,” Jake told Nick. Then he called up to Miranda, “Tie the sheets together to make a rope you can use to climb down. I’m going to be standing under the window, waiting to catch you when you drop.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” she said.

  She disappeared from the window but was back a moment later. “I could only get one sheet.”

  He realized the other sheets must already be on fire. “Tie it off on Nick’s bed,” he said. Hurry, Miranda! He thought the words but he didn’t speak them. His throat was too constricted by fear to speak.

  Miranda was running out of time.

  “I’m coming, Jake,” she said. “Where are you?”

  “Bring that horse over here next to the house,” Jake ordered Nick.

  As Nick maneuvered the horse, Jake put a hand on the horn and threw himself into the saddle without using the stirrups. Then he pushed himself up to the length of his arms to get his feet under him on the broad seat. “Keep him steady, Nick.”

  “I’m trying,” Nick said. “He’s scared, Jake.”

  “Keep talking to him. You’ll do fine.” Jake was standing upright now and realized he was too far from the house to lean against it to steady himself. He balanced himself on the saddle as best he could and looked up. His hands were shaking. The window seemed a long way off.

  Suddenly, there was no more time for terror. At long last, Miranda was crawling over the windowsill.

  The horse beneath him suddenly bolted when a flaming ash hit his flank.

  “Watch out!” Nick cried, hanging on to the reins for dear life.

  Jake spread his legs and dropped into the saddle. He was safe, but when he looked up, he saw that Miranda was dangling twenty-five feet above the ground, and the frayed sheet, the only thing that kept her from falling like a stone, had caught fire.

  “Bring us closer to the house,” Jake said. “Move it, boy!”

  “I’m trying,” Nick sobbed.

  Jake was already pushing himself up, trying to regain his footing on the saddle. He was halfway upright when Miranda cried out and started to fall. He could see the tied end of the sheet had burned through.

  He reached out to grab her and almost missed. He caught her around the waist and felt himself falling. He leaned backward to catch his balance, then slid down into the saddle with Miranda in his arms.

  “You got her!” Nick said with a hoot of excitement.

  “You got her!” Harry shouted.

  “You got her!” Slim said with a grin.

  “I got her,” Jake said, smiling down at Miranda. “Now let’s get the hell away from this burning house. You can take that blindfold off, Nick.”

  “When you’re done, Nick, would you please hand Anna Mae to me?” Miranda said.

  Nick handed Slim back his shirt, then retrieved the little girl, who was sitting by the well crying, and handed her up to Miranda.

  “You’re fine, sweetie,” Miranda said, holding the little girl close. “We’re all fine.”

  She was saying the words, but Jake could feel her whole body still trembling. How brave she was! How wonderful she was! How lucky he was to have chosen her for his wife.

  “Come here, runt,” Slim said to Harry, affection rife in his voice, as he lifted the four-year-old into his lap. “Let me give you a ride.”

  “I’ll push,” Nick said.

  “What about your arm?” Jake asked.

  “I think I was more scared than hurt.”

  Jake’s arms tightened around the two females in his life as they all moved a safe distance back from the house.

  “I don’t think I want to watch it burn to the ground,” Miranda said quietly as she stared back at the inferno destroying the house. She looked up at him and said, “Let’s leave here, Jake.”

  “And go where?” he asked.

  “To Bitter Creek, of course.”

  “No.” He had nothing left. The loss of both the barn and the house had ruined him. He wasn’t about to go crawling to his stepfather and admit defeat.

  He felt Miranda’s hand on his arm. “You don’t have to stay there with us,” she said. “But the children need a roof over their heads and a hot meal in the morning. Please, Jake.”

  Jake felt so tired. She was right, of course. If he’d been alone, he would have slept under the stars. But Slim’s arthritis bothered him in the morning damp. Harry was susceptible to the chilly night air. Anna Mae was fussy when she didn’t get a full night’s sleep and was ravenous every morning. Nick was hurt, whether he was admitting it or not.

  And Miranda, his beloved wife, had just been through a hair-raising experience that would have left a lesser woman devastated. His pregnant wife deserved more than a bed on the hard ground.

  Jake couldn’t think only of himself. He had to think of all the loved ones who depended on him. “All right,” he said at last. “Let’s gather up those other two cowboys’ horses and hitch them to the wagon. Thank God that wasn’t in the barn. Then let’s go visit my mother.”

  “Everything will be okay, Jake,” Miranda said as they rode the short distance to the corral where the wagon was kept.

  “I’ve lost everything, Miranda. I have nothing.”

  “You have me, Jake. And our children. And a million or so dollars to build it all back up again.”

  “I won’t take your money, Miranda,” Jake said through tight jaws.

  “Fine. Because I’m not giving it to you,” she retorted. He eyed her askance.

  “However, I’ll be happy to loan it to you. You can pay it back … over the next fifty or so years.”

  Jake chuckled. “You never give up, do you?”

  “Never. I love you, Jake. Did you mean what you said? Do you really love me, too?”

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “It’s hard to believe, yes.”

  “Then I guess I’ll have to prove it to you … over the next fifty or so years.”

  Miranda laughed.

  Jake leaned down and kissed his wife.

  Miranda was in labor. It was two weeks before the due date Jake had calculated. He’d made arrangements for his mother to be there to help her through the labor, but she’d woken up with pains that were startlingly close together, making it questionable whether his mother would arrive before the birth.

  Miranda was tucked up in bed in her new bedroom in their new house, which had been built in the months right after the fire. The two-story house had impressive columns in front and a second-floor gallery porch. The live oaks that had once shrouded the house had been reduced to blackened stumps, but she’d insisted they plant three more. “Because the ranch is called Three Oaks,” she’d explained.

  Jake had laughed at her, but he’d planted the trees.

  The house had an office for Jake and a sewing room for her, and rooms for her brothers and his daughter and the children she hoped they would have. She’d also insisted on rooms for her missing sisters.

  It was a veritable mansion.

  Miranda hoped she survived this pregnancy to enjoy it.

  Jake had wanted to ride to Bitter Creek to get his mother the moment she’d admitted to the first contraction, but the labor had progressed so fast, he’d changed his mind at the last minute and stayed home.

  He was pacing the bedroom floor, more anxious than she’d seen him at any time since he’d stood on a horse next to a house on fire, waiting for her to climb down a burning sheet and drop into his arms.

  “I’m fine, Jake,” she said. “Everything is—” She stopped speaking to concentrate on breathing throug
h the contraction that threatened to tear her in two. It was one thing to see another woman in labor, to imagine how much work it was to deliver a child. It was quite another to endure those fierce pains oneself. Her time was close. The pains were becoming much worse and coming much closer together.

  “It won’t be long now,” she said, once the contraction had passed. She eyed Jake and said, “You look a little green.”

  “Promise me we won’t do this again.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I plan to have five or six more.”

  “Good lord.” He dropped onto the edge of the bed. “I should have thrown your first letter in the trash.”

  “It was my sister Josie’s letter. She was the one who answered your advertisement for a bride.”

  Saying Josie’s name reminded Miranda that they hadn’t yet located her sisters. It seemed one of her sisters had married a man planning to travel with the wagon train and had arranged to bring her two sisters along. Because of some sort of fracas, their wagon had left the security of the train. No one had heard from any of them since.

  Miranda had seen from the look in Jake’s eyes that he believed her sisters were dead—from illness, from an Indian attack, from starvation, or from one of the myriad hazards to be found on the trail.

  But she knew how resilient her sisters were. She knew they were still alive … somewhere. She’d hired a Pinkerton detective to hunt them down. She had high hopes he would find them.

  There was always the chance the girls had continued their journey west, that they were fine, and that they would land somewhere at last and send her a letter telling her where they were. She waited every day in hopes that some word would come.

  “Oooooowwwww.” More than once during her labor, Miranda had wanted to howl like a dying animal, but she didn’t want to scare Jake out of his wits. She’d settled for moans and groans and wails and whining.

  “You can scream, Miranda. It’s okay with me.”

  She hissed like a snake.

  “I’m not kidding. I can handle it.”

  She whimpered like a kicked puppy. “Rub my back,” she begged pitifully.

  He sat on the bed and pressed his knuckles against her back.

  “Harder.”

  He pushed harder.

  “Harder.” The strong pressure wasn’t quite enough to counteract the pains in her belly, but it felt good. “Thank you, Jake. Oh, thank you!”

  “What can I do?” he said in an agonized voice. “Tell me how I can help.”

  When she turned to look at Jake, she saw his brow was covered with beads of sweat. It was snowing outside, so he’d built up the fire to keep the room warm. Obviously, it was too warm for a man who’d spent the morning pacing the floor in agitation.

  She laid her fingertips on his nape and drew him close and kissed a salty eyebrow. “I’m—”

  That was all she got out before her body attacked her again. The sound she made was all raw pain. “I have to push,” she said, surprised at how fast the moment had come. She’d only been in labor for four hours. Or was it five?

  “Are you sure you have to push?” He knew it was too soon, too.

  She looked at him uncertainly, but her body was sure. “I need to push,” she screamed.

  She hadn’t meant to scream, but this pain was worse than everything that had come before. And it never seemed to end. “Jake, help me! It hurts! It hurts!”

  “Come on, Miranda, you can do this,” he said, suddenly all business. He shoved the sheet up to her knees and checked, as he had through the day. “I can see the baby’s head.”

  She barely had time to take three deep breaths before another contraction assaulted her belly. “Aarrrrgggh,” she growled deep in her throat.

  “Push, Miranda!” he commanded.

  Miranda struggled to expel the baby, suddenly afraid that something would go wrong and she would push and push and push and the child would never be born. “I’m trying,” she gasped in the moment between contractions. “I’m—” She grunted as she felt the urge to push and pushed to end the pain.

  Jake waited at the foot of the bed, his face as pale as a ghost. “I love you, Miranda.”

  “I love you, tooooooooo.” Miranda felt the baby moving down the birth canal, felt her body expelling its burden, and gripped the sheet with both hands and held on. At last she felt the child slip from her body and groaned with relief.

  Her relief was short-lived. There was no sound of a crying baby. Into the silence she whispered, “Jake?”

  Her knees were up and the sheet kept her from seeing what he was doing. She pushed herself upright and dropped her knees and said, “What’s happening? Why isn’t the baby crying?”

  Jake held a tiny form in his hands. He had tears in his eyes.

  Miranda felt tears spring to her eyes. “Jake?”

  “He’s beautiful, Miranda. Perfect.”

  “Yes, but why isn’t he crying?”

  “I don’t know. He’s just looking at me. Should I make him cry?”

  “Is he breathing?” Miranda asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Can I hold him?”

  “Let me tie off the cord and cut it. And you have a little more work to do first.”

  Miranda felt the urge to push again and remembered there was the afterbirth to deliver. Jake handed her their son and then wrapped the afterbirth in newspaper and removed it from the bed. He came back to her a moment later and sat beside her.

  “He’s perfect,” Miranda said.

  “Perfect,” Jake agreed. “I guess that wasn’t so hard, after all.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I’m not going through that again anytime soon. Labor’s hard. And it hurts!”

  Jake grinned. “Glad to hear we’re finally in agreement.”

  Miranda knew the memory of the pain would fade. It was one of the things her mother had told her that she’d never forgotten. But there was no sense making Jake worry. That could wait until she was pregnant again.

  “What should we name him?” she asked. She hadn’t been willing to choose a name before the baby was born, because it might bring bad luck.

  “How about naming him after your father?”

  “Oh, Jake, that’s a lovely idea. You wouldn’t mind?”

  “I promised Nick and Harry we would,” he admitted sheepishly.

  “Welcome to the family, William Jarrett Creed,” Miranda said.

  Jake looked startled.

  “It’s only fair he should be named after both our fathers,” Miranda said.

  “Hello, Will,” Jake said as he reached out to his son. The baby gripped his finger and held on. “I forgot how small they are when they’re born.”

  “He’ll grow fast.” And we’ll give him lots of brothers and sisters to play with.

  “Can we come in now?” Nick called from the doorway.

  “Come on in,” Jake said. “Just be careful not to jostle your sister.”

  Nick and Harry scrambled onto the bed and crawled to Miranda’s side so they could look at the baby. Slim wheeled his chair in with Anna Mae in his lap.

  Jake sat beside Miranda and slid his arm protectively around her shoulder. Harry cuddled up close and Nick sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Slim wheeled his chair close enough for Anna Mae to leap into Jake’s arms.

  “Baby Will!” she said delightedly.

  “I’m sorry it’s not a sister,” Miranda said to the little girl. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

  Jake shot her a stunned look, but she just laughed. She refused to think of the past or the future. She looked around her and felt … happy.

  Life as a mail-order bride was not what she’d expected. Life was never what one expected. But she loved and was loved. What more could one ask?

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Faithful Readers,

  I hope you enjoyed Texas Bride, the first book in my Mail-Order Brides series. Watch for Wyoming Bride (Hannah’s story), Montana Bride (Hetty’s story), and Blac
kthorne’s Bride (Josie’s story).

  The Blackthornes were first featured in my Regency-era Captive Hearts series. The Creeds were introduced in my Sisters of the Lone Star series. You can find a list of the books in both series in the front of this book.

  Be sure to check out my website, www.joanjohnston.com, for more information about the Creeds and Blackthornes, for publication dates, to contact me personally, or to sign up to receive an e-newsletter when the next book is in stores.

  Happy reading,

  Joan Johnston

  This book is dedicated to

  my friend and tennis coach

  Sue Gutierrez

  for teaching me to love the game.

  DELL BOOKS BY JOAN JOHNSTON

  Mail-Order Brides series

  Texas Bride

  Bitter Creek Series

  The Cowboy

  The Texan

  The Loner

  Captive Hearts Series

  Captive

  After the Kiss

  The Bodyguard

  The Bridegroom

  Sisters of the Lone Star Trilogy

  Frontier Woman

  Comanche Woman

  Texas Woman

  Connected Books

  The Barefoot Bride

  Outlaw’s Bride

  The Inheritance

  Maverick Heart

  And don’t miss …

  Sweetwater Seduction

  Kid Calhoun

  Did Texas Bride steal your heart?

  You won’t want to miss

  the adventures

  of the other Wentworth sisters

  as they seek love in the Wild West!

  Read on for a sneak peek at

  Wyoming Bride,

  the story of Hannah Wentworth.

  Hannah had never been so scared in her life, but running wasn’t an option. If she didn’t go through with her part of the marriage bargain, Mr. McMurtry might not go through with his. Her husband had left her alone in their room at the Palmer House Hotel to ready herself for bed. It had taken less than no time to strip out of her dress and put on the flannel nightgown that was all she owned. She paced the outlines of the canopied bed without ever going near it.