The Convenient Bride Collection: 9 Romances Grow from Marriage Partnerships Formed Out of Necessity
Page 39
He often sat on the porch and watched the water flow by. It was the same water that would one day pass St. Louis, and then go on to New Orleans. It was a tangible connection to the people he loved most in the world.
Alexandre set his Bible on the little table next to his rocker and stood. Maybe he would take a walk and clear his mind, so he could prepare his sermon.
He put his hands in his pockets and walked to the riverbank, staring into its murky depths. Summer was at its peak, and the prairie was alive with life. Birds sailed through the air, singing to one another, while ground animals scampered on their quest to put up food for the winter. But all Alexandre could focus on was the prayer he had uttered every day since leaving St. Louis: “God, please ease the pain in my heart, and let Josette fade into a distant memory.”
Instead of fading away, his love only grew, until he thought his soul would jump out of his body to seek after Josette.
A rattle on the road startled him out of his melancholy. The stagecoach passed by on Friday afternoons, and Alexandre usually waved at the driver as he sat atop the shiny red vehicle.
But today, the stagecoach didn’t drive by. It stopped.
Alexandre turned from the river and strode through the tall grass to the front of his home. Hopefully no one was sick, or injured. Maybe the driver just wanted to chat for a few moments.
A movement in the back of the stagecoach brought Alexandre to a sudden halt. Through the small window he could see two women. The one closest to him was a stranger—but the other looked just like Josette.
His heart raced. Was he imagining? Had his grief taken him too far?
The driver jumped down and shouted howdy before opening the stagecoach door.
Alexandre held his breath as one of the women stepped to the opening.
She wore a beautiful blue traveling gown with a matching hat, and when she lifted her face, she offered Alexandre the biggest smile he’d ever seen.
“Josette.” He said her name like an answer to prayer. He raced to the stagecoach and lifted her off the step, hugging her in a massive embrace.
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his face, over and over, until she was giggling and breathless. “Alexandre.”
Her laughter was like a balm to his weary soul. “Why are you here?”
She smiled, tears glistening in her beautiful brown eyes. “Because you’re here.”
He wanted to believe what he was hearing—but he had to be sure. “Ma chérie, are you here to stay?”
She smiled and then leaned down and whispered into his ear. “If you’ll have me, I’m here forever.”
Alexandre didn’t care if he had an audience—he wanted to kiss his wife.
And that’s exactly what he did.
Gabrielle Meyer lives in central Minnesota on the banks of the Mississippi River with her husband and four young children. As an employee of the Minnesota Historical Society, she fell in love with the rich history of her state and enjoys writing fictional stories inspired by real people and events. Gabrielle can be found at www.gabriellemeyer.com where she writes about her passion for history, Minnesota, and her faith.
WEDDED TO HONOR
Jennifer Uhlarik
Dedication
To Colleen S., Ginny H., Joy M., Michele M., Ruth R., Sarah H., and Shannon M.—thank you all for the prayer support, encouraging words, critiques, and reminders of God’s faithfulness through the process of writing this story. I could not have done this one without you. And to my husband, who has graciously put up with frozen meals, takeout, and a wife who has been MIA for a month while I finished up the story. You are a blessing!
Chapter 1
Petaluma, California
August 2, 1875
Soft hands. Far smoother than her calloused palms. With hands like those, the man couldn’t have worked a single day in his life.
Honor Cahill squeezed her eyes shut. Stop it. You asked for this.
If she’d had more time, perhaps someone better would have replied. Someone more suited. She shook her head. This Eastern-bred dandy was the only one to answer her Matrimonial News ad, and she had no time to waste. This all had to be accomplished today.
She stared up at the stranger before her. His brown eyes narrowed in response, his thick dark hair falling in soft waves across his forehead. At least he was handsome.
Honor adjusted her grip on his sweaty palms. The preacher’s voice droned on like the buzzing of a bee until, finally, it landed.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
A vise cinched tight around her chest. She was someone’s wife. And her husband was nothing more than a stranger in a fine suit.
An uncomfortable stillness swelled as Ashton Rutherford leaned in. Honor drew back, and the preacher arched a brow. Her stomach knotted. Oh, botheration. She inhaled deeply and, heart pounding, pecked him on the lips. When she pulled away, he lingered there for an instant then straightened, an amused grin painting his mouth. The preacher and witnesses—all strangers—stared.
Her new husband chuckled. “My bride must have a few wedding day jitters, Reverend. I’m sure she’ll kiss me more soundly in private. Won’t you, sweetness?”
Heat leaped to her cheeks. How dare he—
A perplexed smile flickered across the man of God’s face. “Um, congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford.”
Mrs. Rutherford. The weight of the name descended like a shroud. She’d never dreamed she’d marry. Her … backward Honor Cahill. And it had all happened so suddenly. Surely, there had to be another way to save her beloved ranch.
Honor huffed. No sense kidding herself. There was no other way. She tugged at her dress, smothered by petticoats and corset. A lump swelled her throat.
The deed was done. No turning back.
Her new husband shook the preacher’s hand, and after signing the marriage certificate, they excused themselves. His hand at the small of her back, he guided her toward the church door and out into the late-morning sun. Honor shielded her eyes.
“So, sweetness, where are we off to now?”
“My name is Honor Cahill. I expect to be called that.”
“Rutherford.” He smiled.
Honor stilled. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your name is Honor Rutherford, sweetness.” The cleft in his chin deepened.
“Call me that again,” she dared.
His brows shot up. “Call you what? Rutherford or sweetness?” Oh, but he and that stupid cleft in his chin were mocking her.
Honor drove the heel of her boot onto his instep, and he howled.
“Call me sweetness again, and I’m liable to shoot you.” She strode to her wagon and climbed aboard. “Now get your sorry hide over here, or find your own way to Rancho Regalo de Esperanza.”
His young bride knew her mind and wasn’t afraid to speak it. A far different kind of woman than he was used to.
Ash hobbled to the side of the wagon. At least they’d had the foresight to load his trunks before the impromptu ceremony. That chore would’ve been more difficult with his recently acquired limp. Now they could get on to Rancho whatever-she-called-it and figure out what to do next. After one brief stop.
He clambered up beside her, reaching for the reins. His new bride turned a heated blue-eyed gaze his way, and he stilled, hands in mid-reach. “You don’t want me to drive?”
Annoyance flitted across her pretty features. “Do you know where you’re going?”
“No, but you could direct me.” Sweetness.
She snorted. “I’ll drive, thank you very much.”
“Then by all means, Mrs. Rutherford. Proceed.” He grinned at her clenched teeth. “Although I have one brief errand to run before leaving town.”
“You couldn’t have run your errands on Saturday? It’s several hours’ drive to Santa Rosa, where we have a four o’clock appointment.”
Ah, yes. The reading of her father’s will. She’d mentioned it moments after they met the
previous day. Given his recently awarded law degree, it would be interesting to see the workings of the California court system, especially since Santa Rosa was the county seat. “I’d like to stop by the telegraph office and send the news of our nuptials to my parents. Not something I could have done previously.”
His bride’s face softened, and her cheeks paled. “You have family?”
Ash nodded. “Mother, Father, and three sisters—one older and two younger.”
“Oh.” She turned the wagon toward the heart of town. “How do you expect this news to be received?”
“Not well.” Ash chuckled. “Father will be livid, and Mother, wounded.”
“Why would you agree to marry me if it would hurt your family?”
“I’m tired of having every detail of my life planned for me.” Ash was his parents’ only son, and his father had taken great liberty in dictating his friends, courses of study, and career path. Despite Ash’s protests, he’d been groomed to become just like Father. He wanted to make his own way in the world, and that didn’t include returning to Philadelphia.
He eyed his bride, a smile playing about his lips. Her Matrimonial News ad had said she was “a woman of some means.” She was handsome enough, with delicate features and mounds of light brown curls arranged atop her head. Her only flaw was her sun-kissed complexion, though the color looked fetching on her.
“What?” She shot him a sidelong glance. “Have I got dirt smeared on my face or something?”
Ash couldn’t help but laugh. “No.”
“Then quit gawking at me like I wallowed in pig slop. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
Wallowed in pig slop? He faced front again, chuckling. Yes, she had spunk. The very opposite of every woman Father had paraded before him in Philadelphia. Each was from a wealthy family, hand-selected for her father’s status or wealth, and each had carried herself with perfect comportment, just like Mother. Any one of them would have made a proper wife, but he’d seen the cold, loveless marriage his parents shared—and the sterile, businesslike union his eldest sister shared with her husband. If he was to be relegated to such a union, he wanted the selection of a bride to be his choice. By marrying the spirited Honor Cahill, he’d assured it was.
Certainly, he could have chosen not to return to Philadelphia without marrying Honor, but Father would spare no expense in finding him and persuading him to return. By marrying her, Ash provided himself an unequivocal reason to remain out west. His bride’s home was here, and she had no desire to leave.
She turned down another street and stopped in front of the building on the far end of the little road. “There’s the telegraph office.”
“Thank you.” He climbed down. “This shouldn’t take long.”
Ash stashed the marriage certificate beside the edition of the Matrimonial News containing her ad, as well as their brief letters, in the nearest trunk, then stepped into the dismal little building. The telegrapher offered a dull greeting as Ash retrieved paper and pencil and wrote out his brief message.
Not returning to Philadelphia. Married a woman of some means. Residing near Santa Rosa.
A.W.R.III
As the telegrapher took the message, Ash gripped the wood counter. There was no doubt that Ashton Wendell Rutherford Junior would become furious at the abrupt message. Ash was prepared to deal with the consequences, as well as the guilt his mother would serve him. What gnawed at him was the thought of his beloved younger sisters, Lucy and Eliza, finding out that he had broken his promise to return home soon.
Chapter 2
Santa Rosa, California
That Afternoon
Judges don’t like to be kept waiting.” Her groom snapped the cover of his pocket watch closed and looked at her. “Shouldn’t we go inside?”
“Where’s the marriage certificate?” Honor peered around his trunks and stopped short when she caught sight of the family Bible she’d brought from home. Nausea threatened to overtake her as she gripped the side of the wagon box. She’d toted the precious tome all the way to Petaluma in order to record their names on the marriage page after the wedding, but the thought of doing so set her to trembling.
“It’s in here.” Ash tapped a trunk lid.
She opened the lid and snatched the folded document as if it were a lifeline.
“Slow down there. Why do you need the certificate?” Ash caught her trembling hands in his steady ones. His brown eyes brimmed with compassion.
Honor gulped. “It’s … very important. We should take it with us for safekeeping.”
He shook his head. “What has you so scared?”
Honor squared her shoulders and pulled her hands from his grasp. “I’m most certainly not scared.” Terrified more like, but she wasn’t about to say that to him. She tugged at her restrictive bodice for the hundredth time and stared at the courthouse. “It’s just that the reading of Papa’s will is so …”
“Final.”
Her breath hitched and her throat knotted. She clamped her eyes shut.
Ash drew her into his arms. Despite her better judgment, she couldn’t resist. The warm embrace soothed something deep within her.
“I’m sorry. This must be very hard for you.”
At his gentle words, she pulled away and gulped down her emotion. Confusion clouded his expression.
Pull yourself together, Honor.
Again, she tugged at her restrictive clothing. If only she could have worn her trousers and shirt, rather than the confining dress and underthings. She swallowed down the threatening tears. “I’m ready.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. As ready as she could be.
Ash tucked the marriage certificate into his coat pocket and offered her his arm. “I know we’re all but strangers, but would you allow me the pleasure?”
Honor’s smile wobbled as she slipped an awkward hand into the crook of her groom’s elbow. They crossed the street and marched through the doors of the large courthouse. Now just to find the right courtroom …
Few people were in the stuffy hallway, but at one end of the corridor, two boys stood guard outside the courtroom. Levi and Sam Donovan. When they caught sight of her, Levi beckoned. Both boys disappeared inside. Surely they had been stationed there by their father when she hadn’t arrived on time. Honor stopped and pulled free, heart hammering. Had they noticed her hanging on a stranger?
Ash stalled mid-step. “What’s wrong?”
Beyond that door, her lifelong friends waited, and in moments they’d know she’d secretly married. “For now, please …”
At her hesitation, his eyebrows arched. “Please what?”
Don’t let on that we got hitched.
“Nothing. It’s not important.” Silly, actually. Honor swung the door open.
With his hand at the small of her back, Ash ushered her into the room. Judge Sutton eyed them from his bench. On the right side of the courtroom, her half brother Nate sat alone. On the left, Teagan and Ellie Donovan, along with their four children, filled the second row. All eyes focused on her then shifted to Ash, half a step behind. She made eye contact with no one.
“Nice of you to join us, Miss Cahill.” The judge’s stern tone sent a shiver through her. She’d always found the man unsettling, the little she’d seen of him. Now, he was downright off-putting.
She stepped into the front row and Ash slid in beside her. She remained standing. “Please forgive me, sir. I had important business in Petaluma and only just returned.”
“Your father made the unusual request that I sit in on the reading of his will. Was your business so important that it required delaying my last case for the day?”
She fidgeted. “It had to do with the reading, Your Honor.”
“Oh? How did business in Petaluma relate to the reading of a will in Santa Rosa?”
“This is Ashton Rutherford.” Honor fidgeted with the folds of her dress. “He’s a lawyer. I went to Petaluma to meet with him.” Please don’t ask more. Not yet …
Judge Sutton shifted his attention to Ash. “Is that correct, Mr. Rutherford? You’re Miss Cahill’s attorney?”
Please, don’t say too much.…
“I suppose that is correct, Your Honor.” Ash gave a genteel nod. “And please accept my sincere apologies for our tardiness as well.”
“You suppose …” The judge huffed. “Fine. Let’s get this done.” Honor and Ash sat. “We are here today for the reading of Orrin Cahill’s last will and testament. Is the executor present?”
Behind them, wood creaked. Her father’s longtime friend, Teagan Donovan, rested a hand on her shoulder as he stood. The simple gesture warmed her.
Teagan cleared his throat. “I am, sir.”
“Are all the parties now present?”
“Yes, sir.” Teagan gave Honor’s shoulder a little squeeze.
“You have the will?” When Teagan held up an envelope, Judge Sutton beckoned. “Bring it to me, please.”
Teagan walked the envelope up to the judge, who broke the seal and looked the contents over. Nate shot a cold glare her way. She faced front and avoided Ash’s gaze.
After a long moment, the judge handed the papers back to Teagan. “All appears in order. You may read the document.”
Teagan cleared his throat and caught Honor’s eye before beginning. “I, Orrin Augustus Cahill, do solemnly swear that the following words shall serve as my last will and testament, dated November 14, 1874.”
Honor’s heart lurched, and she closed her eyes. Papa wasn’t coming back, and life wouldn’t ever be the same. She had only vague recollections of her mother, who died before Honor turned four. Papa had been the central figure in her world ever since. How would she carry on?
A warm hand covered hers. Startled, she looked at Ash, who twitched a smile at her and winked. Bother! Ellie and Julia were seated on the row behind. What would they think, her holding a man’s hand?
“I have had difficulty in trying to fairly divide my property between my two children, as I love them both equally. It is my desire for Rancho Regalo de Esperanza to stay in my family line for generations to come, but as of this writing, my son, Nathaniel Acacio Cahill, born February 16, 1843, has proven a poor manager of the twenty-five-hundred acres I gifted him in 1864. I fear that giving him more would end in the same result.”