The Bride Price

by Tracey Jane Jackson

  Christine left the couple to enter the ballroom.

  “Nothing. I just hate that I couldn’t run up the stairs and get you myself. Too many people around.” Jamie leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look incredible, love.”

  “Thank you for the dress. I can’t believe you remembered all the details.”

  Jamie chuckled. “I’m observant. Did you forget?”

  Sophie slid her hands under his jacket and kissed his neck. “Never.”

  “I also put it on you a hundred times.”

  “And took it off me a hundred times, if I recall,” Sophie said with a secret smile.

  Jamie kissed her quickly and then presented his arm. “Are you ready to face our new families, Ten-Cow?”

  Sophie slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and leaned against him for support. She covered her mouth with her fingers, took a deep breath, and squeezed her eyes shut.

  He squeezed her hand and she heard the concern in his voice when he whispered, “Honey, are you okay?”

  “Just feeling a little sick.” She dropped her head onto his shoulder. “I think I got a little overheated today.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  She took another deep breath and forced a smile. “No. It’s passed. Let’s go.”

  They found Nona and Michael standing by the ballroom doors waiting to escort them in. Sophie’s nerves seemed to get the better of her, and she clung to Jamie for support. He kissed her cheek and whispered, “Relax, baby. I’m right here.”

  The moment the foursome entered the ballroom, they were confronted with a sea of faces.

  “Surprise!” everyone shouted in unison.

  She looked at Jamie. “What did you do?”

  Before he could answer, the butler came in with a cake and twenty-seven candles.

  “Make a wish, sweetheart.” Jamie pushed her gently forward.

  “There’s only one thing that would make this life perfect.” She closed her eyes and blew out her candles. They fluttered out after one blow, and the crowd applauded as Jamie kissed her and helped her cut the cake.

  “Thank you, everyone! This is a wonderful surprise.” Sophie beamed at the crowd. “Please,” she motioned to the dance floor, “dance and enjoy.”

  The musicians took her cue and started up a lively quadrille. Jamie took her hand and squeezed it. “How are you feeling?”

  Sophie grinned. “Perfectly fine.” Her nausea had gone as quickly as it had come.

  “Your ladies are waving you over.”

  Sophie glanced at the tables by the French doors and waved back. Elizabeth and Christine were giggling and conspiring like teenagers, motioning for her to join them. Jamie kissed her cheek and whispered, “Join them, love. I’ll find Andrew.”

  She made her way to the table. “What are you two conspiring?”

  Christine laid her palm on her chest. “Us?”

  Sophie smirked as she took a seat between them and thanked the man who laid a piece of cake in front of her. Before she could take a bite, however, Michael pulled her aside and handed her a piece of paper.

  Sophie raised an eyebrow in question. “What’s this?”

  Michael smiled. “It’s a transfer of ownership.”

  She let out a quiet gasp. “For what?”

  “Have a look.”

  She unfolded and read the note, and her eyes filled with tears instantly. “Michael, I can’t accept this.”

  Michael gave a little chuckle. “Sophie, you have to accept this. You have ruined him for anyone else. I have been told that he pines when you’re not around, and I can’t have a horse that doesn’t act like a horse.”

  Sophie leaned over and kissed his cheek. “This is incredible. I love that horse more than you could ever imagine. Thank you.”

  “It’s my pleasure. And, of course, I hope you’ll keep him in our stables until you can build your own,” he said.

  Sophie saw Jamie and Andrew approaching. Jamie’s face showed concern, so she wiped her tears and plastered a smile on her face. Jamie reached her side and Sophie handed him the note. Michael excused himself and Sophie noticed a smirk on Andrew’s face. “Did you know about this?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I did.” Andrew chuckled. “I almost let you in on the surprise the other day. Did I cover it up well enough?”

  “I had no clue, Andrew. You did well.”

  Andrew lifted her hand and kissed her fingers before leaving them to find his siblings.

  Jamie pulled Sophie into one of the alcoves for a moment of privacy. “What are you doing, Mr. Ford?”

  “I am accosting you, Mrs. Ford.” Jamie leaned down and kissed her.

  “Sophie?”

  Hearing Christine’s voice calling for her, she dropped her forehead into Jamie’s chest. “Just when it was getting fun.”

  “Give me a second before you answer her,” Jamie requested.

  Sophie grinned up at him. He got half a second before they were pulled from their hiding place at the insistence of Christine. “Time to toast the happy couple.”

  Nona waved the couple to the center of the room and insisted on a few speeches. Sophie blushed under the wonderful things everyone had to say and generosity of their gifts. The family spent the next few minutes congratulating them, and then it was time for everyone to leave and the group made their way to the door.

  Sophie followed the group out onto the porch, Jamie’s hand firmly linked with hers. They waved as the buggies disappeared down the drive. Andrew and Christine stood with them, intending to stay for a bit longer. The evening grew cooler as the sun set and Sophie sighed as Jamie guided her toward the front door. “Time to go, sweetheart.”

  “Just one more minute? I don’t want to go inside just yet.”

  Jamie shook his head. “Ten-Cow, it’s not safe. Come on inside.”

  “Fine.” Sophie huffed and pulled away from Jamie to follow him inside. As she turned, she heard a sudden whoosh, then excruciating pain in her arm, and the sound of her own voice screaming.

  “Sophie!” Jamie threw her to the ground and covered her body.

  Andrew jumped over the porch railing and ran in the direction of the threat, as Christine knelt beside Sophie and cradled her head in her lap. “What was that?”

  Jamie climbed off Sophie to assess the situation. Blood oozed from her arm. He pulled out his handkerchief and pushed it against the wound.

  “Jamie,” Sophie moaned. “What happened?”

  “You’ve been shot,” he replied as he frantically tried to get the bleeding to stop.

  Sophie pulled away from his hand. “It burns.”

  “I know, baby. Christine, can you get Michael, please?”

  Christine nodded and rushed inside.

  “Sophie, I need to get you in the house. I’m going to lift you, okay?”

  “I think I can stand.”

  Jamie’s eyebrows puckered. “Are you sure?”

  Sophie nodded and braced her uninjured arm around Jamie’s neck. With his hand around her waist, he lifted her, stopping when he heard her whimper. “I’m going to be sick.” Jamie held her until her stomach settled. “This really, really hurts.”

  He lifted her into his arms. “I know, sweetheart.” Jamie carried her upstairs, his voice shaking as he settled her gently on the bed and said, “I need to get your clothing off you.”

  Sophie stood and braced her good arm against the bedpost so that Jamie could unbutton her gown. She dropped her forehead against her arm and took a deep breath. With shaky hands, Jamie tugged and tore at the corset, in an effort to give her breathing room. As he pushed the garment from her hips, Sophie stumbled.

  “Sophie?” Jamie caught her as she lost consciousness and laid her on the bed, his heart racing in fear.

  The door flew open, bringing Michael, followed closely by Christine.

  “She’s been shot,” Jamie said. “And now, she’s unconscious. I don’t know how bad the wound is.”

  “Step aside, son.�
�

  Jamie felt Christine’s hand tugging gently on his arm. He looked up and stepped back to give Michael space to work. Pacing the room, Jamie felt as though his world was slipping away, reminders of their future and Sophie’s disease slowly ripping the life from her.

  “James?”

  “Hm?”

  “It’s a flesh wound. There is no bullet and with a few stitches, Sophie should be fine.” Michael patted his shoulder.

  Jamie rushed to her side and stroked her cheek.

  Michael caught his eye and said, “I think I should try and stitch the wound while she isn’t lucid.”

  Jamie nodded. “All right, will you please hurry?”

  At Jamie’s insistence, Michael washed his hands and then prepared a needle for Sophie’s wound. “You’re both going to have to hold her down in case she wakes up.”

  Jamie stretched out beside her, pinning her good arm behind his back. He wrapped one arm under her neck and the other around her waist, while Christine sat at her feet just in case she began to kick. Michael pulled a chair next to the bed and got her arm into position.

  “Ready?” Michael asked Jamie.

  Tears filling his eyes, he nodded and held Sophie a little tighter. As soon as the needle hit her flesh, Sophie woke with a scream, and tried to pull her body away. She pounded Jamie’s back with the arm trapped behind him in an attempt to get him to move.

  “Shh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Michael has to close the wound.”

  Sophie screamed again, her head thrashing against the pillow.

  Jamie grimaced. “Hurry, Michael.”

  Christine sat on her feet to keep them still, and sweat beaded her forehead from the effort.

  “I’m almost done.” Michael kept his head down and inserted the needle again.

  “Jamie!” Sophie begged.

  “Just relax, Ten-Cow, it’s almost over,” Jamie whispered.

  “Make it stop! Make it stop!”

  Michael stepped back. “I’m done.”

  Jamie loosened his hold and Sophie rolled toward him. She threw up, her sobbing uncontrollable. Jamie watched her agony, certain the pain would be overwhelming. Jamie held her hair and stroked her back until her spasms subsided. Christine cleaned the blood from her arm and bandaged the wound, tight enough to stop the bleeding, while Jamie climbed off the bed and followed Michael to the door.

  “I’ll make a poultice,” Michael said. “We’ll begin putting that on her in the morning. For now, I can give her laudanum or morphine for the pain and to help her sleep.”

  “No,” Sophie groaned.

  Jamie winced. “I’ll find you if her pain worsens.”

  Michael nodded and then left them to tend to Sophie. A tense twenty minutes passed as they worked to control Sophie’s pain and calm her frayed nerves. Jamie lifted Sophie from the bed and carried her to one of the chairs.

  “Jamie, you should get cleaned up.” Christine gathered the dirty rags. “I’ll retrieve fresh linens.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

  “It’s okay, Jamie,” Sophie rasped.

  Jamie leaned over and stroked her cheek. “I don’t want to leave you, sweetheart.”

  “You have puke all over you.” Sophie took a deep breath. “I’ll be fine. I think the worst is over, and you really need to change.

  Jamie sighed. “All right. But I’ll wait until Christine returns with sheets.”

  Christine took the cue and left the room.

  Sophie nodded. “I can live with that.” She squeezed her eyes shut and reached for her arm. “This really, really hurts.”

  Jamie pulled her hand away. “I know.”

  Christine returned with Betty in tow, and Jamie leaned over and kissed Sophie’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

  “Fine.”

  Jamie left the room and made his way out the front door. As he stepped off the back porch on his way to the stables, he was met by Andrew. “We got him.”

  “The shooter?”

  Andrew nodded. “Clayton is interrogating him now.”

  Jamie slapped his shoulder. “Well done. Thank you.”

  “How’s Sophie?”

  “The bullet clipped her arm.” Jamie dragged a hand down his face. “She needed stitches but I think she’ll be fine.”

  “What happened to you?” Andrew pointed to the stain on the front of his shirt.

  Jamie grimaced. “Sophie got sick.”

  Andrew stepped back slightly. “Do you have a change of clothing?”

  “I do. I think I’m going to make a stop at the lake and then check in with Clayton.”

  Andrew nodded. “Well, if you need anything, let me know.”

  Jamie grabbed a horse and made his way out to the lake. After cleaning up, he rode back to the Madden’s. Met by their housekeeper, Jamie was shown into the parlor, and instructed to wait. He didn’t have to wait for long.

  “Jamie?”

  Turning, he reached his hand out as Clayton walked in. “What did you find out?”

  “The man said his name was Victor Cary.”

  “Was? What happened?”

  Clayton nodded. “He’s dead.”

  Jamie crossed his arms. “How?”

  “I don’t know what happened. He was speaking and then white foam spilled from his mouth. He fell from the chair and didn’t move again.”

  “Poison,” Jamie whispered.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing.” Jamie pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are we sure he was the shooter?”

  “Yes. Andrew confiscated his gun—”

  Jamie’s head whipped up, cutting Clayton’s answer off. “Where is the gun?”

  Clayton frowned. “Andrew said he disposed of it.”

  Jamie relaxed. “Ah, well, great.”

  Clayton crossed his arms. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “No, it appears you and Andrew have everything in hand. Please let me know if you need anything from me.” Jamie forced a smile. “I should get back to Sophie. I’ll let myself out.”

  Jamie jogged back to the Wades house and rushed inside. Climbing the stairs, he met Christine on the landing. “How is she?”

  “In pain,” Christine said. “She seems more comfortable since we changed the bedding and put her in a nightgown, but she’s putting up a brave front.”

  Jamie smiled and squeezed Christine’s arm. “Thank you. I’ll take over from here.”

  Christine smiled. “I’ll be back to check on her in an hour.”

  “You’re a good friend, Christine.” Jamie let himself into the room and found Sophie teetering at the edge of the bed. Rushing to her side, he settled his hands on either side of her hips to steady her. “Ten-Cow, what’s wrong?”

  She scowled up at him. “I’m thirsty. Oh. And I was shot.”

  “Sweetheart, get back into bed. I’ll get you a glass of water, and anything else you need.”

  She nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to forgive.” He handed her the water. “Clayton interrogated the shooter.”

  “And?” Sophie climbed back onto the bed.

  “It was Victor Cary—and he’s dead.”

  Sophie grabbed his arm before he could leave her side. “How?”

  “Poison, as far as I can tell.”

  Jamie filled her in on his conversation with Clayton.

  Sophie gasped. “That sounds so very secret black ops or something.”

  He chuckled. “I know.”

  Sophie shook her head. “How did the shooter get the poison?”

  “He must have hidden a cyanide capsule in his mouth.”

  “Wow.” Sophie sipped her water. “How do you think he knew about me?”

  Jamie paused for a minute.

  “Jamie?”

  Jamie sat heavily on the bed. “Do you remember that secret donation to the company last year?”

  “The one you had to have your accountant track?”

  Jamie nodded. “Ye
s. It was from the Cary family.”

  Sophie sat up with a gasp. “The Cary family?”

  “Yes.”

  “The ‘let’s buy up every political seat in Washington State’ Cary family?”

  “Yes.”

  “Holy cow, Jamie. That’s huge.” Sophie frowned. “Is that why Brian was so freaked out when he called?”

  Jamie nodded. “He wanted to keep the money, but I made sure it was all returned with a note of ‘thanks but no thanks.’”

  Sophie rubbed her forehead. “Do you think Cary knew the connection before they sent the money?”

  Jamie shrugged. “I don’t know, but it would seem so.”

  “Bernadette says I’m to make sure history stays the same. Granted, I know a lot about the war, but I don’t know everything. I suppose if Victor Cary is dead, I won’t have any trouble keeping things on track, will I?”

  Jamie dragged his hands down his face. “Nope, and it means I don’t have to kill him.”

  “James William,” Sophie admonished. “When did you become so violent?”

  Jamie shrugged. “Probably when you got shot.”

  “I’m going to be fine.” Sophie sighed. “I wonder what Andrew did with the gun. I’m dying to know if it’s from our time.”

  “I’ll ask Andrew tomorrow to fill in the blanks. For now, I want you to rest.”

  “I feel like that’s all I ever do.” Sophie raised her hand to her bandage.

  Jamie caught her hand and pulled it away. “Don’t touch it, baby.”

  “It burns.”

  “Do you want me to get you something?” Jamie frowned when Sophie squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?” Sophie burst into tears, and Jamie pulled her into his arms briefly. “I’ll be right back.”

  Once he found the doctor, he rushed back to the bedroom. “Michael’s bringing morphine.”

  She nodded with a whimper. Her door opened, and Michael walked in, holding a syringe that reminded Jamie of several horror movies he’d seen.

  “Is that a new needle?”

  Michael raised an eyebrow. “As a matter of fact, it is. They’re good for several uses, but this one is new.”

  Jamie relaxed. “Good. Please promise me you will only use this needle on Sophie. No one else.”

  The doctor frowned. “Seems like a waste to me.”

  “Michael, please. It’s important to me.”