The Bride Price

by Tracey Jane Jackson

  “Well, I suppose, if that’s your wish.” Michael administered the morphine and then left them alone again.

  Jamie stretched out beside her and watched her eyes turn to glass. “How’s the pain now, love?”

  Sophie turned her head to face him. “I think it’s still there but I don’t care.”

  Jamie chuckled and pulled her close, sweeping her hair away from her cheek. He held her until she fell asleep, and watched her for several minutes before letting himself join her in slumber.

  * * *

  Jamie woke the next morning to find Sophie climbing back into bed. “Sophie Jane, what are you doing?”

  “I was thirsty.” Placing her hand on his chest, she pushed him back onto the bed. “No, don’t get up. I’m perfectly capable of getting some water.”

  “How’s your arm?”

  “It hurts.”

  Jamie sat up. “Do I need to get you more pain meds?”

  Sophie shook her head. “No. My headache is almost as bad as my arm, so I’d rather refrain.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  Sophie rubbed her forehead. “I wish we had some milder pain meds.”

  “Wasn’t aspirin invented in this century?”

  Sophie sighed and folded herself into Jamie’s chest. “Yes, but the buffered version isn’t created for another thirty years or so, and in Germany, which won’t help Americans for several years. Plus, at the beginning it did more harm than good, so it wouldn’t be an option anyway.”

  Jamie chuckled and kissed her head. Sophie raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Your brain’s ability to hold that much information astounds me.”

  Sophie smiled. “I do love to astound you.”

  “Baby, your arm’s bleeding.” Jamie pushed himself from the bed and pulled her with him. “Come sit in the chair so I can look at it.”

  Sophie sat by the fireplace and tried not to wince as Jamie unwrapped her blood-soaked bandage. “It’s puckered and red. Do you feel sick? Like, fever sick.”

  Shaking her head, she swallowed but didn’t respond.

  “I’ll be right back.” Jamie dressed quickly and rushed to find Michael, who followed him back to the room, bandages and poultice in hand.

  Jamie knelt next to Sophie’s chair and waited, rather impatiently, for Michael to examine her arm. At Sophie’s groan, Jamie took her hand and held it to his lips. “Just look at me, Ten-Cow.”

  She nodded and turned tear-filled eyes toward him.

  “It doesn’t appear to be infected.” Michael squinted to get a better look. “Yet. The poultice should help with the pain, Sophie, and also help ward off infection.”

  Jamie stood and took the supplies from the doctor’s hands. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Michael nodded. “All right. Sophie, if you need more morphine, let me know.”

  “I will. Thanks, Michael.”

  Jamie waited for him to leave the room and then went to work on her arm. “You can break down now, Ten-Cow.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t contradict her. When he finished cleaning and bandaging her wound, he lifted her and settled her onto his lap. “I’ve got you.”

  Sophie leaned her cheek against his shoulder and cried.

  * * *

  One week later, Sophie’s arm was almost healed. The pain subsided, and an annoying itch replaced it. Christine and Nona focused on her wedding celebration, asking on occasion for her opinion but telling her she was in the way if she tried to help.

  With Jamie at the arena and her morning visit with Samson completed, Sophie wandered the house, uninterested in holing up in the library again. Just before lunch, she heard Jamie call her name. “In here, Jamie.”

  He rushed into the parlor and pulled her off the couch. “You need to change.”

  “Huh?”

  “Go put your breeches on and then meet me outside.”

  “Why?”

  Jamie kissed her and then grinned. “Just do it, Ten-Cow.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow but did as he asked, excited that they were obviously going for a ride. She took the stairs two at a time and changed quickly.

  As she stepped onto the porch, she heard a trumpeting hello. “Samson?”

  Shielding her eyes from the sun, Sophie saw Samson saddled and sidestepping, as Jamie tried to keep him from rushing the porch to get to her. Sophie let out a squeal of excitement and clapped her hands as she ran and threw herself into Jamie’s arms. “I get to ride him?”

  Jamie grinned as he caught her. “You do. Michael gave the okay. Are you ready?”

  Samson nudged her back with his muzzle and Sophie laughed. “Okay, boy, I’m coming.” She turned and stroked his face. “Will you fly with me?”

  “No flying, love. Slow and careful,” Jamie said as he helped her mount. She’d worn light skirts over her breeches, and she adjusted them for modesty while Jamie held Samson. Once she told him she was ready, Jamie jumped onto his horse and then led them toward the lake.

  “Race ya,” Sophie challenged and dug her heels into Samson’s side. Her heart soared as Samson responded. With a yell of pure joy, Sophie guided him to a fence, leaned her body forward, and gripped with her thighs. His front hooves rose and flew over the hurdle, clearing it with several feet to spare.

  The sound of pounding hooves barely registered behind her as she set Samson toward another fence. Once he cleared it, she slowed him to a trot and then a walk, and turned in surprise to find Jamie right next to her. “Hi.”

  Jamie smiled, despite the look of fear on his face. “Are you okay?”

  “Are you kidding me?” Sophie grinned. “I am the happiest I have been in a while.”

  “Well, could you please be happy and slower in the future?”

  Sophie laughed. “Probably not.”

  “Samson looks quite happy as well.”

  “I love this horse and he knows it.” Sophie slapped Samson’s neck and his ears went back to hear her voice. Sophie turned to Jamie. “Your riding has improved.”

  He smiled. “I’m in the saddle every day; I would hope it would have.”

  “Well, I’m impressed. And in love.” Her head dropped back and she smiled at the sky. “And happy.”

  “I have another surprise. Follow me.” Jamie led them to the lake and dismounted.

  He lifted Sophie from Samson and then gathered the supplies he’d attached to their saddles.

  “What have you got there?”

  Jamie took her hand and pulled her closer to the water. “I have food, blankets, and the rest of the day off to love you.”

  Sophie’s joy bubbled out with a laugh. “Well, then, let’s not waste any time.”

  * * *

  Several hours later, as the sun rose in the sky, Jamie suggested they head back for dinner but this time, their ride back was slower and filled with conversation.

  “Thank you for my life, Jamie.”

  Jamie smiled and reached over to squeeze her knee. “Thank you for living.”

  The couple arrived back at the barn. Sophie spent some extra time to shower attention on Samson. He was dozing when she finally left his stall. Sophie took Jamie’s outstretched hand and followed him to the house. Dinner included Andrew and Christine, but Michael and Nona were with friends, so the four of them lingered over their meal.

  “I have what you’ve been asking for,” Andrew said to Jamie.

  “Where?” Jamie whispered.

  “Perhaps we could have drinks in the library.” Andrew stood. “We can discuss it in there.” Andrew led them into the library before closing the door and slipping the lock.

  Sophie raised an eyebrow in Christine’s direction, but her slender shoulder rose in a shrug. The three watched Andrew make his way to the window seat.

  Throwing the pillows to the ground, he pulled out a rather large knife and pried a loose board of wood from the top. Reaching inside, he pulled out a gun. Jamie whistled as Sophie gasped.

>   “That’s the gun?” Jamie asked, despite the obvious.

  Andrew nodded. “Yes, it’s the most incredible piece of artillery I have ever seen.”

  Jamie removed it from Andrew’s hands. “It’s some kind of Beretta.”

  Sophie moved closer and ran her hand over the serial number. “It kind of looks like a gun made in this century, don’t you think? In fact, it’s a little uncanny how much it looks like a Union issue rifle.”

  “Yes,” Andrew said.

  “That’s probably why they chose it.” Jamie raised it to eye level.

  “No, baby. Look. It’s been modified.” Sophie pointed to the trigger mechanism.

  As Jamie and Andrew studied the rifle, Sophie watched her husband’s face flicker with several emotions, including appreciation. “This is genius.”

  “Why?” Sophie asked.

  “They’ve essentially taken a Beretta and put it inside a Union issue rifle shell. Unless you were really looking at it, you probably wouldn’t know the difference.”

  Andrew’s breath came out in a whoosh. “The army could use this.”

  Sophie shook her head. “That would be dangerous, Andrew. We have to keep this hidden.”

  Andrew frowned. “I know. I just wish there was a way to utilize this for our side.”

  “Without ammo, it’s pretty useless anyway,” Jamie pointed out.

  “Why the window seat, Andrew?” Sophie asked.

  “You seem to be here more than most, so I figured it was the safest place.”

  Sophie grinned. “Smart.”

  Christine yawned. “Why don’t we put the gun back and sneak away to bed? I, for one, am exhausted.”

  Sophie nodded. “Good idea.”

  Jamie lowered the gun and nodded toward the door. “You girls go ahead. I need to speak with Andrew for a few minutes.”

  Sophie raised an eyebrow in question.

  “I’ll be up in a minute, Ten-Cow.”

  She reluctantly followed Christine out of the library and closed the door behind her.

  Jamie handed the gun back to Andrew and sat on the edge of the hearth. “Tell me what happened with the shooter.”

  Andrew grinned. “You’re far too intuitive.”

  “I have been accused of that before.”

  “He let it slip that he was Victor Cary, and was angry that he had failed.” Andrew placed the gun back in its hiding place.

  “Did he slip, Andrew, or do you think he was trying to throw us off track?”

  Andrew sat on the window seat and settled his forearms on his knees. “He convinced both Clayton and me, and I doubt he could have done that if he weren’t who he said he was. He had documentation proving who he was, as well.”

  “What kind of documentation?”

  Andrew pulled something from his pocket. “I had never seen anything like this, so I confiscated it before Clayton could see it. I assume it’s something from your time?”

  Jamie stood and took it from him. “It’s a license for Washington State. Most definitely from my time.”

  “The photograph was accurate.”

  Jamie slapped the plastic against his fingertips. “Thank God this is over.”

  Andrew nodded. “I assume you’ll want to keep that.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I’ll take my leave, then.”

  “I’ll walk you out.” Jamie walked Andrew to the door, and then made his way upstairs. Easing the bedroom door open, his heart slammed against his chest when he heard Sophie retching. “Honey, what happened? Are you okay?”

  Sophie groaned from her place bent over the bowl on her dresser. “I don’t know. I’ve been feeling sick for about an hour.”

  Jamie rushed to remove some of her clothes, quickly unlacing her corset to give her some breathing room. “You’re probably just hot and overwhelmed with everything. Come on, love, let’s get you into your nightgown.”

  Sophie was sick once more before Jamie helped her into bed and crawled in beside her. It didn’t take her long to fall asleep, but she didn’t stay that way for very long.

  Jamie, kept up all night with her, worried more with each passing hour. She finally fell asleep for good at three o’clock, so he stole a few hours of sleep. Woken at six by Sophie’s groan, he reached for the bowl. “I’m getting Michael.”

  He found him at the dining room table. Michael grabbed his medicine bag and followed Jamie upstairs. He was forced into the hallway and paced the aisle while Michael examined her.

  After what seemed like hours, Michael opened the door and patted Jamie on the shoulder. “You can see her now.”

  Jamie bolted into the room, relieved to see Sophie sitting by the window, looking much less green. “Baby?”

  “Hm, mm.” Sophie smiled.

  “So, what’s wrong? Why are you sick—” Jamie stalled. “Sophie, why are you smiling?”

  “Well…” Sophie laid her hand on her stomach. “It’s not PMS.”

  Jamie raised an eyebrow. “It’s not?”

  “No. We’re going to have to build a bigger house.”

  “Why?” Sophie stared pointedly at him. It took him a minute. “Seriously? NO way.”

  “Yes, way. You’re going to be a daddy.”

  He sat down and ran his hands through his hair. “Wow.” He jumped up and pulled her into his arms. “WOW!”

  Sophie laughed as he continued to repeat the word and hold her tighter with each passing minute.

  “Everything’s perfect.” Sophie reached up and cupped his cheek. “We’re staying.”

  He kissed her palm. “We’re staying.”

  * * *

  I was born and raised in New Zealand, and that’s where my love of horses was formed. My grandfather taught me to ride at four years old, and I couldn’t get enough.

  My love and passion for Abraham Lincoln and the entire Civil War era might have come from my American father; however, he lays no claim to influencing me. My mother used to tell me I was simply born in the wrong place in the wrong time.

  I haven’t always wanted to write. It took me a long time to get started, but now I don’t seem to be able to stop, the joy of escaping to the 1860s is too much fun.

  I’ve been happily married and gooey in love with my husband for sixteen years. We live in the Pacific Northwest with our two sons.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed The Bride Price.

  For other titles in the Civil War Brides Series, please visit: www.traceyjanejackson.com