“From the post office. Where else?” Her sister Patricia rolled her eyes.
“But I went to the post office with mother.”
“Not before eight this morning.”
Rachel hiked an eyebrow. Had her parents known her indolent sister had been dressed and traipsing about town that early? Nothing piqued Patricia’s interest . . . except flirting. “Were you with Everett?” If she had indeed been flirting, she better not answer with anyone else’s name.
Patricia’s normally striking smile turned glorious. What Rachel wouldn’t give for those perfectly straight teeth or the blond hair or—
“I spent all day with him.” She clasped her hands in front of her flounced skirt and twirled as if she’d been rescued by some knight instead of visiting the man who’d courted her the last few months. “We went to the mercantile so I could suggest some things to take with us to Kansas, ate at Calico Café, and then he took me to the confectioners’ for strawberries and cream.” She sighed. “A perfect morning.”
“Did you finish baking the bread?”
Her sister scowled in the most becoming way a person could possibly scowl. Rachel scowled back so the girl would know how to do it properly.
Patricia stuck out her tongue. “You always pooh-pooh everything.”
“Momma asked you to, and it’d be nice for her to remember you as an obedient daughter.” Plus, she didn’t want to get stuck with the baking. “I don’t want to do it for you.” Again.
“You talk as if I were dying instead of going with Neil to . . .” She fluttered her hand at the front wall of the parlor, which faced southeast—nowhere close to west. “. . . wherever it is we’re going.”
The door creaked open, and Neil’s dark, stocky form stepped through the doorway.
Patricia sidled over to their brother. “You don’t think my walking out with Everett today was wasted time, do you?” She laced her arm through his and looked at her sister smugly. “I learned all about wagon stuff. I could advise you on what you need for our trip.”
“No need.” He patted her arm with little enthusiasm.
“Oh, so you’ve already done that?” She batted her big blue eyes.
He nodded at their sister, but Rachel saw the slight shake of his head after Patricia looked away.
“See?” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Neil doesn’t fault me for not making bread.”
He rubbed his stubbly chin. “I am hungry.”
Patricia frowned. “You could have let me know.” She pranced out of the parlor and turned in the direction of the kitchen.
Like a specter, Neil glided over to the settee and noiselessly dropped upon it. He leaned back and crossed an ankle over his knee.
Rachel glanced at her unopened letter, but Neil rarely remained in the room with her—or any female besides Patricia for that matter. “You must be anxious about leaving.” She moved to the settee. “We’ll miss you.”
“You’ll hardly know I’m gone.” His smile was self-abasing. His hazel eyes and heavy jaw matched hers, and yet he was rather handsome for a brother.
“You might not say much, but your presence is soothing—especially when Patricia’s in the room and I want to tear my hair out, or hers. I’m not picky which.” She smiled.” But I’ll miss her too, of course.”
“You can still come with us. It’d be better than New York.”
She snagged her letter. “This one’s thick. I might be going to Tennessee instead.”
“Ma know?”
She slid the envelope around in her hands. Mary Sharp College in Winchester would not appeal to her mother’s fancy ideals like Elmira Female College in New York. But she’d be more comfortable in Tennessee, and she’d still be going to one of those newfangled colleges that awarded women degrees equal to men’s. Momma would just have to content herself with Tennessee.
Neil tipped her chin up, and the probing look in his eye and the uncharacteristic physical contact squeezed her heart.
She slipped across the seat and folded him in her arms. “I’ll miss you.”
He slowly wrapped his arms around her and awkwardly patted her back, then bussed the top of her head. “You’ll do well at either school.”
She held onto her brother, memorizing the feel of his firm chest and the smell of musk and wool. But within seconds, he started fidgeting, so she gave him a little girl grin and returned to sitting more ladylike. “Thank you, but your job will be harder than mine. You’ll have Patricia.”
He shrugged.
She’d never understood how her parents had produced a child as different as Patricia, but perhaps being the baby and spoiled was not a good thing. And for some reason, even Neil seemed to give in to her. “What are you going to do when she marries Everett? There won’t be a word spoken in your little hovel for months on end.”
His smile lit with genuine amusement, but then drooped.
“You’ll miss her.”
He breathed in sharply through his nose and scratched behind his ear, his fingers disappearing in his thick dark locks.
“How far will you travel before you settle? Do you think Patricia can handle all that walking?”
Neil shrugged. “As close to the Sixth Principal Meridian as we can get, I imagine.” He re-situated himself and looked in the direction of the kitchen. “And she’ll manage. She’d follow Everett anywhere.”
Rachel clucked. “She’d follow any pretty boy anywhere.” Though she couldn’t imagine dainty little Patricia walking her way to Kansas without any fuss.
Neil frowned.
“Sorry, I know she says she’s serious this time.” Rachel fought not to roll her eyes. Patricia would probably start whining the first day. But their brother thought the sun rose and set on their sister for some reason. And he defended her mightily . . . using as few words as possible. But then, Patricia jabbered enough excuses for herself that he hardly had a need. “And you wouldn’t take her unless you were sure she was committed since Everett hasn’t proposed.”
“Yet.” Patricia sashayed back into the room, her hands on her hips. She stopped at Rachel’s side but remained standing, the better to peer down at her, she supposed. “He’ll ask me when he gets settled, when he’s ready.”
Yes, Everett would commit, but would Patricia? Neil, Papa, and Momma believed he could hold the seventeen-year-old’s attention for the rest of her days. But if he didn’t? Patricia would have far fewer men to flirt with on the prairie. Then again, maybe the isolation would get her focus off impressing others with her hair and dress and onto good, honest work.
Rachel stole a glance back at her letter. She needed to stop wasting her time and start school. She should have already been a junior. If only she hadn’t wasted two years waiting for . . . well, never mind. That flimsy excuse would leave along with her siblings.
Sighing, she reached for the letter opener. She had absolutely no reason, or rather, no man to entice her into going to western Kansas Territory with her siblings, so hopefully she’d be headed to Tennessee over New York.
“Hello? Is anyone home?”
She froze at the sound of the warm, rumbling voice. Certainly he wouldn’t be at her door now. Not after she’d given up waiting.
The visitor knocked. “Hello?”
But it was him. No one else’s voice was that smooth and buttery. She dropped the letter, adjusted her skirt, and glanced toward the rippled windowpane to check her reflection.
Patricia sat on a nearby chair and picked up the tatting she’d left there earlier. “It’s for you, Neil.”
Her brother pushed himself off the settee and strolled out the door. “Dex.”
“Neil, nice to see you.”
Hinges whined, followed by the slapping of hands on backs.
Swallowing to wet her abnormally dry mouth, Rachel forced herself to retrieve her acceptance letter. Since Dex was going with her siblings on the wagon train, he must be there to talk over plans with them. Nothing more. If he’d never visited her in the years she’d hung aroun
d waiting for him to notice her, he wasn’t there to see her today.
Dex and Neil tromped into the parlor, and Patricia slapped on her prettiest smile.
But Rachel didn’t smile. If she did, Dex would have no choice but to compare her sister’s flawless smile with her own gapped-tooth, flat one.
Without asking permission, Dex plopped beside her, making gooseflesh ripple up her arms. She scooted to give him more room, and Neil dropped onto the piano bench across from them.
Her hands fluttered conspicuously, so she slid her letter onto the end table and rammed her hands under her legs.
Dex inclined his head toward her. She pasted on a grin.
After no one spoke for a spell, Patricia narrowed an eye at her before clearing her throat. “Can I get you tea, Mr. Stanton?”
Rachel looked away, feeling the pink in her cheeks for not even seeing to their guest’s comfort. But Patricia needed the practice anyway. She’d have to be a hospitable hostess for the lodging and trading post Neil intended to run—and later as Everett’s wife.
“That’d be mighty nice, thank you.”
“Rachel? Neil?” Patricia turned to her siblings for answers.
Neil nodded, and Rachel whispered, “Yes.”
Oh, why did Dex have to sit right next to her? The tremors of his jostling leg shook the seat, making her want to put a hand on his knee to stop the quaking. A rush of heat swooped up behind her ears the second she let her imaginary hand feel his knee beneath her fingertips. She turned toward her brother. Maybe he’d start a conversation for once.
He only eyed her.
Dex cleared his throat. “Since we’re planning on leaving next Sunday after services, I’m going around and making sure everyone is set.” He squirmed, and her skirt pulled.
She looked down to find him grinding a corner of her green and tan plaid gingham under the heel of his boot.
“You all have everything you need?”
Neil nodded, and Patricia returned with four cups of tea. She handed one to everyone and sat. The mantle clock’s ticking seemed to slow. Dex stared at his lap as if he found his knees highly captivating.
Was he all right? He looked a little sweaty.
She took a drink to moisten her mouth. She was going to have to say something before the silence got out of hand.
“Is the sale of your farm final?” Neil’s bass voice startled her. They must all be out of sorts if he was the sociable one.
“Yes, Grant and Lily are moved in and comfortable. I’m sending Luther and his wife their part of the money for the farm, so I’m squared away.” He glanced down at his nervous footwork, then jerked his foot off her dress, tearing a bit of the ruffle with the action.
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to worry about.” She stared at the ripped fabric. Nothing for him to worry about anyway. But maybe instead of mending it, she’s snip it off and make a bookmark. She shook her head at herself. Stupid thought. Her college roommates would question her ability to add two and two let alone excel in trigonometry if they discovered the reason behind her scrap memento.
Dex just needed to leave town. The man had never given her two thoughts, was always finding a reason to leave the room when she appeared, and so it was time to put away her Patricia-like obsession over him.
But the fixation wasn’t Patricia-like at all. The men her sister fancied followed her around like bawling calves.
Dex had never looked her way. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. I’m pitiful.
A throat cleared. Then a second time. Opening her eyes, she found everyone staring at her.
“What did you say?” Patricia looked bewildered, though still cute.
“Um . . .” Had she said that out loud? Oh no. What rhymed with pitiful? Visible, predictable, laughable? Yes, laughable would work. “Nothing.”
She evidently needed further education. Her brain must be going soft if her mouth ran off like that.
“I’m actually here to see Rachel.” Dex turned his soft green eyes on her. “I, um, need to ask you a question. But I don’t have much time before the wedding ceremony this afternoon. Are you going?”
“Maybe,” she whispered. She could hardly hear herself over the heartbeat in her ears.
“We’ll excuse ourselves.” Patricia stood and beckoned at Neil before throwing her sister a wink. Romantic, silly girl. Dex wasn’t here to propose or anything. But then, why else would he be squirming so much?
And all of a sudden, it was hard to breathe.
Neil glanced over his shoulder from the doorway and made a point to swing the parlor door wide open.
The second her brother’s back disappeared, Dex stood, walked a pace, then pivoted toward her. His chin jutted, and he put his hands behind his back and splayed his legs wide.
She sat up straighter.
He closed his eyes and sucked in his lips. As if he were about to bow his knee and declare himself her subject.
Should she stand? She rubbed her sweaty palms on her skirt.
“This is a rather hard thing for me to ask, but I don’t have any other choice.” He cleared his throat. “Or rather, you’re my only choice.”
Well, if this was a marriage proposal, Dex was about to give Mr. Darcy a lesson on how to thoroughly offend and insult a woman while asking for her hand.
“So I’m going to ask before I change my mind.” Dex finally focused on her. “I need help—reading help—like Allen does. Would you mind giving me a few writing lessons before I leave?”
Chapter 2
Dex’s hands were frigid, so he stuck one of his big mitts against his blazing hot neck. He’d expected a look of derision, pity . . . something when he’d divulged his big secret, but Rachel only blinked.
Had she heard him? She appeared a bit ill actually.
Maybe she figured he was too old to learn to read. Perhaps she was scrambling in her brain for a polite way to decline. His gut quivered, but he dropped his hand and straightened as if he hadn’t just forced himself to expose the one secret he’d hoped she’d never discover . . . and the one secret he wished she’d already known.
Maybe she wouldn’t care. Maybe she could look past his inability to read and . . . no, better not think any more in that vein. She wouldn’t want to marry a man who probably couldn’t spell her name.
Rachel’s face cleared with a little shake of her head, and her lips bunched in thought. She pushed herself off the settee, walked over, and tipped her head back a little to see him.
He should make sure to inquire about any potential brides’ heights. He’d need a tall woman like Rachel since he’d only have to lean a little to kiss—
“What are you looking at?” She swiped her thumb across her lower lip.
He snapped his eyes up to hers. “Nothing, ma’am.” He needed to get a hold of himself. He’d done it for years, he could do it now.
“Ma’am?” Her face scrunched like Lily’s did when Grant brought up her cooking failures.
“I mean Miss Oliver.”
She folded her arms across her ample chest. Shucks, why were his eyes betraying him? He forced his focus back up on her face.
“I won’t teach you anything if you treat me like a schoolmarm. You’re older than me and more than my equal.”
Not equally smart, she’d find that out sure enough.
“Rachel, then.” He drug up a smile. Even if she skittered off like a barn cat when she heard him read, he could try to summon some charm to make up for his stupidity. “So that means you’ve got time for me?”
She frowned. “You’re leaving Sunday. That doesn’t give us much time.”
“I’ve got the wagon packed already, so I’ve got nothing pressing for awhile.”
“Then come over here.” She skirted around the couch and opened the shutters. The afternoon sunlight shot through the floating dust. “Sit down, and I’ll tell Papa what we’re doing.”
“What, you mean . . . now?” He ran a finger along the opening at the top of his sh
irt. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. If she asked him to read something right now, he’d stumble all over himself. He needed time to practice.
“Did you have something in particular you needed to read?”
He took a step back toward the door. “Not exactly, it’s just that . . . I—” He fumbled to catch the fancy lamp that careened to the edge of the table. He was going to have a bruise on the back of his leg from banging the table corner, but he wouldn’t rub it.
She smiled so wide, he lost his breath. She’d never smiled at him like that before.
“There’s no need to run away from me.” The lilt in her voice suddenly died.
He glanced over his shoulder to see if her father or Neil were scowling at them or something. Neil would notice right away he wasn’t acting right. And he didn’t want anyone to realize how much he’d fallen for a girl who’d never have him.
But the hallway was silent and empty.
Frowning, she waved him toward a chair at a small table. “I won’t make this harder than it is, I promise. Allen comes home every night in one piece, doesn’t he?”
If he continued to act like a pup afraid of his own shadow, she’d have plenty more to laugh at than how thoroughly he was about to murder the English language. “If this is the time you’ve got, I guess I’ll take it.”
“Good.” She turned and shuffled out the door.
He sat and focused on breathing.
Come on Dex, you know why you’re doing this—it needs to be done. Though you should’ve gotten help earlier . . . much earlier.
Rachel and Neil’s voices mingled in a far corner of the house over the clatter of dishes. He glanced at the papers strewn on the table. Letters mixed in with numbers and math symbols were written in neat rows. Allen had said she did math with the alphabet, but he hadn’t actually believed him. Math with the alphabet? Who’d heard of such tripe?
What did those letters do anyway? Rachel’s fancy math didn’t make a lick of sense, so he looked around the room. Her father evidently made enough money in all his business ventures to do quite well. A fine piano, frilly doilies, fancy lamp shades. He turned to stare out the window, only able to see the brick wall of the house next door.
Love by the Letter (An Unexpected Brides Novella) Page 2