“Okay, little duck,” Abby grumbled, and inserted her hand into Cindy’s. Cindy smiled, knowing that hearing her nickname was a good sign. Abby was adjusting to the trip far better than she’d hoped; she hoped her good mood would carry on a little longer, at least until they got to their new home.
The curly-haired man turned and smiled at Cindy as they walked up next to their luggage, but he was still glancing nervously at Abby, who couldn’t seem to stop looking at him despite her earlier promise. Cindy wasn’t surprised, but the man didn’t seem upset by it, just perplexed.
“I’m Richard Greene,” the man said, not quite meeting her eye. “You girls just moving into town?”
“I’m Cindy Hawkins, and yes we are,” Cindy said, happy that he seemed willing to ignore Abby’s intense gazing. “I’m meeting Jacob Everett.”
Richard looked surprised, but he quickly recovered. “Jacob’s a fine young man,” the man said, regarding her thoughtfully. “Guess you two are getting married?”
Cindy laughed, startled by his blunt phrasing. “Yes, I suppose we are.”
“Pardon, but I thought you seemed too young to have a daughter, so I assumed you were sisters.”
“Almost,” Cindy said, raising her voice as a few chattering men bustled past them. Abby stepped close to her, and Cindy put an arm around her shoulders. “I’m twenty-two, so I am a little young for a 7-year-old daughter. This is my little niece, Abby.”
“I think you’ll both be happy here,” he said, his faint smile back. “Nice place. Quiet, lots of room to spread out. And a good school,” he added, his gaze briefly flickering to Abby, who abruptly averted her eyes and started pulling on her pigtails anxiously. “I was just coming from there myself. My wife teaches there, and I know she’ll have some games planned for her new student.”
“That makes me feel a little less nervous,” Cindy said, laughing to herself at Abby’s shyness. It was typical for her to switch between extroversion and shyness these days, and she knew the best course was to let her recover and pretend she hadn’t noticed. Her mood changes were sudden but predictable now, and Cindy was grateful. “You didn’t happen to see a stagecoach pull up, did you? On your way here?”
“I did,” Richard said, and his expression soured. “Nearly ran me over, in fact. Thought his driving would get better once the frost thawed.” He blinked and seemed to let his thoughts overtake him, and Cindy worried that he would never come out. Then he shook his head roughly to clear it, exactly as she had on the train that morning. “He’s parked just behind the mail depot, over there.”
“Thank you, Mr. Greene,” Cindy said, looking at her cumbersome luggage in despair. “Would you mind—?”
“Of course!” Richard lifted Cindy’s trunks and tucked Abby’s under one arm, embarrassed that he hadn’t offered in the first place. Cindy watched his cheeks rouge and his eyes blink rapidly, wondering if he was unused to speaking to women, or perhaps people in general. She was going to ask him about himself, but wondered if that might seem too strange. Before she could make up her mind, they were before the carriage, and he was setting down their bags.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Hawkins,” Richard said, his smile stiff as he gazed in her direction, apparently unable to meet her eye. “I expect I’ll be seeing you around soon.”
“Of course. And thank—” Richard, however, was already striding away as though the seat of his pants was catching fire. Abby was staring at his back as he retreated, apparently as confused as Cindy was. They looked at each other for a moment, nearly identical smiles growing on their faces.
“He didn’t seem anything like a cowboy,” Abby said finally. “But, it’s Wyoming, isn’t it?” The next moment, they both dissolved into giggles.
****
Jacob’s eyes darted between his pocket watch and the scenery rushing by the carriage. He pushed one hand through his brown hair, thankful that the day was so cool; when he became anxious, he tended to sweat, and he didn’t want to sweat through his suit jacket. The driver had showed up fifteen minutes late, but he didn’t want Cynthia and Abby to wait a moment more than they needed to.
The last two years of Jacob’s life had been such a whirlwind that he still felt like he was dreaming. Growing up in Davinia, he’d always assumed he’d follow in his uncle’s footsteps and become a lawman of some kind. It was the only noble profession, his fraternal twin brother insisted; everyone respected a man with a gun.
“And a badge,” Jacob remembered saying to eight-year-old Hank. “Don’t forget the badge.”
“Yeah, but it’s the gun that’s got the real power,” Hank insisted. “Everybody fears a man with a gun.”
Everybody feared Hank already, however—especially Jacob. Hank was fiercely jealous of Jacob’s physical prowess and the attention it got him, especially once a small wrestling club started up when the boys were fourteen. Hank got left in the dust to study and train alone while the other boys bonded, each of them slowly inching down the path toward being a man of the law. The boys stopped speaking to each other, even once their parents died of their long illnesses when they turned eighteen; they spoke to each other at the funeral, and kept on moving down their separate paths.
But Jacob wasn’t cut out to be a lawman, it turned out; though he was faster and stronger than any other boy in town, his eyes might as well have been mole’s eyes. He was nearsighted, got confused by movement, and he couldn’t aim to save his life. He failed every test that wasn’t written or based purely on physical strength and reaction time, and his brother swooped in and took top marks in every category. Hank became a junior deputy while Jacob was still just starting to work on farming the land their father left to them. Their rivalry was put to bed, but they still avoided each other, unsure of how to rekindle their bond. Then Hank got engaged to a girl with dreams of dancing in a theatre company overseas, and soon after they were setting sail to join a dance troupe in England before Jacob’s first crops had matured. It hurt Jacob even more than seeing his parents fade away, because this had been preventable; he had known that Hank wouldn’t want to hang around Davinia forever, and part of him knew he had just been running out the clock until that time got there. Then the time passed, and Jacob realized he might never see his brother again. After having ample time to himself so he could reflect on the situation, he swore he would learn to deal with change and disappointment better, and let himself be happy.
Four years later, he stopped hoping his grade-school crush would move back to town and took matters into his own hands, placing an advertisement for a bride:
30-year-old farmer with plentiful acreage and a three-bedroom farmhouse seeks a gentle heart and a curious mind. Age 20-30, sweet and willing to explore the bond we create, willing to marry. Photograph to follow.
He expected to receive a few replies, if any; he hadn’t expected earnest interest, let alone from a lovely lady like Cynthia. If he was hesitant at first, it had disappeared by the second month, and he knew he’d found the woman to marry. She was bright, caring, and fiercely loyal to family; Jacob didn’t even mind that she wanted to wait to announce the marriage, in case one of them was uncomfortable. He’d gone to the most impartial person he knew to make sure he wasn’t making a mistake, knowing that Willy the butcher would give him a fresh perspective to consider, if nothing else.
“I agree that you’re ready,” Willy said to him in his back room. “And this young gal sounds sweet, but make sure you don’t scare her with your…excitement. Not everyone is used to people being so open, and it might complicate things.”
Jacob had stared at Willy blankly until the man began to grow red in his cheeks.
“I mean…you’re already invested in this,” Willy tried again. “Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve had your head in the clouds about love; when we were teenagers, you could never see that Selma Springer was only leading you along so you’d scare off the scoundrels in town, you never noticed that your eyesight wouldn’t let you be a Deputy, and you never saw that y
our brother was winding up to leave until it was too late. You know already that everything changes; you told me yourself—why not live in this moment until it does? Notice things. Stop to smell the flowers, especially the ones you planted yourself. Don’t be so anxious to get out of your lane and prove anybody right or wrong.”
Jacob left the shop with three chickens and a lighter heart; that same day, he’d come home to find the letter from Cynthia, explaining that she needed to bring Abby along. It felt like a sign from the universe—Willy had thrown him a challenge, and now he had a chance to face it exactly as instructed: head on, calmly, one thing at a time. With that in mind, Jacob wrote back a light-hearted response, trusting that he could handle another mouth to feed. Besides, seven-year-old girls are easy to have around, aren’t they?
And now he was rushing to meet Cynthia, already late for their first ever encounter. The red rose was in his left hand, and Jacob was ready to push the door open as soon as the carriage slowed. He braced himself, preparing to hit the ground at a run, but the door wouldn’t open.
“Vincent! Your door won’t open,” Jacob called, pulling the handle frantically as the carriage slowed. He set the rose on his lap and pulled harder on the door, but the old carriage driver shouted at him to stop.
“That door’s barred while we’re in motion, so you stop that now!” He twisted around as the carriage stopped and fixed Jacob with a watery glare, his few teeth visible while his face formed a damning expression. “Had too many tots tumble out while I was driving. Had to install a safety mechanism.”
“What? Just let me out, will you?”
“Now, what about payment?” Vincent drawled.
“You’re taking us right back, I’ll pay you then.”
Vincent’s weathered face grew thoughtful. “Now, I suppose I could accept that answer,” he said. “The other fella said that too, though; then he jumped right out. Another reason I’ve got the bar across the door.”
Jacob could hear voices just outside the carriage, and his heart started to pound. Vincent’s mouth was quirking up at the sides, and Jacob realized that the old man was pulling his leg; the ancient carriage driver was notorious for becoming mysteriously dense and unhelpful at the worst times, supposedly in retaliation for silly rumors whispered around town. Jacob had no idea how Vincent found out each time he was chattered about, but the younger man was now sorely remorseful for gossiping over the Widow Rutherford’s famous sugar cookies and tea.
“Listen, Vincent—”
“Hold on,” the older man cut in. “Let me get out and get that bar open for you.”
Vincent opened his door and shuffled around the carriage, moving as slowly as he dared. By the time he removed the bar from the door and the wedge-shaped opening swung forward, Jacob’s palms were covered in sweat.
“Thank you,” he said curtly, running his hands over his jacket nervously before plucking the rose from the seat. “Now I’ll be right back. I have to go and find Cynthia and Abby; I’ve told them I’ll be waiting with a rose.”
Vincent snorted. “Couldn’t just tell them to head for the big carriage?”
Jacob opened his mouth to give a reply, but he had none; it hadn’t occurred to him to simply ask her to meet him by a coach. Now she’ll be thinking I’m some romantic fool, or worse: some insincere rake only out to take advantage of her. What was I thinking?
But it was too late to hide the rose, because Cindy and Abby were already there, moving toward him from slightly in front of the carriage. Cindy was wearing a true-blue riding habit with a powder blue bonnet over her reddish-blonde hair, her long braid thrown over one narrow shoulder. She couldn’t be taller than five foot five, and her niece was wearing a similar outfit in green, with lace ribbons tying her pigtails. Abby looked very much like a mini-version of Cindy, but Cynthia’s blue eyes were a shade darker than her niece’s, and her taller frame was noticeably that of a woman’s. She was breathtaking; just beautiful. Jacob’s heart beat so hard that it hurt for a moment, but when Cindy’s gaze fully met his, it stopped completely. His eyes moved over every detail of her face: every lash around her eyes, the lines around her pointed nose, even the sudden rush of color in her cheeks—each spot of pink and red blending together to make a pleasing hue that Jacob couldn’t name. Then she smiled, and his heart started galloping like a wild horse again.
“Hello,” she said shyly, dropping into an odd little curtsy. “I’m Cynthia—you can call me Cindy—and this is Abby.” She gestured to the girl in green, who dipped her chin forward bashfully and looked away. “And you must be Mr. Everett.”
“Jacob,” he heard himself say, and his voice sounded higher than usual. He cleared his throat. “I’m so sorry I was late, the coach showed up past time.”
“It’s quite alright,” Cindy said. “A very nice gentlemen helped us with our bags.” Cindy shot Abby a look, and they both smiled at a joke he wasn’t part of.
“Who was it? I’ll have to thank him.” Jacob started to load the trunks in question in the back of the carriage, balancing Abby’s on top of Cindy’s larger bags.
“A fellow named Richard Greene.”
Jacob spun around, surprise showing on his face before he could hide it. “Really?” No wonder the girls were giggling.
Cindy laughed, pressing one hand over her mouth as she chuckled. “He was surprised to hear your name, too. Why are you shocked?”
“Richard is…” Jacob began, his mind flashing over images of the man in an attempt to find a nice way to describe him. Most of his encounters ended with the carpenter striding away with his cheeks red from embarrassment, and that was when he could get him to speak at all.
“Selective,” Jacob said at last. “He keeps to himself, mostly, and takes a while to warm up to people.” Then he remembered seeing him at the schoolhouse with Mia, smiling at the children, even throwing a ball around with some of the more energetic ones. “But I guess he does like kids.”
“He mentioned a school,” Cindy said as she climbed into the carriage. “He said his wife teaches there.”
“Right, Miss Mia. You’ll like her, Abby,” Jacob said, finally turning his gaze to the 7-year-old. Her eyes went wide with fright, and she gulped, but didn’t respond. Cindy smiled and placed one hand atop her head.
“She takes a bit to warm up, too,” she said to Jacob. Abby was siting closest to the window, staring at the scenery as it zipped past the open shade. Vincent was taking a healthier clip now that there was no time restraint, and Jacob was relieved; he didn’t want to make a bad impression in front of his new bride.
Bride-to-be, he corrected himself. As long as there’s chemistry.
By the way she kept stealing glances at him, Jacob knew there was potential—but she was nervous and wound up from their long journey. He watched her fuss with Abby’s shoes and re-tie her ribbons as the carriage zipped down the streets, winding past the Widow Rutherford’s property, where Richard was trotting by on his way home. He didn’t acknowledge them as they sped past, but Jacob saw him veer off sharply as the carriage turned, and he realized he was heading up to the hill overlooking the county, not to his own land.
“You gals like stargazing?”
Abby looked at Cindy and nodded shyly at her encouragement.
Jacob smiled. “There’s a hill that’s perfect for it, as long as it’s not being used. I’ll have to ask our Mr. Greene, but I’m sure he won’t mind us borrowing it.”
“It’s his hill?” Cindy asked curiously.
“Sort of; it’s on his land, but other people can use it, so long as he’s not up there. It’s just that he liked to be up there for a few hours a day, to think and let himself decompress.”
Cindy blinked, and the girls exchanged another look. Jacob suppressed his smile. You girls haven’t seen strange from him yet.
****
An hour later, Abby was settling down for a nap in her new room. Jacob had given them a tour of the farmhouse, and they’d oohed and aahed over its sprawl and relati
ve grandeur, and especially at the huge tub, a luxury the girls had never had before. Cindy had taken Abby into her room after she grew fidgety and anxious; she emerged ten minutes later, her hair unbound and her eyes shining. Jacob felt his heart wrench in his chest, and Cindy noticed the urgency of his gaze and blushed.
“She likes brushing my hair when she’s anxious,” she explained. “It calms her. “
Jacob nodded. “Does she get anxious a lot?”
“Ever since her mother died,” Cindy said. Jacob had brewed a pot of coffee while the two girls were alone, and she sipped at her steaming mug now. “Her illness was so sudden, I couldn’t prepare her for it. She’s never been the same. She’s happy, but she’s not the same.”
Jacob was silent, staring down into his mug as Cindy’s words filtered through his mind. “Death changes you,” he said. He raised his eyes and was startled to find Cindy gazing at him intently across the table.
“Who did you lose?” Cindy asked softly. “You never told me in your letters.”
“My parents, when we were eighteen. They’d both been sick a long time…but I hated watching them go. Knowing there was nothing I could do about it, that was the worst.”
“Feeling hopeless is a horrible thing.” She sounded sad and sure when she spoke, and Jacob wanted to hold her hand, but he was afraid it was too familiar a gesture. “It’s awful. You’d do anything to avoid feeling that way again.”
What got you feeling that way? Jacob wondered, but he already knew. The world did; the world had shown Cindy that it had no hope for her. He wanted so badly to change that.
“You know, Richard also knows a lot about flowers, and he got me started on my own rose garden.” He stood and offered Cindy his hand, putting as much warmth into his smile as he could. “Want to see what I’ve got so far?”
Cindy looked at his hand, and for a moment Jacob thought she was going to reject it. Then she put her palm in his and let him pull her up from her seat. By the time she stood, she was smiling, too, and the vice around Jacob’s heart loosened a little.
Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3) Page 49