Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  Isaac didn’t quite know what she meant, but he was happy to know he brought her comfort. She still wasn’t comfortable letting him past the threshold of her room, but he was content enough to wait for her to let go of that particular quirk. Her violent refusal each time he tried to come in bothered him more than anything else she did, but by the second month of knowing her, Isaac was too in love to care. He was going to combine the two rooms, anyway, and then they’d get a bigger bed—and some new rugs and chairs, Caroline said.

  “Sounds like you two are getting along well.”

  Isaac was talking to Ida during a rare slow moment at the store. He’d just come back from surprising Caroline with tulips, and he’d gushed about her for ten minutes, until the older woman’s smile was a big as her face would allow.

  “We’re getting along great,” Isaac said earnestly. “I love her, Ida. She’s the one for me. I can’t believe how lucky I am. Marriage is going to be easier than I thought.”

  “Mm,” Ida said, but she left it at that. She handed Isaac’s bag to him over the counter and smiled wider. “You have a good day.”

  He turned to leave, but something stopped him. “Wait, that’s it? You always have something to say.”

  Ida thought for a moment, then shook her head, and her smile suddenly looked forced. “No! Nothing. Go on, now.”

  Isaac narrowed his eyes, and his heart raced in his chest. “You know something, Ida?”

  The woman sighed and shook her head again, planting both hands on her wide hips as she regarded him. Her eyes were hard, and the streaks of gray in her hair only made her look more menacing. “I don’t tell nobody’s secrets. You know that.”

  He placed his palms on the counter and leaned toward her. “Of course. But you seem to think I might be wrong about my judgement of Caroline. Ida, you’re never wrong…and it’s not like I didn’t think something was amiss, too. I feel like I’m walking into something blind, and I don’t like it.”

  Ida’s dark brown eyes widened only slightly, but it was enough.

  “Come on. Just give me a hint, Ida. Please.”

  Ida’s lips pressed together into a thin line, and she let out a heavy sigh. “You know Roy’s wife is Nurse Minnie.”

  Isaac nodded.

  “And she’s the chattiest lady around. She’s really nice—you know that—so she got close to Caroline pretty fast…and Caroline has been telling her things.”

  His stomach clenched in fear. “What things, Ida?”

  She took a breath, then closed her mouth.

  “Ida! What things?”

  But Ida clamped her lips shut and shook her head. Isaac wanted to press her, but he knew it wouldn’t work; Ida wasn’t a person to be persuaded to break or even bend her morals. “No, I can’t tell you that. But I do know you need to talk to her. About your future together…and the real reason she wanted to get married.”

  ****

  Isaac ran home. There was no other way to burn through the nervous energy in his body, eating away at his thoughts like acid. Several people tried to stop him to talk, but he was too frantic to even register their words. What did Ida mean? Why did Caroline want to marry him? She said it was because there was nothing for her in Idaho; what had she told the nurses at the hospital?

  Women tell each other all sorts of things. Maybe it’s just gossip.

  But Ida’s face had been so serious when she spoke, and she wouldn’t throw a live grenade into a marriage without a reason. Ida was opinionated and wise, but she wasn’t brassy and loud like Maxine at Boone’s general store—she was careful and quiet, so knowledgeable she seemed almost omniscient at times. He burst into his living room, hoping that this time, she wasn’t as omniscient as she seemed. Isaac would give anything to just live happily with his new bride.

  “Caroline?”

  There was no answer to his call, so Isaac strode down the hall and knocked on her door. She wasn’t inside—and he only knew that because the door creaked open the very next second, revealing a neatly made bed with nothing on it but a stack of letters.

  Where did she get that mail? I never saw any addressed to her.

  Isaac looked over his shoulder to check that he was still alone, then walked into the room, closing the door behind him quietly. He dropped to his knees by the side of the bed, noting the bareness of the walls and the desk under the window. Hadn’t there been drawings up of some kind? Where had they gone?

  Focus on the letters!

  Isaac picked the first letter up and began to scan it, guilt flooding his body as his blue eyes took in mundane details like pie recipes and tips on keeping your shoes clean. He turned the letter over, relief starting to filter into his bloodstreams—then his eyes stopped on a sentence near the middle.

  Uncle William says the wedding has to be soon, or he’s giving it to me.

  Isaac backed up, hoping to find information about a broach or heirloom, but what he found was worse.

  You know you need to buckle down and do it, Caroline. I didn’t want to marry some uncivilized brute, but I did it; it’s even quite nice having a warm body to ward away the other lugs. You don’t have to love him, you just need to get him to marry you, and after that, you can continue overseas like you planned. You’ll get your inheritance and Uncle William will leave you alone, and you can marry some French artist if you like. But you have to get married by year’s end if you want the money. Uncle William says the wedding has to be soon, or he’s giving it to me.

  Isaac’s eyes blurred with rage, and the letter slipped from his hands. He picked up another, catching bits of words and descriptions that had to be about him—better than some farmer and sweet but dull, and even beneath your station at least once in every letter. Then a noise from the doorway pulled his attention from the letters, and Isaac looked up to find Caroline standing before him, her face as white as a sheet.

  She swallowed hard and dropped her eyes. “Isaac, I can explain—”

  “You married me to claim your inheritance?”

  Tears were collecting in her brown eyes, two circles of melting chocolate swimming in a warm pool of rain. “Lots of women do that, Isaac—”

  “But their husbands know about it,” he said quietly. “And you weren’t going to stay.”

  Caroline flinched as though she’d been struck. “No, but—”

  “Were you even going to give me warning?” Isaac asked as he rose to his feet. “Were you going to write me a letter? Anything? Or were you just going to leave?”

  Caroline opened her mouth, but no words came out. She dropped her eyes, and tears started to slide down her pale cheeks.

  It was worse than getting an answer, somehow. Isaac moved past her and walked down the hall, Caroline following closely on his heels.

  “Isaac, wait! Let me explain!”

  “There’s nothing to explain, Caroline!” Isaac stopped before he opened the door, rounding on her in a fury. “You used me! That’s unacceptable! You manipulated me. I would never have done that to you! I fell in love with you Caroline. But it turns out I was just falling in line with your plan.”

  Caroline was shaking like a leaf as she backed away from him, withering before his rage like wild grasses under a flame. “Isaac—”

  He held up a hand, feeling his heart coming apart in his chest. “Did you tell me truth about anything? I told you everything. Everything.”

  “Isaac, I’m still the same person!”

  He shook his head bitterly. “I don’t even know who the you are.”

  He left before she could stop him, breaking into a run when he heard the door open behind him. He ran until he reached his foundry, but he couldn’t bring himself to go inside and face any of the men there, so he found a soft patch of grass in the field behind the building and sat down. Isaac was worse than ashamed; he hated himself for letting someone take advantage of him like this. Ida had told him to be careful, and he’d done the opposite; he’d been burned, but he couldn’t blame anyone but himself. The worst part of bei
ng burned was that he worked with fire so much that he ought to have known better. The thought stirred a memory in him then—the first time he’d nearly kissed her, and the pain the rejection had caused. That pain had made him become more open, but his momentary pause had been warranted—he remembered the distinct déjà vu that overwhelmed him as he leaned in to kiss the beautiful, untouchable girl whose curls touched her shoulder blades.

  Everything about Caroline had seemed off, and it was the careful way she’d done her curls that gave him the most pause at first: he could smell the hair pomade she used, and it smelled exactly as Lila Evan’s had. Mrs. Evan’s herself often smelled of it when she gave him hugs. It was an expensive hair pomade he only saw in Maxine’s and big department stores, and even the impeccable curls were much more like the ones on the little girls who lived on Sutter Hill— and the ladies who paraded them around—than the natural, wilder ones on most curly haired working women. Her clothes were worn, but it was easy to get used clothes—and why else wouldn’t she want him in her room? She probably had dresses and jewelry she didn’t want him to see, trinkets, even money; Isaac imagined bricks of gold stuffed into stockings in her suitcase, stowed away under fine underthings and silk dresses—a more refined version of the bag Thomas’ wife had for her own escape. How long after the wedding would he have waited before he woke up to find himself alone? Would he have years, like Thomas, or would it have been mere months? Caroline might have even weaker nerves than he thought; Lila hadn’t lasted long, after all, and they’d only been playing at love. He imagined Caroline sprinting from the church in her lacy white dress, her uncle holding up her delicate train as he ran behind her.

  You can’t marry girls who wear fancy dresses, he thought morosely; not when you’re born with dirt on your hands.

  “Isaac?”

  His heart nearly dropped out of his chest. Isaac looked up and saw Caroline moving toward him hurriedly. He made to stand, but she sank to her knees instead, her face panicked and drained of all color. Her skin seemed paler because of the deep blue of her dress—it was almost black, but it shone in the sun.

  Isaac’s heart didn’t seem to realize it was broken, because it started to pound wildly in his chest, and he had to remind himself not to take her hand. “It’s okay, Caroline. You don’t need to explain. I’m not good enough for you, and we’ll leave it at that.”

  She looked stricken. “No, Isaac, you don’t—”

  “I’ll help you get your money, but please, stop,” he said wearily, placing his hands over his eyes hard enough to hurt. When he looked up, Caroline looked stunned, and his stomach roiled under the warring forces of joy and anxiety. “God, I can’t even be around you. It’s like you’re tearing me in two. I should hate you, and I can’t even do that. Why can’t I hate you?”

  Caroline was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “But…Isaac, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Because I love you.”

  He laughed, and it went on for longer than he meant it. “Nonsense!”

  She flinched, but shook her head, determination setting into her lovely features. “No. I love you, Isaac Walters. I do! Listen to me! I am not my sister; do you hear me? My sister said those words, and she loves me on some level, so she thinks she’s doing me a favor. I despise her sometimes—she’s dreadful, really, but I listen to her advice because she seems to have done well. At first, I was only marrying you to get my inheritance.”

  “Thank you for admitting it,” Isaac spat.

  “I deserve your anger,” Caroline said shakily. “But it was never my intention to leave you without explanation. I was going to inform you, and leave when you agreed it was fair.”

  Isaac laughed again. “Gee, thanks! That’s considerate!”

  “I know it’s still not right,” Caroline said, and she took one of his hands in his. “I know it isn’t. I know I hurt you, but I’m asking you to forgive me…or at least listen to what I have to say.”

  She paused for a long time, and he could tell she was afraid he would pull away. Her eyes burned into his as she squeezed his limp hand, and he saw all the colors more vividly than before, as though they were straining toward him—the bright yellow spots among the warmest brown he’d ever seen—and something in him seemed to burst. He squeezed her hand back, and warmth spread over his skin.

  “Okay,” he said. “I’ll listen.”

  She smiled, and he was amazed at how joyful it made him. I’m in love with her, he thought.

  “After just a few days with you, I knew you were different,” Caroline said. “Not just from other men—from anyone else. I never lied to you about my feelings and thoughts, Isaac; you really do make me feel safe and loved. But I waited so long to realize the truth, and then I was afraid to tell you. I’m sorry. I didn’t believe you could possibly be who you said you were in your letters—sweet, funny, hardworking— but you are…and the amazing thing is that you’re not even who you think you are.”

  “What?” Isaac said.

  Caroline’s smile grew incredulous. “Isaac, you’re not perfect—you can’t clean very well, you don’t know how to shop, and all of your clothes are wrinkled—but you’re the kindest, most genuine person I’ve ever met. You give so much of yourself without taking anything in return, it’s incredible.”

  Isaac blushed. “I dunno about that.”

  “It’s true!” Caroline insisted. “I hear it from people all the time. And those people are usually sick, sometimes dying, always stressed…so sometimes they’re not the nicest,” she said mildly. “But everyone had great things to say about you. It’s easy to be someone who is tiresome to be around, but you’re the only person who seems to bring energy with them, and joy, and…life.”

  Isaac’s heart did a happy flip in his chest. “You do that for me, too,” he said, and he realized it was true. He laid a hand on Caroline’s cheek, feeling his heart finally shake away the remnants of his rage. “I thought love would be like having someone to help you load a furnace, but it’s really like having someone who’s made of fuel. You keep me going.”

  Caroline’s eyes widened, and she looked amazed. “You really mean that?”

  Isaac laughed. “Of course. You should know I always say what I mean.”

  Caroline smiled and leaned forward, wrapping both of her arms around his neck as he returned the passion in her kiss. She pulled back, her eyes glistening with joy.

  “I love you, Isaac.”

  “I love you, too, Caroline.” He swallowed around a lump rising in his throat. Was he really doing this? Could he really trust her?

  He thought of Lila, and how she’d faded away from him after time—but that had been more of his choice than anything else. Lila had been unwilling to make him feel included or even wanted, and her father, strangely, had. He could choose to stay with her. He felt wanted this time.

  His eyes drifted down between he and Caroline, and he saw that the front of her dress had been soiled, despite it being dark blue.

  Caroline’s eyes followed his, and when they found the smudges, she sighed lightly. “Oh, well,” she said. “Maybe it’ll come out.”

  Isaac burst into laughter. “Caroline. Do you still want to marry me?”

  She looked startled. “Yes, of course.” She paused, a shadow passing over her eyes. “I can understand if you’re still…hesitant. I’ll do anything to make you comfortable, though. Anything at all. Actually,” she said nervously, pulling on one of her curls, “I came her planning to ask you to get married now. To prove it.”

  Isaac’s mouth opened in shock. “What? Really?”

  Carline nodded, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Really. I found the minister, I gave him some money to do it, but he said he’d do it for free for you.”

  Isaac laughed and finally stood, and he pulled Caroline with him, spinning her in a graceful arc before he set her down again. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

  Caroline jumped and clapped her hands together. “Okay! Let’s do it!”

  She
grabbed his hand as they walked toward the main street, her step bouncier than normal. She chattered excitedly as they walked, and Isaac’s heart nearly exploded with happiness to see her so free. “We can pick some flowers on the way! I don’t even mind if they make me sneeze. I’m too happy. I wish I had a veil though—and I’d like to see you in a suit, but I suppose we could wait until you’re invited to give someone away. Which I’m sure you will, by the way, I—what’s wrong?”

  Isaac had stopped before they reached the street. He’d just remembered something he read in Caroline’s sister’s letters—something he’d thought about himself only months before. She’d mocked the idea of him in tails, saying he’d probably look like a Gorilla in fancy dress. What else had Caroline said about her? She was only ugly in spirit. The things she’d written seemed pretty ugly to him.

  “I think we should wait,” Isaac said finally. “Let’s have a real wedding.”

  Caroline gasped. “What? Are you sure?”

  Isaac nodded. “Positive. Let’s move it up a little, though. And Jeremiah’s wife is a dressmaker—she’ll make you something, and maybe help us get a tux, as well. I want to make you happy.”

  Caroline cocked her head, smiling broadly as he spoke. “Isaac, I’d love that—but are you sure? Do you really want to do this?”

  Isaac nodded and kissed her, feeling happier than he’d been in years. “Absolutely. Marriage is about prioritizing different things than I’m used to, and that means you.” He smiled. “Besides…I really don’t want your sister to get that money.”

  THE END

  A Mail Order Bride For Samuel

  Story Description

  Sutter Creek, California – 1852

  Samuel Barnes is a jack-of-all-trades who has more than earned a break. As one of the dozen or so miners in town who wears more than one hat to help Sutter Creek get by without a sheriff, Samuel has done both of his jobs happily for years. When a few younger citizens volunteer for the force, however, he jumps at the chance to finally pursue the life of leisure he deserves.