by Linda Broday
As he walked way to retrieve the trunk, Evie forced herself to stand tall. She turned to look, not seeing anyone in the crowd in front of the depot who might be Mr. Cameron. No one who looked to be a farmer. And no children. Had he changed his mind? Her heart pounded. What would she do if he had? She had very little money, and no place to go.
She consciously wiped the worry from her expression, turning to see that the porter had gotten the correct trunk and was trundling it her way. Here was what was left of her life. A valise, a trunk, and herself. Nothing else but memories remained.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’m afraid I have no money—”
“Not necessary, ma’am,” the porter replied. There was no censure in his smile, and his eyes were kind. “Is someone here to meet you?”
“Oh—y-yes. Mr. Cameron will be here shortly.” She smiled as she spoke, hoping it was true.
Something changed in the porter’s face, but his smile never slipped. “Very good, Miss.” He turned and walked away, leaving Evie to wonder what she might have said to cause his reaction.
****
“Miss Fremont?”
She jumped and whirled as the man who’d spoken her name reached out to steady her quickly.
“Oh! My goodness—”
“I’m sorry—”
As Alex caught her, she looked up into his eyes. This had to be his mail-order bride, though she hadn’t confirmed it. He’d startled her. His gaze swept over her, checking off the bare facts he knew about Miss Fremont. Brown eyes that were not just “brown”, but the most delectable shade of coffee he’d ever seen; hair that was like smooth, sherry-colored silk, pulled into a bun for traveling, but with strands escaping despite her best efforts to neaten them back.
She was a good deal shorter than his six-foot three-inch height, and had to tilt that lovely neck upward to meet his assessing stare. But her skin was the most surprising feature yet. It was not the pale, washed-out color he had expected, but instead boasted a gently sun-kissed tone like smooth, warm honey. He was captivated…and fascinated.
“Mr.—Mr. Cameron?”
He gave her a slow smile, and she blushed.
“Yes. Yes, of course you are. Silly me. No one else knows of my arrival.” She paused. “I just expected—something different.”
He reached for her valise. “Meaning?”
She blushed at her own blunt statement, fumbling for what to say next. “Well—your attire is not necessarily that of a farmer, Mr. Cameron. More that of a—a gambling man.” She left the comment open, inviting a reply. But it was too much to explain here on the depot platform in the bitter cold.
“Need some help with your trunk, Miss?” Two teenage Indian boys approached, and Alex turned to acknowledge them.
“Please,” he said, answering for her. “That wagon—” He pointed out the wagon he’d brought and the two young men heaved the trunk up from the ground and struggled toward it.
Alex gave her an apologetic look. “I—wasn’t sure how many trunks you’d have, so I brought the wagon rather than the carriage. It’s not going to be a comfortable ride, but at least, it’s not far. And—I need to make a stop at my other place of business.”
The smile slowly faded as she turned her attention from watching the teens safely seat her trunk on the wagon bed and begin to tie it in place with the ropes that Alex had brought.
“I thought you owned a farm—”
“A ranch—not a big one.”
“But, you mentioned it was a few miles from Talihina.”
“Yes. It is. But…as I said, I also have another business venture.” He flipped the boys a couple of coins and took Evie’s arm.
“The way you’re dressed, Mr. Cameron, one might think you owned a saloon.”
He helped her into the wagon without responding. But as he climbed in beside her, he shot her a quick glance. “I’ve done many things in my lifetime, Miss Fremont. Owning a saloon is only one of them.”
****
Oh, Dear God! Evie tried to keep the shock from her expression. She had come all the way across the country to marry a man who operated a saloon—the very thing that had destroyed Trey’s life, and hers! With everything sold at auction but their clothing, Evie had secretly managed to hold on to two pieces of her mother’s jewelry. The ruby necklace, she would never part with. But the emerald bracelet had fetched enough money to buy a train ticket from South Carolina to her Aunt Felicia and Uncle Arthur’s home in Chicago. That’s where she’d seen Mr. Cameron’s advertisement.
Now, to find out he had misrepresented himself, was almost more than she could bear. A saloon owner! She wanted to laugh at the irony of her situation. She and Trey had parted bitterly over his drinking—and she was soon going to be married to a man who undoubtedly drank like a fish, but also promoted alcohol to others. Indeed, who made his living from the Devil’s brew.
They drove past The Silver Star Saloon heading to the end of the street so that Alex could bring the wagon around to the back. Evie couldn’t help but turn to look at The Silver Star as they drove past the front. “Is this to be our home, then, Mr. Cameron?” she asked stiffly.
He actually had the gall to chuckle, and Evie couldn’t tell if he was laughing at her or the questions.
“I see nothing funny—”
“Now, Miss Fremont, just calm down. I will explain everything, just not out here in the freezing cold. Let’s get you inside first, and maybe you’ll…thaw.”
She turned to him indignantly. “I don’t like your insinuation. I think anyone would be taken aback by the misrepresentation—”
“Misrepresent—Are you from Chicago?”
Evie stared hard at him, her heart thumping. She was a terrible liar. And she’d only half-told the truth when she’d answered his ad, and in their correspondence thereafter. She was afraid she knew what he was getting at.
“You answered an ad I placed in a Chicago newspaper. In all of our correspondence, you led me to believe you lived in Chicago.”
“I-I did! With my aunt and uncle!”
Alex gave her an impatient shake of his head as he reached the end of the street and turned the corner into the alley way that ran behind his business.
“You never mentioned you were from the South. You let me believe you were originally from Chicago.”
Stunned at the way he’d turned the tables on her, she resorted to haughty disdain. “I hardly see that as the same thing, Mr. Cameron; and surely, you must not, either. You, sir, are grasping at straws.”
“Really?” he drawled.
“What would you say if I told you alcohol ruined my family—or…what I had left of it?” she asked quietly, hoping to put him in his place. “You see, my transgression is nothing compared to what you’ve done with your…lie of omission.”
He pulled the wagon to a halt and turned to look directly into her eyes. “Depends on how you look at it, I guess. What would you say if I told you I fought for the Union…and I abhor all things Southern?”
Evie gasped at his negligent bluntness. “Is–Is that true?” she whispered shakily.
A slow grin spread across his lips. “No. But let’s agree that we’ll be forthcoming in the future. About everything.” He jumped down and strode to Evie’s side of the conveyance.
Relief flooded through her. She wouldn’t let him see it, though. She sniffed as she put her hands on his shoulders, and he lifted her down.
“That should be easy,” she said evenly. “I have nothing to hide. Certainly nothing like—like you hid from me.”
Alex only chuckled. “I guess that remains to be seen, doesn’t it, Evangeline?”
CHAPTER TWO
They entered through the backdoor into a small hallway. To their right was a large room containing a small cooking area, a settee, a table, and a bed.
“Larson’s quarters,” Alex said briefly, noting Evie’s open curiosity. “He runs the place when I’m not here—which is most of the time.”
“I trust�
��your quarters are a bit more elaborate?”
He led her into a foyer with a door directly in front of them and a stairway to the left. “Yes. And his could be, if he wished it.” He gave her a sharp glance. “Larson and I fought together in the war. He saved my—uh—neck more than once.”
Just then, the lock scraped and a man pulled the door open, tossing back a ribald comment over his shoulder that sent heat flooding to Evie’s cheeks.
He pulled the door closed, seeing Alex and Evie for the first time.
“Sweet feathery Lord, I’m sorry, ma’am!” He peered closely at her, then threw Alex a quick look “Is this—please say this isn’t your new bride-to-be, Alex. If so—I’ve humiliated myself—”
“Not for the first or the last time, Kevin,” Alex said wryly. “She is—and you have.” He nodded toward Evie. “Miss Fremont, may I introduce Kevin Larson—my right hand man?”
Evie put her hand out, and Kevin took it in his big paw, kissing the back of it gallantly.
“I’m sorry for the profanity, Miss Fremont. Very pleased to meet you, ma’am.”
Evie smiled at the genuinely contrite look in his eyes. “I’m pleased to meet you, as well, Mr. Larson.”
Larson’s glance strayed back to Alex questioningly. Why had he brought a lady here, to the saloon? Was he trying to run her off, back to Chicago, before they could marry? Alex’s bland gaze held no answers, only the hint of a smile, as he turned for the stairs.
“Kev, would you stay here a moment with Miss Fremont and keep her company? I need to get something from my quarters before we head out to the uh—farm. I’ll only be a minute.”
Kevin gave him an odd look, but nodded. “Sure. Be glad to.”
Alex started up the stairs, and Evie’s gaze followed him. She’d never been inside a saloon before. How she’d love to take a look at Alex’s quarters!
“You’re getting a good man, ma’am,” Kevin said quietly.
“I hope so.” Evie’s response startled her. Already, this journey had turned into something she had gone from being anxious about to a mere vague, uncertain feeling.
Kevin laughed, his blue eyes bright. “I’m sure it’s a worry—answering an advertisement to come out west and marry a man you’ve never met. But, it’s a worry for him, too. See, one thing about Alex is, he’s loyal down to his bones. That’s one reason he took in them boys of Challender’s. They didn’t have anywheres else to go to. Nobody wanted ’em.”
“Challender?”
Kevin nodded quickly. “Ray Challender. He served with us in the war, a younger boy. We all thought a lot of him. Just before the war was over, Alex got a letter from a pastor in Missouri where Ray was from, up by Jefferson City. Ray’s wife had accidentally drowned herself at a picnic an’ left behind their two boys, Sage and Eric.”
“Oh…” Evie’s mind raced. Why had Alex led her to believe the boys were his? Had he thought no one would answer his advertisement otherwise? She would not admit to Kevin Larson that Alex, again, had not been completely honest with her.
No, it would be better to keep this information to herself. If he thought to shock her with it later, it wouldn’t work.
“Well, course it was up to Alex to tell Ray what had happened, but we was gettin’ ready to go into a skirmish. He thought to wait until it was over, so Ray’s mind wouldn’t be addled.”
“But then?” Evie urged him on, worried that Alex might return before she heard the end of the story.
Larson lifted his bleak gaze to hers. “He got hisself shot anyhow. Killed on the spot. An’ that’s how the boys come to live with the Captain—I mean, Alex. An’ that’s why he sent for you—so they’d have a proper home.”
The sound of a door closing at the top of the stairs halted the conversation. Evie impulsively reached to squeeze Kevin’s arm. “Thank you, Mr. Larson, for telling me.”
Alex hurried down the stairs, coat and hat in hand. “Rings,” he said, patting his pocket as Evie glanced up at him.
“I won’t be at the wedding this evening, Miss Fremont,” Kevin said, “but I do wish you and the Captain all the best.”
Wedding. This evening. That explained the rings. Evie was beginning to think her husband-to-be was made up of nothing but surprises.
****
If it hadn’t been for the currents rippling between them as they drove to the “farm”, Evie might have been able to relax and enjoy getting to know Alex. As it was, she was too aware of the pressure of his knee against hers under the lap blanket. The brush of his shoulder sent a shot of fire into her chest that spread to her stomach, and lower. His very nearness turned her insides to jelly. And she didn’t even know him—not really.
Maybe…maybe it was only her fanciful thinking that there could be hope of a real future together with him. After what she’d learned from Kevin Larson, she couldn’t help it. If a man cared about one of his soldiers enough to take in two children that weren’t his own, he had to have goodness in his heart.
“How far is it to your farm?”
He winced. “It’s…not really a farm. Like I said—it’s more of a ranch.”
“I like to garden. Maybe we could grow some vegetables.”
“Now, what would a Southern belle know about gardening?” A smile quirked his sensuous lips.
“Mama loved to plant flowers,” she said softly. “I suppose I took it a step further.” Evie was silent a moment, then, “I guess you might find it totally scandalous that I enjoy canning…and I am a passable cook.”
He gave a short laugh. “I seem to remember in your response to my advertisement that you were ‘quite skilled in culinary arts’—not ‘passable’.”
“Yes,” she murmured quietly. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You…can bake a cake, can’t you?”
She smiled at the wary hopefulness in his tone. “Yes. It seems important to you. Why?”
“Uh—Valentine’s Day’s coming up. It’s also Sage’s birthday. He’ll be five.” He was silent a moment before he went on. “Sage is quiet about asking for things, but he mentioned he’d like to have a birthday cake. And baking is not something Mrs. Blue does all that well.”
Evie reached to touch Alex’s hand. “I’d be glad to bake birthday cakes for all of you.”
“The boys’ll be glad to hear that.”
“And—you?”
“Evie, I—I’ve never had a birthday cake. I’m not really even sure when my birthday is, to tell you the truth.” His voice turned businesslike. “And that kind of thing is for kids, anyhow.”
“I see.”
They fell silent again in the crisp cold air. Finally, Evie got up her nerve to broach a subject she’d wondered about ever since she’d answered Alex’s advertisement.
“Alex—Mr. Cameron—I was wondering, what is it you expect from our union—other than an occasional cake?”
He turned to look at her squarely. “Guess that depends on what you’re expecting, Evie. First thing is, I’d appreciate it if you called me Alex, and drop the formalities. We will share living quarters and it’d be a bit silly for us to go about calling each other ‘Mr.’ and ‘Mrs.’, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“If you’re asking about husbandly rights, I’ve never forced a woman to bed me, or bedded one I didn’t at least carry a bit of fondness for in one way or another. If you want children between us, I’m glad to oblige, and will provide for them.”
“Well, then,” Evie said breathlessly, her heart pounding at his matter-of-fact discussion of their intimate marital duties. She was surprised at the anger that seemed to underlie her own feelings. “Well, then,” she repeated, “I have a few expectations myself. The first one has to do with alcohol. I won’t abide a drunk husband.”
“Nothing to worry over. I rarely drink, and when I do, it’s in moderation. I like to keep my wits about me, in case of trouble.”
Something about the way he said that sent a cold chill racing up Evi
e’s spine. “What kind of trouble are you expecting, Alex?”
“The war’s not over for some folks, Evie. Even though it’s been four years—” he broke off, finally saying, “for some people, it won’t ever end.”
Before she could ask about his cryptic words, he nodded toward the right side of the road ahead of them. “Just over this next rise—we’re almost home. I know you’re half-frozen.”
“The wind here rivals Chicago,” she said.
“You won’t have trouble getting used to it, then.” He was silent a moment before he went on. “There’s one more thing you should know, Evie,” Alex said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. “I won’t tolerate you taking lovers. Once we’re married, you’re mine alone—”
“How dare you!” She reached to snatch the reins from his fingers, pulling the wagon to a stop before they reached the top of the hill. She didn’t want to see his farm or ranch or whatever it was! Not if she had no stake in it—and that just might be the case, after what he’d just said.
He turned to look at her, surprise written across his darkly handsome features.
Evie glared at him, but she could feel the hurt and disappointment scraping through the rage. She would not break down and cry. Just when she’d thought there might be a chance—she had to say what needed to be said, and quickly, before the tears came.
“I had no plans to take a lover, Mr. Cameron. You will not insult me again with such a subject! It’s unthinkable. While we’re giving ultimatums to one another, I’ll issue an edict of my own. I expect the same standards for your behavior that you insist on for mine. If you have a mistress, I hope you’ve said your goodbyes. There’ll be no philandering in our marriage—from either of us!”
Her voice trembled at the end, and Alex reached for her, but she tried to push him away.
“Evie—” He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him.
“I should slap your face!”
He gave a slight smile. “Just wait.”
“For what?”
“This.” He leaned toward her and pulled her tightly into his arms, his lips coming across hers with tender impatience. Evie stopped struggling as his mouth closed over hers in a gentle, yet firm melding that he kept tightly leashed.