“Are you sure that’s safe?”
His brow dipped. “These men put tents up all the time. They know what they’re doing.”
“True, but you’re not experienced like they are.” The wind whipped her skirts, causing her to sidestep. Adam reached out, steadying her.
He exhaled a loud sigh. “Have you no faith in me? All I’m doing is holding a pole.”
Prudy stepped forward, sorry she’d wounded his manly pride, and touched his arm. “Of course I have faith in you, Adam. I guess I’m a little concerned for your safety.”
He cocked his head, a sweet grin tugging at his lips. “Are you worried about me?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
He glanced around then stepped closer and ran his finger down her cheek. “If you’re worried about my safety that must mean you have feelings for me, Miss Willard.”
She fought a smile. “I wouldn’t go that far, Mr. Merrick.”
He stared at her for a long moment, and Prudy held his gaze. “Me thinks you doth protest too much.” The warm words whispered across her cheek.
“Perhaps.” Her grin broke loose, and she shrugged. “A woman does need to keep up appearances. I can hardly wail and gnash my teeth and cry out if you enter that tent before it’s securely staked up, can I?”
“Honestly, I have no doubt you could do that, but I’m thankful you have enough self-control not to.”
“Mr. Merrick! We’re ready for your help.” The foreman jogged toward them. He spied Prudy and tipped his hat. “Afternoon, Miss Willard.”
“Mr. Andrews. How is the tent-raising coming?”
“Fine and dandy. We’re ready to lift the center supports then we’ll put up the side poles and tie them down. Should be done in an hour or two.”
“Thank you so much for getting the tent here a few days early. I want to have everything prepared and ready to go before the visitors start arriving.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He touched his cap again then punched Adam’s arm. “Let’s get at it, Mr. Mayor.”
Adam’s blue eyes flashed with eager anticipation. He squeezed Prudy’s hand, flexed his right arm, revealing his bulging muscle, then spun away. She shook her head, chuckling. Behind her rose the excited buzz of conversation, and she turned to see a growing crowd. The tent-raising was something far outside of the ordinary for Bakerstown, and at sixty by one hundred-twenty feet, it would be the biggest structure in town.
The pole on the right was lifted, and the tent rose in the air with it. Right away, the second pole created a point in the top of the tent and rose higher and higher until the left side was even with the right side. Releasing the tense breath she held, Prudy glanced down at her clipboard. She needed to check with Pastor Clay to see when the benches could be moved from the church to the tent. Surely there was no reason it couldn’t be done right away since there were no church services until Sunday, and the fair would be over by then. She glanced around again and spied Pastor Clay and Karen strolling toward the crowd and started toward them.
A fierce gust of wind whipped at her skirts and blew a strand of hair across her face. The tent snapped and popped like a hundred sheets on a line. Holding down her skirts, she turned as a loud, unified gasp rose from the crowd. Two men fled the entrance. The tent shuddered, listed to the left, and fell.
“Adam!”
Prudy started forward, but someone grabbed her, holding her back. She looked over her shoulder to see Silas Hightower shake his head.
“You’ll only get in the way. Let the men handle things. It ain’t the first time this has happened.”
Although a bit annoyed, she nodded her head, and he released her. Surely the men trapped would be all right. It’s not like the canvas was overly heavy, but could they breathe in there? Her heart clenched at the thought of losing Adam. She thought of him trapped, maybe hurt—she closed her eyes—suffocating. And in that moment she knew—she loved Adam Merrick.
Please, heavenly Father, keep him safe. I can’t lose him. Please.
The duo who had raced from the tent returned and were struggling to lift the opening. Men from the crowd rushed forward to help. Together, they lifted up the heavy tent enough to find the opening. Several men set up the poles to keep the side standing while others disappeared inside. On the far side of the tent, bumps lifted and dropped under the canvas, reminding her of when she was a child and her cat crawled under her bedcovers.
Two men hurried out, helping Mr. Andrews. He was on his feet and looked to be all right. He started yelling commands immediately. By her count, at least six more men were still inside. The minutes ticked by tormentingly slow. Why was it taking so long to get everyone out?
Another man crawled out from under the canvas then rose and walked out, fanning himself with a crumpled hat. A man with a bucket jogged up to him, sloshing water. He lifted out a ladle and handed it to the worker. Prudy stared at the opening. Where was Adam? If the other men were fine, surely he was.
Time crept by at the pace of a reluctant schoolboy on his way to the first day of classes. Prudy felt someone near her and glanced over to see Karen standing beside her with Pastor Clay next to her. Karen reached out and squeezed Prudy’s hand. “They’ll get him out. We’re praying.”
“Thank you.”
A man ran out of the tent, looked around, and yelled, “Someone get the doctor!” He spun and rushed back in.
Heart pounding, Prudy glanced at Karen. The woman stepped closer and wrapped her arm around Prudy’s waist. She couldn’t stop the trembling in her hands and legs. Please don’t take Adam from me.
A man appeared, backing out of the tent, carrying another man by the shoulders, while Mr. Andrews held his feet. Prudy stared at the wounded man’s light blue shirt—the same light blue as Adam’s. No!
Her feet pushed into motion, and she hurried forward. They laid him under a tree, and several men crowded around him. “Let me pass. Please. Move!”
The crowd parted. She stopped at Adam’s side and dropped to her knees, heedless of propriety. A trickle of blood from a cut on one eyebrow ran down toward his ear. Someone had removed his belt, strapped it around Adam’s shoulder and tucked his left arm into it. She glanced up at Mr. Andrews.
“I think his arm is broke,” he said. “The big pole fell on him.”
“It sure hurts like it’s broken,” Adam grumbled.
Prudy gasped and jerked her gaze back to Adam’s. A pitiful smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “Howdy, Princess.”
She took hold of the hand lying on the ground. “You scared ten years off me. Are you all right? How’s your arm? What about your head?”
Eyes shut, he chuckled. “Careful, Princess. You’re going to make these good folks think you care for me.”
With an air of authority, the doctor forced his way to them and ordered everyone back. Prudy refused to move, even when the man glared at her. She merely glared back. He stooped and examined Adam’s head wound and bandaged it, then carefully checked his arm. Adam groaned, and Prudy’s heart nearly broke at seeing the man she loved in such pain. In spite of their rocky start, which was mostly her own doing, she’d fallen for Adam Merrick.
CHAPTER 8
September 10, 1892
County fair, day two
Prudy jumped when the starting gun for the first horse race blasted. The crowd cheered. Riders hooted and kicked their mounts into a quick gallop, stirring up a cloud of dust. She checked the race off her list and looked for Adam. It was time for the final round of the pie judging, for which he’d eagerly volunteered, along with her father, and pie-lover Silas Hightower.
Assuming he was already at the tent, she swung in that direction. All around her, people chatted and laughed. Children ran, squealing and playing impromptu games. She relished the sounds of happiness. Yesterday, the first day of the county fair had gone nearly perfect. More people had signed up for events and contests than they’d dreamed possible. The town treasury had more than quadrupled, and they’d been
able to raise the amount of prize money for the winners. Except for the disaster with the tent falling and hurting Adam and a bullet at the shooting competition that ricocheted, breaking a nearby store window, everything had gone smoothly.
On the outskirts of town, she paused where a fat hog was being roasted. The delicious aroma taunted her, reminding her that she’d forgotten to eat lunch. “How’s the hog coming, Mr. Poteet?”
He tipped his hat. “Slow and steady, ma’am, but it’ll be ready in time for tonight’s supper.”
“Good. Thank you so much for donating the hog and seeing that it got cooked. I know everyone will enjoy it this evening.”
She glanced at her list as she continued to the tent. After the final rounds of judging, all but the three winning pies, which would be returned to the ladies who baked them, would be set out on tonight’s food tables, as would all the cakes and sweet breads that had been baked. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined so many ladies would want to compete.
With his arm in a crisp, white sling, Adam stood at the entrance to the tent, greeting people as they walked in. Her heart leaped at the sight of him. Who could have dreamed she would find love so quickly upon returning home? Her pulse quickened the closer she got to him. He looked up, sent a special smile directed only to her, then tipped his hat to the man and woman he’d been talking with and walked her way.
“There’s my pretty lady.”
Blushing like a schoolgirl, she glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. “You’re shameless, sir.”
“That’s not what I’d call it. Overwhelmed by your beauty, amazed with your organizational abilities, and delighted by your sweet demeanor.”
Prudy laughed. “I don’t know that anyone has referred to me as sweet before, except for maybe my father.”
He held out his right arm, and she looped hers through it. “They don’t know you as well as I do.”
She ducked her head. This man could make her blush faster than the flit of a hummingbird’s wing.
He tugged her away from the entrance toward the back of the tent. With no activities in that area, the only people they encountered were a couple of adolescents sparking. The youths stopped suddenly, stared at them wide-eyed, then rushed away in the other direction.
Adam chuckled for a moment then stopped and faced her, all humor fleeing. He studied her face, tucking a strand of hair that had come loose behind her ear. “You’re not working too hard, are you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m having the time of my life. It’s so wonderful to see everybody have such fun. What about you? Is your arm hurting?”
“Not too bad. I took a half dose of the powder Doc gave me. It’s enough to curb the pain and yet not knock me out.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “You’re sunburned.”
She shrugged. “I took off my straw hat during the three-legged race I ran with Jenny, and then I couldn’t find it afterwards.”
Adam grinned. “I’ll never forget watching that race. You two looked so funny trying to walk with your legs tied together and maneuvering in those long skirts.”
Prudy smiled. Seeing him so happy made her happy. “We need to get inside for the pie judging.” She cocked her head and sent him a teasing smile. “I know how much you’re dreading that.”
He straightened and blew out a breath in a self-important manner. “Yes, the things I do for this town. Pure torture.”
Prudy giggled.
He sobered and took her hand. “I was going to wait until tonight, but I fear you might be too tired to appreciate the moment.”
Her mind swirled. What was he talking about?
His gaze captured hers. “Prudy, this summer has been the best I can remember. Planning the county fair, seeing it all come together, and spending time with you while doing so has been a delight. I almost dread seeing it come to an end.”
“There’s always next year.”
“True. I wish I could hire you as my assistant.”
Prudy’s hopes dimmed a bit. She’d hoped—prayed that he would soon ask for her hand. But obviously that was not the case. “I’ll work for free, Adam. You don’t need to hire me.”
He stared into her eyes. “What I need, is you at my side—always. Will you marry me, Prudy, and make me the happiest man on earth?”
Prudy gasped. “Do you mean it?”
“With all of my heart.” He cupped her cheek, his gaze intense. “I love you and can’t stand the thought of being without you. Please, marry me.”
Tears blurred her eyes. “Of course I will.”
A wide grin split his mouth, and he leaned in, touching his lips to hers. He pulled her close, deepening his kiss and showing her the depth of his love. Far too soon he pulled back and sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to judge those pies now.”
“Why is that?”
“They’ll all taste sour after the sweetness of your lips.”
Prudy groaned. “Oh, Adam, that’s so droll.”
“Too much, huh?” His embarrassed grin warmed her heart.
“Yes, but I love you anyway.” She tugged on his shirt, pulling him closer.
Joy engulfed his handsome features, and he pulled her in for another kiss.
“Anyone seen the mayor?” Someone shouted from the far side of the tent.
Prudy giggled. “We really have to go.”
“Yes, I believe we do. Come along, my love. There are pies to be judged.”
Bestselling author Vickie McDonough grew up wanting to marry a rancher, but instead married a computer geek who is scared of horses. She now lives out her dreams in her fictional stories about ranchers, cowboys, lawmen, and others living in the Old West. Vickie is the award-winning author of thirty-five published books and novellas. Her novels include the fun and feisty Texas Boardinghouse Brides series, and Gabriel’s Atonement, Book 1 in her Land Rush Dreams series.
Vickie has been married thirty-nine years to Robert. They have four grown sons, one of whom is married, and a precocious eight-year-old granddaughter. When she’s not writing, Vickie enjoys reading, antiquing, watching movies, and traveling. To learn more about Vickie’s books or to signup for her newsletter, visit her website: www.vickiemcdonough.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Bestselling author Vickie McDonough grew up wanting to marry a rancher, but instead married a computer geek who is scared of horses. She now lives out her dreams in her fictional stories about ranchers, cowboys, lawmen, and others living in the Old West. Vickie is the award-winning author of thirty-five published books and novellas. Her novels include the fun and feisty Texas Boardinghouse Brides series, and Gabriel’s Atonement, Book 1 in her Land Rush Dreams, series.
Vickie has been married thirty-nine years to Robert. They have four grown sons, one of whom is married, and a precocious eight-year-old granddaughter. When she’s not writing, Vickie enjoys reading, antiquing, watching movies, and traveling. To learn more about Vickie’s books or to signup for her newsletter, visit her website: www.vickiemcdonough.com
THE HONEY BRIDE
Diana Lesire Brandmeyer
Dedicated to Mike and Lisa Hoppe, my bee friends.
CHAPTER 1
May 1887, Trenton, Illinois
Wind-whipped water plopped, splattered, and then moistened Katie Tucker’s forehead, rousing her. Something wasn’t right. She’d fallen asleep with open windows, hoping for a breeze to relieve the early summer heat. Now the wind was wicked, pulsating against the bedroom panes and blowing in rain. She sat, reached for the window, and closed it with a bang.
The sky lit up once, twice. The hair on her arms stretched for heaven. Crack. The second story sizzled and popped. Lightning. She shivered. Was it a tornado, like the one she’d read about last month? Five people in Wabash County had died.
Papa would be yelling to go to the cellar any minute. Please, God, not down there. Chill-bumps raced up her arms.
Henry, her younger brother, banged against her door and called out, jarring her from the
nightmare of spider webs stuck in her hair.
Had he said fire? In the house? The barn? Shaking, she fumbled for her wrapper, found it, then rushed her arms through the sleeves. Her shoes were by the back door. Henry waited at the bottom of the stairs.
“The barn’s on fire. Papa’s out there.”
“Get a bucket! I’ll get the stew pan. Where’s Oma?”
“Sleeping.”
“I’ll wake her. Get as many things filled with water as you can.” Henry’s boots pounded sharply against the wood floor in time to her heart beat. She needed to wake her grandmother.
Oma met her at the doorway.
“What’s the yelling about?”
“Lightning started a fire in the barn. Papa is getting out the animals. I was coming to wake you.”
“I’m up. Go help. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
Katie hesitated. Should she insist her grandmother stay inside?
“Go, Schatzi. Now.”
Her grandmother’s strong words urged her feet forward and she hightailed it down the stairs for her shoes. She trembled on the bench, trying to get her shaking fingers to work her laces into place. The unnatural noises from the animals made her want to run back to bed. No matter how fearful she was she couldn’t. There was work to be done.
Outside, the smoke lay heavy in the air. They needed help. The farmhand Papa hired hadn’t shown up. If only they could get word to the fire department, but they were too far from town. She’d send Henry to the Gibbons’. They were the closest.
Henry worked the pump, water pouring, splashing against the bucket sides.
“Where’s Papa?”
“Still in there. He got Starlight out first.”
“Good. Get on her, ride to the Gibbons’, and tell them we need help.”
“I can help.”
“We need more than the three of us. Hurry. You’re faster than me.”
Henry ran for the horse. Katie picked up the bucket of water Henry had filled. The handles bit into her hands as she carried it to the barn. “Papa! I have water!”
The 12 Brides Of Summer (Novella Collection Book 4) Page 5