A Bride for Henry

by P. Creeden

  “Oh!” The man nodded, but his brow furrowed a bit. He opened the cover and exposed the keys. Then he pulled out a stool and sat upon it, playing a quick but rudimentary melody on the keys, before stepping back. “Do you play yourself?” he asked.

  Henry nodded but couldn’t take his eyes from the keys. It had been so long since he’d played he was likely to be rusty. Chances were he’d make tons of mistakes, but still he found himself taking a seat on the stool before he was even invited. Then he set his hands into position and began to play. The music flowed through him. The muscles in his hands still remembered the order of the keys, and the notes sounded like heaven’s song in his ears. He made a few mistakes, but knew they were fewer than he would ever have expected. His eyes closed as he breathed in the sound.

  Chapter 5

  ”There he is,” Cal called out as he pulled the wagon to a stop.

  Brienne searched the direction her ranch hand referred to and found a lonely looking young man with a cane looking longingly into the window of a shop. Her heart fluttered. His dark hair was a little longer than it should have been, falling over his eyes, but when he pushed it back unconsciously, she saw his face, and it was indeed handsome. Her heart sank in her chest. She’d been hoping he wouldn’t be handsome. She’d been hoping he’d have been a man who wouldn’t care about her looks so much, because he couldn’t have had better prospects regardless. But the young man she spotted entering the shop before Cal could call his name was much further out of her reach than she’d been expecting. She set her jaw.

  Cal jumped from the wagon and then reached up to offer Brienne a hand. For a moment, she just froze, looking at him. This was it. She was about to meet her husband. There was no more pretending everything was the same, and she was still a spinster. No more pretending that she didn’t need to be feminine or pretty or attractive in any way. Henry was about to see what he signed up for, and Brienne just had to prepare himself for the disappointment she was about to face. She took a deep breath.

  “Everything is going to be all right. You’ll see, Brienne. I wouldn’t have arranged this if I didn’t believe it would all work out.” Cal’s furrowed brow showed both apology and encouragement.

  She took his hand as she let out her breath slowly and dismounted the open wagon. She pulled her shawl—Mabel’s shawl—tighter around her shoulders. It had been a mistake to let Mabel help her with her hair and a bit of rouge for her cheeks. Brienne didn’t feel quite like herself, and she knew the makeup didn’t make much difference anyway. It’s hard to make a purse from a sow’s ear.

  Once on the ground, she nodded to Cal and released his hand. Together they started for the store that Henry had ducked in. Then she heard it. The most beautiful sound, hauntingly familiar. It was the same song her mother’s music box played, Moonlight Sonata. She froze on the walkway, entranced. She felt Cal’s hand upon her back, forcing her to blink and to continue forward. They opened the door slowly, and when the bell rang overhead, she feared it would put an end to the music, but the pianist continued to play. And there, sitting at the keys was the same young man whom she’d watched walk into the store a moment before. Henry.

  His eyes were closed, and he pressed the keys completely by memory and by ear. The song had always been pretty in her mother’s music box, but hearing Henry play it now brought tears to Brienne’s eyes. The melody sounded especially sad, especially heartbreaking. Henry’s brow furrowed, and his face twisted in pain. And as he hit the last few keys, Brienne’s vision blurred momentarily before the tears slipped over her cheeks.

  And then he opened his eyes, and his gaze met hers.

  Henry’s breath caught as he looked into the eyes of an angel. They were red-rimmed with tears, but they struck a chord in his heart. They sparkled in the same shade of green as his mother’s. Slowly he breathed again, realizing that the eyes didn’t belong to his mother—this woman was far too young, and his mother had been gone for so long. The young woman swiped her cheeks, blinking, and suddenly looking embarrassed. Her gaze flicked to the man standing beside her, and Henry followed her gaze. He blinked at the man next to her and stood from the piano stool. “Uncle Cal?”

  A wide grin spread across Cal’s face. He looked even more like Henry’s father than the last time he’d seen him. It was like getting a glimpse into the past at a time before the War, before sickness had taken Henry’s father. Even the girl’s eyes next to Cal, and the way they brought back memories of his mother, was part of that nostalgia. Everything was overwhelming Henry’s heart. He came around the stool as Cal walked over to him, a hand on the small of the woman’s back.

  “It’s good to see you made it here safely, Henry,” Cal said, offering him a hand to shake.

  Henry took it, his hand almost overwhelmed by the size and roughness of Cal’s. The feeling was familiar, almost exactly like it had been all those years ago when Henry had last seen his uncle. A lump lodged in Henry’s throat, and words couldn’t make it past. So, he just nodded, his gaze returning to the woman next to his uncle. She was a tall, stout woman, not delicate like Anna or any of the girls that he’d seen back home. Her skin was ruddy and darker than theirs as well. But those eyes of hers were even more striking now that she was close. She broke eye contact to look down before Henry did.

  Cal gestured to her. “And this is Brienne Walsh, your bride.”

  Blood rushed to Henry’s face. He should have known. He swallowed at the lump in his throat, unsure of how to respond. Without thought, he offered his hand toward her for a handshake, and then realized he shouldn’t have. It was too late to take it back. She blinked at him and then took his offered hand, holding it firmly and pumping it once, like a man would—not limply like he would have expected from a lady. Her hand was surprisingly rough and calloused, just like Cal’s. The differences between this woman and Anna were so stark that a chuckle bubbled up in Henry’s chest, but he suppressed it with a smile. This was a good thing. He much preferred that his wife was nothing like his first love.

  She cleared her throat, her green-eyed glance only grazing his before she looked down again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Miller.”

  He tilted his head and captured her gaze once more. “There’s no need for you to be so formal. Please, just call me Henry.”

  She nodded, her hands clasped in front of her while she chewed her bottom lip. Somehow, her outward show of nervousness helped Henry overcome his own. It was refreshing to be around a woman whose emotions were so easily read in her gestures and facial expressions. Everything about Brienne seemed honest and open. She wasn’t flashy or reserved—instead she was plain and strong and sincere. A handsome woman, but not beautiful. Maybe that was what Henry needed in order to forget about his past and build a future with this woman. Perhaps love was just a tenuous, deceitful feeling that only plagued him due to his younger, more fanciful notions. He’d seen more of the world and its horrors than he’d care to recall. He was more realistic now, and living with an arranged marriage might have been the only way he’d ever have married again.

  “Shall we get your luggage? I assume it’s at the stagecoach office?” Cal asked, gesturing toward the door.

  The gentleman who ran the store cleared his throat. “Please let me know if you’d like to purchase the piano. We do offer delivery as well.”

  Brienne blinked and turned toward the man, bobbed her head and thanked him. Henry did the same, and the three of them headed out of the door and back onto the boardwalk. Cal led the way to the stagecoach office. Somehow, Henry’s steps felt a little bit lighter now that he’d met her. She wasn’t what he’d expected, but she seemed like just what he needed. Only time would tell.

  Chapter 6

  Brienne’s heart raced in her chest. Henry was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His fingers were long and delicate, his hands smooth. A gentleman rather than a cattleman. His three-piece suit befitted him. His cane clicked next to his feet as he limped down the walkway. It was a relief to see that the man
was flawed in some manner, since he seemed much too extraordinary—much too perfect to be married to her. The way the music he’d played had wrapped around her heart and squeezed it. The way his brown eyes held both sorrow and mirth at the same time. The way he smiled to tell her that everything was going to be all right. Even the momentary shiver she’d received when his hand had touched hers. She hadn’t felt this way about a man in all her life—she’d never allowed herself to develop feelings for anyone like this—and now she felt them, and they didn’t make her elated, they filled her with sorrow.

  She’d never believed in love at first sight because she’d never experienced it. Even now, was that how she’d describe it? It wasn’t just that Henry was a fetching man, it was the music, too. His talent had captured her heart and taken it prisoner. Regardless, the sadness came when she realized that what she felt for him could never be returned. Why would any man like him love a woman as plain and big and unprepossessing as her? She even matched his height almost exactly. Men only liked women who were smaller and weaker than them, a friend in school had confided in her. Her mother had even said something similar when she was younger and chubbier—that even sizable men preferred slim women. She continued walking until Cal stopped, and she almost ran into him.

  Cal looked at her with a smile and pulled open the door of the stagecoach office. A steamer trunk and carpetbag sat by the bench to the side of the doorway. Henry stepped over and took hold of the carpet bag and eyed her with a gentle smile again. “If you don’t mind carrying this bag, I’ll grab a side of the trunk with Cal.”

  She nodded and took hold of the handle of the carpetbag. His fingers brushed against hers as he released it, sending a thrill up her arm again. Her breath hitched, but he didn’t seem to notice. He’d already stepped away to grab hold of the other side of his trunk. She watched him limp slowly out the door, suffering under the weight of his own luggage. Maybe she should have gotten the trunk instead. Even though he was a man, she wondered if she might be stronger than him, due to his injury. She shook her head. It was wrong of her to think that. Men were stronger. And even if they weren’t, they certainly wouldn’t like being shamed by a woman who might be equal in strength. It was better to just let him be the virile one in this situation.

  Once they’d gotten everything packed into the wagon, the three of them sat across the bench at the front. Cal sat in the middle, so as better to drive the horse, while Brienne and Henry sat to each side. This made Brienne much more comfortable. She was already affected by the man’s presence; she didn’t need to be affected by his proximity as well.

  The ride home went by slowly. The rough road made the wagon sway slightly as they passed over the red clay. Cal kept the conversation going. He prattled on and on like a hen. “You’ll find this area much more arid than the humid city of Baltimore—making it easier to breathe. The ranch is just ten miles north of Plano, so we’ll be there in about two hours and a half. Ranch life will be a bit different than city life, for certain. Much of our time is spent outdoors. You can take on as much or as little of the work load as you can. Everyone understands that you have an injury from the War. It will be difficult to adjust at first, but you’ve always been a strong, adaptable boy. I know you’ll get on just fine.”

  In some ways, it made Brienne much more comfortable that Cal filled the emptiness of the ride with words for them. Henry didn’t need to speak, and neither did she. Cal explained much about the ranch and life there, as well as life in general in Texas rather than Maryland. As a Yankee, Henry had fought for the Union. There were a few former Confederates nearby who might take offense to his moving into their area, and Cal even let Henry know about that, to prepare him for it.

  As they passed the main thoroughfare of Collin, Cal pointed toward the church. “Tomorrow is Sunday, and we will all attend services there. It will be the first chance for you to be introduced to everyone as Brienne’s husband and the new master of Walsh Ranch.”

  Henry nodded, his wide eyes focused on the church. She studied his face. Was he nervous at the prospect of being introduced to the community here? The thought of it caused that same ache in Brienne’s chest. How would the people of Collin judge him? Would they wonder how he felt about her? Would they wonder if this marriage would last? Brienne had nonchalantly considered an annulment before, but it had been a fleeting thought and one she’d taken lightly. But would Henry truly consider it? Her heart sank further. She wouldn’t blame him. Surely, she couldn’t at all be what he was expecting. And how could he not be disappointed that she wasn’t as petite and pretty as she’d always wished she’d been.

  When they reached the house, Cal offered her a hand to help her off the wagon, but she leapt down as she usually did. There wasn’t any reason to stand on pretense. Even if she was wearing a dress, she had her breeches on beneath them. Evan stepped toward the wagon and took hold of Jake, the horse who pulled the cart. “It’s good to see y’all made it back safely. Georgia says that supper will be ready in about an hour. But she’s already got some biscuits warming on the stove if’n Mr. Miller is hungry from his travels.”

  Henry stepped up and offered Evan a hand. “That sounds lovely. I’m famished.”

  Cal laughed and rested a hand on Evan’s shoulder, introducing the second ranch hand on the farm. The two of them shook hands and greeted each other. Jordy, her grandfather’s shepherd, came over, wagging his tail in greeting. Henry even spared a moment to pat the old mutt on the head. It relieved Brienne just to see that Henry seemed to be getting along with everyone. She stepped toward the back of the cart and pulled one of the handles on the steamer trunk to bring it to the edge of the back.

  “Whoa. Don’t worry about the luggage, Miss Brienne,” Evan said as he jumped into the back of the wagon. “Me, Cal, and Mr. Henry will get it all. You can head on inside ahead of us.”

  Brienne lifted a brow toward Evan. Was he treating her like a lady in front of Henry as a pretense or was this how he intended on treating her henceforth? She shook her head at him and then grabbed hold of the carpet bag. “It’s fine. I’ll take this one, then.”

  Henry blinked as he watched his new wife take the smaller of his bags and lead the two ranch hands toward the house. Cal and Evan had grabbed both sides of the steamer trunk, leaving Henry empty-handed. It was just as well. His leg ached again from the ride back to the ranch in the wagon. His limp was more pronounced than it was before, so he was happy to take up the rear as it stretched out again. At least no one would be watching him and judging him for it.

  They entered the house and the first thing that struck Henry was the delicious aroma of home cooking. Though Nora had always made tasty meals for him and his father, the scent that filled this home was enticing. His stomach growled in response to the aromas. Even though his mouth watered, he found himself turning away from the kitchen and following his luggage as Brienne led them to the staircase and a large bedroom on the second floor. Once he entered the bedroom, he eyed the large double bed and swallowed. He was a married man now. Would he be expected to sleep with his wife right away?

  “This is your room,” Brienne said as she set Henry’s carpet bag upon the bed. “It used to be my parents’ bedroom, so it was easy to clean up and get ready for you. I’ll remain in my own bedroom, directly across the hall.”

  Relief prickled against Henry’s skin. Who knew how long this situation would last? It mattered little. Henry intended to continue to live as he had while he was in Baltimore in the respect that he didn’t want to think of himself, just yet, as anyone’s husband, though he was certainly willing to learn to get along with Miss Brienne Walsh.

  She slipped past him out of the room without making eye contact. Cal and Evan brought in his steamer trunk and set it at the foot of the bed. Cal swiped the sweat from his brow. “Head on downstairs when you’re ready. I know Georgia will be glad to meet you, and I’ll be in the kitchen myself for at least a short bit while I fetch a glass of tea.”

  Henry lifted an eyeb
row. A glass of tea rather than a cup? He knew there would be some culture changes now that he’d be living in the south rather than above the Mason-Dixon, but at least it was good to know that even Texans still drank tea. He nodded to his uncle. “I could use some tea, myself. I’ll just wash up and be down shortly.”

  Once they vacated the room, Henry allowed himself a moment just to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Then he peered around his room. It was a bit bigger than his bedroom back home in Baltimore. A rollup desk sat to the side with a small stool under it. It and the dresser were made of a rich, mahogany wood. Beside the bed sat a small table with an oil lamp. He fingered the blue and white patchwork quilt that laid upon the bed and wondered if someone from his wife’s family had made it personally. He stepped toward the window and pushed back the gauzy, white curtain. The blue sky outside held not a single cloud. He didn’t remember ever seeing this shade of blue back home. And there wasn’t a single building that he could see. The gently rolling land stretched for miles and miles until it reached some fair hills in the distance. Though there were a few smaller trees around the house, there were hardly any more trees in that expanse of space he could see. He took another deep breath, wondering how long it would take him to reach those hills if he walked it.

  Quiet country life would take some getting used to, but at least here he was already tempted to go outside. He no longer had to wonder if he’d run into people he didn’t want to see. He wouldn’t have to deal with the judgmental gazes of strangers as they wondered at his limp. With the weight of those things off his shoulders, he found that his father had been right. Maybe this move to Texas really would breathe new life into him.

  Chapter 7