A Bride in the Bargain Part 17

"I received a telegram from Mr. Mercer saying it was."

She slowly pulled her hand from his and looked around as if her husband might materialize at any moment. "I . . . I can't beliebe it."

He said nothing while she took a few moments to absorb the news. A series of emotions crossed her face, before finally settling on a joy that gave him a brief glimpse of the beauty that must have first drawn Clement Wrenne to her so many years ago.

Eyes shining, she placed her hand on Joe's arm. "You are a berry kind man, Mr. Denton, but I'm afraid I can't marry you. I must go back to my precious Clement."

"I completely understand and please don't worry. I will still cover all expenses owed to Dr. Barnard, and I will pay for your room and board at the Occidental until Mr. Wrenne arrives."

"Tank you, Mr. Denton. You are a true gentleman. Before you leab, you must be sure to meet my Clement. I know he'll like you berry much."

"If I'm still in town, it would be my pleasure." He held out his arm, making a note to leave Seattle as soon as he could manage. Because if he were Clement Wrenne, he wouldn't at all care to meet his wife's former betrothed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

Their ch.o.r.es complete, the men dropped their dirty lunch buckets by the back door, each one clanging against the other.

"That sure was some good pig's fry, Miss Ivey."

"Think we could have more of that vinegar pie on Monday?"

"Is there anything you need 'fore we head to town?"

This last question was from Thirsty, a small man standing no more than five feet six. But he was strong, and she'd heard he could eat and digest hay if it was sprinkled with whiskey.

"Town?" she asked. "You're going to town?"

"It's Sat.u.r.day night and Sunday's our day off. But we'll be back in time for breakfast on Monday."

She looked at the group at large. "All of you are going?"

"Well, yes, miss. If there's something you need, though, we'll be glad to take care of it before we go."

She pasted a smile on her face. "No, thank you, Thirsty. I can't think of a thing. I appreciate all the help you've given already."

"It's no trouble, miss," Ronny said, dropping his lunch bucket by the others. She noted, though, that his bucket had been scrubbed free of all dirt and grime.

She knew better than to thank him. The others would tease him mercilessly. So she simply gave him a warm smile and decided to place an extra piece of pie in his bucket on Monday. "Good night, Ronny. You behave yourself in town, now."

His cheeks turned bright pink. "Yes, miss."

She remained on the porch watching the lumber crew walk past the leaning chestnut tree, then down a path heading east until she could neither see nor hear them. Up to now, she'd loved being alone in the house.

No superior looking over her shoulder. No ceaseless gossip between kitchen workers. No Hoke hara.s.sing her at every turn. Then at night, Joe had been within calling distance and the men were only a mile away.

She swallowed. No one would be anywhere close tonight. It wasn't ferocious beasts or brutal savages that concerned her so much as her own thoughts.

The evenings used to be her favorite part of the day. Her family would settle around the fire. Papa would read out loud, the pleasant aroma of his pipe wrapping them in its arms. Leon would set up his paper soldiers on the floor preparing them for mock battle. Mama and Anna would decorate boxes or frames with seash.e.l.ls they'd collected over the years.

Then the war came and Papa left. The band had sailed by their house trumpeting a slightly off-key rendition of "The Girl I Left Behind." With flags flying and bayonets resting on shoulders, the townsmen, dressed in Union colors, marched toward Main Street where wagons waited to take them to the train station in Amherst.

She and Leon hung over the porch rail shouting and waving. Mr. Cheatham turned and smiled, but Papa looked straight ahead without giving them even a glance. When the regiment disappeared round the corner of Pleasant Street, she'd raced upstairs to Mama's room, anxious to talk of the parade and her father's strange behavior.

But Mama wasn't at her window. The shutters were closed and she lay on the bed, her eyes dry, wide, and unseeing. The patriotism and excitement Anna had felt dimmed. Little had she known, she'd dashed into that room a girl, but silently tiptoed out a young woman, who would, from that moment on, be forced to shoulder the responsibility for her mother's care and her little brother's well-being.

Six months later, she'd accidentally hit Mama and upset Leon so much he ran away. She'd spent hours looking for him. Only when night had fallen had she returned home.

Mama stood in the entry hall, a new letter from Papa in her hand.

Anna had closed the front door, tears clogging her throat. "I looked high and low all day, then ran in to Mrs. Evers a few moments ago. She said Leon rode out of town with Daniel August. They were heading to Amherst to sign up."

What little color Mama had in her cheeks drained. Dropping the letter, she grabbed the hall tree for support. "No."

"I'm sorry, Mama."

The anger in Mama's eyes was the most emotion she'd displayed since Papa left. "This is all your fault. I was depending on you. Your father was depending on you. And now you've gone against both our wishes and sent your brother away. You've killed him, Anna. And you've killed me, too. I'll never forgive you for this."

The chattering of the crickets and trilling of gra.s.shoppers penetrated Anna's consciousness, bringing her back to the present. The temperature had dropped and night had fully descended. Taking a deep breath, she swiped her eyes. The best thing to do would be to keep busy. Keep her mind occupied.

Returning inside, she rolled up her sleeves and began to scrub Joe's kitchen from top to bottom.

Circ.u.mventing the house, Joe went straight to the barn. Sir Francis Bacon plodded through the pigpen and snorted a greeting, but Joe ignored him, wrestling instead with his conscience.

He was going to have to lie to Anna about Bertha. And in order to cover it up, he'd most likely have to tell even more falsehoods. Still, if she knew why he'd gone to town, and that he was once again desperate for a wife, she'd throw up barriers he didn't have time to topple.

So he'd lie by omission about his betrothal. He checked on his cows, expecting them to be miserable this late in the morning, but they'd already been milked, and a quick inspection of the hen house showed the eggs had been collected. So either Anna had done it, or Red hadn't gone into town with everybody else.

He'd told the boys before he left about Mrs. Wrenne and that he was going to marry Anna instead. None had seemed overly surprised. It was when he'd told them not to discuss it with Miss Ivey that they'd raised their eyebrows.

Still, it was none of their concern.

Tucking a package of veal he'd purchased under his arm, he headed toward the house. He wondered what Anna had made for supper last night and how she'd spent her morning off. Had she slept late? Found his shelf of books? Gone on a walk?

The chairs out back had been turned upside down and now rested on the long table. A swirl of smoke trailed from the chimney. He glanced up at the sky. The weather had been beautiful, an unbroken string of sunny days. With July now upon them, it would only get better.

Climbing the porch steps, he asked G.o.d to forgive him his subterfuge and then entered the kitchen.

Anna squealed and spun around, iron in one hand and the other pressed against her throat. More pitiful looking undergarments he'd never seen in his life. He mumbled a quick apology and immediately backed out of the room, but his mind had captured a great many details.

The tub full of still water. Anna's wet hair loose and falling about her waist. The stark corset that hugged her figure without a single bit of frippery to decorate it. Drawers so threadbare they hid absolutely nothing. Well-formed ankles extending out from those drawers. Bare feet. And her blue dress flattened against the table. Did she not have a petticoat?

He could hear her scrambling inside.

"Don't rush, Anna," he called, embarra.s.sment for them both making him self-conscious. "I've plenty to do in the barn. I'll be back in about thirty minutes. Will that give you enough time?"

Silence.

"Anna?"

She opened the door, her face flushed. And though her dress was on, he couldn't clear the image of her in a state of dishabille.

Nor how very nicely she'd filled out her corset.

He swallowed. "I'm sorry."

Her hair still hung free, curling at the ends. She touched the b.u.t.ton at her collar. "I didn't expect you so soon."

"I didn't think to warn you. I'm sorry."

Biting her lip, she widened the door. "You can't be expected to knock on your own door."

"Yes, I can."

She glanced at the package under his arm. "What's that?"

"Some veal I picked up from the butcher."

"You can set it over there." She pointed to the table she'd been ironing on.

He glanced at her skirt, half ironed, half wrinkled, and dragging the floor. Was she still barefoot?

He cleared his throat. "Not just yet. Perhaps in about thirty minutes? Will that give you enough time?"

She blushed again, then gave a hesitant nod.

Turning, he retraced his steps, listening for the click of the door's closing, but it never came. And then he knew she'd watched him until he was safely out of sight.

This time he knocked.

The door immediately opened. "You needn't knock."

He refrained from comment. The tub was gone. Her dress was pressed. Her hair was still wet but caught up in a ribbon at the back.

Both of them blushed.

"Come in, Joe."

He surged across the threshold and tossed the meat onto the table she'd first indicated. Peeling off the brown paper, he kept his back to her.

Don't ask about Bertha. Don't ask about Bertha.

"How's Mrs. Wrenne?"

He grabbed a cleaver out of a jar and began to chop up the tender beef. "Fine."

"And her teeth? Will they be ready soon?"

Blast. "Looks like things will be delayed a bit."

"Oh my. Not too long, I hope?"

"That remains to be seen." At least that much was true.

"Well, I'm sorry. I know you're anxious to see this whole thing through."

He said nothing.

She glanced at the meat. "Did you have something particular in mind for that, because it's not going to be quite enough for the crew, I don't think."

"It's for the two of us."

"The two of us?" She crossed her arms. She wasn't wearing her watch pin. She must not have had time to put it back on. "But don't you think that's a bit too much for two people?"

He slammed the cleaver into the veal. "If I say it's for the two of us, then it's for the two of us."

Her eyes widened.

Sighing, he laid down the cleaver. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit out of sorts, I guess."

She nodded. "Understandable, all things considered."

She didn't know the half of it. "I'm going to cut this into small segments. You can salt it, cure it, smoke it, make a stew, whatever you want. But it's for you and me on Sundays only. All right?"

"Yes."

Taking a deep breath, he returned to his task. "Thank you."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

"I'm going into camp and file the saws," Joe said, poking his head in the parlor.

Anna sat with her feet tucked up underneath her, reading The Taming of the Shrew. She looked up, still smiling over the last line she'd read.