A Bride for Keeps (2 page)

The porter at the front of the car straightened. “May I do something for you, miss?”

“Nothing, Henry. Unless you can make this car go faster . . . or slower.” She bit
her lip. “How much longer until Salt Flatts?”

“Not too long. Just a hop and a skip. We’ll be there before you know it.” His smile
stretched across his face, slicing his dark skin with a glimmering white. “I reckon
you’ll be just fine, miss.”

Just fine? When she’d agreed to marry a man with whom she’d never even exchanged a
single letter? No. Not fine. The thought of being close to any man again made her
stomach churn.

“But one thing I’d be doing is stop playing with that there brooch. You’re going to
be wearing off its shine.”

She released her mother’s portrait clipped to her collar, her fingers red from rubbing
the gold filigree frame. “Perhaps I am a bit nervous.”

“I suspect you don’t have to be anxious for nothing.”

If only that were true. But there was nothing to be done now. She couldn’t very well
jump off the train. Oh, why hadn’t she gotten off at the last stop? Stiffly, she returned
to her seat.

The large woman across from her glared from behind that ever-swishing fan and sighed.

Her husband leaned forward. “You worried about meeting someone?”

Julia nodded, wishing her whole life didn’t depend on a
man she’d never met. Why had she handed some stranger a hold over her? She wanted
to see Rachel Stanton, the woman she’d corresponded with for the past few months,
but she should have come simply to visit Rachel. Instead, she’d panicked and promised
her life away in matrimony when Rachel had mentioned her husband’s friend would be
interested in a mail-order bride. Would Rachel and Dex Stanton offer their hospitality
if she didn’t follow through with marrying Everett Cline? The sourness in her stomach
crept toward her throat.

“A fella, I suppose?”

Feeling color invade her cheeks, she shrugged.

“Stop worrying. No fella’d be sorry to see a girl like you step off this train.”

No. No lonely fellow would. That was part of the problem. Maybe she should have worn
her day dress instead of her best silk.

Henry walked the aisle, touching headrests as he passed. “Next stop, Salt Flatts.”

Her heart doubled its rhythm. A friend awaited her . . . but so did a man. Last chance.
Stay in the seat or meet her potential husband? He’d want an intimacy from her she
wasn’t ready to give anytime soon. She wrapped her arms about her waist and suppressed
a moan. What choice did she have?

The locomotive’s gleaming chimney loomed. Its acrid smoke rolled over the prairie
land surrounding Salt Flatts, marring the gray-blue sky. Everett paced on the crowded
train platform, wondering if Rachel had indeed set him up. He scanned the crowd. No
sign of her yet. Surely she’d be waiting for the woman she intended to foist upon
him if there were
one. He blew out a breath and ambled toward the Stantons’ wagon. He’d know soon enough.

The train’s whistle scattered the birds pecking in the grass next to the tracks, and
the hissing iron monster slowed. Rachel scurried across the road and up the plank
ramp. Her three-year-old, Emma, bounced on her hip and waved wildly at the train.

The pullman’s door opened, and Everett stared at the line of silhouettes behind the
passenger car windows. Several men disembarked before a skinny woman stepped onto
the rough wooden platform, her curly orange-red hair trailing across her blemished
face.

Rachel looked straight at the tall girl, and Everett tensed, but Rachel didn’t hail
her. The young woman scurried to a waiting wagon and embraced an elderly man.

Everett rubbed at the tension in his neck.

More men poured out of the passenger car, and finally the porter exited and sauntered
toward the depot. Everett released his pent-up breath and chuckled at himself. He’d
allowed Mrs. Hampden’s foolish notions to mess with his head.

“There you are.” John, Rachel’s youngest boy, rushed toward him. “Are you ready for
the surprise?”

A surprise for John or a surprise for him? His breath grew shallow, and he squatted
to the boy’s eye level. “Do you know what it is?”

John shook his dark head. “No. Ma won’t tell me. Would you ask her?”

“You’re too impatient. We’ll find out soon enough.” He rubbed the boy’s head and forced
himself not to walk straight toward Rachel and ask. If John was anxious, then the
surprise had to be for the family, not him. Rachel wouldn’t have hinted to the children
about a scheme to match him up with a stranger.

“There she is.” Rachel’s call ended in a high feminine squeal. She handed Emma to
Dex and darted into the crowd. Dex threw him a glance before covering up a grin with
his free hand. Too much amused twinkling danced in his best friend’s eyes.

He’d been hoodwinked.

Everett slowly pivoted toward the train. A petite, fashionably dressed lady wrestled
an oversized valise through the pullman’s door and climbed cautiously down the stairs.
Her ivory skirt was extraordinarily full in the back. A red sash cinched her waist,
enhancing its tininess. She fingered a brooch at her neck and brushed at the veil
whipping against her forehead in the wind. Dark wavy hair fell from under her straw
hat, framing her perfect lips and tiny nose. He had never seen a more beautiful woman.
Not even Patricia, the prettiest gal who’d ever set foot in Saline County, could compare.

The woman gestured toward Rachel with a wad of papers in her hand and a question in
her shoulder shrug. Rachel’s hands flung out, and she swallowed the woman in an embrace.
Though one was dressed in worn homespun calico and the other in ruffles of shimmering
stiff fabric, they started chattering like long-lost sisters.

He pushed down the jolt that traveled up from his toes. This stunning friend of Rachel’s
would never need to become a mail-order bride. She was not here for him.

Julia pulled away from Rachel’s third warm hug, which couldn’t calm the storm of emotions
swirling within her chest. Though she rejoiced to hold this dear friend in her arms
for the first time, she couldn’t help looking around the crowd
for him. Her heart thudded at the base of her throat. “I can hardly believe I’m here.”
If she hadn’t seen Rachel waiting on the platform, almost bouncing with anticipation,
she would have slouched in the leather passenger seat, dug out the last of her money,
and rode the tracks a little farther.

“Me neither.” Rachel hugged her again. “I never realized how much I missed having
a bosom friend until I started writing you. We’ll take you home and talk all night
and meet the neighbors and . . .”

Rachel’s banter was infectious, but her friendliness didn’t stifle the need to know
what her future husband expected. “Won’t Everett want to, uh, start things right away?”
A few hundred feet away a white steeple loomed over rows of buildings, making her
feel faint. She tried to imagine riding straight to the church and marrying, but she
just couldn’t do it. “Do you know what he has planned?” Julia gripped Rachel’s arm,
anchoring herself from rushing back to the train.

“About Everett . . . I’d not bring up the marriage plans until he does, and he’ll
probably give you plenty of time.” Rachel rubbed her lip and averted her gaze. What
was she keeping from her? “My advice is to act as if you’ve come to court rather than
run him to the altar.”

“Who’s your friend, Mrs. Stanton?” The sound of undisguised male interest caused a
shiver to run across Julia’s back. She wet her lips and turned toward a group of young
men, the one in front a tall, scrawny thing with blond whiskers and very pink lips.
He looked down at her with an amused glint in his blue eyes. Was this Everett? He
was younger than she had imagined and not entirely unpleasant to look at, but his
body appeared fragile for a farmer, and the flash in his eye matched his unsettling
roguish tone. “You wouldn’t happen to be here for Everett Cline?”

What an awkward way to greet her. “I, um . . . yes. And are you he?”

Rachel crossed in front of her with hands jammed on her hips. “Now, you all go on
and get.”

The young man’s face changed from amusement to bewilderment. “Don’t tell me she really
is here for Everett.” The four young men behind him snickered.

“None of your business, Axel. If you please, find somewhere else to be.” Rachel pointed
toward the depot, but the group had fallen dumb and stiff.

Axel cocked his head. “Then she is?”

Rachel didn’t answer, and he let out an impressed huff.

Was there something so appalling about Everett that Axel couldn’t believe a woman
would marry him? Maybe that’s why he needed a mail-order bride. But surely Rachel
wouldn’t have matched her with a dreadful man.

Rachel stared at Axel as if he were only knee-high instead of towering over them both.

Julia rubbed her arms, suddenly cold and hot at the same time. Every eye in the small
group of men focused on her. Men had ogled her before, but this was ridiculous.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” A man taller than Axel pushed through the group, a girl with
fluffy blond ringlets hooked on his arm. “You heard my wife—find somewhere else to
be. I’m sure you have better things to do than detain our guest.”

The men behind Axel poked each other, talking under their breath. Everett’s name was
the only word she caught. Was he here? Why hadn’t he shown himself?

Axel smiled wide. “I hadn’t any faith in you, Everett, but you pulled through. She’s
a beauty.”

Julia stepped to the other side of Rachel and tried to see to whom Axel was speaking.
Oh, why did she have to be so short?

Axel tipped his hat toward her. “I look forward to getting to know you better . . .
Miss . . . ?”

She gave a tiny nod. “Lockwood, and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get acquainted.”

“Of course you will.” Dex patted the boy’s shoulder dismissively and then turned to
her. “It’s nice to meet you at last, Miss Lockwood. I’m Dex.”

“At last?” The incredulous murmur of a deep male voice sounded behind Dex.

Julia looked straight up at Rachel’s husband. The top of her hat didn’t even reach
the bottom of his chest pocket. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stanton.”

“Call me Dex. And I’m assuming you’re rather interested in the gentleman behind me.”

She thought her cheeks had been hot a minute ago.

“The finest neighbor any man could have.”

A tall shadow of a man walked toward her, but it was no stranger who lifted his hat.
Theodore
. No. It couldn’t be. All heat drained from her face and pooled on the platform at
her feet. The ensuing shock of cold stopped her breath.

He’d said he’d find her no matter how far she ran, but she hadn’t believed him.

She pressed her hand against her heart, galloping in vain against her chest.

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Lockwood. I’m Everett Cline.”

She blinked hard at him and reached for Rachel to keep herself from falling, from
running.

He frowned. “Is everything all right?”

His voice was wrong and his hair parted on the left and the front tooth didn’t overlap.
She worked to wet her mouth enough to speak. “Mr. . . . Mr. Cline?”

“I believe so.” His tickled smirk released the breath stuck
in her lungs. The set of his jaw was similar, but not when he smiled. Not Theodore.
She released her vise grip on Rachel, who looked at her as if she’d lost her wits.

Like Theodore, Everett had beautiful dark blond wavy hair, a prominent brow, and laugh
lines around the eyes. He was certainly handsome—just like the man her father had
chosen for her to wed.

How could she marry someone whose appearance reminded her of a man she never wanted
to lay eyes on again?

Miss Lockwood’s hands scrunched the fabric of her rustly skirt, her knuckles as white
as the petticoat peeping out from beneath. Everett forced his eyes off the inch of
undergarment and tried to find a place to rest his gaze, but each place distracted
him just as much as another. She sucked in a steadying breath and smiled—the same
kind of fake smile he was attempting to keep plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry, forgive me. I just wasn’t expecting . . . well . . .” She nodded. “It’s
nice to meet you, Mr. Cline.”

Perhaps he wasn’t as pleasing to the eye as Mrs. Hampden had led him to believe. He
forced a curve back into his lips. “I’m pleased to meet you as well, Miss Lockwood.
But I can’t say that I knew you were—”

“Coming today.” Rachel gripped his arm, her fingers gouging his muscle. “We hadn’t
told him exactly that you were coming
today
.”

Everett cut his eyes toward his neighbor, her hairline dotted with perspiration, her
cheeks flushed. She aimed a heavy-lidded glare at him, the same one she gave her restless
children during church services.

Miss Lockwood fingered her brooch. “Oh, I see.”

Everett pressed his lips together hard. He’d not call Rachel out on her ruse in front
of Miss Lockwood, as it would only embarrass her. But how could his best friends continue
the town’s joke at his expense? And at Miss Lockwood’s as well?

But this wasn’t a game. He’d heard her talking to Axel, and he wished he hadn’t. Judging
by the look she’d given him—was still giving him—she’d likely leave on the next train.
Another woman within his reach only for a moment, and this one so attractive it hurt
to look at her.

How could he extricate himself—right now? “I, uh . . .”

Rachel pulled her younger sons in front of her and thrust the older one in between
him and Miss Lockwood. “This is my son Ambrose, and this one’s John.” Whether enthralled
by Miss Lockwood’s angelic features or confounded by the awkward adult conversation,
the ten- and seven-year-old spitting images of their mother were abnormally quiet.
“And the boy behind me is William. He’ll be sixteen on Monday.”

“Howdy do, ma’am.” William pulled off his hat and stared as if he’d never seen a woman
before.

Emma squirmed from Dex’s grip and launched herself into Miss Lockwood’s arms.

“My goodness! You must be Emma.” She caught the three-year-old and maneuvered her
onto her hip. “Your ma told me about your gorgeous blond curls, so I brought you this.”
She pulled a pink ribbon from a hidden pocket.

Exactly how long had these women been exchanging letters? Everett glanced at Dex,
who seemed more fascinated by a ribbon than a man ought to be.

Emma grabbed the hair thing and leaned to put it within her mother’s reach. “Mama,
put up.”

“What do you say, Emma?”

“Say pwease.”

Rachel cleared her throat. “Yes, you should say ‘please,’ but what do you say to Julia
for giving it to you?”

Julia
. His mouth silently tested out the name.

Emma placed the ribbon inches away from Julia’s nose. “Pwease, put up.”

Julia chuckled. A beautiful melodic laugh. Was there anything about this woman that
wasn’t dazzling?

“Tell Julia thank you.”

“Sank you.”

Julia tapped the little girl on the nose. “You’re very welcome. But we’ll wait to
put it in your hair until we get home, all right?” She smiled down at the child. A
real smile. His breath caught.

She looked over at him quizzically, and he straightened. Did she expect him to say
something? Surely with how she gawked at him with those fright-filled, lash-fringed,
intoxicating dark brown eyes she’d decided to have nothing to do with him. But then
what was she staring at him for?

Rachel wrapped her arm around Julia’s shoulder. “I’m sure your trip has made you bone-weary.
No sense standing about the depot. We should start for home immediately.”

“I have to admit train travel wasn’t as pleasant as I’d hoped. For a while there,
I thought I’d never make it.”

“Good thing you survived”—Dex coughed over a laugh—“unmarried.”

Julia threw a questioning glance at Dex, then Everett. Heat rushed into Everett’s
ears, and he held back the desire to box his friend’s. So help him if Dex made Julia
curious enough to ask what he was talking about.

The look Rachel turned on her husband would have stopped a stampede of cows. She huffed,
then pulled Julia toward the
platform stairs. “Why don’t we head to the mercantile and leave the menfolk to load
your trunks? Your dress is simply stunning. You’ll have to inform us of all the latest
fashions.”

Julia glanced back at Everett for one mesmerizing second before they crossed the street.
Her curls bounced under her small straw hat with each step, and her tiny body swayed
with the weight of the toddler on her hip. Never had he seen anything more visually
pleasing in his whole life. No lady who lived and worked on the Kansas prairie should
look like that. She was meant to be on the arm of some politician or businessman,
not a struggling farmer.

William whistled. “She’s the prettiest lady I ever did see.”

“Perhaps my woman’s meddling was better for you than I thought.” Dex’s voice was far
too glib.

Once the women crossed the street, Everett glanced toward Julia’s three trunks piled
on the platform. What did a woman need with so much? “If you don’t mind, William,
I think you and Ambrose can handle her luggage. I need to talk to your father—alone.”

William tore his eyes away from Julia and threw a quick look at his father before
nodding and catching Ambrose by the shoulder.

“Before you go shaking your finger at me, in my defense, I didn’t know about this
until last night,” his friend blurted.

“Then you had time to tell me something.”

Dex shrugged. “Well, with your record, I wasn’t all fired out certain I’d have to
tell you anything.”

Everett throttled his hat to keep from throwing it at Dex.

“Besides, you’re without a wife, and she’s looking to become one.”

“And why’s that?”

“Something about falling on hard times.”

“By the look of that dress, I’m not sure I’d agree.”

“Personal type, not financial.”

“And . . . ?”

Dex shrugged again. “She’s from Boston?”

Everett waved his hat at the eastern horizon. “So I know where she’s from, that she
has some vague personal problem, and her name. Which, by the way,” Everett said through
gritted teeth, trying to keep his voice down, “I didn’t know until five minutes ago.”

“Well, you’ve also learned she’s not too bad to look at.”

His mind flashed to her pretty face and dainty stature, but Rachel’s sister had been
a stunner too, and how his heart had burst when Patricia pushed him aside for another.
“That’s no reason to marry someone.”

“Oh yes, you’re finally being sensible for once. No need to seriously consider an
attractive woman who wants to start a new life out here with you.” Dex rolled his
eyes. “For crying out loud, Everett, Helga could barely speak English, and you were
going to marry her.”

Everett crossed his arms and glared at him.

“You’re simply worried she’ll leave like the rest of them.”

“And shouldn’t I be?”

Dex rubbed his hand along his jaw, staring at him as if he could see into his soul.
“I suppose if any man should worry, it would be you. But Rachel—”

“I’m not sure I can forgive Rachel for this.”

“You’ve forgiven Mrs. Hampden and Mrs. Parker.”

“They were strangers. You’re my friends.”

“Perhaps what she’s done is meddlesome—”

“And foolhardy and embarrassing and underhanded—”

“But done out of love.”

Everett huffed. Rachel loved him all right. If only she
didn’t love him so much she thought she could control his life. Couldn’t she keep
to running Dex’s? He shook his head, and a breathy chuckle escaped. Poor Rachel. Dex
wouldn’t let her run his life either.

“She regrets not asking you about Julia.”

Everett narrowed his eyes, and Dex held out his palms.

“I’m not joshing. She came to me last night wringing a dish towel so hard I thought
she’d start a friction fire. She knows what she’s done is wrong, but maybe, in God’s
way, He’ll make this crazy situation right.”

“He hasn’t chosen to do so with any of my other mistakes.”

“Maybe you haven’t yet made the right mistake.”

Everett pressed his lips together and kept himself from shaking his head. No matter
what Dex said, he wouldn’t let an ounce of hope wiggle in.

“Look, a year ago Rachel decided she’d match you up with a wife from the advertisements
since you were doing such a poor job. You know her saying, ‘If you want a thing done
right, ask me to do it.’”

Everett would’ve given him a courtesy chuckle had he been calm enough.

“But I made her quit after I saw the strange influx of letters. But something about
Julia kept her interested—as a friend. And there aren’t many lady friends to have
out here. Rachel wasn’t going to set you up with her, but something in her past letter
made her think Julia needed to escape. And evidently she did. She thinks she’s here
because you want her to be.”

Everett stared at the store as if he could see Julia behind its weathered planking.
Did he want her to be here? He’d had life figured out. Or at least he had told himself
he could live with the direction it seemed to be going. But this wasn’t a curve in
the road, this was a fork.

“If you don’t marry her, I’ll question your sanity.”

But he wasn’t her only option—and he shouldn’t be. “If I don’t marry her, someone
else will offer.”

“Lots of someone elses.”

William and Ambrose bounded over. But there was no use discussing this anymore. Wishing
she wasn’t there wouldn’t make things any better. But then, what man in his right
mind would wish to have never seen such loveliness?

“Come on, boys, let’s go meet up with your mother.” Dex nudged Everett’s shoulder
as he passed. “Go with it. See where the Lord leads.”

The Stantons headed toward the platform stairs, and Everett forced his feet to follow.
This really wasn’t too much different from the last time, right? She could change
her mind just as easily as Helga after one good look at his farm.

Except he’d written to the other women prior to them coming to Kansas. They’d known
hard labor, grown up in squalor or on a farm. But Julia’s tiny gloved hands and little
waist bespoke of a much different past. Homesteading wasn’t fun; it wasn’t easy. It
wasn’t sitting in a parlor and serving tea.

But Julia would be better than no one at all. Wishing he could stifle the thumping
sensation in his heart, Everett sped up. No, she’d be exorbitantly better than no
one. To embrace her, have children with her—Everett kicked at a rock on the dusty
street. If he let those thoughts turn into emotions, he’d look like a fool the day
she left him behind.

The next rock he kicked hit Ambrose in the calf. Ambrose turned to glare at him.

Everett raised his hand. “Sorry.”

The boy bounded up the stairs and followed his father inside the store.

Everett stopped at the edge of the road and swallowed, staring at the closed door.
Dimple and Curly really ought to be checked on. He walked to his team, ran his hand
along Curly’s neck, then bent to inspect the ox’s leg, staring at the mud patch above
its fetlock. Looking at his animals wouldn’t make the woman inside go away. And he
didn’t really want her to go away.

And that was the problem.

“Are your oxen all right?”

Everett nearly fell backward at the sound of William’s voice inches from his ear.
“They look fine.”

“Mr. Hampden says your supplies are ready.”

Everett sprang up and tugged at Curly’s halter. “Be inside in a minute.”

William loped up the stairs, and Everett watched him go inside. He had to face her.
Despite his stubborn refusal to order another bride, he did need a wife. Around here,
a girl of marrying age had a handful of eligible men to choose from. He wasn’t the
only man stuck on a lonely farm needing someone to take care of the house and animals
in order to have a chance at making his farm profitable.

Maybe when he’d written his mail-order brides he’d come across as too eager and desperate.
No woman wanted a man so weak he acted as if he needed her in order to survive—though
some days out on the wind-scourged prairie he certainly believed he’d go plumb crazy
without one. This time he could exude confidence from the very beginning. Maybe if
he was more aloof, more self-possessed, Julia would be attracted instead of repelled.
He whispered near Curly’s ear, “Heaven help me,” then pulled at his shirt, marched
up the stairs, and straightened his shoulders before entering.

A crowd surrounded Julia. He walked to the front of the store and leaned against the
counter. Where had all these people come from? The womenfolk seemed to be oohing and
ahhing over Julia’s fancy pleats, but the four men on the outskirts of the group stared
more at the woman wearing them.

Carl’s attentive gaze rarely strayed from Julia as he helped her sort through bolts
of cloth on the table. Everett drummed his fingers. Must he inform the shopkeeper
to pay attention to his other customers? The twenty people surrounding Julia could
surely help her move fabric.

He could march straight over to Kathleen and smile at her. No, too bold. Carl’d have
his head.

A tap on his shoulder and the smell of moonshine pulled his focus off Julia.

Ned Parker stood behind him, looking toward the crowd. He spit at a spittoon without
taking his gaze off her. His spittle landed six inches from the rim. “Mighty fine-lookin’
woman, eh? Don’t think we’re going to get any help over here unless we pull Hampden
off her.”

“I think you might be right, but—”

“I’m just sorry Helga don’t look like her. But then again, the wife’s good enough
for housework if nothing else.”