Bartered Bride Romance Collection (69 page)

Prologue

A
bby Cantrell stared at the date at the top of the letter, her eyes widening. April 29, 1881. Why hadn’t Aunt Caroline told her it would be so soon? Dropping down into the chair, she smoothed the crisp paper, reading again the telltale words.

Dear Miss Peters
,

I can’t tell you how happy I was to receive your letter this past week. I trust that you, as do I, look forward to the approaching day when we shall meet here in Littleton. Enclosed is the train ticket, as well as a little extra money in case you have need of something. I will be waiting for you on the appointed day. Until then, I remain yours truly
,

James Parrish

Abby jumped as footsteps sounded in the tiled hallway. Slipping the letter back into the Bible where she had found it, she stood and ambled over to the library window. The fading sunset cast shadows on the budding trees, holding her gaze until she heard the footsteps behind her, their sound muffled by the plush carpet.

“Beautiful evening.”

The softly spoken words invaded the tumult in Abby’s mind. She sighed, turning slightly to drape her arm over the shoulders of the small woman beside her. The comforting scent of roses embraced her. “What am I going to do, Mama?”

Hazel Peters smoothed her daughter’s dark hair. “I don’t know, dear. Surely God has a plan….” She fell silent as Abby turned away to gaze out of the lace-framed window. The silence stretched, broken only by the sound of the mourning doves getting ready to roost. “But I do know this,” Hazel whispered. “He said He would not give us more than we could bear.”

Abby eyed the darkening sky. Her mind acknowledged the truth of her mother’s words, but her heart felt the shadows of night moving slowly and surely, threatening to plunge her into a darkness unlike any she had ever known.

Chapter 1

J
ames Parrish gripped his cap tightly at the sound of a distant train whistle. He scarcely noticed the porters checking the luggage or the scampering children. His concentration focused on the tiny, moving speck in the distance. Perspiration prickled at the nape of his neck.

Would she be on the train, as she had promised? He had waited so long, had pored over her letter, had dreamed of what she would look like.
Miss Caroline Peters
. He liked the sound of it as he rolled it around in his mind. He stared at the train, now close enough for him to read the letters on the side. The DENVER RIO GRAND RAILWAY. He peered anxiously at the windows, straining to see as the train squealed to a stop. Was she finally here?

He watched the passengers as they disembarked. Most were Denverites coming to Littleton for a day in the country. He kneaded his cap, his eyes locked on the straggling line of people. There. Was that her? His heart leaped as he spied a dark-haired woman coming toward him, a welcoming smile on her lovely face. She had almost reached him when an older gentleman brushed past him and grasped her arm.

James exhaled forcefully and turned his attention back to those still struggling down the narrow steps, their valises bumping their sides. He wished that he had a more detailed description, but the brief one she had sent him would have to do. He would find her if it was the last thing … wait. There. That had to be her. One of the last passengers to come down the steps, she paused at the platform as if unsure of herself. He watched her glance about, the fetching pink feather in her hat softly dancing, her arms full. He couldn’t see her face very well until her gaze fell on him.

The woman smiled tentatively, and he started toward her as if in a dream, his gaze locked with hers. Finally, he stood in front of her. Her hazel eyes reminded him of the first greening of spring. She was beautiful. And so small. She barely came up to his shoulder….

“Mr. Parrish?” At her softly spoken words, James realized that he had been staring.

“Yes, I’m Mr. Parrish.” He winced at how stiff and formal he sounded. He had wanted to greet her warmly. Welcoming. But meeting this way was just so awkward.

“I’m glad to finally be here. And to make your acquaintance,” she said.

Her voice sounded weary, and as James continued to study her face, he noted the purple shadows under those beautiful eyes. Her journey had been a long one, he realized. But did her eyes reflect more than weariness? Sorrow, perhaps?

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he collected her trunk. She was so beautiful; he could scarcely believe it. Of course, he had made up his mind that he would love his new bride, no matter what she looked like. Yet the Lord had chosen to bless him with a beauty of a wife. He smiled at her tenderly then offered his hand to help her into the wagon. For the first time, he found himself wishing he had a nice carriage. Still, she knew he was a farmer. Surely she hadn’t expected anything fancy.

He watched her gather her skirts to climb into the wagon. As she leaned into his grip to hoist herself up, her foot slipped. Instinctively, he caught her as she fell backward, catching a whiff of her perfume as well. He set her carefully on her feet, his heart pounding at her nearness. He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let her go.

She stammered out an apology, bending laboriously to retrieve her shawl from the dusty street. Straightening up, she met his shocked gaze. She was with child!

Dear God, what kind of cruel trick has this woman played on me?
He gaped at her in silence.
How could she?

Vulnerability briefly shimmered in her eyes before a glaze of weary resignation replaced it. “I suppose she didn’t tell you.”

“Who?” he croaked.

She raised her eyebrows.

“Who didn’t tell me what?” He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his throat, trying to gather his thoughts and steel himself for whatever explanation she would offer.

“My … aunt … Caroline …” Her shoulders drooped and tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill over.

James reached out to her instinctively, as he would to a forlorn child. He put his hand under her chin, marveling at how soft her skin was against the roughness of his own. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “Can you just explain …? I mean … I … don’t understand.”

She swallowed hard but didn’t pull away from his touch. “My aunt Caroline. She didn’t tell you that I was in the family way.” Her words formed a statement rather than a question.

Silence settled between them as James struggled to comprehend her words. Why had Caroline’s pregnant niece come, and not Caroline? Were they trying to trick him? If so, why? Was this all a big joke on him—the dumb farmer out in cow country? The heat began to rise in his face. How could he have been so idealistic—so hopefully stupid—to believe that he would finally have a wife?

He glanced back down at her, his mental tirade ceasing when he met the misery in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “She said she didn’t think you’d mind if I came in her place. She … I should have known she wouldn’t have told you. But I can still work. I’ll do anything you need me to do. I don’t know how to do anything on a farm, but I can cook and clean, and …”

Her words trailed off as he scrutinized her. He couldn’t believe someone so small could carry such a large child. He doubted she’d be doing much cooking and cleaning for quite a while. He shook his head in disbelief at this bewildering situation. “If you are not Miss Caroline, then I suppose I don’t even know your name.”

“Abigail Cantrell.” She gave him a faint smile. “Most people call me Abby.”

What else should he say? “Well, Abby …”

Her face clouded. “I guess I’m just not what you were expecting, Mr. Parrish. I’m so sorry….”

He made an effort to grin but failed. “Can I ask you … why Caroline didn’t come?” Did she decide that life on a farm would be too dull, so she sent her niece instead?

Abby looked pained. “It’s a long story, Mr. Parrish. However, I assure your arrangement wouldn’t have worked out anyway. Caroline is … would not be suited for the work.”

Why does she keep talking about all the hard work? Sure, it is work to be a farmer’s wife, but that’s not the reason I searched for a wife. Only God knows how long I’ve yearned for a companion, someone to share life’s sorrows and joys
. James cleared his throat, hoping for some inspiration to seize him. What was he supposed to do with a pregnant woman? He couldn’t very well marry her now, could he? But what else …?

“Might there be somewhere I could get a drink of water?” she asked.

Abby’s soft voice pulled his attention back to her. The look of utter exhaustion on her face smote his heart with regret. How long had he kept her standing outside in the blazing sun, and in her condition? “Forgive me,” he said, giving her his hand.

She sighed with relief as she sank down onto the wagon seat, closing her eyes as if she would fall asleep right there. James clucked to the horses then glanced at her in concern. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

Guiltily, her eyes popped open. “I didn’t sleep very well on the train, I guess.” She gazed at him. “How far do you live from town?”

James swallowed hard, feeling slightly addled.
Surely she doesn’t think I am going to marry her!
“Uh, not too far. I hadn’t planned on us going home until tomorrow … but I guess …”

She bit her lip, obviously sensing his turmoil. “It’s all right, Mr. Parrish. I should have known….” She straightened her shoulders. “I don’t want you to feel beholden to me. If you’ll just let me off at a boardinghouse, I’m sure I can find some other work.”

He gaped at her. What kind of man did she think he was? True, she didn’t know a thing about him. But surely she didn’t think that he would just dump her in a strange town. He was responsible for bringing her here, wasn’t he? “I can’t do that, ma’am,” he said softly. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

The relief in her eyes spoke volumes. After all, what kind of “work” could she find in her condition? The thought made him cringe.

“I’m a good cook,” she offered timidly.

He smiled then, his first real smile since this peculiar situation began. “Well, I like to eat. So I guess we’re off to a good start.”
But what do I do now?
He glanced at her small, glove-covered hands clasped demurely in her lap. Or what was left of her lap.

“When is …? I mean how long until …?” He felt his face redden at his clumsy questioning.

“The child will be born in about six weeks, Mr. Parrish.” She didn’t smile, but he thought he detected a glint of humor in her large eyes.

“Ah, I see. Well … I …”
Dear Lord, help me
, he pleaded silently.
I’m in over my head, and I don’t know what to do
.

The voice in his heart replied,
Show her the way to Me
.

James swallowed hard then made up his mind. “Ma’am, I know that you’re very tired. I’m going to take you to the boardinghouse, and we can talk more in the morning.”

“Thank you,” she said, giving him a small smile.

They drove the rest of the short distance in silence. James pulled up in front of his sister’s house, jumping off the wagon seat as soon as the horses came to a halt. Abby was looking paler by the minute. Lifting her gingerly down from the wagon, he escorted her to Iris’s door. “Hope you got a room ready, sis,” he hollered in through the screen door.

Iris came running, her eyes widening as she took in the couple standing on her porch. Her gaze flew to James’s face. He frowned slightly and shook his head, and she nodded, turning her attention to Abby. “You look worn-out, dear. Come in and let me fix you a cup of tea.”

James silently blessed his sister for not questioning him. He released Abby into her care with a sigh of relief. “Miss … uh, ma’am, this is my sister Iris.” He pasted a smile on his face. “I’ll be back in the morning, ladies.” Turning, he strode back to the wagon as fast as he could without actually running. What kind of a mess had he gotten himself into?

Chapter 2