Deborah Camp (4 page)

“No, sir, I’m not. Me and this young lady would like to be wed. Now. Please.”

“Why, I don’t … where did you … how long …” The pastor looked from Blade to Elise and back again.

“Good morning, Reverend Casper,” Elise said in a voice as cool and refreshing as a mountain stream. She offered her hand. “I’m Elise St. John,
and I wish to marry this man. We’d be so pleased if you would do the honors for us.”

“I … well … yes. Hello.” Reverend Casper shook hands, but his smile was nothing more than a nervous twitch. “This is so unexpected. When did you meet this young lady, Blade? I haven’t seen much of you since Julia’s death, but I’ve heard you’d been keeping to yourself out there on your place.”

Blade nodded. “I’m marrying this woman today and we’re adopting the child me and Julia sent for. You remember?”

The pastor raised a finger. “Ah, yes! The orphan train rolled into town this morning, didn’t it?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “And you two are getting married. Just like that? Marriage is a holy bond. Nothing to be taken lightly or decided on the spur of the moment.”

“We’re quite sure we’re meant to be together,” Elise said, edging closer to Blade. “Please, won’t you marry us? We’re anxious to begin our lives as husband and wife.”

Blade couldn’t help staring at her. She was quite the little liar, he thought, amazed at her ability. Of course, she could just as easily turn those lies against him, too. His admiration dwindled, replaced by mistrust. There was nothing worse than a dishonest woman, and it appeared that he was on the verge of marrying one.

“Is this really what you want?” Reverend Casper asked Blade. “You’re not looking to fill Julia’s apron, are you? One wife can’t be replaced like you’d change one plow mule for another.”

“It’s what I want,” Blade assured him. “She’s not Julia. I know that.” Palming a silver dollar from his
pocket, Blade pressed it into the preacher’s hand. “I would consider it a great favor if you’d marry us.”

The pastor shrugged and demonstrated a neat half turn toward the pulpit. “Very well. Let me get my Bible.” He glanced back at them. “Well, come along if you want to be married by me.”

Dutifully, Blade walked with Elise toward the pulpit and the huge wooden cross hanging on the wall behind it. Memories of his other marriage surged through his mind. After Julia had died, he had promised himself never to marry again. He wasn’t cut out for it. Having a woman companion was fine, but he found nothing holy in matrimony. But here he was, standing beside a stranger who would soon be his wife. His second wife.

Studying her from the corner of his eye, he almost chuckled. Some wedding dress, he thought, viewing the saucy spirit beside him adorned in garnet. He smirked. A scarlet woman. As if reading his thoughts, she ran a hand across her skirt and flashed him an apologetic smile.

“If I’d known what I’d be doing this morning, I wouldn’t have selected this dress. I hope you aren’t embarrassed.”

“Not me,” he assured her. “It’s
your
wedding gown.”

“Yes …” She chewed fretfully on her lower lip. “So it is.” Heaving a sigh, she shrugged. “Oh, well. It’s not what every girl dreams of, but our intentions are noble. Shhh, here comes the pastor!”

“All right now.” Reverend Casper sat at a small desk near the entrance to his personal office. “Name of the groom—Blade Lonewolf.” Carefully, he wrote the name on the legal document. “Name of the bride—how is that spelled, dear?”

“E-L-I-S-E,” she answered. “St. John.”

The reverend scratched in her name. “Very well. Date of the marriage.” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. “What’s the date? April the—”

Blade started to supply the answer—the sixteenth—but Elise beat him to it.

“The twelfth,” she announced, then shook her head sternly at Blade when he opened his mouth to correct her.

Again he was stunned by her cunning, quick mind. Always a step ahead of the game, he thought. Always using that pretty head for something more than a hat rack. The twelfth would look better to Mr. Charles. Blade vowed to stay on alert around her, or she’d have him hog-tied and purse-whipped in no time.

“The twelfth,” the preacher repeated, writing in the date on the license. “That’s that. After the ceremony, you two can put your marks on this, and it will be done.” He came to stand before them and flipped open his Bible. “All right then. Let us begin. We gather here this morning, O Lord, to join this man and woman in holy matrimony …”

Elise didn’t feel married.

Sitting beside Blade on the padded wagon seat, she shifted Penny to a more comfortable position in her lap and wondered if Blade felt any different. She smiled at the sleeping child; at Penny’s slack mouth, long lashes, tumbled hair that curled damply at her temples and forehead.

All for you, Elise thought as a bittersweetness seeped into her. I’ve married a stranger and I’m headed to a place I’ve never seen—all for you and Adam.

The man next to her held the reins loosely, letting
the two black mules follow their instincts home. He’d removed his hat and a frisky breeze combed through his thick black hair. He smelled of leather and pine, of wind and wheat, of sunshine and shadow.

After the ceremony, when the preacher had told him to kiss his bride, Blade had removed her gloves and lifted her hands to his lips for a fleeting caress. Elise recalled her flash of disappointment followed by an unexpected thrill when his mouth had warmed the patch of skin on the back of her hand. Had she felt the tip of his tongue, or had it been merely her fanciful imagination?

She hadn’t imagined the dark flame in his eyes when he’d looked at her through the canopy of his lowered brows, or how he’d held her gaze as he’d released her hand and straightened to tower over her. In that blazing moment she’d realized that they were truly married, that she had married a half-breed. Oh, her grandparents would certainly take to their beds if word reached them! Or maybe not. Her Wellby kin had turned her and her siblings out and obviously didn’t care one jot what happened to them.

And what of this man? Did he care what happened to Penny, or did he care only about a vow he’d made to a dead woman?

“How long ago did you lose your wife?”

“I didn’t lose her. She died.” His glare was quick, cutting. “Five months ago.”

“Oh, that’s not very long.” Elise ran a hand over Penny’s hair. “You’re still grieving, I guess.” When he made no comment, she chanced a look at him and found him scowling at the backsides of the mules. “You’re Apache?”

“Partly. Where are you from?”

“Baltimore, Maryland. Have you heard of it?”

His frown deepened. “Of course. I’m not uneducated. I’m school-learned.” He glanced at her again. “Just like you.”

“Is that so? How interesting. Were you instructed as a child by missionaries?”

“No, I went to a schoolhouse, same as everyone else.”

“You lived as a white, then?”

“Since I was twelve, yes. Before that I lived with my father’s people—the Apache. I started to school when my mother and I moved to St. Joseph, Missouri.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “Have you heard of it?”

She smiled at his gentle barb. “Yes, I have. I, too, am school-learned.” The jousting eased the tension from her body and she rolled her shoulders to release more of it. “Is it much farther to your farm?”

“We’re on it now.”

“We are?” Her interest piqued, she surveyed the flat farmland. In the dim distance she spied a house through a windbreak of willows and birch trees. “Is that your home?”

He nodded. “Don’t expect much.”

“I’m sure it’s quite lovely.”

He delivered a chiding glance that made Elise want to make a face at him. She managed to maintain her dignity by ignoring him.

“How did you lose—how did your wife die?”

“Slowly.”

Elise puffed out a breath of exasperation. “You know what I mean. What did she die of? An injury? An illness?”

“The doctor couldn’t say. Julia was weak and her body was attacked by much sickness. She wasted away.”

“How terrible. You had no children?”

“We do now.” His gaze drifted to the sleeping child in her lap, and the lines and planes of his face softened. His eyes fairly glowed with tenderness; a sincere smile spread over his lips.

Elise’s anxiety lessened. Maybe this man was heaven-sent. He might be brusque and of mixed blood, but he surely had a good heart.

Instinctively, she placed a hand on his forearm. She could feel the heat of his skin through the shirtsleeve. “I appreciate what you’ve done. You’re a good man.”

Uneasiness frosted his eyes and tensed his muscles. He drew away from her, hunching his shoulders. Elise regarded him with a stab of regret. What had she done to make him recoil from her?

“What’s wrong, Blade?” she asked. “Is it the marriage? I understand. Really I do.” She leaned forward, trying to make him look at her. “I’m nervous, too. I don’t know what’s expected or … well, what I’m saying is that I have no expectations. Let’s take it one day at a time—”

“You don’t have to stay,” he interrupted in that deep, rumbling voice that seemed to emanate from his toes. “I’ll take care of Penny. You can leave whenever you want.” He gave a quick, slashing shrug. “I don’t see any reason to pretend we’re something we’re not.”

“And what are we pretending?” Elise demanded, alarmed by his cool dismissal.

“That we’re husband and wife.”

“According to the law and in the eyes of God, we
are
married!”

His smile moved from one corner of his wide mouth to the other. “We’re married, but we’re not husband and wife. You’re a bride and I’m a groom,
and that’s the way we stay until we lie together.”

Jerking her face away, she felt her skin burn with embarrassment. The wagon jostled to a stop before a modest log cabin. A conical-shaped skin lodge stood beside it, and Elise wondered if Blade Lonewolf made his bed in there.

“It’s better if you move on as soon as you can. You’ve no business here.”

“No!” Draping Penny across her chest and shoulder, Elise eased herself down from the wagon, not waiting for Blade’s assistance. “I’m staying,” she told him, then pushed past him into the house.

“You can’t.” He stood on the threshold, filling the doorway, blocking the sunlight. “I don’t want a wife.”

“Too late.” She rallied her courage sufficiently to fashion a fractious smile. “You’ve got one.”

E
lise whirled away from his imposing form and went toward two closed doors. She opened the one on the left first, to spy a iron grillwork bed, neatly spread with a patchwork quilt. Throwing open the door to her right, she examined the narrower bunk beds built against the walls of the smaller room, the thin mattresses covered by off-white muslin sheets. She went inside and deposited Penny on one of the bunks.

“Just what the hell are you doing?” Blade asked from behind her.

“We’ll take this room,” she announced, unpinning her hat from her upswept hair. “I assume the other one is yours, or do you sleep outside in that tepee?”

“I told you that it would be best if you lived elsewhere. Maybe you can get a job in town.” He set their two satchels on the floor, but he stood just outside the door, arms crossed, legs braced apart. Formidable. Stubborn.

Elise arched a brow. Well, she could be stubborn, too. Glancing back at her sister, who still slept, she placed a finger to her lips and tiptoed from the room. Once she had closed the door behind her,
she turned to face him again. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t changed one nuance of his expression.

“What are you afraid of, Blade Lonewolf? Of me?” She spread a hand below her throat. “I won’t be making any demands on you. Why, you can go about your business and I’ll go about mine. True, I haven’t much experience at keeping a home for a family, but I’m bright and I’ll learn the necessary skills in no time.”

She moved away from him to examine the crude cooking stove and the four shelves above it that held a sparse assortment of canned and bagged goods. She thought longingly of the huge pantry in her family home. There had always been more than enough of everything, and she’d never considered where it all came from and who paid for it. Cook had prepared the food and Justus had helped serve it. That was all she’d known, all she’d cared to know. Life had been simple and … well, deceptively safe. She’d been aware of her grandparents’ displeasure with her mother’s choice of a husband, but she’d had no idea of how deep their bitterness ran. Not until the day after her mother and father had died and her grandparents had refused to allow their son-in-law to be buried next to his wife had Elise seen the first dark glimmer of her grandparents’ true nature. Only their daughter would be allowed in the family plots, they’d said.
He
could be buried in a pauper’s grave.

“You know anything about cooking?” Blade asked, breaking into her reverie.

Elise shrugged and moved to examine the items on the shelves more closely. Some of them she hadn’t heard of—what in heaven’s name was Poke?—while others were standard, such as flour and molasses.

“I’ve watched people cook and clean, and I’ve often thought that I could fare well if pressed into service. My finishing-school teacher said I was quite artistic. I suppose I inherited that from my father. While he toiled as a …” Elise looked around for Blade, but he was gone. She was talking to herself. “Well, I never!”

She walked to the doorway and looked outside in time to see him enter the inky shadows of a hulking barn. What an odd person, she thought. He certainly hadn’t been schooled in manners. What was he doing now? Trepidation crept up her spine. Was he saddling a horse for her to ride on into town?

Elise retreated, then shut and barred the door. She wouldn’t leave Penny alone with him, and that was that! She sat in one of the four chairs placed around a scarred table near the hideous cookstove. The house was dark, the curtains drawn against the sun and the walls practically bare of … Curtains? Elise went to the window next to the stove. The curtains were yellow gingham with ruffles sewn along the bottoms. She turned an edge over and examined the stitches. They were irregular but neat. Hand-sewn. Julia’s touch? “Julia,” she said in a whisper. It was a pretty name, feminine and melodic. Much like the name Elise. Were there other similarities between her and the first Mrs. Lonewolf?