EMMA (Mail-Order Brides Club, #1) (7 page)

She was much more comfortable around Ethan now and he seemed to feel the same. He was opening up more and they got along well enough.  He did have a good sense of humor and made her laugh with his stories about silly things that happened and they'd fallen into a habit of playing cards together after dinner or sitting quietly and reading. He was easy to be with except that she was growing more and more attracted to him and although she'd occasionally get the sense that he might feel the same—a glance held a few seconds too long for instance—he never did anything about it. He usually just withdrew and went off to bed. It was frustrating. Emma was frustrated and didn't know what to do about it.

When Sunday rolled around, as per their usual routine, they went to church and then, after the service, the entire family gathered at Ethan's parents’ place for dinner. Emma looked forward to Sundays as it was the one day she got to see everyone and it usually felt like a party because there were so many of them.

Ethan's father had a pig roasting and Hannah and Emma always brought something so Naomi didn't get stuck with all the cooking. This time, Emma had made a big batch of potato salad, which quickly disappeared when they all sat down to eat. After dinner, Paul entertained them by playing the piano while they all sung along to their favorite songs. Dessert was a cake that Hannah had brought and Emma had finished eating when Liam landed on the seat next to her.

"Any takers yet?" he asked, half-kidding and half-serious.

Emma laughed. "I'm trying, I swear. I bring it up to the girls all the time, but no one is ready to leave Boston yet. I'm sure someone will eventually, though."

"Okay, I'll be patient. I could use the help, though. Have you heard what I'm about to do?" His eyes were dancing with excitement and the feeling was contagious as Emma wondered what he was up to.

"No, and I'm almost afraid to ask," she teased him.

"I'm going to open a saloon in town. Right across from the general store. A respectable place, mind you. We'll serve food and drink."

"Really? What about your farm?" Emma wondered how he'd be able to do such a thing.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time. I'm not a very good farmer." He grinned and Emma chuckled. "I think I'd be a great saloon owner, though. I'm very sociable, and charming." He winked at her, then, as Ethan walked towards them with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you flirting with my wife?" Ethan said mildly and Emma knew he was teasing, or at least hoped he was. Actually, if he was a bit jealous, maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. She decided to have a little fun and see.

"He's going to be flirting with everyone soon. Liam was just telling me about the saloon he's going to open. I think it sounds like a wonderful idea."

Ethan frowned at that. "It's not a bad idea, but it can bring in the wrong element. Russell Jones hangs out at saloons."

"Well, my place won't be that kind of saloon," Liam said indignantly. "Nothing out of place will go on there. Russell won't be interested."

"I think it sounds like a perfect fit for Liam. You're bound to meet an eligible woman if you're out there more."

"Nice girls don't go to saloons." Ethan stated.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I still think it's bound to be a success. With Liam's personality, people will go there just to see him."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Liam said with a happy smile.

Ethan changed the subject and said it was probably time for them to get going.

"All right," Emma agreed reluctantly. She gave Liam a friendly hug good-bye. "I am so excited for you."

***

E
than was quiet, as usual, on the drive home. It wasn't that late yet, so Emily was still wide awake and chattered non-stop the whole way. Emma was glad for her bubbly conversation. It helped keep her mind off Ethan's grumpiness. He'd fallen into these moods lately, usually right after they'd had a great time together. It would seem like they were growing closer and then he'd shut down. Once again, Emma was feeling frustrated.

They went inside and fell into their usual routine. Emma helped Emily get ready for bed and once she was in her pajamas, she climbed into her father's lap and he read to her until she fell asleep soon after. While he was tucking her into bed, Emma went into her own room and, feeling restless, decided to take her hair down. She usually did this right before bed, brushing her hair thoroughly until it was tangle free and soft before she climbed under the covers. Ethan had never really seen her hair the way it looked before she went to bed and she wanted him to see her. Really see her. Slowly, she undid the braid that she wore every day. She always kept her hair in a long French braid. It was out of her face that way and she didn't have to worry about it. After she brushed through her hair, she walked back into the main room. Ethan was in the kitchen, slicing a piece of pie.

She walked over to him and stood close enough that her hair fell against his arm. "What are you up to?" she asked softly.

"Just having some pie. Do you want some?" He turned and looked at her then and she welcomed the look of surprise and wonder in his eyes.

"Your hair. I didn't realize it was so long, and so pretty."

"I just felt like taking it down." She smiled up at him. "I'd love some pie."

He cut her a slice and handed it to her, along with a fork. "You should wear it down more often. I like it that way."

"I didn't think you'd notice."

"How could I not notice? It's gorgeous. You're gorgeous." She noticed his Adam's apple jump and was surprised to sense that he was nervous.

She lightly touched his arm and he jumped but didn't pull away.

"I didn't think you looked at me that way. I didn't think I was pretty enough for you."

Ethan set down his pie and pulled her close.

"You didn't think I was attracted to you?" he asked in a thick, strained voice.

"No. I wished that you were, but no," she admitted.

He leaned in, then, and gathered her hair in his hands and pulled her lips towards his. His kiss this time was very different from the chaste peck he'd given her when they got married. This was the kind of kiss she'd always dreamed of, and even when she'd dared imagine what it would like to kiss Ethan, reality was much better than she'd ever thought it could be. The kiss went on as his tongue found hers and she moaned and sank into him. At the sound of her moan, he pulled away and she flinched at the regret she saw in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I can't. I just can't." He ran his hands through his hair and Emma was torn between sympathy and anger.

"It's all right," she finally managed to say.

"No, it's not all right. And it won't happen again." As if for emphasis, there was a loud crack of thunder and a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by pounding rain.

"I have to go out for a while," Ethan muttered, and then Emma watched silently as he pulled on his boots and hat and buttoned up his coat. Then, he grabbed a fishing pole and a hunk of bread and headed for the door.

"Don't wait up for me."

Miserable, Emma fell into bed, but sleep wouldn't come until she heard the front door open again and knew that Ethan was home, and safe. Moments later, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

E
mma woke the next morning wondering at first if it had all been a dream. Slowly, she eased herself out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. She was the first one up and got the water started for coffee. A moment later, Ethan came into the kitchen, already dressed and ready for the day.

"Good morning." His tone was cheerful and friendly, the same as it normally would be. Maybe that kiss was a dream. God knows she'd drifted off many a night thinking about it.

"Eggs?" she asked as he poured himself a coffee and added a splash of milk to it.

"That would be great, thanks." He sat at the kitchen table and then casually said, "I caught a few bass last night. They're cleaned and covered in a pan out back. Maybe we can have them for dinner?"

It wasn't a dream. They really had kissed, and then he'd stomped off in a thunderstorm and gone fishing.

"Fine, I'll do something with them. Here's your eggs." She set them down in front of him and then, instead of joining him like she usually did, she walked away.

"I'm not feeling so great. I'm going to go lay down for a few minutes."

"I hope you feel better." Ethan sounded concerned and Emma didn't care. She was no longer sympathetic— she was mad and didn't care to be around him any longer that morning.

***

B
y the time Ethan returned home that evening, Emma's temper had calmed and she was no longer angry, just resigned. She'd thought about it all day and she got it. She understood that Ethan still felt torn and loyal to Susan. Kissing her had seemed like a betrayal. She sighed. At least she knew now that he really was attracted to her. That was something. Hopefully, his mother was right and in time, he'd be ready to move on, with her. Because she realized the main reason she was angry and miserable was because she'd fallen head over heels in love with her husband—and he was still in love with his dead wife. How could she compete with that?

Whenever she was upset or just needed to relax, she turned to cooking. The simple act of chopping vegetables and then stirring them in butter until they browned and released their sugars soothed her. She spent the afternoon in the kitchen baking and cooking up a storm, with Emily's help. They made corn muffins, baked beans, coleslaw, broiled fish topped with crushed crackers and fresh herbs and a big pot of fish chowder.

"Something smells wonderful in here," Ethan said as he walked through the door. As usual, Emily went running into his arms while Emma said a quiet hello. His eyes met hers for a moment, dark and conflicted, and she turned away and focused on stirring the chowder.

"I'll be back," he said and, as usual, went off to wash up. When he came back, Emma had dinner on the table and they all sat down to eat. Ethan was quiet for a few minutes as he ate quickly and then slowed down and turned his attention to Emma.

"It's happened again. A dozen more cattle missing and another tampered fence. It looks like they knock it down and then stick it back into place." A muscle in his jaw jumped and Emma could tell he was trying to keep the anger out of his voice so he wouldn't upset Emily.

"What are you going to do?"

"What I didn't do before. We're going to catch him in the act this time. We've had this planned for a while, what we'd do in case it happened again. I'm going to ride out early in the morning and get Paul and David and then stop by Josh's place on the way into town. Josh is going to keep an eye out from inside the store and will run and grab the sheriff as soon as we give him the signal."

"You're going to wait by the trains? To catch him loading the cattle into the stock car?" It was a brilliant plan and it sounded exciting, and dangerous. "Be careful."

"We will be. He needs to be stopped. We're not the only ones he's done this to."

E
than got up early the next morning, full of adrenaline and eager to be done with Russell Jones. He was feeling frustrated, too, and this gave him something to focus his energy on. He stopped by the cemetery on his way to meet his brothers and, as usual, laid a flower on Susan's grave. This time it was a few pretty wild flowers he'd seen along the way.

"I'm struggling with this," he admitted out loud as he set down the flowers. "It's getting harder and harder for me to turn away from Emma. I still love you. I always will."

He left then and focused his mind on the task at hand. When he got to his parents’ house, where his two brothers lived, he filled them in and then they went together to Josh's house, filled him in and then followed him into town. They were there early and killed time by helping Josh out in the store while keeping an eye on the comings and goings along Main Street. Finally, just after noon, Josh called out, "This might be them."

Ethan looked out the window and marveled at the brazenness of Russell's men, herding exactly twelve cows—and Ethan was sure they were his—right down the middle of Main Street toward the station.

"Gotta give him credit. The guy has no shortage of nerve. Imagine parading someone else's cattle around as if they were your own. Who would ever suspect it?" Josh sounded both disgusted and impressed.

"I don't see Jones, though," Ethan said. He was disappointed. He wanted the satisfaction of seeing Russell Jones’ face when the sheriff arrived.

"Are you sure they're yours?" Paul asked as the band of cows and cowboys drew near.

"No doubt. Our brand’s small but distinct and I can see the shamrock marks from here. No one else’s looks anything like ours."

"I'll go alert the sheriff." Josh slowly strolled out the front door so he wouldn't alert anyone and slipped into the sheriff's office.

Five minutes later, as they were starting to load the cows into the stock car, the sheriff, a deputy and Josh came walking out and Ethan and his brothers went to join them.

When they reached the cattle, Sheriff Thompson, a stout man in his mid-forties, asked in a no-nonsense tone, "Whose cattle are these?"

No one answered, and he asked the question again, in a much louder voice, "I said, whose cattle are these?"

The foreman looked up, annoyed and said, "These are Russell Jones’ cattle."

"Is that so? Where is Russell Jones, then?"

"He's back at his ranch. He doesn't need to be here. We can handle this for him." The foreman sounded defensive.

"Really? And since when does Mr. Jones use the shamrock brand on his livestock? The same brand that his neighbor, Ethan Donovan, uses, I might add?"

The foreman looked flustered at that and took a closer look at the brand. Ethan's distinctive shamrock was clear to see on all of the animals.

Now the foreman sounded nervous. "I don't rightly know. Maybe he changed it?"

"Or maybe he stole Mr. Donovan's cattle." The sheriff was not happy now.

"Remove that cattle from that car at once and turn them over to Mr. Donovan," he ordered. He turned to his deputy, Jason Smith, a young man in his early twenties, and said, "Escort these men to our offices and introduce them to our spacious jail cell. We will deal with them after we speak to Mr. Jones."