Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set (41 page)

“Wouldn’t have made any difference,” Gabe said, sparing her a glance before turning to stare at the backs of the horses as they plodded through the gathering snow.

“Well, it would have made a difference to me,” she said tartly, watching as her breath left in white puffs.

He didn’t respond to that and it was just as well, she told herself. Really, what would she have done if she had known? She supposed she could have asked if there was a position open at the mercantile, but she doubted the present clerk would be willing to tell her if there was one even though she surely could improve on the arrangement of the goods they had. She had done very well in her father’s store.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have the skills for any other kind of a job that might be available in a frontier town. And, as she’d figured out earlier, she didn’t have enough money to stay at a hotel until she figured out where to go next. She supposed her cousin would send her some money, but he had little to spare and she hated to ask it of him.

“I’ll bring Adam back,” Gabe said then. “Don’t you worry. He’ll do right by you.”

Annabelle wondered if that was supposed to be comforting. She had begun to hope for a declaration of love from her husband-to-be. She supposed that was foolish, but she had anyway. Giggling with Christina on the way here on the train had given rise to all kinds of girlish dreams.

Now all of the things her father had said about her came back to haunt her. At her age, she should know better than to dream of romance. Then she straightened her shoulders as best she could. She might be a drab woman, she told herself, but there was no reason a man needed to be
forced
to wed her. She could just see Gabe towering over her and Adam as they stood in front of a preacher. That would be ten times worse than anything her father had ever done.

She looked at the man now and was struck at how fiercely he was frowning as he faced into the snow. Flakes were falling on his dark beard and gave a little sparkle even in the failing light. She doubted he was upset about her, though. Maybe his face just naturally looked gruff no matter what he was feeling.

“I didn’t understand why Mrs. Baker was so interested in Eliza,” she said then, telling herself she needed to get over her nervousness around the man even if he was disgruntled.

“She wants her sister to adopt the girl,” Gabe said, his voice low so it wouldn’t reach the children behind them.

“But she can’t do that,” Annabelle protested as she forgot her own problems. No wonder the man was surly. “Adam is her father.”

Her mother had died, too, and Annabelle’s father had never been particularly nice to her, but no one ever thought of taking her away from him. People just didn’t do that kind of thing.

“The laws are different out here,” Gabe said. “And Mrs. Baker has some sway with a territorial judge. She doesn’t think a father like Adam is adequate. Or an uncle apparently.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Families belonged together, she told herself, even if there weren’t two parents left.

“She might get the judge to agree with her,” Gabe added bleakly. “A girl Eliza’s age could sure use a mother. You know, for dolls and cookies and those kinds of things. I don’t even know how to braid her hair very well. I try, but it turns out stiff. And she wants curls.”

“I can teach you to curl her hair.” Annabelle put her hand on his arm. She suddenly had that fluttery feeling around her heart again. She wondered if it was stress. She’d have to write Christina and ask her about it. Maybe there was a change in altitude or something that she was unaware of.

The man’s face was still in shadows, but she could see the light in his dark blue eyes as he looked at her.

“Thank you,” Gabe said, smiling. “I’d appreciate that.”

“You’re welcome,” Annabelle replied a little shyly. “I’ll teach you how to make some cookies, too. Anyone can make sugar cookies and, if you sprinkle a little cinnamon on them, too, they’re really good.”

There didn’t seem to be anything else to say so she put the buffalo robe up higher to try and cover her neck. One good thing about this kind of weather, she told herself, was that any flea would surely freeze to death before it could bite her.

She glanced sideways at the man again. Somehow sitting this close to him didn’t make her as nervous anymore. A mean-spirited man wouldn’t worry about a little girl’s hair, would he? Her father certainly never had. She decided as she stole glances at his face that he might not be as fierce as she had thought at first, either. She really had no objection to his face, she decided. In fact, it was kind of nice.

Annabelle must have closed her eyes with that thought, because she found herself startled awake when the horses stopped.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured as she tried to sit upright and found she couldn’t.

She wondered what was wrong and then figured out that she was being held in place by the man’s arm. To her dismay, she realized she must have been using his shoulder for a pillow, with the buffalo robe tucked around her to keep the snow off her hair. Even as a child, her father had never permitted her to fall asleep against him and to do so to a stranger was unthinkable. She looked up to see if he was angry. Her father would have been boiling by now.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she moved her injured arm closer to her side. The cold was making it ache more than usual. The way the scar from the burns had healed made it hard for her to use that arm fully and it went stiff if she left it in the same position for long.

The snow was falling like a blanket around her and she tried to forget the soreness. The sun was setting and, while even white flakes were sprinkled on the man’s beard, his face was mostly shadows. He didn’t look upset. About ten feet in front of them, she saw a vague shape through the blizzard. It looked like the house had been built into the side of a small hillside. With snowdrifts on every side, the place looked more like a dumpling than a building.

“Easy,” Gabe said then, his voice low and soothing as he pulled the horses to a stop. “Let me get these reins tied up and then we’ll get you inside.”

The heat rose up in Annabelle’s face. She could still feel his muscles as he moved his other arm to take care of the reins. He was certainly very solid.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I don’t know what came over me.” She tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Her father only punished her more if she sounded weak.

“You were tired.” Gabe tied the reins to a corner of the wagon. The horses stood in place.

“Still,” she said, wondering if he was sincere. “A lady never forgets where she is.”

She chanced another look at his face.

“I hope you won’t mention it to Adam,” she added, suddenly remembering who her intended husband was. “I know some men would be anxious about the virtue of their mail-order bride and—”

“Adam has more sense than that,” Gabe said, his voice clipped, as he put his hand on the back of the seat and jumped off the wagon. “I’ll only take a minute to carry the children inside then I’ll be back for you.”

“I can—” She started to slide across the wooden plank that served as a seat.

“No need,” he said, his voice muffled as he lifted a child in each arm and turned toward the building.

She watched as Gabe opened a tall wooden door. Except for some square windows, fluffy snow covered the outside walls and smoothed the way back to the sloping hillside. Her cousin had cautioned her to expect unusual things out here in the territories, but she rather liked the snow. It seemed heavier than the flakes back in Connecticut, but surely that was just a fancy of hers.

A minute later, Gabe stepped outside of the structure and walked back to the wagon. He held his arms out to her. “Try to keep the buffalo robe around you. No need to get cold now that you’re here.”

Annabelle slid across to the edge of the bench, clutching the robe around her. “I can walk.”

“No need,” Gabe repeated as he scooped her up.

Before she could stop it, sudden panic raced through Annabelle. Sitting beside the man was one thing, but putting herself in his total control was another. She told herself the man meant no harm, but she couldn’t stop the fear as he pulled her tight to his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe stood in front of the door and looked down at her. Snow was still falling and the only reason she saw the flakes was because they were so white.

It was almost dark and she knew he couldn’t see the expression on her face.

“I’m fine.” Or, she would be soon, she told herself.

“You’re about ready to take off running away from me,” he contradicted her. “I want to know what’s wrong.”

“Could we just go inside?” she asked. Her heart was beating like a bird’s and she felt foolish.

“I hope I haven’t given you any cause to be afraid of me,” he said, his voice soft.

She didn’t answer for a minute and he didn’t move.

Finally, she said, “You just remind me of someone.”

“Someone who hurt you?” His voice sounded outraged.

She couldn’t speak, but she did nod.

At least he started to move then. He pushed the door open with his shoulder and carried her inside. The man must have stirred the fire before he came for her because it was burning low and steady in a rock fireplace on the far wall. The children were huddled together, sitting on the floor in front of it. The light didn’t reach the far corners of the room, but it did light up the front area.

Gabe carried her over to a crude wooden table and sat her on a bench beside it.

“It will be warm in a few minutes,” he said as he sat down in front of her and picked up one of her feet.

She watched in astonishment as he removed her shoe and started to rub her foot.

“Whatever are you doing?” she asked, a squeak in her voice that she tried to still.

“I didn’t realize until I started to carry you inside that your stockings are so thin.” He reached for the other foot and started to unlace that shoe, too. “We need to get your feet warm. And you’ll need thicker socks in this kind of weather.”

“But—” Annabelle began and then gave up. She’d never had a man care about her feet before. If it weren’t for the intelligence she had seen in his eyes earlier at the railroad station, she would wonder if he were one of those childlike giants she’d heard about, the ones who could lift up a horse but who still couldn’t be taught to read or reason.

As he rubbed her feet, she began to relax. She could feel the warmth all the way up her legs. She heard the children talking with each other in front of the fire and she looked around.

“This was a store?” she asked. There was more darkness than light in the room and she could barely make out the dimensions. She did notice some shelves that had been pushed against one wall along with a counter. A blanket covered a stack of something in one corner and several rifles hung in a rack along the wall closest to her. She could almost smell a pickle barrel, too, although she didn’t see one.

“My father closed it up before he died,” Gabe said. “Almost nine years ago now.”

She nodded her head.

“He sold to the soldiers,” Gabe added. “And, once in a while, to a few Indians. Saddles. Ammunition. Whiskey. Little things. Buttons even. He carried whatever he thought a man alone would need. The place was always open when we weren’t out trapping.”

They were silent for a few minutes after that. Annabelle felt herself growing more comfortable. The more heat in the room, the more drowsy she became.

“Who was he?” Gabe asked her suddenly. “The man who frightened you?”

“My father,” she said and then tried to undo any harm she had done. “It was mostly discipline, though. He meant well.”

Gabe grunted in disbelief. “Not if you’re still afraid. Did he beat you?”

She didn’t know how he had guessed, but she couldn’t admit the truth. She wasn’t even sure what was normal discipline from a father. The switches he had cut hurt as he whipped her, but it was his anger that scared her more.

No man wanted to marry a barn hen, though, she reminded herself. Adam might not like it if she flinched and was timid. She would have to be sure he didn’t see her acting afraid. Then, even if Gabe did say something to his brother, Adam would shrug it off.

“I’m perfectly fine now.” She forced herself to put some confidence in her voice as she stood up. “And I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention anything about my father to Adam.”

Gabe grunted, but then nodded.

She needed Adam to accept her. Even if he was not happy to marry her, she could work to make something good of their lives together. She looked over at the two children. For her sake and for them, she would make a family. What other choice did she have? She couldn’t go back to her cousin.

“When are you going for Adam?” she asked Gabe as she took a tentative step toward the children.

He didn’t answer for a minute. Then he said. “Probably in the morning.”

She nodded.

“But right now, I need to step out and see that the horses are in their shed and have some oats,” Gabe said as he started walking toward the door. “Then I’ll see about getting you a pair of socks. They’ll be too big, but your feet will just get cold again unless you have something. Your shoes need to dry out before you can wear them again.”

She watched as Gabe disappeared out the door. Before she left Connecticut, her cousin’s wife had told her that God would not test her beyond what she was able to endure. She needed to remember that. Gabe was going to be part of her family; she would grow accustomed to him. She waited a minute, but no flutter came and that made her nod in satisfaction. She had settled down. It must have been nerves.

She wondered if she’d feel anything at all when she met Adam. She had no doubt Gabe would find him and bring him back. Her hopes of romance were gone, though. How could she love someone who was reluctant to marry her?

Lord, guide me,
she prayed as she wondered what would happen when her promised husband returned.

Chapter Three

G
abe was standing in the living quarters that connected to the old trading post. No one had lived here for a long time until he moved down from the mountains this past summer. When his mother was alive, the four of them—his mother, father, Adam and him—had lived here happily enough. But since then it had no good memories for him. The floor was packed dirt. The walls were squares of thick-cut sod, piled on top of each other and melded together over time with muslin covering them so that the interior of the room was the color of bleached bones left out in the sun. One wood door led to the outside and the other led to the storeroom. Old peeled logs rose vertical around the doors and in the corners, supporting a sloped roof.