MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Romance: BETRAYED: (New Adult Motorcycle Club Navy SEAL Romance) (Contemporary Military Romance Thriller) (72 page)

Chapter 7

Three weeks later, Anna woke up to sunlight shining brightly in her eyes. She lay still for a moment, listening to the most beautiful sound in her world, the deep breathing of Matthew beside her. Carefully, she turned on her side and watched him sleeping. She still could not believe that this gorgeous man, inside and out, had fallen in love with her and stayed loyal to her despite her running away when he needed her most.
Moreover, since she had returned home with him, he had made every moment with her an opportunity to compliment her, encourage her, show her tenderness, share God’s love with her, and share his own love with her. During those three weeks she had come to realize that her own love for Matthew was much deeper than she had realized, and that her renewed faith made their love for each other even more beautiful and even more sacred.
Anna was still staring at him when Matthew rolled toward her and opened his eyes. The smile in his eyes as he looked at her made her warm all over.
“Good morning, handsome,” she said.
In reply, he smiled and pulled her to him, and Anna was wrapped up in a love so complete she felt full to bursting.

Her New Husband’s Secret

Chapter 1

              Jane Russell watched the countryside roll by as the wagon jounced this way and that. There was no such thing as a smooth ride in Nevada of 1874. To begin with, the state was so high above sea level that she often found herself getting light-headed. That was so markedly different from the eastern half of Texas, some of which lay below sea level. The further west that she traveled, the more she found that the country became elevated. The hills rolled up and down. She had seen the mountains of Colorado, towering in the distance while she rode the train that took her from Texarkana to St. Louis. The train from St. Louis took her to Reno, Nevada. From there, she had to travel back across the state going east to reach the town of Sawtooth.

For reasons she could not quite understand, the town had gained a reputation all across the country from the south of Texas to the Dakotas and all the way out to California. Most cowpunchers and wheat farmers that she knew of were migrant workers. They worked Wyoming and Montana during the summer, and in Texas and Oklahoma during the winter. In between, they stopped by Nevada. Sawtooth was the only town of any size that served as a stopping point for people traveling one way or the other. As a result, it was well-known all along the frontier that Sawtooth was becoming the mail-order bride capital of the west. The local newspapers sent their boilerplate advertisements all across the country to any newspaper that would have them. Everyone wanted to read what the lonely men of Sawtooth had to say for themselves.

One advertisement in particular had caught Jane’s eye. It read:

Lonely Rancher Seeking Wife to Share Stake and Earnings. Please Respond to Earl Hubbard of Sawtooth, Nev.

She had sent him a letter after reading the advertisement in Texarkana. At the time, she did not think that she stood a chance of him even reading her letter. Surely, she thought, he would be inundated with correspondence from every quarter of the frontier. He would have neither the time nor the inclination to respond to her. She would continue teaching in a small cabin with eleven students. She had no expectations that the result could possibly be otherwise. She had written the query letter for herself, then had decided to mail it anyway.

A response came within the month. Knowing as much about geography as she did, Jane found it difficult to believe that the mail could travel so quickly. The letter expressed interest in her. Mr. Earl Hubbard of Sawtooth, Nevada wanted her to send a likeness of herself, in addition to what she expected to achieve by marrying him. He went on for three whole paragraphs about how profitable his ranch was, how he would soon be needing an extra set of hands to help out with his work. If that pair of hands belonged to his wife, he intimated, those hands would soon find themselves clutching silver and gold pieces.

She mulled over the letter for a few days before she considered whether she should reply or not. She had heard that the people who owned property on the frontier made enough money to afford good clothing, good horses, and good firearms. As far as she was concerned, cattle rustling and train robbing were the two principal crimes on the frontier due to how lucrative they were. There were always cattle to be had, sometimes by the hundreds. Additionally, there were always trains running all through the day, except on Sundays. Those trains carried the gold that were being dug out of the mines and subsequently deposited in banks everywhere across the west. There wasn’t enough room to store all of it. Nor were the banks particularly secure against robbery. The gold had to go somewhere where the banks could look after it. That meant shipping most of it back east by train. In her estimation, the frontier was a land with untold riches waiting to be snatched up.

As such, after two months and four more letters- two written by her and two written by him- she decided that she would move out to live with him. Though she treasured each of her children, she had given a great deal of thought to what her future might be. She was thirty-nine years old. She could already feel her body wearing down on her. More aches and pains crept up on her every year. She found that she could no longer read through the night, as she often did before after the summer farming season ended. There were always more children at her school during the fall and winter. When spring and summer came along, their parents needed them back working on the farm or on the ranch. Those students would be disappointed to learn that she had left. She wouldn’t even get to say goodbye to them. In the worst case, they might not even be going to school when the temperatures started cooling again. Good teachers were in short supply.

Before departing, she managed to track down the owner of the school, Mr. Gregory Bumbridge. He did not appear surprised in the least to learn that she would be moving out to greener pastures. He had anticipated her leaving for some time, he said. To that end, he had asked around as much as he could to discover whether there might be any other teacher willing to take employment with him. He had found one, a twenty-three year old woman who spoke eloquent English and who could teach Latin. That was the deciding factor for him. He wanted someone well-versed in the old Roman writings to teach the children of Texarkana as much as they could learn about that subject.

The discussion eventually reached a point where Jane found herself feeling uncomfortable, for Mr. Bumbridge had asked what her future prospects might be. She could tell that he was still dreaming of having two teachers in the school. She would not have brooked anyone teaching her children in the afternoon the opposite of what they had learned in the morning. Yet after she had told him as much, he ignored her words as if she had never spoken. The man was as passionate about education as she was, yet there were times when he could be dreadful bore.

She said, “I suppose if I’m to give you an honest answer, Mr. Bumbridge, then I don’t rightly know what my prospects are.”

That answer surprised him. He had not expected to hear the truth. He said, “Surely not. You are going into this situation with no understanding of what it might mean for your future?”

“It is a risk, that is true. Yet I know what my future in Texas holds. I shall continue teaching because I must have the money. If I do manage to save anything out of my income, it will not be enough to provide for my needs when I am no longer capable of doing what I do today. Now I suppose to you this might seem like a very foolish decision. Indeed, I have thought so myself more than once. Yet, it is a step that I must take if I wish to enjoy anything than spinsterhood and the poorhouse.”

Mr. Bumbridge appeared skeptical. He said, “You are sure that this is the result that your marriage will produce?”

She answered as honestly as she could. Long experience of dealing with people had taught her that a straightforward answer got her further than the most skilled dissembling. That was what had built her reputation as a woman who spoke her mind- a rare quality no matter what part of the continent she might travel to.

She said, “I am not sure of anything other than what awaits me if a risk is not taken. We only have so many years allotted to us, as I’m sure you know. Most of mine are behind me. I do not expect to live for another thirty years. I must do something today to secure my future while I still can. Even if I am unable to do so, I shall be no worse off for the attempt.”

Mr. Bumbridge put his hands on his hips while he looked her up and down. He said, “I pray that you are correct. There are few enough people who deserve the fruits of their labor in this world. I believe you are one of them.”

That, Jane thought, was the highest compliment that he could have paid her. She left Texarkana with a broad smile on her face. It was that compliment which allowed her to endure having to switch trains, then having to spend a week crossing Nevada while she subsisted on beef jerky, pork and beans, and whatever water could be scrounged up here and there. That compliment blew away the uncertainty that she felt over coming to a new place and marrying a man she had never met before. No one told her that her smile made her look fifteen years younger. If anyone had, she would have had second thoughts about the marriage.

Chapter 2

The town of Sawtooth bore all the signs of a rapidly growing frontier town. It sat close to the border between Idaho and Nevada. Though there was a main street where every business and office she could imagine were found, there were also a number of houses in construction all around the town. Those houses looked to her like skeletons made out of wood. As she departed the wagon, she heard the sounds of hammers pounding nails and saws cutting through wood. The air itself smelled strongly of sawdust and sweat. She found that she enjoyed the smell. There was something alluring about the scent of hard work.

She had worn a long red dress that came down to the tops of her feet. She had tied her hair up into a bun, then had secured a hairnet over it. Over the hairnet, she wore a red bonnet frilled with white lace. She had a small mirror that let her see that she looked like one of the Pennsylvania Dutch, if they ever consented to wearing colors other than black and white. She ignored the stares she got from both men and women as she walked towards the saloon, where Earl had promised to meet her. He always went there, he had written. Though she did not see how it could be that he spent so much time away from his property even while he continued operating a profitable enterprise. Perhaps he had competent people working for him. Perhaps the money came so easily that he needn’t do anything other than make sure that his cattle weren’t stolen. That doubt had crossed her mind when she first read it. She had dismissed it, believing that he had no reason to deceive her.

As she entered the saloon, she experienced a moment of disquiet. The saloon was nearly empty. It was the middle of the day, and there was only a man in a cowboy hat talking to a well-dressed man. They sat at the far corner of the saloon. Their conversation ceased when she entered. A pudgy man with fat hands looked up from the bar that he had been polishing with a white cloth.

The man said, “Welcome to Shaky’s Motel and Bar, madam. My name is Zebediah Scribner. How may I assist you?”

Though Jane had never entered a saloon before- had never even entertained the notion of drinking anything alcoholic for fear that she would lose her self-control- she strode to the bar as though she had done it many times before. She said, “I should like a shot of Tennessee Whiskey and some information if you please.”

The bartender’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He said, “Tennessee Whiskey? Are you- are you sure, madam?”

Jane slapped her hand down on the table. It felt good. It felt like something she would never have done if she were responsible for the education of other people’s children. She said, “Do I have to repeat myself?”

The bartender wrung his hands. He said, “No, no of course not. Right away madam. One shot of whiskey coming up.”

Jane waited in front of the bar while her cheeks burned. She tried to ignore the stares of two men in the bar. It seemed to her that they were intently focused on what she was doing. The truth was that they paid her no mind, nor had even noticed what she had ordered. They had not even heard her slap the bar, so intent were they focused on their conversation.

She did not have to wait long before the drink arrived. She held the glass in her slender fingers, considering the brown liquid inside. She gulped it all down at once. Her throat burned. She coughed, then said, “That’s mighty powerful stuff.”

Zebediah grinned, still wringing his hands. He said, “Finest whiskey coming out of Chattanoogie. Comes special every month.”

She reached into the traveling bag that she carried around with her. She said, “How much do I owe you?”

The man told her how much a shot of Tennessee Whiskey cost. She paid without thinking twice about it. He said, “I believe you said you wanted information, madam?”

For a moment, she had forgotten why she had come to the saloon in the first place. She said, “I’m looking for a man by the name of Hubbard. Do you know where I might find him?”

The bartender’s expression brightened. He pointed with his finger to the two men in the corner. He said, “Why, that’s Earl Hubbard sitting right there. Mr. Hubbard, a guest here to see you!”

The man in the cowboy hat stood up. As he did, Jane saw that he had a revolver on each hip and a knife sheathed against his thigh. He had a mean, tough look about him. If he bothered to shave, he had not done so recently. He had several days’ worth of hair upon his face. His eyes were hard and cold. They narrowed when he saw her. His fingers were wide, his arms muscular. His boots thumped across the saloon’s wooden floor as he approached. They were the only sounds that broke the silence in the room. Jane thought that his footsteps resembled the beating of some strong, hideous heart.

He produced a toothpick from somewhere and put it in his mouth. He said, “Anything I can do for you?”

Jane curtsied as best she could. She had never practiced very much. She hoped that he wouldn’t notice how awkward she looked while doing so. She said, “My name is Jane Russell. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Earl put one hand on his hip. He eyed her up and down. He said, “Should I know you from somewhere?”