MC BIKER ROMANCE: Bad Boy Romance: BETRAYED: (New Adult Motorcycle Club Navy SEAL Romance) (Contemporary Military Romance Thriller) (89 page)
Authors: Kate Shepherd
“Thank you,” Cassandra said, tears filling her eyes.
The next few days went by in a blur of preparation. She sold most of what she owned, including the dress from her and Jonathon’s night at the opera. It pained her to see it go, but she needed the money for her travels.
Almost before she knew what happened, her preparations were done. She said her goodbyes to Hannah at the station and boarded the train. And just like that, she was headed west toward a strange new life.
*****
Jacob was sitting in the saloon idly smoking a cigarette and listening to Garrett and Charlie’s banter when he heard the stagecoach come clattering into town. He stubbed out his cigarette, stood, and headed for the door. Garrett and Charlie stopped their banter and followed him.
He watched the stagecoach draw to a halt with equal parts anticipation and trepidation. He recognized her from her photograph the moment she stepped down from the stagecoach.
“Ms. Whitmore,” he said formally, stepping forward.
“Mr. Daughtry,” she replied just as formally.
There was a long moment of silence.
“Shall we, uh…?”
“Of course,” she replied. Not much more was spoken between them as they made their way to the justice of the peace. Garrett and Charlie exchanged a look and shook their heads.
The ceremony was brief, and when it was done Garrett and Charlie wished them well and went their separate ways.
“I guess I should show you to my…um, I mean our…house.”
“Alright,” Cassandra said quietly.
They walked to the house and Jacob ushered her through the front door.
“It’s not much,” he said. “This is the kitchen. I got some things I thought you might need.” He indicated a motley assortment of flour, beans, dry goods, honey, and other things.
“Oh…thank you,” she said.
They continued to the sparsely furnished sitting area.
“This is the sitting area,” he said. They stood quietly for a minute before continuing to the bedroom. “And this is the uh…,” He paused to straighten the tattered blanket that adorned the bed and cleared his throat nervously. “This is the bedroom.”
Cassandra nodded, looking around and taking in the room. After a long moment she spoke.
“I think I may lie down for a bit. If that’s alright.”
Jacob nodded and withdrew from the room, wondering what exactly he had just gotten himself into.
*****
Cassandra fell into a deep sleep almost before her head had hit the tattered pillow. The exhaustion that was the constant companion of pregnancy coupled with her long journey had taken everything out of her. She woke briefly sometime in the night when she felt the weight of her new husband settling into the bed.
She tensed for a moment, unsure what to expect. But he rolled over with his back to her and soon began snoring. Cassandra relaxed and drifted back to sleep. By the time she woke again it was morning and he was gone.
She rose from the bed and was glad to see that Jacob had seen to having her trunk brought. She changed out of her travel clothing and, unsure of what else to do, set to work cleaning the house and going through the kitchen to see what she could cook for dinner.
She managed to find enough in the odds and ends that Jacob had bought to prepare a meal, but she would definitely have to go into town again soon.
It felt strange to make herself so at home in someone else’s house. But, she supposed, this was her home too now. It was a strange thought.
It was late afternoon by the time Jacob came through the front door, covered in grime from the day’s work. He blinked in surprise when he saw that she had beans and cornbread prepared and set out on the table.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be up yet. You didn’t seem too well yesterday.”
“Just needed some rest,” she said with a faint smile.
“I’m glad,” he said. “I’ll go get washed up.”
It felt strange to him at first, having a woman about the house again, but the two of them quickly settled into a comfortable, if somewhat distant rhythm.
One evening, as Cassandra was finishing up cleaning in the kitchen, Jacob took his guitar and went outside. Cassandra stopped what she was doing when she heard him pluck out the first few notes of Wayfaring Stranger. It was one of her favorite songs.
She stepped out the front door and began to timidly sing along. Jacob looked up and offered her a smile. Her voice was not as robust as some of the opera singers whom she so admired, but it was high and sweet and true.
When the song was done he reached up and took her hand. She sat down next to him and the two of them watched the sun set together. She was surprised to feel things stirring within her heart that she thought had died along with Jonathon.
Cassandra felt a surge of joy followed immediately by a pang of dread. It was only a matter of time before Jacob realized that she was pregnant. She was beginning to show more every day
Just as she had known, it was not long before Jacob realized her condition. It was a Sunday and he had been looking at her oddly all day. After some time he went into the bedroom and began to rummage through a trunk. He came back out holding three dresses and handed them to Cassandra.
“Thought you might be needing these,” he said bitterly. He seemed about to say something else, but thought better of it. He turned and went out the door without another word.
Cassandra, confused, began to examine the dresses. They were maternity dresses. Cassandra felt her stomach drop sickeningly. But at the same time, she was almost relieved. The secret was out now. No more agonizing over when he would find out. No more agonizing over how to tell him.
She
had
meant to tell him. She had just never found a good way to do it.
She had no idea what would happen now. She supposed he would be well within his rights to have the marriage annulled. What had she been
thinking
when she had decided on this crazy plan? That he would just smile and say it was alright? She felt sick.
She was still sitting there trying to figure out what to do when Jacob came back, seeming much more composed than he had been before. The two regarded each other in silence for a long moment.
“Seems we need to have a talk,” he finally said quietly.
Cassandra nodded miserably.
“I’d ask you to explain yourself, but your condition speaks for itself I think.”
Cassandra didn’t reply.
“There a man gonna come lookin’ for you? A husband? A lover?”
“No,” Cassandra said, barely above a whisper. “He’s gone.”
Something softened in Jacobs face. “How?”
“Yellow fever,” Cassandra told him. “Right after I found out about the baby. He never knew.”
And suddenly Jacob understood. The last of his anger evaporated as he saw just how much pain she was in. He wrapped her in his arms, and neither of them spoke for a long time.
“I never told you how I lost my wife,” he finally said. “She died in childbirth, a couple years back. Baby didn’t make it either.”
“Those were her dresses,” Cassandra realized.
“Yeah,” he said. He paused for a long moment before going on. “When I put my family in the ground, I didn’t think I would ever love anyone again. Until I found you.”
Cassandra began to cry and he embraced her more tightly.
“I don’t want to give up on this,” he said.
“Neither do I,” she said.
Jacob and Cassandra remained married, though their time in You Bet was short-lived. They left after much of the town burned in September of that year and went back to New Orleans where Cassandra gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Jacob raised him as his own, and they had three
A yellowing sheet of paper had been posted in the local bar of Sawtooth, Nevada. An image of a thin woman with large hair and high heels had been printed on the paper. In large black letters, the paper read:
NOTICE!
Due to the increasing number of mail order brides and the over-hasty marriages that follow, several complaints have been lodged by no-longer happy grooms.
Let it be known therefore that any man who is seduced into marriage by the use of:
False Hair
Cosmetic Paint
Artificial Bosoms
Holstered Hips
Padded Lines
Without the man’s knowledge shall stand null and void if he so desires.
Jacob Renmyer took some time to read the notice. He wasn’t exactly sure what a “holstered hip” might be. He tried to imagine women stuffing cotton balls into their pants, but the image that came into his head did not match up with the picture on the paper. He rubbed his chin while he thought about the mail-order bride notice that he himself had put in three days before in both the Nevada Ledger and the Nevada Tribune. He had been told to cast as wide a net as possible by someone who had already done it.
His friend, the person he had come to Shaky’s Motel and Bar to see, had advised him that he could be sure of having his choice of women if he was willing to pay for a variety of advertisements. Thus far, that had not proven to be the case. He was beginning to wonder whether he had wasted his money sending in advertisements to the two newspapers. When he had first seen the advertisements, he had decided that he would give it two weeks. If he didn’t hear anything by then, he would take the rest of his money and head back east to Philadelphia, the city where he had been born and raised.
His leather boots thunked on the wooden floor of the bar as he pushed open the creaky saloon doors that every bar seemed to have. He suspected that the owner of the building made a point of not repairing the two swinging doors- each the size of a window pane- to ensure that he heard anyone who came and went.
Then, like clockwork, the overweight man with his large curly mustache and sideburns halfway across his chin made his appearance. He said, “Mr. Renmyer, you are early today aren’t you? I assume you are aware that the bar opens at five o’clock?”
Jacob kept track of the time by listening to the chiming of the bells in one of the town’s three churches. The Catholic Church, run by Father Flaherty, kept time so exact that Jacob sometimes wondered where the priest got his timepieces from. The last tolling he’d heard had declared the time to be one o’clock in the afternoon. First the bell chimed three times, then it chimed once, each one a solemn note offered to anyone who cared to hear. Since that had been what he felt to be half an hour ago, he put the time at 1:30 in the afternoon.
He said, “I am aware, Mr. Scribner. As it happens, I’ve come here to meet someone.”
Zebediah Scribner twirled his mustache and said, “That’s quite all right. You’re always welcome here. Make yourself at home.”
Jacob found himself an empty table, which wasn’t difficult. The bar on the ground floor of the hotel was empty. No one in town came into the bar except for Jacob and a few stragglers on a Friday afternoon. It just so happened that he had Fridays off, on account of how the man he worked for, Matthew Callahan, took Fridays off to get what feed, seed, and what fertilizer he could. He then used his Saturday to sell what product he had, or else do the odd chores around his seventy-acre property that needed doing.
Jacob had taken a job as a cowpuncher a year and a half ago for Matthew could not tend to his crop and his cattle at the same time. Jacob had moved across the country a month at a time, stopping here and there to get enough work in so that he could move on. He had intended to settle down somewhere in California’s Salinas Valley. He had made the journey across the country that way until he found a job he liked well enough to stick around for a while. As he put his feet up on the table, he supposed that there were worse things that being a cowpuncher in Nevada.
He had tried his hand at shucking wheat, and though that paid more than herding cattle, he had never been able to acclimate himself to a day’s work that wasn’t done on horseback. It didn’t feel natural to him. A full day in the wheat field left his feet throbbing and his stomach growling. On horseback, he had to use a different set of skills. He had to notice where the cows went for shelter. He had to notice rustlers waiting for the chance to make off with a wandering here or there. He had to notice whenever cattle with different brandings than that which Callahan used got themselves mixed up with the herd for which he was responsible. He had to have a sharp eye and a quick mind, or else he would quickly find himself out of a job. That he had been able to do the job through all kinds of weather had earned him some amount of trust in Sawtooth. People had come to know his name. They knew him as the man who rode on the back of a brown and white Spanish horse that had retained the fiery temperament of his ancestors.
After his work ended every day- and that was late enough at night to leave him little enough time to do anything else- he went home to eat what food he could. As often as not, that was a can of pork and beans held over the makeshift fireplace in the cabin he had built over the course of a year. He had not been able to bring himself to buy or install a proper stove for his cabin. Doing so would mean that he had committed himself to living in Sawtooth on a permanent basis. The fireplace was a reminder of that, and a reminder of all the days he had slept in a hammock he had strung between two trees while he built his cabin.
Now that he actually had time to himself to reflect, he felt restless. There was nothing further for him to do at the cabin, not unless he wanted to upgrade it to a permanent living space. He had patched up the roof, and mucked out the outhouse. That had been a chore that he had not relished doing, but which he needed doing nonetheless. The whole time, he had wondered why he had even bothered digging a latrine pit in the first place.
He let out a sigh of exasperation. He muttered under his breath, “Jake old man, you’re going to have to make your mind sooner or later.”
It was then when he sat reflecting on he should put down roots in Sawtooth or move on to somewhere else when the swinging doors of the bar pushed open. He looked from the table. Surprise came over his face when he saw who had entered.
