The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (4 page)

“If he tries to touch you or Mae or the dog,” Jem said, “I want you to scream as loud as you can and don’t stop. Can you do that—can you scream?”

She nodded, embarrassed that he had to ask. Again she lifted one finger,
yes
. She could make any number of truly awful screeching noises, loud as could be if she needed to.

“Okay, good. I don’t think he’ll try anything here on the train, not really. Too many people. But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” He stood and took an assessing look around their car. Apparently satisfied, he told Mae, “You wait here.” He glanced down at Annie again to get her commitment to stand watch over his daughter. She sat up straighter and nodded.

He hesitated.

Annie tried to fix her most trustworthy face on.
Go on
. She waved him away.
I’ll watch the wee one
.

Maybe it was hard to trust her in all her filth—or maybe he was still worried about the man coming to look for them—because he hesitated one more moment. Then he stalked off, as if intent on getting where he was going and back as quickly as possible. She saw him disappear through the connecting door to the next car up.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes, maybe twenty at the most, and he was back again. He held up his prize: one wrinkled red apple, two hunks of cheese, and a packet of soda crackers. He also had a large metal flask of what she hoped was cold, clear water to share.

Annie’s mouth watered, just thinking about cheese.

She watched as Jem sat back next to Mae and handed her the apple straight off. So the apple was out of the offing. Gone to a hungry little girl. That was fair.

Mae didn’t even wait for grace to be said. She bit down into that apple and chewed, an expression of relieved delight crossing her face. The apple must not have been too dry, for juice dripped down her chin. She didn’t bother to wipe it off—she just took another bite. More juice dribbled down onto her dress. Her white pinafore was nearly as dirty as Annie’s dress from playing in the dirt, but a small child could be excused for that. A child on a long train journey anyway.

Annie didn’t have that luxury. She was all too aware of the glances still being slung her way. Her appearance was one thing, but then add to that the fact that she’d just newly come on board. They’d been traveling with this man and his child for who knows how many days. They all knew he hadn’t been traveling with a woman. None of them would have dreamed he’d married at the last stop—just like that—and least likely to a woman like her. What on earth did they think she was? She didn’t dare consider it.

Jem handed one of the hunks of cheese across to her, and she made an effort not to grab it from him and shove the whole thing in her mouth. She was that hungry. Instead, she nibbled at it, making it last, and watched with greatest interest as he opened up the packet of crackers. He passed her four, which she took gratefully. Gave two to the puppy, who gobbled them down right quick. Two more he sat on his knee, presumably for Mae, and then he broke pieces off the other hunk of cheese and set them atop his remaining crackers, downing them one by one. It wasn’t nearly enough for a man his size, she guessed, but he wasn’t complaining any. As soon as Mae finished her apple, he took the core from her and passed her one of the remaining crackers with a piece of cheese on it. She munched that down and looked to him immediately for another, the last one.

He gave it to her, then showed her his empty hands.

She frowned. “More?”

“No more,” he said, and showed her his empty hands again, making a bigger gesture out of it, as if the little girl was accusing him of hiding some.

If Annie weren’t so intent on eating her share of cheese and crackers she might have smiled at the sight of them, one of the most dangerous men she’d ever seen sitting side by side with that tiny little girl. They made quite a mismatched pair.

Mae looked over at Annie, at the last cracker in her hand and the last bit of cheese.

Annie gulped down the mouthful she was chewing. She looked down at the last of her meal and back at the little girl. To her shame, she didn’t want to give up her last cracker. She could barely remember the last meal she’d eaten.

“That’s Annie’s food,” Jem admonished the little girl. “You’ve had yours.”

Mae bit her lip. She glanced down at her lap, then back at Annie again.

I can share,
Annie attempted to tell Mae with her eyes alone
.
She snapped her cracker in half—simply unable to bear parting with the whole thing—and passed it across to the little girl. Mae took it and popped the whole thing in her mouth, making Annie smile.

“Mae!” her father said.

She looked at him wide-eyed, her mouth full of cracker. “Whaf dafdda?” she said, muffled, spraying a few cracker crumbs onto his trousers.

He closed his eyes briefly and brushed them off. “You didn’t have to give her any,” he said to Annie, “but thanks.”

Annie grunted, her way of saying she didn’t mind that much. She looked down quickly and finished her last bit of food. The crackers had been crispy and the cheese silky and smooth. They’d tasted like heaven.

“You must be thirsty,” he said. “Do you mind sharing?”

She shook her head and automatically lifted two fingers.

“Two’s no?” he asked.

She nodded, pleased, and lifted one finger. She’d grown up sending signals through the floor of the Ruskins’ house, one stomp for yes, two for no. It came natural as rain now.

“And one’s yes,” he said, catching on quick.

Annie drank deep when he passed her the flask of water, amazed he’d let her drink from it. She tried her best to pour it down her throat without touching her lips to the flask, so he wouldn’t regret giving it to someone so dirty.

She wished she could tell him thanks, but after Mae had her fill and he took his own swallow, he was back under his hat, likely going over the events of the day.

How he’d stuck himself with her.

How he probably regretted even stepping off the train at the last stop.

She couldn’t say she blamed him.

She hadn’t much wanted to marry a stranger herself.

THREE

J
em stared at the back of his eyelids, still seeing the reddish patch of light where the train window was. The apple core was sticky in his palm, and he thought about tossing it out the window. Just couldn’t seem to get himself to move. That was the problem. That and the young woman sitting across from him. Annie. His wife.

He didn’t want a wife.

He wanted to be alone. He wanted to spend his next ten years burying himself in work. He longed to be busy, to fall in bed at night so tired he wouldn’t even dream. It was hard to fit Mae into a plan like that though. She was little. She needed things. Like time, attention, and affection. It felt like a pair of heavy boulders riding around on his shoulders all the time. Weighing him down. It should have been a joy. If he was any kind of father, he’d be more, do more. But it felt like he didn’t have anything left to give.

He certainly didn’t have the strength or drive to open his heart to someone new. A woman. Someone to replace Lorelei? The thought was as repulsive to him as the thought of eating the pulpy apple core in his hand. Who would do that? Eat the core, chew up the seeds? Yet that was what he’d just done. He’d opened his mouth and shoved the whole thing in.

And now he had a wife.

But if he could go back, would he leave her there? Let her go with a man who was that rough and mean? No. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of doubt about what he’d needed to do. He couldn’t even let the dog go with such a man. There was something else about the man that plagued Jem now—that scent he knew he’d smelled before, but couldn’t quite place. What was it? Something acrid. Like burnt paper or... No, it eluded him. Just out of reach. Whatever it was.

His thoughts returned to the woman across from him.

What now?

He sighed. There was no going back.

He thought about tearing up the paper in his shirt, letting the pieces blow away like he’d done with that other one.

Wouldn’t be that hard.

He could do it now, let the pieces fly out of the window...

Gone, like that.

But then what? What would happen to Annie? Where would she go? Make a new life for herself—and the puppy—somewhere along the rail? Didn’t seem likely. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t write. He doubted she could read. And someone could all-too-easily take advantage of her vulnerability.

He couldn’t let her off at the next stop to fend for herself. It wouldn’t be right. But how in the world were they ever going to communicate? Not that he felt much like talking. He sighed and scratched his fingers through his beard, which was becoming a habit these days. He’d grown used to the fur on his face now. It was about as normal as wearing his coat or putting on his hat.

He caught Mae glaring at him with a pointedly sullen expression. She reached up and tugged at a bit of his beard. “No,” she said rather severely, not for the first time expressing her dislike of his facial hair.

He glanced over at Annie, who was watching them, and tugged at one of his daughter’s loose curls, not too hard, but not precisely gentle either. Enough to get his point across:
Don’t pull on my beard
. “Not now, Mae,” he said repressively.

She subsided in her seat and stuck her bottom lip out. Soon she began bouncing her legs off the edge of the seat. He’d have to take her for a walk up and down the train soon, but for the life of him he couldn’t bring himself to move. He just wanted a few minutes to sink into a nap. If only he could set aside all these worries for a short while, maybe he could wake up refreshed, with a new idea.

He rolled his shoulders back and rested his head against the seat. Just a minute or two...

He must have dozed, for he awoke with a drugged feeling, to the sound of someone clapping a hand against wood. And maybe the sound of the puppy whimpering?

He opened one eye blearily.

Annie was standing before him, holding the puppy against her with one arm, looking uncertain. Her other hand was resting on the back of her seat, which made him think she’d slapped her hand against it to wake him up. Why not jostle his shoulder? Mae was curled up against him, snoring softly, deep in sleep.

“What?” he asked, groggy and a little grumpy.

The puppy whimpered again and let out a sharp little bark. The other passengers in the car glared at them, some of them turning all the way around in their seats to get a better look. Jem woke up more fully.

Annie hefted the puppy in both arms and looked around, clearly not sure what to do with it. Er,
her
. Now that Jem could see the pup’s underside, it was obviously a female.

“Needs to go out, eh?” He stretched carefully, not wanting to wake Mae. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Where in the world to take a puppy on a train? He should have had Annie take the pup over to a grassy spot before they got on, but he’d been worried about the man in the duster and the need to get Annie and Mae safely on board. He also hadn’t been around a little puppy in a while—not as the one responsible for it anyway—so he wasn’t accustomed to having to think about such practical matters as a puppy’s needs.

He eased Mae off his lap, and she slumped flat against the seat cushion, thankfully not waking. He prepared to stand and take possession of the puppy, but when he looked over again he saw it was too late.

A dark wet stain was blooming down the front of Annie’s brown dress. He could tell the moment the warmth of it spread through to her skin, for her eyes widened. A sharply sweet odor filled the car—a distinctive, instantly recognizable odor. The dark plume went straight down her front, nearly to her hem. She grunted in dismay, and he felt sorry for her. She’d been trying to help the poor creature and just look what had happened to her.

The porter must have had an extraordinary sense of timing, for he chose that precise moment to push through the door of their car and duck through.

Jem waved him over, not recognizing him. The porter he’d found earlier had been a different fellow. This man was tall, with a rather pudgy middle that stretched the buttons of his shirt. His complexion was also a bit on the pasty side. His blond hair was thin on top, brushed straight back off his forehead, leaving white furrows. When he caught sight of Jem and Annie with the puppy, his expression darkened, and he strode over.

“What’s going on here?” he asked, giving consideration to the irritated looks the other passengers were sending their way. He took another look at the puppy and Annie’s dress. The smell must have hit him then, for he drew his chin back a little and his nostrils flared.

It wasn’t the most encouraging of openings, but Jem forged ahead. “Listen, the pup’s had an accident. These things happen. Annie here is going to need a change of clothes. Can you find me anything?”

The porter looked her up and down, his expression flattening. “Is she
ticketed?
” Obviously, he expected not.

“She got on at the last stop. Mail-order bride. It’s a long story.”

The porter frowned, his eyes flicking over her dingy dress and her dirt-streaked face. “Your
bride
?”

“That’s right. I’ve got the papers right here. She’s had a bit of a rough time of it. Thieves,” Jem said by way of explanation, tapping his chest. The marriage certificate stuffed in his shirt crinkled. He wasn’t certain Annie’s appearance had anything to do with the preacher’s claim that they’d been robbed—he doubted it—but it made a better excuse than none. He noticed Annie looking at him with a wide-eyed expression, and continued, “I got a ticket from the other porter. Here—” He dug in the pockets of his trousers—first one, then the other—but they were empty. He checked again, confused. “It was right here.”

“Sure it was.”

“No, it was.” Jem looked down and spotted a paper on the floor. In a small puddle. He grimaced and picked it up by one corner. It dripped onto the floor.

The porter paled. He didn’t take it but gave it a thorough inspection before nodding. “Looks to be in order.” He sounded a bit disappointed, as if he’d looked forward to throwing Annie off the train. Or maybe collecting a bribe.

“Can you find her a dress?” Jem lowered his voice so as not to attract any more attention, although it seemed late for that.

“I don’t have a bin of dresses to hand out to passengers,” the porter replied, with an audible sniff. He was certainly a testy fellow, opinionated too. And not in a good way.

Jem’s jaw tightened reflexively. The man was being deliberately rude. His job was to serve, not lecture. “Well, then an apron or something?” he gritted through his teeth.

“I’ll see what I can find.” Based on the slight flare of the man’s nostrils, Jem didn’t put much hope in seeing an apron any time soon.

He wished now that he’d booked seats in the sleeping car today, but they were arriving at their destination before nightfall, hopefully in the next few hours, and he hadn’t thought it necessary at the time. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

“Do you have any seats in the sleeping car?” he asked. “A little privacy would be welcome.” He glanced meaningfully toward Annie’s dress and the puppy, and toward the other passengers watching them with unabashed curiosity and not a little hostility.

“We have a couple available,” the porter said, brightening a little. Perhaps he saw his opportunity for a tip.

He named a price, and Jem hesitated. He didn’t have to search his pockets to know the last of his ready cash had gone to purchase their meager meal and Annie’s ticket. The rest of the bills had been spent at the last stop, where he’d doled out a ridiculously generous payment to the man in the duster for the puppy, and even more to the preacher for Annie. Jem resisted the urge to scratch through his beard. He’d had plenty of funds at the start of the trip, or he’d thought he had.

“I don’t have it on me,” he admitted and saw the porter’s expression shutter. “But I’ll have it at my stop. I’m getting off at Colorado Springs. My bank’s there.” If it was open by the time they got there, which it likely wouldn’t be.

This must have also occurred to the porter, because he shook his head. “Sorry, mister. I’d need the cash up front.”

Of course he would. Jem gritted his teeth. The man didn’t even bother to call him “sir” as he probably would have under more normal circumstances.

“Well,” Jem said, striving for patience, “what about checking the kitchen for that apron?”

“I’ll see about that.” Noncommittal as ever.

“And the puppy? Where can I take it—her?”

“Between the cars, I suspect.”

“A puppy?”

He shrugged. “Not my concern, mister. It’s your dog.”

It’s not my dog
—the denial nearly flew out of his mouth, but Jem stopped himself. It was his dog now. He’d bought it.

How was he supposed to take a dog out between the cars? Hold it over the gap and hope it would go over the tracks? No puppy he’d ever known would go like that.

“What about the livery car?” he asked.

“You could try that,” the porter said, dismissively. He went around to the other passengers then, checking tickets.

Jem thought about the stock car. All those horses. And not just horses, but pent-up horses. Horses that had been on the train too long and were likely looking for any excuse for excitement. The puppy would likely get trampled. He might just get trampled himself. He sighed. He’d have to take it—
her
—between the cars and hope for the best.

He took the puppy from Annie, who promptly sat back in her seat, hunched over, looking miserable. He couldn’t blame her, what with her dress a wet wreck.

“Sorry about your dress,” he said.

She gestured kind of feebly.

He cleared his throat, feeling distinctly uncomfortable around this woman. He didn’t like getting involved with her or meddling into her problems. Would have gladly handed her care over to someone who knew about people with her condition, someone with both the means and the strength to do a proper job of it. Someone reputable and kind. “I’ll take her out now, see if she’s done.” He took the puppy from Annie and held it out at arms’ length.

“Watch over Mae?” he asked, looking down at his daughter. She was thankfully still sleeping, her fists bunched up under her chin, her cheeks flushed pink.