The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (5 page)

Annie glanced up at him from under her lashes and nodded. She seemed a bit more dispirited than she had before, and he felt bad for her.

Jem wished he could say something to encourage her, but he was afraid she wasn’t going to have any relief anytime soon. Even if he could make his way to the luggage car, he’d probably never find his trunks, and, even if he did, he didn’t have a single thing she could wear. His clothes wouldn’t suit a woman at all, and Mae’s were tiny. He’d given away most of Lorelei’s things. Pop had insisted. Said it would help him “get over his grief” to let them go. Becky had helped him pick out a few items for Mae to have someday, but Jem had already crated those up and shipped them ahead about a month ago, not wanting to be burdened with extra luggage on the trip with his horses and a toddler in tow.

He strode to the back of their car, keeping the puppy safely outstretched and avoiding the hostile glares of an older married couple sitting in the seats behind them and across the way.

FOUR

Colorado Springs, Colorado

O
ne moment Annie was on the train, then she wasn’t. She barely registered the fact because her mind had flown hundreds of miles away and about twenty or so years into the past.

She was a child again. Maybe two. Little, like Mae.

It was the smell that did it. She hated smelling bad, always had.

And sitting there on her seat, while Jem had walked away from her probably hadn’t helped.

Memories were funny that way.

She wrinkled her nose, still fighting to keep her mind from wandering into things best left forgotten, but it was too late. Just like it was yesterday, she felt the sensation of her mama holding her out at arms’ length.

“Now, you stay put,” she’d said, and plopped Annie down onto a crate in a cramped dark place, a back alley maybe. It was night.

Annie remembered being scared. She remembered waiting, because she always did whatever Mama said. Mostly. So, though she could have scrambled down and run after her mother—she’d been old enough—she didn’t. Mama had told her to stay put, like all those other nights when she set Annie out in the hallway outside their room. Sitting in the hall had been all right, really. Normal.

But sitting in that alley hadn’t been. Though it had been so long ago, it seemed as clear as today.

There were no comforting walls around her. No lantern to cast a glow onto the ground. She heard no low murmur of voices either, no laughter coming out from under Mama’s door.

All she had was the smell. The worst kind of smell: rotting trash.

The stench fairly smothered her. It threatened to eat her whole.

She believed it too, being so small—that it could actually swell up like a monster and eat her down...

And yet she still waited. Even after she wet herself.

Mama hadn’t come back.

She’d never come back.

Funny how she could remember those little things so clearly, when there were so many other things between now and then that were lost forever.

A gust of wind tugged Annie’s damp skirts flat against her. She woke to her surroundings, realizing Jem must’ve come back to collect her and Mae, and somehow they were now stepping off the train steps onto a wood-plank platform.

She glanced around, her immediate impression one of trees lining the railroad tracks on one side, evenly spaced and all the same size, as if someone had carefully planted them. Cultivated. Cultured. Civilized. A real town. Real roads. A few “big city” buildings, with gray bricks and sidewalks. A grassy park. In the distance, was a mountain range the color of ash—so different from the soft green swells of the Smokies back home. Here, everything was taller, with sharper edges.

She wondered how far it was to Jem lived. Where did he live? A proper house in town? A spread outside town? What did he do? He certainly looked like he was used to hard work—roping cattle, maybe.

There were a hundred questions Annie wanted to ask him:

Where are we going?

Do you live here?

How long are we going to stay?

Do you mean to be married to me—do you want a wife? A real wife?

Will I be staying with you?

Where am I going to sleep?

I need a bath. I need clean clothes. I’m hungry.

She had only a vague memory of following Jem off the train. She’d only been half-aware, lost in her memories. Walking as if in a dream. But now she was awake. She could feel the puppy’s chain in her hand. She’d gripped it so tight the metal loops had bit into her flesh.

A hollow had gaped open inside her, a space that needed filled. It was such a cold lonesome sensation. An emptiness. A desperate need to be loved. Needed. Not as a servant either, but as a person. As Annie. She wanted someone to listen, to try to understand. Mrs. Ruskin had done that, but now there was no one.

Annie flexed her fingers, then closed them around the chain again, suddenly angry. Useless, useless anger.

Anger never made anything better. Anger was never going to make her happy.

If she wanted to be happy—and she did—it was time for a change.

It was as simple as that.

She turned her attention forcibly to her surroundings. Her gaze rested on the puppy. It was out all the way to the end of the leash, scratching one ear with its hind foot, nearly falling over, catching its balance. So adorable.

Annie smiled a bit to herself and looked at little Mae, so sweet in her dirt-streaked pinafore. Her thumb was stuck loosely in her mouth, her cheeks puffing in and out. Precious.

Annie took an account. She’d have the puppy’s devotion in no time. A few well-placed scratches behind the ear, a few times giving it food.

Done.

Little Mae already liked her a little—at least Annie hoped so. She’d just have to be there, be present. Give her what she needed, when she needed it. Play with her. Love her. Entirely possible.

Hopeful.

Finally, Annie looked at the man standing in front of her—Jem. He looked every inch the tall rugged cowboy. Brown leather jacket stretched across powerful shoulders. Boots and spurs. Lean hips. That wide-brimmed Stetson pulled low over his eyes.

She chewed the inside of her cheek, pondering.

Widowed. Damaged, maybe.

Quiet. Aloof.

A man who needed no one.

Didn’t know her. Didn’t want to know her. Didn’t
need
her.

Well, that made it a bit more of a challenge, but that didn’t mean it was impossible.

She straightened her spine, standing there in all her filth. The past was the past. It was time for a change, and now.

This
was going to be her family. Whether they knew it or not. Whether they wanted her or not. Somehow she’d worm her way into their hearts. Somehow, someway.

She bent down to give the puppy a scratch behind its ears. It fell immediately to its side in ecstasy, one hind paw scratching at the air.

One down, two to go.

FIVE

J
em stood purposefully on the platform, Mae’s hand tucked safely in his. He could feel Annie’s presence behind him. He knew she was mortified about her dress—that much had been plain on her face. He couldn’t blame her. Everyone was looking at them, giving them a good wide berth.

It was clear what he had to do.

He’d get her settled in at the ranch, get her some clean things to wear, have somebody draw her a bath. Explain how things were going to be. He’d appreciate her help minding Mae. She could be a nanny of sorts while he was out working the ranch. He’d have to find someone else at some point to help Mae learn to read and write, and with her numbers and such, but that could wait a bit. Meanwhile, Annie seemed kind and willing enough to help.

She wouldn’t have to impact his life much at all.

In fact, maybe in some ways it was a blessing. With Annie helping out with Mae, that was one less worry. A woman, by nature, was going to be more affectionate with Mae, give her what she needed. So he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty all the time.

“Jem, is that you?” A man called out, striding toward them. His head was cocked to one side, eyes squinted against the sun.

“Ray,” Jem said, giving the older man a tired smile. Ray had been his wife’s family housekeeper since she was a little girl. He deserved a better welcome than that, but Jem just couldn’t seem to rustle one up at the moment. It had been a long journey.

“It is you.” Ray stopped and wiped a hand down his lean bristly cheeks. He’d gone gray around the edges since the last time Jem had seen him, back a couple of years—when he and Lorelei had come for a Christmas visit. Mae was just turned one...

That made Ray, what, fifty or so? He was as whipcord thin as always, lean to the point of hungry. Jem knew from experience that it wasn’t from the lack of food. Ray cooked all the meals up at the ranch house and on the range too—and he wasn’t shy of sampling his fare. Made the best steak. Jem’s mouth watered just thinking about it. When was the last time they’d had a good, full meal? It had been a while. Anything edible, anyway.

“Almost didn’t recognize you behind all that.” Ray gestured to his own face, circling the lower half.

“Well, it’s me.” Jem grimaced, aware of Annie watching them with curious eyes.

“I can see that now. Got a bit taller too, if I’m seeing right.”

“I doubt that. I think I stopped growing at about eighteen.”

“Sometimes it sneaks up on you in your twenties, a hair here and a hair there, and pretty soon you’re an inch or two taller.” Ray suddenly squatted down face to face with Mae. “And look at little Mae. Land, but you look like your mother when she was your age.” He smiled and reached out for her, but Mae shrank away and plastered herself to Jem’s trouser leg. She gripped the fabric like a life rope and tugged to come up.

Ray straightened and retreated a step, his expression inscrutable.

Jem obligingly scooped her up. “She’s a bit shy around strangers right now, especially when she’s tired.” He didn’t want Ray feeling bad, so he added, “Mae, this here’s your Uncle Ray.”

“
We—lll
.” Ray glowed with a bit of appreciation at that. “Not your real uncle, but your mama used to call me that.” His eyes looked suspiciously shiny to Jem, as if he were suppressing strong emotions.

It was then Jem realized that Ray had lost Lorelei too. It hadn’t been just him hurting all this time. He cleared his throat, which had gone thick. “Where’s Ben?” he asked.

Ray stroked his chin. “That boy... He stayed back, Jem. I’ve got to warn you, he’s got some hard feelings toward you.”

“Toward me?” Jem asked, surprised. From the first day Jem had arrived at the Castle family’s horse ranch, Lorelei’s younger brother had followed him around. Ben Castle had practically idolized him. That had been back in Jem’s college days, when he was studying veterinary science in Iowa and working summers at Castle Ranch. Jem had been twenty-three and Ben a boy of twelve, an impressionable age.

Ray shrugged. “What can I say?”

Ray’s eyes locked on Annie then, as if seeing her for the first time. She was hovering a step or two behind Jem, off to his right. Jem glanced back too. Her dress looked a wreck, her face was streaked with dirt, and she had her braid pulled forward, nearly blocking half her face. He wondered what Ray saw when he looked at her—a street urchin maybe, all grown up? She was obviously with Jem and Mae, due to the fact that she was standing so close, pointed in their direction. The puppy was preoccupied, stretched out to the end of its leash, sniffing at something interesting on the planks of the platform. Looked like somebody dropped some food.

“And who’s this?” Ray asked, jerking his head toward Annie, clearly mystified. He tugged off his hat in deference to her being a lady, despite her appearance. His brown hair lay plastered against his head. He had a few salt-and-pepper wires of gray up top and on the sides.

“Ray, this is Annie. Annie this is Ray.” Jem stopped cold, wondering what to say next. He swallowed uneasily. It wasn’t the most easily explained thing.

“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

Annie dipped her head and made a small choked-off sound. She tugged her braid forward.

Ray looked to Jem and raised a brow.

Jem shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable with the situation. What to say? “Annie’s going to be looking out for Mae and such.”

“Is that right?” Ray asked, no doubt noticing how Annie jerked her head up and looked right at Jem, her eyes questioning.

“She’s not much for talking,” Jem added softly.

Ray waited expectantly.

“It’s a long story,” Jem said, unwilling to talk about it now on the platform. He wanted to see to his horses. Make sure the luggage was loaded on the wagon. Get to the ranch. Take a bath. Make sure everyone got fed. Hit a mattress face first and not wake up for days.

“I’m sure it is. I’m sure it is,” Ray said, his eyes flicking from Jem to Annie and back again.

“It’s not like that, Ray,” Jem warned softly, hoping his voice wouldn’t carry back to Annie’s ears. “Not like that at all.”

“I’m sure it’s not. I’d expect much better of you.” Ray gave him a measured look, a look that said,
And if you’re getting yourself into trouble, then I’m going to straighten you out quick
. He gestured to the road. “Brought the oxen. Wagon’s over there. I’ll help you get your trunks loaded up. It’ll be tight with the lady. Wasn’t expecting a fourth...”

“I’ll ride,” Jem offered quickly, relieved at the thought. He wouldn’t mind riding. Wouldn’t mind putting off Ray’s questions. He hefted Mae up a bit in his arms and looked at her. “Mae, you can ride up with me or take the wagon with Annie.”

“Down.” Mae gave him a sharp tug on his beard, in a very Mae-like show of displeasure, though for what Jem wasn’t sure. She was the one who’d asked to be picked up after all. And now she was squirming to get down. As soon as he set her on the platform, she went to stand with Annie, slipping her hand into the woman’s. Okay, then. She’d made her choice. It was confusing—her taking to Annie so quick—but he supposed it was a good thing. Best to start off how they meant to go forward. Still, he had to swallow a slice of disappointment at how swiftly his daughter had transferred her affections to Annie.

He should be happy, he told himself. Now he could ride out behind the wagon and keep an eye on his horses. Have some alone time. Settle his thoughts.

“How many horses did you bring?” Ray asked.

“Just mine and Mae’s—or what will be Mae’s when she gets old enough—a sweet mare that Lorelei liked to ride.” He avoided Ray’s all-too-observant gaze. “And then a handful of stock horses, the best of the best. The rest I sold off. Gave a couple to Isaac and Becky for their boys.”

“Good, good,” Ray said, already moving off toward the luggage car.

Jem followed, with Annie and her little band trailing along with her, the puppy dragging what looked to be a chicken bone out of its mouth.

“And how are your friends?” Ray asked.

“Doing fine. The twins are going on thirteen,” Jem said, eager to move things along—get packed up, get on the road. “And their little girl’s nine now. Keeps her momma busy.”

“And the grandpa?”

“Pop? I mean, Sam?” Jem rubbed his hand over his bristly jaw, remembering how Pop had ribbed him endlessly about his beard, complaining that it hid his “whole entire face.”

“Same as always,” Jem continued, smiling ruefully. “Never slows down, no matter how old he gets. They’ve got quite a place there. Business is going well, the family’s growing... They’re happy.”

Happy enough that Jem had been able to squash his guilt at taking Mae away from Becky and Rachel, their youngest, a bright girl with her mother’s looks. At nine, Rachel was already quite the horsewoman—not unlike her mother. She had a lively mountain pony that she rode bareback as if she’d been born to it. Both she and her mother had cried something awful when they’d hugged Mae goodbye, Becky especially. The memory of his friend’s tears brought a fresh surge of guilt. Jem told himself that Becky had Isaac and her children to comfort her. In time, she’d miss Mae less, and Jem could send a letter now and then. It wasn’t like they were disappearing forever.

Even as he thought it, Jem realized there’d be no letters. He knew enough about himself to admit he was terrible at writing and keeping in touch. He’d never been good at it—writing had been Lorelei’s passion. He could make promises to himself as much as he liked, but actually following through was going to be a much more difficult thing. Especially since—even now—he felt the most pressing need to fall into an existence that was centered on work and horses.

Jem saw a rancher in a long duster up ahead near the horse car, where they’d already begun to unload the horses. He’d hoped they’d seen the last of the man, but here he was getting off at the same stop and looking like he meant to stay. Jem went cold at the sight of him.

“Do you know that man?” he asked Ray.

Ray squinted across the distance and his brow cleared. “That’s Creed. Major Elias Creed,” he elaborated, “though most folks just call him Creed.”

“Know much about him?” Jem asked carefully.

“Sure do. He owns a big spread west of Castle Ranch, and another up in Golden. A self-made success, that one. Made himself out of nothing. Travels quite a bit these days. Supplies horses to the Army and to ranches all the way south to Texas and north to the Washington Territory.”

“Married?” Jem asked, glancing at Annie. Her eyes were fixed on the man who’d “bought” her from the preacher.

“Well, sure he’s married,” Ray said, as if that was the most natural expected thing. “Got three grown boys from his first marriage, and one ‘almost grown’ with the new missus. Everyone calls her Miz Carina. He married up with her down in Texas or maybe across the border. She’s a real beauty, I tell you. Got that real black hair. Ben says she’s got Spanish blood. Comes from old money. Far too refined for ranch life, if you ask me.”

“So he’s
married
. He’s got a wife and four boys?”

“That’s right. Why you so interested in him?”

“Just noticed him earlier on the train.”

“I could introduce you,” Ray offered.

“No need,” Jem said quickly, then seeing Ray’s quizzical expression, added, “I’d prefer we get on our way as soon as possible. We’re tired, and you know how dusty you can get on a train. I’d rather not meet the man covered in all my travel filth.” He gestured down at his clothes.

“I see,” Ray said agreeably, glancing with a brief look of understanding at Annie in her ruined dress. Just as quickly he looked away again and made no comment. “He’s not a bad sort. Perhaps a bit ruthless on the business side, but fair. And...perhaps a trifle hard on his youngest, if I had to pick a flaw.”

“Oh, really?” Jem asked. For some reason all his senses went on alert. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know. Seems the boy can’t do nothin’ right. I mean, Creed sees it that way. Just don’t sit right with me. Gabe’s just turned fifteen, loves those horses something fierce—a point in his favor—and, well, he’s got a good spirit about him. Works harder and smarter than most that age. But, who am I to say different? It’s not like I ever had any children of my own to raise.”