The Bride Price (11 page)

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Authors: Tracey Jane Jackson

Tags: #romance, #civil war, #historical, #pennsylvania, #timetravel, #portland, #historical 1800s, #portland oregon, #harrisburg

BOOK: The Bride Price
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Miriam joined them for dinner and Sophie
enjoyed her immensely. She was a woman in her mid-sixties and full
of energy. Christine had moved in with Miriam after Peter died, and
it seemed to work out well for both of the women.

The rest of the evening was spent in the
parlor, the same room she was brought to after she was found. Was
it really only a few days since she arrived in the nineteenth
century?

As the night came to a close, Christine and
Miriam said their good-byes. Sophie wasn’t sure what she was going
to do until two o’clock the next day, having already finished her
novel, so she snuck back to the library for another look and then
made her way to her room.

Once
inside
, Sophie tried her best to concentrate on her pages
swimming before her, but she had miscalculated exactly how much
light a candle actually gave off. Not quite enough to
read—actually, not quite enough to do anything other than avoid
tripping over one’s own feet. After about thirty minutes, she gave
up.

Blowing out the candle, Sophie climbed into
bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity.

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

The soldier had been closed away in the south
guestroom for four days and Amelia thought her head would explode
with curiosity. Her mother watched her like a hawk and she hadn’t
had the chance to sneak away.

Today would be the day. Her mother was going
into town to do some shopping, and Amelia planned to feign a
headache and a cough. She stood by the fire and made certain she
was close enough for the heat to form sweat on her brow, just in
case her mother needed further convincing. She heard the knock at
her door and buried herself further under her quilt. She started to
cough, quite convincingly if she did say so herself, just as the
door opened.

“Amelia?”

Cough, cough.

“Dear? Are you coming to town?”

Cough, sniffle, cough. “Mama, I don’t feel
well,” Amelia rasped.

Her mother hemmed quietly and made her way to
the bed. Amelia felt the cool hand on her forehead. “Dear, you’re
burning up.”

Cough.

Mrs. Powell sighed. “I don’t think you should
come with me today. I’ll let Della know she needs to tend to you as
well.”

Sniff.

“You’ll stay in this bed, Amelia.”

“Yes, Mama,” she rasped.

Mrs. Powell stared down at her for several
seconds before turning and walking out the door with a swish.
Amelia waited for as long as she could before throwing the covers
off. She eased out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Her mother’s
carriage was already halfway down the road and would be out the
front gates within minutes. She was safe.

A knock at the door had her flying back under
the covers just as Della came in with a tray. “You’s mama said
you’s sick, Miss Amelia.”

Amelia poked her head out from under the
sheet to see the raised eyebrow of a woman not at all convinced she
was telling the truth. Amelia giggled and jumped out of bed. “I
never can fool you, can I, Della?”

Della set the tray on the bureau. “What you
up to, chil’?”

“I want to see the soldier and Mama won’t let
me.”

Della crossed her arms over her thick chest.
“I don’ blame her.”

“Did you find out anything else? What’s his
name, Della? Where’s his unit?” Amelia pulled off her nightgown.
“Oh, and did the doctor get the bullet out?”

“Your daddy said he’s a lieutenant ‛cause of
the bars on his jacket, but the man only remembers that his name is
James Emerson.” Della picked up Amelia’s discarded nightgown. “He
don’t know where he from or nothin’ else about his life. He’s
healin’ jus’ fine. He don’t talk much, but he’s polite when he
does.”

Amelia clapped her hands. “So, he’s a
mystery.”

“Yes’m.”

“Please help me dress, Della. I want to see
him.” Amelia started to pull clothing from her drawers and then
paused with a sigh. “He’s so handsome.”

Della gathered hoops and skirts for Amelia
and turned to face her. Amelia slipped her corset on and Della
pulled the ties. “Now, Miss Amelia, don’t you go doin’ nothin’
reckless. That man’s far too old for you. He’s got a ring on, so’s
he mus’ be married.”

Amelia wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Well, I don’t
mind, Della. I can still look at him.”

“Miss Amelia!”

Amelia giggled. “Perhaps he’d like me to read
to him.”

Della tied off her corset and helped her with
the rest of her clothing, all the while mumbling warnings that
Amelia had no intention of listening to.

* * *

“Wake up, beautiful girl.”

“Jamie?” Sophie’s eyes fluttered open, and
she stared at the vision of her husband standing over her bed.
“Where have you
been
?”

“I’ve been here, sweetheart. What do you
mean?”

“No, you haven’t been here. I’ve been looking
for you.” Sophie tried to sit up but felt frozen to the bed. “Why
can’t I move?”

“Ten-Cow, I’ve been here the whole time. Have
you forgotten me already?”

“What? No!”

“Then why haven’t you found me?”

Tears streamed down her temples and she shook
her head. “Jamie, I couldn’t
find
you.”

“I don’t know why you couldn’t find me; I
have been here waiting for you. I thought you’d never come.”

Sophie felt both relief and frustration as
she stared up at him. “Why can’t I move? I need to touch you. I
need you to hold me.”

“I can’t do that, sweetheart.”

“What? Why not?”

Sophie’s eyes flew open and she sat up, sobs
racking her body. “No, no, no! Jamie, come back.” Jumping out of
bed, she made her way to the window and drew the drapes back, with
the silly hope that maybe Jamie was behind one of them. “Where are
you?”

She stared out the window and let out a
little sigh at the scene. Unfolding before her was the most
incredible sunrise she had ever seen. Truth be told, it was the
first
sunrise she had ever seen. Sophie and Jamie were not
morning people, so were more likely to see a sunset. Oranges and
yellows filtered over the ground, contrasting the stark white of
the snow, and it was almost as though the sun were painting the
landscape in front of her.

Sophie stood for several minutes, praying for
wisdom as she watched God’s artistry before her and then walked to
her door and popped her head into the hallway to listen. The house
was eerily quiet, indicating everyone must still be asleep.

Grabbing her book, she made her way over to
the window seat. Pulling one of the curtains further open for
light, she managed to get through the first five chapters before
movement out the window caught her eye. Several men, including
Richard, worked with the horses, putting them through what appeared
to be military movements.

Sophie stayed glued to the window in utter
fascination for close to twenty minutes. Just as she was ready to
go back to her book, Richard looked up and seemingly straight at
her. Sophie doubted he saw her from so far away but pulled herself
away from the window just the same. The last thing a man with a big
head needed was someone staring at him. He might think she
cared.

Hearing the household slowly rising, she
turned as Betty knocked and came in to help her dress. Once she was
finished, Sophie made her way downstairs, delighted to see that
Christine had popped around for a quick breakfast before heading to
the hospital.

As they sat down to breakfast, they got on
that very subject. “Christine, I believe some simple changes at the
hospital could very well make the soldiers more comfortable. Would
you be open to hearing them and perhaps discussing them with the
doctors?”

“I’m always happy to listen, Sophie. I’m just
not sure if the doctors would be, however. Especially Dr. Palmer.
It’s not our job to tell them what to do, we’re there to assist and
comfort the men.”

Christine sat down again and gave Sophie her
full attention. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, for starters, washing their hands and
boiling the instruments. It would go a long way to stopping the
spread of disease. Also, do the doctors ever splint broken legs, or
do they immediately amputate?”

“I know that we rarely see soldiers with
broken bones. For the most part, their legs have already been
amputated in the field. You know who you should discuss this
with?”

Sophie held her hands up. “Don’t say it,
Christine.”

“Richard,” Christine said with an impish
smile.

“Right, like I would ever be able to talk to
Mr. Arrogant about any of this. He would never listen to a lowly
woman,” Sophie grumbled.

“He may surprise you, Sophie.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

Christine squeezed her hand. “I’d better get
to the hospital. We’re hoping to discharge a few soldiers
today.”

Sophie nodded. “Thanks for having breakfast
with me. Will I see you later?”

“Yes, Mama and I will be joining you for
dinner. Andrew said he would also come, and since Nona hasn’t seen
Elizabeth’s children for a few days, she told them to feel free to
come for dinner as well. You may have the whole Simmonds family to
deal with tonight.”

Sophie walked Christine to the door and
watched her walk down the drive. The clock in the foyer read a
little past ten, and Sophie didn’t really know how she was going to
the kill the next four hours. With the house empty other than the
hustle and bustle of the servants, Sophie knew she would have to
provide her own entertainment.

Gathering borrowed outerwear, Sophie took off
down the side path that led to the stables and the soldiers
practicing their military movements. Hearing the commotion of
hooves and men’s raised voices as she approached, she fought the
urge to peer inside the arena. Unwilling to draw attention to
herself, she snuck into the dark tranquility of the barn and smiled
as a few of the horses stuck their heads out to greet her.

She recognized the gelding that had taken her
on the ride of her life the previous day, and she made her way to
his stall and pulled a sugar cube from her pocket.

“You are a beautiful boy, aren’t you,
Samson?” Sophie ran her hand over his muzzle. “I’m sorry I confused
you yesterday. I wish I could ride you the right way so that we
could really become acquainted.” She sighed. “But that would be
entirely too risqué in this day and age, I’m afraid.”

Immaculate lines, unusually tall but still,
no doubt Arabian somewhere in his lineage, Samson was larger than
life. Muscular and lean, with a quiet disposition, he nickered his
pleasure as Sophie held her hand flat for him to take the sugar.
Hearing a slight rustle to her left, Sophie turned to find Richard
in the open doorway of the barn, looking as arrogant as ever.

“Mrs. Ford, I didn’t mean to startle you. Is
anything amiss?”

“Of course not, Mr. Madden. Why would you
automatically assume something was wrong? Is it because I walked
out to the big ol’ barn all by my little ol’ self and me being a
lowly woman and all, there must be something amiss? Or were you
getting ready to tell me that it isn’t appropriate for me to be
walking around by myself? Will you be giving me commentary on my
outfit today as well?”

His hands went up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I
didn’t mean to offend. And, please, call me Richard. I saw you
slink into the stables and wanted to make sure you didn’t need
anything. I also wondered if you would like to watch some of the
training. I noticed you watching from your window this morning and
thought you might enjoy it.”

“Well, first of all, I didn’t
slink
anywhere and, no, I won’t call you Richard. Mr. Madden works
perfectly fine for me.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Sorry.” She
took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I must have gotten up on
the wrong side of the bed this morning. Yes, I believe I’d enjoy
watching the training.”

“Wonderful. Why don’t you follow
me—ma’am.”

Richard led Sophie out to the large open
arena filled with magnificent horses working in perfect unison.
Each man worked with his own mount so that both animal and rider
could form a trust-bond. She spent the next two hours watching the
men and horses put through their paces. It was invigorating.

Richard made his way over to her at about
noon. “Mrs. Ford, the men are going to stop for something to eat.
Would you like to join me for lunch?”

“They may be expecting me back at the Wades,
so I should probably get going.”

“I’d be happy to escort you to the house, and
then perhaps I could join you?”

“All right, Mr. Madden.” Sophie clasped her
hands in front of her instead of taking the arm he offered.
Touching him just didn’t feel right, somehow.

Finding no one around when they entered the
doctor’s home, Sophie led Richard to the dining room and discovered
a spread of cold sandwiches and fruit, along with hot tea and a
pitcher of water. “I’m not quite sure what to say. Is it okay to
invite you to stay for lunch, or is it something I need to run by
Nona?”

Richard smiled. “Knowing Nona, if you invited
the entire Union army, she would welcome them.”

“Right.” They perused the buffet and then
Richard held her chair for her once they filled their plates.

“How is it, Mr. Madden, that you are home in
relative luxury, rather than on the front lines?” Sophie dropped
her eyes to her plate. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that as rude as it
came out.”

“It’s quite all right, Mrs. Ford. It’s a
rather long story.”

“Apparently, I have almost two hours to kill
before this really obnoxious man collects me for our scheduled
appointment.”

Richard chuckled. “He must be terrible.”

Sophie grinned and took a bite of bread.

“Andrew, Adam, and I had a successful
merchant business up until the war started. I have been training
horses most of my life, so when it came time that the army needed a
mounted cavalry, they approached me to train the men and the
horses. Andrew, along with Christine’s husband, Peter, enlisted at
the start of the war, and Adam was left to run the business. Adam
isn’t in favor of the war, perhaps because he’s British and has
managed to stay out of the fight. Now that Andrew is home
permanently, he has been a great support to Adam and, despite the
war, they are prospering.”

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