The Substitute Bride (2 page)

“That’s my train.” The stranger pointed to the rail cars across the way. “I feel terrible for spending his money on a trunk full of clothes, then leaving him in the lurch. He’s a fine Christian man and doesn’t deserve such treatment.”

Elizabeth’s stomach tangled. A twinge of conscience, no doubt for neglecting church since Mama died. For not heeding the Scriptures that Martha read each morning while Papa hid behind the headlines and she and Robby shoveled down eggs. No doubt the reason God hadn’t heard her prayers.

Her gaze latched onto her means of escape. “I need to leave town. What are you going to do with your ticket?”

Brushing at her tears, the young woman’s sorrowful eyes brightened then turned thoughtful. “The ticket is yours—if you want it.”

“You’re
giving
your ticket to me with no strings?”

“Well, not exactly no strings.” The woman gave a wan smile. “More like a tied knot.”

“What do you mean?”

“My groom’s expecting Sally Rutgers…me. If you’re up to starting a new life, take my place.”

Elizabeth took a step back. “I couldn’t.”

“If you don’t like his looks, use this round-trip ticket to take the next train. That was my plan.”

As Elizabeth scanned the throng milling on the platform, her mind scampered like hungry pigeons after a crust of bread.
Marry a stranger?
There had to be another way to take care of Robby without marrying
anyone.

Her heart skipped a beat. Not fifty yards away, Papa, looking handsome, vital and by all outward appearance, prosperous, stood talking with Reginald. From under Reginald’s bowler, white tufts of hair fluttered in the breeze.

Twisting around, Elizabeth grabbed Sally’s arm. “Tell me about this man.”

“He lives on a farm.” Sally sighed. “Oh, I doubt that appeals to a fine lady like you.”

A farm.
Robby’s dream. Was this God’s solution? “How will I know him?”

Sally removed a stem of lily of the valley from the collar of her traveling suit and pinned it to the bodice of Elizabeth’s dress. “Wear this, and he’ll find you.” She checked the nearby clock. “Better hurry. Your train leaves in ten minutes.”

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder. Papa and Reginald had stopped a porter, probably giving her description. She had nowhere to go except back to Reginald. She’d rather ride a barrel over Niagara Falls.

That left her one alternative. Wear the lily of the valley and take a gander at the groom.

“Where to?” she asked.

“New Harmony, Iowa.”

Where was that in Iowa? Did it matter? In Iowa was a farm, the answer she sought.

Clutching the ticket in her hand, Elizabeth thanked Sally, then dashed for the train. She boarded and found her seat, careful to avert her face. Within minutes, the engine worked up steam and lumbered out of the station. Once she’d presented her ticket to the conductor, she lost the hitch in her breathing.

The seat proved far more comfortable than the depot bench and she nodded off. Her last thought centered on the man who had sent for a bride.

What would she find in New Harmony, Iowa?

New Harmony, Iowa

Pickings were slim in New Harmony.

One last time, Ted Logan started down the list of the single women in town. There was the schoolmarm who’d bossed him like one of her errant pupils before they even made it out the door. He wouldn’t let himself be pulled around by the ear. Or subject his children to a mother who wore a perpetual frown.

And then there was Ellen, Elder Jim’s daughter, a sweet, docile creature who quoted the Good Book at every turn. With the church and all its activities at the center of her life, he doubted she possessed the gumption to live on a farm.

Strong as an ox, the blacksmith’s daughter could work alongside any man. But Ted couldn’t imagine looking at that face for the rest of his life. Well, he might’ve gotten used to her face, if she’d shown the least bit of interest in his children. From what he’d seen, she preferred the company of horses.

Then there was Agnes, the owner of the café, who came after him with the zeal of a pig after slop and appealed to him even less. Something about Agnes set his teeth on edge. Maybe because she
forever told him he was right and perfect. Was it wrong to hope for a woman with a bit of vinegar? One who wasn’t afraid to set him straight when he went off on some tangent? And how would she handle his home, family
and
the café?

All godly women, but most weren’t suitable mothers for Anna and Henry. And nothing about any of them drew him.

That left his bride-by-post.

God’s solution. A woman of faith who loved children and life on the farm.

Ted tugged the brim of his hat lower on his forehead and scanned the passengers leaving the train. A young woman stepped to the platform, wearing the sprig of lily of the valley pinned to her clothing. His pulse kicked up a notch. Sally, his bride.

Gussied up in a fancy purple dress, not the garb of a farmer’s wife. Even gripping a satchel, she carried herself like a princess, all long neck and straight spine and, when she moved, as she did now, her full skirts swayed gracefully. He could hear the petticoats rustle from here.

She turned her head to sniff the flower, putting her face in profile. The plumed hat she wore tilted forward at a jaunty angle, revealing a heavy chignon at her nape.

He swallowed hard. Sally was a beautiful woman. He hadn’t expected that. She didn’t have a recent likeness. And he couldn’t have sent the only picture in his possession—of him and Rose on their wedding day. In the three letters he and Sally had exchanged, he had described himself as best he could, even tried to be objective, though he hadn’t told her everything.

It appeared she’d taken liberties with her description, too. Light brown hair, she’d said. Well, he’d call it more blond than brown, almost as blond as his.

Blue eyes, she’d written, though from this distance, he couldn’t confirm it.

Tall and robust, she’d promised. Tall, all right, but slender, even fragile.

He noticed a nice curve to her lips.

And
a jaw that said she liked having her way.

Sally didn’t look strong enough to handle even part of the chores of a farmer’s wife. Well, he’d prayed without ceasing for a suitable wife and God had given him this one. He couldn’t send her back like he’d ordered the wrong size stovepipe from the Sears, Roebuck Catalog.

His stomach knotted. When a man prayed for wisdom, he shouldn’t question the Lord’s answer. Still, the prospect of marrying what amounted to a stranger was unsettling.

But Anna and Henry needed a mother to look after them. This morning, and countless others like it, left no doubt in his mind. He didn’t have what it took to manage the farm, the livestock and his children. Never mind the house and cooking.

Even if Sally couldn’t handle heavier chores, she’d said she could cook, clean and tend a garden, as well as Anna and Henry. That’d do. With all his qualms forming a lump in his throat, he moved out of the shadows. Might as well get on with it. The preacher was waiting.

He strode across the platform, nodding at people he knew. New Harmony was a nice town, though folks tended toward nosy. The news Ted Logan was seen greeting a woman down at the depot would spread faster than giggles in a schoolhouse.

When he reached his bride, he stuck out a hand. “I’m Ted.”

Not a spark of recognition lit her eyes. Had he scared her? He was a large man. Still, he hadn’t expected the blank stare.

“The flower…in the letters, we agreed—” He clamped his jaw to stop the prattle pouring out of his mouth. “You’re Sally, aren’t you?”

Her eyes lit. He gulped. They were blue, all right. Like forget-me-nots in full bloom.

“Oh, of course.” She offered her hand. “Hello.”

He swallowed it up with a firm shake. She winced. He quickly released his hold then held up callused palms. “Sorry, chopping wood, milking cows and strangling chickens have strengthened my grip.”

Her rosy skin turned ashen, as if she might be sick. How would he manage if he married another woman in failing health?

E
lizabeth swallowed hard. She’d never considered how fried chicken or cold milk arrived at the Manning table. Drat, she’d have to scrub her glove. Not that Sally’s intended looked as if he didn’t wash. He smelled clean, like soap, leather and sunshine.

Mercy, the man was brawny, wide at the shoulders with a massive neck, chest and powerful forearms. Not someone she’d care to cross. White creases edged his eyes in his tanned face, evidence of long periods spent in the sun. Those intense blue-gray eyes of his appeared to see right through her.

She hoped she was wrong about that.

But all the rest…well, she couldn’t find anything to complain about. She’d expected another Reginald Parks and another reason to run. But something about Ted Logan kept her rooted to the spot, unable to look away.

Decency demanded she tell him she wasn’t his bride. But if she did, would he insist she take the next train back? She needed time to think. To take a look at the town and see if she could find employment here.

She couldn’t forget the importance of that farm, the fulfillment of her brother’s dream. If only that didn’t mean she had
to marry the man, and all that entailed. She shivered. Well, she wasn’t foolish enough to give her heart to this man.

Through narrowed eyes, he looked her over. “I expected you to have brown hair.”

She gulped. “You don’t like my hair?”

“The color of your hair doesn’t matter a whit.”

“Glad to hear it.” She leaned toward him. “And so you know, I happen to like the color of yours. It’s lighter than I expected, but it’s tolerable.”

His lips twisted up at one corner, as if they tried to smile without his approval. “I can’t decide if I like a woman talking to me like that. Especially one I’m about to marry.”

Elizabeth’s stomach flipped at the mention of matrimony, a subject she intended to avoid. Her gaze traveled to a field of cows grazing not far from the tracks. “It’s better than talking to the cows, isn’t it?”

With a large hand, he gently tilted her face to his. “Yep. And a far sight better view.”

A woozy feeling slid over her. Without thinking, she grabbed hold of his arm for support. And found rock-hard muscle. Beneath her feet, the ground shifted. She hadn’t eaten in what seemed like forever. That had to be the reason for her vertigo.

He gave her a smirk and pulled away. “I’ll get the rest of your things.”

“Things? Oh, my luggage.” Once he discovered she had no trunk, he’d send her back. Without money for food or housing, how would she take care of Robby? Moisture beaded her upper lip. “I, ah, left the trunk unattended in Chicago, only for a minute.” With guilt at her lie niggling at her, she added, “When I returned, it was gone.”

“Everything you bought with the money I sent—is gone?”

She nodded. Twice. “I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t you think to check it?”

“Didn’t you ever make a mistake?” she fired back.

“Sure have,” he said, arms folded across his chest, “but I’ve never lost all my clothes.”

She grabbed a fistful of skirt. “Well, neither have I.”

He sighed. “We’ll have to stop at the mercantile.”

If only she’d had time to gather her clothes scattered across the lawn. “I’ll make do.”

Waving a hand at her dress, he arched a brow. “With only that frippery to wear day and night?”

“That frippery is silk shantung, I’ll have you know.” She poked the rumpled lapel of his suit. “Do you think you’re qualified to judge
my
fashion sense?”

He grinned, a most appealing smile. Or would be if he wasn’t the most exasperating man she’d ever met.

“It’s not your
fashion
sense I’m questioning.”

Determined to stare him down, she held his gaze. Neither of them gave ground as travelers swept past them, tossing an occasional curious glance their way. “I’m smarter than you think.”

“Smart enough to sew a new dress?”

“I can sew.” She ducked her head.
Did embroidering pillow slips count?

“We’ll purchase fabric, whatever you need later.”

Perhaps the store could use a clerk. The possibility eased the tension in her limbs. Instead of arguing with him, she’d better keep her head if she hoped to escape this mess. But without food she could barely keep on her feet.

Ted plopped his straw hat in place then took the satchel from her. “Better get moving. The preacher’s waiting.”

His words cut off her air supply as effectively as if he’d wrapped those large hands of his around her windpipe and squeezed. “So soon?”

“Did you expect to be courted first?”

She’d expected to remain single but wouldn’t say that. “Well…no.”

Behind them, the locomotive emitted a whistle, the call of “All aboard!” Wheels turned, picking up speed as the train chugged out of the station, taking with it her means of escape.

Elizabeth’s eyes roamed what appeared to be the town’s main street. Maybe she could find work here, though not a solitary establishment looked prosperous. She gnawed her lip and faced the truth. Unless a shop needed a clerk who could recite the multiplication tables while pouring tea, she had slim chance of finding employment.

Hysteria bubbled up inside her. She clamped her mouth shut, fighting the compulsion to laugh. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Thankfully, the giddy sensation passed, replaced with the heavy weight of responsibility. Robby was depending on her, not a laughing matter.

Ted took hold of her elbow and ushered her along the platform. “We both know this marriage is one of convenience, a business arrangement.”

Exactly what she wanted to hear, wasn’t it? Then why did his words sting like a slap? Well, business arrangement or not, how could she wed a stranger? Elizabeth dug in her heels and yanked out of his grasp. “I…I can’t. I can’t marry you.”

Ted turned to her, searching her face. His expression softened. He took her hand in his and ran his thumb along the top. Her stomach dipped. His gentle touch gave her a measure of comfort…and far too much awareness of the man.

“This isn’t easy for either of us,” he said, his eyes filling with tenderness. “But I want you to know, I’ll be kind to you. Work hard to provide for you. I don’t have much, but all I have is yours.”

Elizabeth didn’t want to marry, but what choice did she have? She didn’t know a soul in this town. Didn’t have a penny
to her name. Didn’t have a single idea what to do. That made her—a desperate woman.

A desperate woman with a proposal on the table.

A proposal that would solve all her problems.

Except this proposal was permanent—
and
offered to another woman. What would Ted say once he knew her true identity?

“My farm isn’t much,” he continued, his voice steady, calm. “But with God providing the sunshine and rain, the earth gives back what I put into it.”

Such a simple yet profound statement. This man gave instead of took. He relied on hard labor, not luck. Ted Logan had planted his feet, appeared as solid as the earth he worked, the exact opposite of her father.

“I have cows, pigs, chickens, horses.” He paused, then chuckled. “A dog.”

Elizabeth’s heart skittered. “What does your dog look like?” She held her breath, every muscle tense as she waited for his answer.

“Black and white. Shaggy.” Ted shrugged. “Lovable.”

Goose bumps rose on her arms. The exact description of the puppy Papa had given Robby, then taken away.

Martha always said there was no such thing as coincidence, not for a praying believer. Could Ted Logan be God’s answer for Robby? Without a doubt her brother would adore this hulk of a man. Yes, Robby’s dream stood before her with the promise of a wedding band.

Ted held out an arm. “Are you ready?”

A business arrangement he’d said. Maybe if she dealt with the marriage that way, she could go through with the wedding.

For Robby’s sake she would.

She slipped her hand into the crook of his waiting arm. They strolled along the street. The occasional passerby gave them a speculative look, but by now most people had left the station.

Ted stopped at a weathered wagon with nary a speck of gild, nor springs or leather on the wooden seat to soften bumps in the road. Two enormous dark brown horses wearing blinders swung their heads to get a better look at her, their harnesses jingling a greeting. Her carriage waited. The matched pair were built for hard work not pretension, like Ted.

“That’s King and his missus, Queen. They’re Percherons,” Ted said, a hint of pride in his voice.

Elizabeth didn’t know much about breeds to work the farm, but Ted obviously cared for his animals, another point in his favor. She ran her hand along a velvety nose. “They’re beautiful.”

“And mighty curious about you.”

Clearly she’d traded a fancy carriage for a rickety wagon, but a far more suitable groom. Her fingers toyed with the lily of the valley pinned to her dress. Could she go through with it? Could she marry a stranger?

Before she knew what happened, Ted handed her up onto the seat with ease, as if she weighed no more than dandelion fluff, then swung up beside her. Elizabeth shifted her skirts to give him room, while the memory of those large hands, warm and solid through the fabric of her dress, spun through her, landing in her stomach with a disturbing flutter.

She glanced at Ted’s square profile, at this strong, no-nonsense man. The eyes he turned on her spoke of kindness. Even excluding Reginald Parks, she could do far worse. No doubt Ted Logan was a good man. He’d be kind to Robby. To her. That is if he didn’t retract his offer of marriage once she revealed her true identity.

He clicked to the horses. “I left my children at the neighbor’s. I’ll pick them up tomorrow after breakfast.”

Elizabeth swayed on the seat. “Children?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Anna and Henry?”

Sally hadn’t mentioned children. “I’m just…tired.”

How old were they? Since Mama died, Robby’s care had been left to Martha. Sure, Elizabeth had read to her brother, taught him to tie his laces, but she had no experience caring for children.

What did she know about husbands for that matter?

And the tomorrow-morning part—did he intend a wedding night?

Well, if he had that expectation, she’d call on her touchy stomach. No bridegroom would want a nauseous bride.

Though if she didn’t get something to eat—and soon—there wouldn’t be a wedding. For surely the bride would be fainting on the groom.