The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) (25 page)

I
saac chuckled uneasily at Rebecca’s comment. Feeling a bit sheepish about his outburst earlier, he’d wanted to smooth things over a bit before he gave her a piece of his mind. Had he actually punched the wall? He shook his head almost imperceptibly as he searched around for a reply. “Is that right?”

Brilliant, Jessup
, he chided himself.

“Jem’s run off.” She spun around, almost knocking him over.

“Whoa, there.”

She jabbed a finger into his chest. “And you made him run off!”

“What? Did you
follow
me?”

“He’s a
boy
, Isaac. You didn’t have to throw him off the crew.”

Since when did she know anything about Jem? It almost seemed like she cared about the boy. Had she been spending time with him? When? Where? Here? In the woods?

And why?

“He’s a
man
, Rebecca,” Isaac said, striving for calm. “And he threw himself off the crew.”

“Threw himself off the crew? You
fired
him.” She looked strangely hurt, as if he’d somehow disappointed her.

“Only because he was a danger on the job. And you know why.” Isaac pushed his hand through his hair. He guessed they was past the point where he could “smooth things over.”

“Well, if you’d thought to ask him why—ask him about his life—then maybe you’d understand him better.”

“And how is it you know him so well?” She’d backed him into a corner with her accusations. It was time she answered a few questions.

She took her time selecting a long wooden spoon and started stirring the beans.

Beans she didn’t even like.

“Well, I do, and that’s all you need to know,” she said tersely.

“All I need to know? So now you’re an expert on ‘all I need,’ is that right?” he asked, stung. Why was she questioning his actions, his intentions? This was his operation. If he said the boy needed to go—he needed to go.

He wasn’t a cruel man. He was fair. And Jem had gotten what he deserved. He’d go off and find work somewhere else soon enough, and hopefully he would have learned a lesson from what had happened here.

If Isaac had let him stay on...well, the boy would have had no chance of learning anything by that.

Rebecca seemed to shrink a little before his eyes. It made him realize how wound up she’d been over Jem and what had happened. It was still a mystery to him why she even wanted to involve herself with the boy. Jem was a prickly sort of fellow. Not someone Isaac would have expected Rebecca to be drawn to. Maybe it was because he was young. In the whole camp Jem had likely been the closest in age to her. Maybe she related to him in some way because of that?

He was struggling to understand. He hoped she could see that, despite how harsh his last words had come out.

“I’m no expert, Isaac.” Her voice was calm now, but husky, thick with emotion. “I don’t claim to know what you want. You’re my husband but, at this moment, I feel like I don’t even know you. The only thing I know is that Jem needs a friend right now.”

“You don’t know me?” Is that how she really felt? Isaac couldn’t let her see how much her comment hurt, so he changed tactics. “You were injured when Jem felled that tree—weren’t you? So why are you protecting him now?”

She looked away.

“Tell me.” He gripped her chin, gently but firmly, and forced her to look at him. “You got hurt. And that was
his
fault. Although why you were there in the first place, I have no idea. Why were you there...?”

She didn’t answer, but the flash of guilt in her eyes made him uneasy. She’d snuck away from the cabin, gone off on her own. Maybe she’d planned to meet Jem?

No. That didn’t seem right.

“I was riding Siren,” she admitted.

He closed his eyes briefly. “You went off on your own?”

She nodded.

The warning he gave her every morning hung in the air between them unspoken. Every morning, without fail, he warned her to stay close to the cabin. Every morning she promised him she would. Or it was understood anyway. At least he thought it had been.

How could he ever know she was safe if she didn’t listen to him? Maybe she didn’t take him seriously. Why would she? What sort of dangers had she faced back East? Certainly not bears in the forest or falling trees.

“These mountains are wild, Rebecca. This is no place for a woman, not a delicate woman anyway. You don’t belong here—a woman like you.” He nearly choked on his words. “Maybe you’d be better off back home with your family.” He hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, not really, but once they were spoken he couldn’t take them back.

Rebecca went absolutely still, her face as pale as snow. Too late, he remembered she’d said there was a rift between her and her father. That she longed for someplace to belong. That was her dream. The one thing she wanted. How could he have been so dense, so insensitive?

“Rebecca, I—”

She jerked away from him, her eyes a little too bright. Without making a sound, she turned and walked stiffly to her room, closing the door silently behind her. She could have said something—told him he was wrong. Told him he was stupid. Anything, but this silence.

Feeling like a heel for upsetting her, Isaac paced about the main room.

Should he knock on the door? Try to go in?

He banged his fist against his thigh, not knowing what to do, and hating this feeling of indecision. If it were one of his men, he’d know what to do. But with Rebecca...what? What did he do to make things up to her?

She was right about one thing, he admitted. Even though they were married, they lived like strangers. What did they really know about each other?

And just how did she know so much about Jem? She hadn’t answered his question.

Sinking into the rocker, he leaned his elbows on his knees, dropped his forehead into his hands, and groaned.

He was
jealous
of Jem Wheeler. Some sixteen-year-old
boy
.

He couldn’t deny the feeling raging inside him. She wasn’t romantically involved with the young man—he felt certain of that—but she’d come out fighting for Jem like a mountain lion protecting her cub.

She
cared
for the boy.

He was jealous because she cared enough to defend Jem and yet she’d cut right through him with one comment:
I don’t even know you
. The truth cut. All his wanting it to happen couldn’t make his wife love him.

It was time he accepted the fact.

***

Becky dragged her trunk over to the wardrobe and started flinging dresses inside with total disregard for order.

Isaac wanted her to leave.

He’d said she didn’t belong here, and he was right. She didn’t belong here. Of course she didn’t. She didn’t belong back home either, so why should here be any different? Thinking of her father’s frowns, she knew she couldn’t return to Pepperell. When she’d left, it was with the knowledge that she was going forever. Papa could finally be free of her. He could live the life he wanted to live. Whatever that was.

Where could she go?

Perhaps Meggie’s father-in-law would hire her on as a milkmaid. Her hours of practice with Trouble might convince them she could do the job. If she could milk a goat, surely she could learn to milk a cow? A flash of memory brought to mind the worn-down wagon Will had driven out of town that day she’d talked to Meggie outside the general store. She remembered Meggie’s words about things being tight, but that they were managing. The last thing they needed was another mouth to feed.

God, why’d you bring me all the way out here if I don’t belong here either?

Maybe she didn’t belong anywhere.

What was left for her to do, but strike out on her own? Would the general store owner hire her on as a bookkeeper? Unlikely. The man already had a whole family to help him out. She did know how to hunt... Perhaps she could become a trapper. But how long could she survive alone in this untamed territory?

She sighed, defeated. That was beyond what she knew she could do. She wouldn’t know the first thing about surviving the winters here, for one. Plus, she’d get lonely. She wasn’t the most sociable of women, but she needed some company, even if it was just one companionable soul to talk to.

Regardless of where she went, it was time to let Isaac live the life
he
wanted to live. A life that didn’t include a wife. Fortunately, they hadn’t let their relationship go any farther than that one sweet kiss. Things would certainly have been more complicated if she was in a family way...

She pressed a hand to her mouth and kneeled in front of her trunk.

With shaky hands, she gathered up the simple red cotton work shirt she’d made for Isaac. She fingered the collar. The red cotton fabric was so soft, but, looking at it now, she could see how far from perfect her stitches were. How had she ever thought she could make a shirt? Foolish girl. She should have known she wasn’t wife material. Setting the shirt down in front of her, she dug in her skirt pocket and pulled out the little square of flannel she’d carried with her since leaving Massachusetts. All her dreams for a baby, a family... Her lips pressed into a sad smile. She held the soft cloth to her cheek for a moment, and then tucked it into the pocket of Isaac’s work shirt.

She’d likely never have a family to call her own now. The knowledge didn’t pierce her nearly as deeply as knowing she’d never have Isaac’s heart. All that mattered was
he didn’t want her
.

Carefully folding the shirt, she reached over and placed it on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe. Even if it wasn’t perfect, she might as well leave it for him. What use was it to her now?

Tomorrow, after things had cooled off between them a bit, she’d calmly let him know she planned to leave.

She plopped onto her side of the bed and let out her breath. She felt so empty inside. As if she’d already left. As if she were already alone.

Her gaze fell on the table next to the bed. The Bible Isaac had given her was there.

She picked it up and held it quietly in her lap.

Surely it meant something that he’d given it to her. He’d seen that she liked reading his Bible. He hadn’t berated her for that, as her father would have. He’d simply bought a Bible for her, a gift she could call her own.

He’d bought her a horse too: Siren.

He’d laughed with her at the dance, held her close that night.

That day in the woods, he’d kissed her. And she could have sworn he liked it too.

Maybe they just needed time.

After all, what had she done to convince him she could fit in here?

With a twinge of guilt, she realized all her efforts to appear a “proper young lady” had worked against her. In fact, all she’d done since the first day they’d met was convince him she
didn’t
fit in.

She set the Bible back down and drew her knees up to her chest, propping her heels on the edge of the mattress, feeling much like a small girl sitting like that.

If she ever had any hope of belonging anywhere, maybe she needed to be herself. Meggie had said she liked to ride fast too, and
she
was every inch a lady. She’d even said she liked riding astride. Her Will had seemed happy with her. Catherine, Dally’s wife, could shoot—and she had her own well-used rifle displayed proudly over their door. If ever a woman fit in around here,
she
did.

Meggie had said something or other to that effect...that the scripture Becky had quoted might not mean what she thought it meant. Maybe Meggie was right. Maybe it did mean more about showing respect and being kindhearted—not forcing her opinions on people, not striking out. Maybe it did.

Becky looped her arms around her shins and squeezed herself into a tight ball.

So what if everything she’d believed up until now was wrong? Or at least a good portion of it?

And what if—
what if
—she could fix it?

By being herself.

The thought was beyond terrifying. Could she do it?

She looked at her trunk, mounded haphazardly with clothes, and wondered what she was doing. There was no way she was ever going to leave Isaac. He’d have to throw her out first. She wasn’t entirely certain he wouldn’t.

TWENTY

J
em slowly pushed open the door of the little shanty he’d lived in all his life. The dusky shadows of early evening gave him an extra measure of confidence. Pa was never home this time of day. But Jem still hung back, both feet on the porch, ready to bolt. He peered into the window to make sure. It looked deserted, at least from the outside. This might be his last chance to get his picture. Pa had no use for it. If he ever found it, he’d likely just use it as kindling. To Jem though, having that one piece of paper might help loosen the bitter rock lodged in his chest. He’d give anything for that.

As he edged closer, the musty odor of old whiskey hit him, bringing back hard memories. Ready to run at any sign of life, Jem stood in the doorway until his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. He cautiously poked his head through the opening.