Year of Jubilee (4 page)

“Course, folks roundabout will soon get wind
we’re both living out here, and to keep any damage to our
reputations, we probably ought to marry.”

She gasped and her hands flew to her
mouth.

Rafe shook his head. That hadn’t gone well.
“We’d still stick to our arrangement of you in the cabin and me in
the barn, but to everyone else we’d be just…a married couple.”

It was finally out. Rafe took a deep breath.
Jubilee blinked at him.

“Now, you’ll probably need a night to think
it over. Either way you decide, we’ll be heading into town tomorrow
morning.” He cleared his throat and stood. The woman nearly broke
her neck trying to jump up and stutter-step behind the bench.

“Well, I’ve got a few chores to tend to.” He
strode to the barn.

* * *

Jubilee stared after him, then covered her
face with her hands. He had to be kidding. She shook her head to
clear her thoughts
.
A
forced
marriage?
Again?
Tears gathered at the back of her throat. Well, at least this time
she’d have a choice. Colvin had kindly set a revolver to her
temple.

She shivered, having left the relative
warmth of the fire. Waiting until he disappeared into the barn,
Jubilee took off at a run to the cabin, tears streaming. Not
bothering to gather wood, she barred the door and pounced into bed
to cover up with the quilt. She blinked in the darkness, and her
brain grew numb. How had all this happened? Too much had changed in
the space of twenty-four hours.

Yet, what other option did she have? It was
this or…it was just
this
. Pulling the ragged blanket
tighter, she sobbed into the pillow. If she wanted to stay, she’d
have to marry a stranger. Another stranger. Colvin’s cousin.
Oh,
glory. What am I going to do?

* * *

Back at the barn, Rafe picked up a brush and
began to groom Horse. He disgusted himself. Horse sidestepped to
avoid the rough strokes, and Rafe gentled his hand.
Why had he
suggested marriage?
Because he felt responsible for her, that’s
why
.
Horse nickered, turned his piebald face to him, and
butted his arm.

“Sorry, boy.” He scratched the swirl of hair
between Horse’s blue eye and his brown one. With a tender hand, he
detangled the streaked mane.

But what did it matter, really? The one he
desired was lost to him. God’s plan, his father claimed. Rafe
gritted his teeth, annoyed that this piece of advice had crossed
his mind.

Bad things happened to people all the time.
Wrong things, awful things.
God’s plan.
Was there such a
notion? He pulled a burr from Horse’s mane. What was the difference
if he married a strange girl? The woman he wanted was out of his
hands.

Rafe rubbed his smooth chin and patted the
old wagon he’d worked on till late in the night. A fresh paint job
and it’d be good as new. He flicked his glance toward the cabin. No
use trying to waste any more time. Horse stomped his indignation at
being harnessed, bringing a grin to Rafe’s stiff face.

“Sorry, old buddy.” He thumped his flank.
“This is your job till I get my hands on a good harness horse.
Trust me, we’re all making adjustments.”

She appeared and rounded the corner of the
house to the front porch. He shut the barn door, then leaped to the
buckboard seat and slapped the reins. Horse took off with a jolt.
Humph. They’d have to work on that. He pulled Horse to a halt as he
neared.

“Mornin’.” He greeted and touched his
hat.

She bobbed her head.

“Am I loading your stuff, or are we driving
in to meet the preacher?”

“I don’t have anything.”

So, she was leaving. Rafe took a deep breath
and rubbed his neck. Hard to understand why that didn’t set
well.

The woman’s face appeared white and
strained. “I have a question.”

He nodded, climbed down from the wagon, and
approached the rickety porch. “All right.”

She cleared her throat. “If I stay…would
you…?”

His gaze dropped to her hand working circles
in the soft ragged material of her dress. She kept her gaze on the
wagon but didn’t finish.

Finally he spoke. “Mrs. Stallings, I…”

“Don’t call me that. Please,” she begged,
her soft, brown eyes round as she pressed a hand to her breast.

He leaned against the porch support. “Fine,
how should I address you?”

She shrugged one thin shoulder.

He sighed and shook his head to clear it.
“You had a question?”

“Yes. If we married and had a…‘business
arrangement,’ would you agree not to…” she swallowed and stepped
back, “…beat me?”

Her dark eyes fastened on him again. Their
neediness mesmerized him. Anger at Colvin seared the pit of his
stomach.

With exaggerated slowness, he removed his
hat and ran the brim around in his hand. He kept his eyes on the
dirt to keep the anger toward his cousin from showing in his face.
Finally, he looked up and waited until her gaze latched to his.

“Ma’am, as a gentleman. I would never strike
a woman.” He spoke with deep conviction. “Never.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Then, I
will agree to the…‘business arrangement,’ as you explained last
night.”

* * *

Refusing to let fear choke her, she stepped
from the porch, leaving a wide berth around the huge man who’d soon
be her husband. A sob rose, and she forced it down. Scurrying to
the other side of the wagon before she changed her mind, she set
her foot on the base of the bed to swing herself aboard.

“Here, let me…”

She screamed and leaped away from the wagon.
The man moved so silently, and he loomed terribly close. She pinned
him with her eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face
puckered. Surely he wouldn’t break his promise already.

“Ma’am, a man usually helps a woman up to
her seat in the wagon.”

She shook her head swiftly. “I can ride here
in the back, and I’ll board myself.”

He placed his hat back on, and Jubilee
glanced at his golden-blond hair lit by the rays of the sun.

“Ma’am, it’s polite manners for me to help
you up, and I’d much rather you ride up front where it’s more
comfortable. I’ve already promised I won’t hurt you. You’ve got to
trust me if this is going to work.”

She raised her chilly fingers to her face.
To be that close to him. To let him touch her. Jubilee inhaled a
trembling breath and stepped forward. It took all her courage to
allow his big hands to encircle her waist and lift her. Her throat
went dry, fearing he wouldn’t let go. But he did, and he circled
the wagon to the driver’s side.

As he boarded, his big body juggled the seat
and she, panicking, grabbed hold of the seat.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to jostle you.”

He settled in and grasped the reins. Jubilee
struggled to keep her leg from touching his, but he required a lot
of room.

“I’ve got a coat if you’re cold,” he
mentioned, pulling the long garment from the back.

Jubilee gratefully slid her bare arms into
the huge sleeves. The outerwear was nearly big enough to wrap
around her twice. She kept her head turned as she pondered the man.
His physical stature intimidated her. He was a hulk of a man, a
great deal larger than Colvin. As a matter of fact, they seemed
opposites in many ways. Colvin had been small and wiry, with dark
hair and close-set eyes, much like a mouse with his narrow
face.

Rafe stood well over six foot, with broad
shoulders, blond hair, and striking hazel eyes. Brown one minute,
green the next. His nose stood out a bit strong and he wasn’t
overly handsome, yet, he was appealing. Nothing Jubilee could
remember had been appealing about Colvin. She took a deep breath
and tried to calm the trembling in her middle. Perhaps they’d be
opposites in personality, too. Jubilee certainly hoped so.

* * *

Rafe’s stomach clenched in pity for the
woman next to him. Why, she’d trembled when he’d lifted her to the
wagon. She weighed less than a newborn calf. And he couldn’t deny
he admired her pluck to have survived the struggles she’d seen in
her young life. He pulled himself up short. Hmmm, how old was
she?

“May I ask you a question?” He rephrased her
words, emphasizing, ‘you.’

She nodded and gave a one-shoulder
shrug.

“How old are you?” He glanced at her. She
shrank from him.

“Eighteen.”

They rode in silence for a while.

“What about you?”

“Twenty.”

The creaks of the old wagon and the soft
plodding sound of Horse’s feet were the only sounds for a long
spell. Finally Rafe spoke.

“I’ll drop you at the mercantile while I go
make arrangements with the pastor.” He gripped the reins as the
faces of his family flitted through his brain. They’d miss the
wedding. “Then I’ll stop back and pick you up. Make sure you
purchase several yards of fabric. You’ll need a couple of dresses,
and I’m sure you’ll want curtains for the cabin. A new quilt for
winter will come in handy, and I figure you’ll need one too. So get
plenty, and any other necessities. We’ll load up the wagon with
food and head home.”

She gaped at him. “I can get fabric?”

“Yes, for all the items I mentioned. Get
plenty. We’re set pretty far from town.”

She stared for such a long time that he
finally turned. “Problem?”

With a quick shake of her head, she turned
her gaze from his.

All right now. This was going to work. Rafe
whistled a made-up tune as the wagon plodded to town. It was better
than he could’ve planned. She’d cook for him, so he could
concentrate on farming. She’d take care of the laundry needs, so he
had no worry with that. The garden would be tended to, the cow
milked.

Yep. Almost like hiring a servant. Better
even, because she had a vested interest. He leaned back in the seat
and relaxed. The woman next to him recoiled. He cleared his throat.
Except for that. Uneasiness needled him and he shifted again. He
had to remember that, without him, she’d be homeless. Yep. This was
for her own good.

* * *

New dresses? Curtains? Quilts? He could
afford all this?
A shot of dread rippled through her. What
would he want in return? Selecting fabrics, yard after yard, then
multiple threads, was like a dizzy dream. Jubilee could barely
believe the volume after so much want. That, with the rest of the
supplies Rafe had ordered, came to a very large amount.

On a bench outside of the mercantile, she
shivered and laid her hand upon the brown package containing the
precious material. Could it be true? Was she really going to take
all of this fabric home? She glanced up and searched the street.
Fear raced through her. Perhaps this was the way it’d be. He
wouldn’t show up and she’d be abandoned here in town. Just as the
treacherous thought leaped to her mind, she saw the wagon appear
from the direction of the sawmill.

He waved, vaulted from the high seat, and
loaded the stuff in the back of the wagon. When he reached for the
brown package in her hand, she hugged it to herself and shook her
head. He gave a half-grin and encircled her waist to heft her to
the seat. She sat for a moment, trying to still her frightened
heart. Would she ever get used to that?

He strode into the building to pay for their
purchases and reappeared. “We’re supposed to be at the church at
one.” He climbed aboard. “So I figure we ought to eat before we
head over.”

Eat? Were they going home? She didn’t
question him as the wagon set in motion. But he didn’t turn around
to head back to the cabin. He went a block up the street and drew
to a stop. Jubilee studied her surroundings.

“Pastor told me this place had good
food.”

Jubilee waited for him to reappear at the
side of the wagon. After he set her on the ground, she stepped back
with a puzzled look on her face.

“We’re eating here?” She motioned to
Millie’s restaurant, with the red-checked curtains at the windows.
Her hand grabbed the side of her skirt.

“Yep.”

He started for the door, but she froze. When
he shuffled back to her, he rubbed the back of his neck and raised
his brows. “This not a good place?”

“I don’t know, I…” They were eating in a
restaurant? She licked her lips and stepped hesitantly toward the
door.

He hurried to open it, and she halted, eying
him. A gentlemanly gesture. Perhaps he’d been telling the truth,
though it did seem strange for someone to hold the door for her. He
motioned with his hand to precede him. Once inside, Rafe selected a
table and waited for her to sit, then helped her to slide her chair
forward. Jubilee gave a gasp and grabbed the table edge. He sat
opposite her, his eyes probing hers.

“Do all men open doors and push in chairs?”
She scrutinized him.

“Yes. Gentlemen do.”

This would explain Colvin’s lack of manners.
He’d been no gentleman. She continued to analyze Rafe a moment as
she fingered the flatware. “Oh. They have a lot of silverware. Why
are there so many forks?”

Rafe removed his hat and set it in an extra
chair.

“Well, the small fork is the salad fork. The
large fork is for the main course.”

Her brows drew together. Realizing her mouth
hung open, she snapped it shut. The place setting resembled the
table at Mrs. Galston’s house. “Can’t you eat your salad with the
same fork?”

He chuckled softly. “I suppose you
could.”

The waitress appeared, rattled off the
specials of the day, then took Rafe’s order. Jubilee paused and
dread filled her chest.

She leaned forward and whispered,

“I don’t have any money.”

He smiled. “I do. Get what you want.”

She swallowed and glanced at the waitress
again.

“I…” Oh my. She turned pleading eyes to
Rafe.