Deena's Deception

by G. S. Carr

  Oh, yes. This would be all too easy.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Asa adjusted the tilt of his hat, checked the collar and top button of his best shirt, and tugged on the lapels of his jacket. He hadn't been this nervous in a long time. Picking up his future wife from the train depot was turning into a bigger test of bravery than he'd imagined. Working out in the fields with Johnny under the blaze of the summer sun would have been a more enjoyable experience than this. He paced up and down the platform, alternating between shoving his hands in his pockets, hanging them at his side, and folding them behind his back.

  When Pearl had sent a telegram saying she no longer had to wait the two months for her grandmother and could come immediately, Asa's heartbeat had taken off like a stampede of wild buffalo. A litany of questions plagued his mind. Would she like it in Ruby Creek? Would she be a good mother to SaraGrace? Would she consider him adequate as a man and husband?

  He wasn't delusional enough to want anything like love. But he didn't want Pearl to find life on the farm to be miserable, either. Asa couldn't take another wife leaving him and SaraGrace behind because she hated what he could, or more so couldn't, provide. He'd try his best to make sure Pearl enjoyed the life they shared together.

  The train carrying his intended approached the station, its shrill whistle piercing the air. He fussed over his appearance one last time before the train came to a stop. Men and women poured from the open car doors, their expressions both weary and eager to have reached their final destination.

  Asa pulled the piece of paper with Pearl's name from his pocket and held it in the air. He hoped she saw it because he didn't know what she looked like. All he knew was that she had dark brown eyes and curly raven hair. She'd once asked if he wanted to exchange photographs, but he'd declined. It was cowardly, and looking back, he should have consented to it. At the time, the thought of Pearl receiving his picture and ending their correspondence because she found his scarred face repulsive had kept him from agreeing to the trade.

  Several women matching the rather vague description wandered around the small wooden platform searching for those who'd come to collect them. One or two glanced at him and his sign, but none came over. Asa continued to scan the area.

  A beautiful colored woman strolled in his direction, capturing his full attention. He quickly averted his gaze and turned in the opposite direction. Staring at a woman, no matter how attractive he found her, as he waited for his intended was disrespectful to both women.

  "Pardon me. Are you Asa Grantt?"

  Asa spun back around and faced the woman who'd been walking towards him. Her full, heart-shaped lips parted, gracing him with a warm smile. One of her bottom front teeth was a little crooked, adding a perfectly imperfect charm to it. Combined with her smooth, dark mahogany skin, round, upturned eyes, and delicate features, the woman exuded the type of beauty poets tried to immortalize within their verses. She looked up at the sign in his hand, then back at his face.

  "Pearl?" Asa asked with hope and dread in his suddenly gruff voice.

  Admittedly, he hadn't expected his mail-order bride to be a woman of color, but he wasn't upset that she was. This woman was exquisite. Too much so for her to agree to marry him. He should have sent her a picture to save himself from paying to bring her here, only to have to pay to return her once she rejected him.

  "Umm-hmm. That's me," she said, her voice a little too cheerful. Her gaze fell away from his. "But my friends call me Deena. Long story, but please call me by that name."

  Deena? The haze of enchantment ebbed away, suspicion taking its place. She'd never mentioned this alternate name in any of her letters. He watched more closely, noting when she scratched the back of her hand. Years spent surviving on the battlefield during the War among States had left him with a keen knack for spotting the agitated signals of a liar.

  "Deena," he said slowly, trying out the name. It suited her much better than Pearl. Another reason his wariness peaked.

  She rocked from the balls of her feet to her heels, her smile waning. Breaking the awkward silence that descended between them, she said, "Yes, exactly. It is a pleasure to meet you finally. I was overjoyed when I received your offer of marriage." She reached into her traveling bag and pulled out a stack of envelopes. "I've carried around the letters we've written for a long while now."

  Asa examined the envelopes she held out to him. Sure enough, there was his handwriting scribbled across the wrinkled, beige paper. Rob's chiding voice rang in his ears, "Don't mess this up, brother. Stop sabotaging yourself." That was exactly what he was doing. Making up ridiculous excuses to send this exquisite woman away before she rejected him. But if the Lord had deemed him worthy of binding his life to this woman, then who was he to argue that he wasn't?

  Pearl—or Deena—might not have seen his face before this, but he'd laid out clearly the man he was in his letters. That was what won whatever affection she had toward him. So far, she didn't seem repulsed by the motif of scars crisscrossing over his forehead and cheek on the right side of his face. Her jitteriness probably had more to do with traveling thousands of miles to marry a man she'd never met than any nefarious scheme. Why would a woman move her life from New York to the Dakota Territory and lie about being his prospective bride? The absurdity of that notion squelched the last traces of his unfounded mistrust.

  Asa pasted on his best attempt at a reassuring smile. Remembering his manners, he removed his hat. "I was glad to hear that you accepted. I've enjoyed getting to know you, as well. Welcome to Ruby Creek."

  "Thank you."

  "Here, let me get that for you." He extracted the small bag from her delicate hands, surprised to find her resistant at first. "Do you have any other luggage?"

  "Nope, this is it. I don't have much."

  Made sense. She'd been a schoolmarm in a small town, the name of which he couldn't recall. Without the support of her family, she'd probably wouldn’t have survived on her salary. And taking care of an ailing grandparent could prove costly. He slung her bag over his shoulder, then began walking out of the train depot. Deena strolled silently by his side.

  "So, your grandmother made a speedy recovery?" he asked as a way of making conversation.

  "Yes, she did. My parents and I were overjoyed that she did."

  "Parents?" Asa quirked an eyebrow at Deena. "I thought your father died when you were a young girl."

  "Right. Yes. My father is dead," she stammered. "But... um... Sometimes it is hard for me to think of him as gone. I feel like he's always with me."

  "Understood."

  When he and Rob lost their parents to consumption ten years ago, he wouldn't allow himself to believe they were gone at first. Now they were the tranquil undertone of his heart’s rhythm.

  "I hope you don't mind, but until we say our vows, I've asked a family friend, Mrs. Paty Hinojosa, if she would host you in her home. She is a widow with a plot of land not far from my farm. Her husband proved it up before he died, so she owns it free and clear. She said she'd be happy to have you."

  "That sounds wonderful. I'll have to think of a way to thank her."

  "Maybe you can bake her one of those red bean pies you told me about. I wouldn't object to you making one for me and SaraGrace, either."

  The corner of his lips curled into a playful grin. A whim he didn't give into often but wanted to try to do more for Deena's sake. Unfortunately, she didn't seem inclined to join in his mirth. Her gaze left his yet again and bounced around their surroundings.

  "Yes," she replied, a nervous lilt to her voice. "I'll have to do that."

  "She invited us over for supper this evening. There will be a few other people. My brother Robert—we call him Rob—and some friends of mine who wanted to welcome you to town."

  "That sounds like a lovely evening. Can't wait."

  Now that was a bald-faced lie, which Asa couldn't brush aside. Her pinched expression, the way she dragged her feet and held her stomach as if she were in pain, spoke volumes about
her anticipation for the evening’s events. An offer to decline Mrs. Paty's invitation teetered on the edge of his tongue, but Asa refrained from speaking the words aloud. Mrs. Paty had put a lot of effort into preparing the food and cleaning up her home. And he really wanted Deena to meet his friends. The faster she built a rapport with people, the easier it would be for this place to feel like home to her.

  Asa placed Deena's bag in the bed of the buckboard, then came around the side to help her into the seat. He gripped the reins and set the horse off at a steady trot. They settled into a comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts.

  This was it. He was on his way to being a married man again. If nothing went wrong in the meantime.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Was this real?

  Deena sat quietly, observing the people around the table, asking herself that question for the umpteenth time. Everyone was so warm and welcoming. Their uninhibited laughter and joking filled the small house as if despite the hard work they endured every day, they considered themselves blessed and were grateful to wake up each morning.

  The woman named Alice had pulled Deena into a hearty hug after introducing herself. She sat on Deena's right, next to her husband, Jonathan. Asa was at the head of the table across from Rob, with SaraGrace on his left, and their host Mrs. Paty next to her. It was a tight squeeze at the table clearly not meant for so many guests, but no one complained.

  It had been years since Deena had been at a gathering brimming with so much affection and camaraderie. No one plotting against anyone else. No veiled deception. Only a small group of friends enjoying each other’s company.

  "Mrs. Paty," Rob said, tipping his chair on its back legs and patting his flat stomach. "That was de-li-cious. Green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, soda biscuits, and fried side pork. You outdid yourself today."

  "Thank you, mijo. I'm glad you liked it."

  "Yes, ma'am, I did. The only reason I didn't lick my plate is because I am trying to make a good impression on my future sister-in-law." He winked at Deena.

  Deena wiped the napkin over her lips to hide her grin. She liked Rob. She sensed that he was a flirt by nature, but he meant no harm. His strong square jaw, high cheekbones, twinkling sky-blue eyes, sandy blond hair, and other classically handsome features probably made him a favorite among the town’s women. She couldn't deny he was nice to look at, but she didn’t see him as anything other than the spirited, fun-loving brother she'd wished she had growing up.

  "And how about you, querida?" Mrs. Paty looked a Deena, her eyes brimming with hopeful expectation. "Are you enjoying the meal?"

  Luckily, Deena didn't need to lie when she said, "Yes, ma'am. Everything was wonderful."

  "Good." Mrs. Paty sat a little straighter in her chair, her wide smile growing broader.

  No one had cared about Deena's opinion in a long time. It felt nice to know that her praise mattered to someone.

  "I liked the food too," SaraGrace beamed. "Mrs. Paty cooks real good."

  "Thank you, mija." Mrs. Paty bent and kissed the little girl’s cheek.

  SaraGrace smiled so hard her cheeks pushed up, making her eyes squint. She happily dove back into her plate, showing Mrs. Paty how much she enjoyed the food.

  "So, Pearl, tell me about your life in New York," Alice said. "Asa said you're from the rural part, but did you make it into New York City from time to time? Did the ladies walk around wearing all them fancy dresses from Paris?"

  "Call me Deena," she replied.

  "Oh, that's right. Sorry about that. Where did that nickname come from if you don't mind me asking?"

  Deena pushed some of her potatoes around on her plate. How did she answer that question? What was a good excuse? "Pearl is my grandmother's name. My mother let me pick what they called me when I was younger, so me and Gran weren't always looking up when she called me. I don't know where I heard it, but I liked the name Deena, so they let me use it."

  "Thought your grandmother's name was Martha," Asa asked. His eyes narrowed on Deena ever so slightly.

  The low hum in the pit of her stomach started up again, the same as it had when she’d seen him at the train depot. Where Rob was light and joyful, Asa was dark and shrewd. He watched everything. Deena could sense the way he absorbed every detail of what was happening, storing it away for another time.

  "Martha is her middle name. When I picked my new name, she decided she wanted a new one too. Neither of us were fond of the name we were born with, so I guess I should retire the tradition of passing on the name Pearl if I have a daughter."

  Something Deena couldn't quite name flashed across Asa's eyes. His demeanor softened, and he nodded, satisfied with her answer. He must have memorized every letter he and Pearl had exchanged. She'd have to be more careful in the future. There had only been four letters between Asa and Pearl in the reticule she'd stolen. Those must have been Pearl's favorites because they weren't in sequential order. There were just enough details in the letters for Deena to have basic knowledge of the other woman, so she'd have to stay away from specifics about her life.

  Deena shoved an ample scoop of mashed potatoes into her mouth, hoping someone would fill the silence and steer them away from Alice's question about her life in New York.

  "My family has a tradition of naming the first boy ‘Byron,’" Jonathan chimed in. "Me and Alice put a stop to that. It's my middle name, and I can't stand it. I'm only trying to pass on things my boys can be proud of."

  "Ain't that the truth," Rob said with a chuckle. "That's why you stuck it out in the wilderness with us. Once your land is proved up next year, you'll have a wonderful legacy to leave your boys."

  Jonathan grunted. "If we make it to next year. With these Indian attacks happening on everyone's farms, we might have to split in order to save our hides."

  "Oh, hush up that kind of talk," Alice admonished her husband. "You’re jabbering about nonsense. No one is going to run us off our land. Besides, you don't even know if it's the Indians."

  "Yes, I do." Jonathan pushed back his chair and stalked over to his coat, which hung on a peg next to the door. He dug inside the pocket and pulled out a strap of leather with three feathers attached to it. Coming back to the table, he flung the item in the middle of the table and pointed a condemning finger at it. "See here. That's an Indian headband. Proof it was them. Found it on my property when some of my crops were ruined a few nights ago."

  Deena reached for the headdress, stopping right before touching it. "May I?"

  "Sure."

  She gently picked up the sacred accessory and examined it. "This wasn't made by an Indian."

  "How can you tell?" Asa asked. He regarded her with his intense curiosity. Elbows on the table, he leaned forward as if entranced by what she'd say next.

  "Feathers are sacred to Indians. They have meaning. Each tribe is different, but the Indians of the plains generally use the feathers of Great Horned Owls and eagles. These are turkey feathers. Whoever left this on your property was trying to make it look like Indians attacked you, but they didn't know enough about them to make it realistic."

  "Impressive. How do you know all this?" Asa asked.

  A warm flush spread over her cheeks. She must be going a little crazy because something akin to delight spread through her at the pride in his voice. She knew a plethora of random facts. Deena wanted to regurgitate them all to keep him enthralled by her knowledge.

  "An old acquaintance liked to travel all over the world. He was fascinated with different cultures and would tell me stories about the people he met on his journeys."

  Asa crossed his well-muscled arms over his chest and nodded. "That's some useful information. As Jonathan said, we've been having some issues recently with someone tampering with our crops and stirring up trouble. I planned on doing a little investigating. Would you care to assist me?"

  "I'd be honored."

  "My goodness," Rob interjected. He slapped the table. "If this is the kind of woman Mrs. Crenshaw is digging up at
her agency, then sign me up. I'll take a bride right now."

  "No comment," Jonathan replied.

  "Good idea, sugar," Alice said, playfully scowling at her husband.

  Asa shook his head. "Please excuse my brother. He was born without manners."

  All the adults laughed. In her own world, SaraGrace hummed to herself while she ate, oblivious to the discussion happening around her. When the laughter subsided, Jonathan steered the conversation in a new direction. Alice and Rob yammered on with him, Mrs. Paty occasionally weighing in.

  Deena eased back in her chair, happy to enjoy the conversation without participating. She peered through her lashes at Asa, taking in her temporary future husband. Like Rob, he had a strong square jaw, but his features were rugged where his brothers were more delicate. His dark cobalt-blue eyes shone with astute intelligence. He was the kind of man who took his responsibilities seriously and believed in hard work.

  He ran his hand, calloused from working in the fields, through his dark honey-blond hair. Apart from the smattering of scars running along his forehead and cheek, his face was perfect. Deena noticed the way he tried to keep the right side of his face angled away from her. No doubt to hide the scars he thought diminished his attractiveness. In truth, she didn't mind them. She'd read in Pearl’s letters that he'd been in the war, which was probably where he got them. To Deena, they spoke to his strength and will to survive, giving him an air of courageousness. One she found very appealing.

  As if sensing her stare, Asa glanced up. Their eyes met, and the corner of his mouth lifted in an amiable grin. Deena quickly looked away, her chest tightening, and took a sip of her coffee. Guilt speared her yet again. From what she could tell, Asa was a good man. His friends and family were good people. They didn't deserve to be lied to. She was a horrible person and shouldn't be here. She should come clean right now and grovel for their forgiveness.