Prairie Bride: (A Western Historical Romance) (Dodge City Brides Book 1)

by Julianne MacLean

  He dropped the reins and stood up in the wagon, towering over Sarah. “I told you—that has nothing to do with this. I am over her. I’m just not over the....” It was as if he was only now understanding the emotions he’d worked so hard to ignore all this time.

  “The what?” she pressed him.

  His tone softened. “The fact that the people I care about always get taken away. They leave, or they die.”

  He sat down again, and his expression was completely open. “I watched my family die, Sarah. Right in front of my eyes. My mother, my father, my baby sisters and little brother. There was nothing I could do to stop it, and I thought I was going to die, too. I don’t know why I was spared.”

  Fighting tears, Sarah covered his hands with hers. “Oh, Briggs.”

  “I didn’t want to love you,” he said. “I worked hard not to, but then I gave myself permission to hope, and now I find out that you were never mine to begin with.”

  “I am yours, Briggs,” she said. “I’ve been yours since the moment we walked into the courthouse and you made me feel safe and cared for, as if everything was going to be all right.”

  He bowed his head. “But you were Garrison’s before you were mine. You spoke vows. You promised to love him until death parted you. Did you really believe you would? Did it mean anything to you when you said it?”

  Ashamed, she tried to find a way to answer him. But how could she, when she didn’t even know the answer herself?

  “Did it?” Briggs pressed.

  Unable to look him in the eye, she nodded. “I wrongly believed in him. And perhaps, if he had turned out to be a good man, I would still be with him.”

  “You promised him a lifetime.”

  She quickly looked up. “And you promised me one, too, when you didn’t know me at all.”

  Briggs did not respond. He simply stared at the gray horizon, blurred with rain and mist, while he considered everything.

  “Please, believe me,” Sarah said. “I thought I was free to marry you. I was certain my marriage to Garrison was not valid, and over the past month I’ve grown closer to you than I ever was to him. To anyone.”

  “The past month....” Briggs gazed up at her, despondently. “In all that time, I never really knew who you were.”

  His tone sent a chill down her spine. “But you know now,” she said. “I promise, you know everything.”

  “Maybe so,” he said, uncertainly.

  Panic shot through her as he picked up the reins and flicked them against the horses’ broad backs, turning them around.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Back to see George,” he replied. “He’s a solicitor, and I want to know what’s real and what isn’t—at least in the eyes of the law.”

  Chapter 24

  Each of them drenched to the core with rain, Sarah and Briggs pulled into George’s yard. They had not spoken a word since Briggs had turned the wagon around. Without waiting for him to assist her, Sarah climbed down and hurried toward the front door to escape the downpour. Her arm ached and throbbed with every move she made, but the pain in her heart was worse by a long shot.

  She pulled the front door open, and shivering, entered the warm, dry house. George met her in the front hall. “Sarah, you’re soaked. Come in by the stove.” He led her into the kitchen. “Where’s Briggs?”

  The front door squeaked open and she heard her husband’s boots tap against the step. George immediately went to meet him. “What’s wrong with you?” he demanded. “Sarah could have caught her death out there.”

  As much as she could tell from the kitchen, Briggs didn’t answer. She wondered if he even cared. He walked into the room and didn’t waste a single second on civilities. “George, we have a legal problem and we need your help.”

  George followed behind Briggs and gave Sarah a questioning glance. “Maybe we should go into the parlor.”

  Briggs gestured for Sarah to lead the way. She went in and sat on the sofa in front of the window, and George handed her a blanket that was draped over the back of a chair. He helped her wrap it around her shoulders.

  “I suppose you should be the one to explain it,” Briggs said. “You know what happened better than I do.”

  Sarah hesitated, wondering how she would ever get through this. Her stomach felt like it was bleeding fire. “It’s something very private, I’m afraid,”

  George removed his spectacles. “You may be assured of my utmost discretion.”

  “Thank you.” This was proving more difficult than she expected. She kept her eyes lowered. “I...I made a mistake before I married Briggs, and now I’m afraid it’s going to ruin everything.”

  “What sort of mistake?”

  She stood and walked to the unlit fireplace, staring numbly at the white china bowl on the mantel. How could she say this to George, her brother-in-law, who had always made her feel so welcome? But if she was going to set things right with her husband, she had to find a way.

  Closing her eyes, she began. “I was involved with another man before Briggs and I were married, and the involvement progressed to the point of...” Hearing Briggs clear his throat, she stopped, unable to go on.

  Sarah tried to find the right words, but gave up, deciding there was no respectable way to put it. “I married him.”

  She heard George whistle in shock. “You’re divorced?”

  “No, George. That’s the problem. I’m not divorced.”

  She faced the two brothers squarely. George merely stared, his mouth agape. Briggs stood in angry silence.

  “Sarah, I don’t understand,” George said.

  “I didn’t get the divorce because I never believed the marriage was legal in the first place. I still don’t, but I’m not certain. If only I’d had the courage to seek legal advice right away, but I was afraid I’d be arrested.”

  George stopped pacing and shot her a horrified look. “Arrested! Why?”

  “Because he already had a wife.”

  George sank into the rocking chair by the fireplace and rested his forehead in his hand. “Good God. This is unbelievable. You mean he never divorced his first wife before marrying you?”

  “No.”

  “And he wasn’t a widower?”

  “No.”

  “You’re telling me you married a bigamist?”

  “Yes.”

  George glanced at his brother. “You knew nothing of this?”

  “Not until today,” Briggs said, his voice flat.

  “At first I didn’t tell him,” Sarah added, “because I was ashamed and afraid that he would turn me away. You have to understand, George—that I had no notion what I was getting into when I met Garrison. He was charming in the beginning, then he became very cruel. I had to escape the marriage.” Sarah was desperate to salvage whatever was left of George’s good opinion of her. “I had no idea he was already married, and now he’s followed me to Dodge and he wants me back. I’m afraid of what he might do if I don’t obey him. He told me he’d never let me go, and now he knows that I’m married to Briggs.”

  George sat forward. “He’s here? You spoke to him? Did anyone see you? There’s definitely going to be a scandal.”

  Briggs finally spoke up. “George, you’re missing the point. Are any of her marriages legal?”

  His detached tone made Sarah shudder inwardly.

  George scratched his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean, you’re not sure?” Briggs shouted. “Law is your profession.”

  “I’d need to see the written documents,” George explained, “including those that go along with Garrison’s first marriage. And I must be straightforward with you, I’ve never dealt with a bigamy case before. I’ll have to look it up.”

  “How long will that take?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “It�
��s difficult to say. I may have to consult with a colleague.”

  “Wonderful,” Briggs whispered, heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Sarah asked, feeling her courage rush out of her.

  “For a walk.”

  “Can I come with you? We could talk more about this.”

  “There’s nothing more to talk about, and I need to be alone.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him.

  Briggs sloshed through the mud in town, barely conscious of how deep he was sinking. The rain had stopped, but the dark gray sky prevailed.

  Looking up at a passing cowboy atop an impressive black horse, Briggs realized with some despair that he’d walked all the way from George’s house and couldn’t remember anything he’d seen along the way. His head was pounding with tension, his muscles stiff. It pained him to remember the nights he’d spent with Sarah when she had been hiding a part of herself and keeping secrets. Why hadn’t she trusted him enough to tell him? Had he been that much of an ogre in the beginning?

  He supposed, with some regret, that he had.

  Just then, someone called his name.

  Oh, God. That voice. That sing-song voice....

  “Briggs? Is that you?”

  He stopped on the boardwalk. Slowly turning, he did his best to appear indifferent and at ease. “Hello, Isabelle.”

  She smiled and moved toward him. He took in her overall appearance, which had not changed since the day she broke off their engagement—except for the fact that she wore an expensive-looking dress he did not recognize. It was bright yellow with a high ruffle collar, sleeves with large frilled cuffs, and a long, trained overskirt caught up at the sides in an overabundance of pleated draperies.

  As for her face, it was as flawless and as shockingly beautiful as he remembered. But then he noticed the lacey parasol, which made no sense on a rainy day like this—and the long suede gloves, jeweled purse and fan.

  She was, and always had been, completely unsuited to his sod house on the prairie.

  Hesitantly, he strode toward her.

  “It’s wonderful to see you,” Briggs,” she said.

  “You, as well.”

  “I heard you were married last month. I had no idea it would make you even more handsome than you already were.”

  He glanced around, wondering how many of the town gossips were feeding on this. “Her name is Sarah,” he mentioned.

  “I know,” Isabelle replied. “George told me. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  The dazzling twinkle in her eyes dissolved suddenly. “I suppose he told you about my...” She paused, then glanced around self-consciously. “My situation.”

  Briggs nodded. “I was sorry to hear about that.”

  “And I was sorry that...” She stopped herself, and his desire to hear her out was disturbing, to say the least, because he had no desire to explore the ‘what-might-have-beens.’ He swallowed the urge to prompt her on, but she did so anyway. “I was sorry that I left Dodge without saying goodbye to you.”

  Briggs stared over her head at nothing in particular. “No worries. It’s all in the past now.”

  “I hope you don’t feel any bitterness toward me, Briggs. I don’t think I could bear it if you did. Not after what we once were to each other.”

  He nodded his head and spoke gently. “Like I said, it’s in the past.”

  Isabelle straightened her shoulders, fiddled with her jeweled purse, and strove to speak with a cheerful, animated tone. “Of course, you’re right. So much has happened since then. I am so happy you were able to get on with your life.”

  But then her voice quavered.

  Lord help him. What would he do if she started weeping right there in the street? She’d always been emotional. There was a time when it charmed him, because he rather fancied it when she rested her cheek on his shoulder, and it meant he had an excuse to put his arm around her. But today, there was enough turmoil on his plate.

  “What’s she like?” Isabelle asked. “George told me she was the exact opposite of me. Dark hair, dark eyes, rather short.”

  Briggs swallowed over a rise of annoyance, because Sarah was so much more than that. “She’s very lovely,” he replied, wishing she was there at his side, so that Isabelle could see that she was not the only beautiful woman in Dodge. Not anymore.

  “You must be happy,” Isabelle added. “Is she everything you always wanted?”

  He stood for a moment, pondering that question, realizing Sarah was not what he’d always wanted. Until recently, Isabelle had worn that crown. “She’s what I want now,” he answered, truthfully.

  Isabelle’s smile faded. “I see,” she stammered. “Well. I do hope we can be friends.”

  “Of course.”

  Her eyes darted to something in the street. Briggs turned to see George approaching in his buggy with Sarah beside him.

  “Is that her?” Isabelle asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I should go. I wouldn’t want her to catch us together.”

  He turned to tell her to stay and be introduced, but she was already walking away. He stared after her, watching that familiar gait. Feeling no regrets. None whatsoever.

  He turned again, back to George and Sarah. The buggy pulled up alongside the boardwalk. “What are you two doing here?” he asked.

  Neither one answered. George merely stared at him, his lips pressed into a thin line. Briggs looked back to see Isabelle disappear around a corner, and realized uneasily that Sarah was watching her, too.

  Chapter 25

  George jumped down from the buggy. “Sarah needed some fresh air so we thought we’d go for a drive and look for you.” He frowned with disapproval, then spoke to Sarah. “I’ll head over to the office now. Briggs will drive you home.”

  Slowly, not knowing what to expect, Briggs walked toward her and climbed into the driver’s seat. Without a word, he flicked the reins and turned them around. He kept waiting for Sarah to ask him questions or act hurt, accuse him of something, but she didn’t say a word.

  A few minutes later, they pulled up in front of George’s house. Briggs set the brake and hopped down. Sarah didn’t wait for him to come around and help her. She began to climb out by herself, wincing at the pain in her arm.

  “Wait,” he said, hurrying around the horses. “I can help you.”

  He wrapped his hands around her tiny waist and gently lowered her to the ground. She looked up into his eyes, and there, at last, he saw the question.

  “It was a chance meeting,” he explained, his hands still gripping her waist. “I didn’t plan it.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, then said, “Okay. I believe you.” Then she turned and walked toward the house.

  “Sarah, wait.”

  She climbed the steps. “What? I said I believe you.” She let the door snap shut behind her. Briggs whipped it open, following.

  “Just listen, please? I bumped into her. It couldn’t have been helped.”

  Sarah went into the kitchen, poured water into the tea kettle and set it on the stove.

  “I wanted to introduce you, but she walked away before I got the chance.”

  Shaking her head, Sarah set a china cup on the small pine table, then went looking for the sugar bowl. “I told you. It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine.” Briggs couldn’t take it anymore. He reached out, touched her good arm, and forced her to face him. “Sarah, despite everything that’s happened, I don’t want Isabelle. You need to know that. Anything I might have felt for her is long dead.”

  She merely stared up at him and nodded.

  He pulled her closer, felt her soft body against him, and suddenly wondered why he was the one trying to explain himself when she was the one who had married two men in the same month.

  But non
e of this made sense, he realized, fearing the loss of her now more than ever, and resenting all these complications that were driving wedge after wedge between them.

  Farmer, Arthur Brigman, seeks gentle and peaceful wife for simple life on Kansas prairie.

  If only it could have been simple.

  But it wasn’t. This was the lot they’d been given, but at least he knew one thing: he wanted no one but Sarah, and if he had anything to say about it, no other man would ever touch her again. Just the thought of it—of that maggot, Garrison McPhee, wanting her—filled him with jealousy and a scorching need to hold onto her, to keep her safe. To possess her completely and not feel this fear that she would be snatched away at any moment.

  He gazed down at her and took her face in both his hands. “I’m sorry for all this. I wanted it to be easier.”

  “So did I,” she replied with sorrow and regret.

  Briggs lowered his mouth to hers and felt her lips part with longing. The heat and warmth he felt against her mouth was like a balm to his senses. It sent tremors of wanting through his body.

  Her good hand slid inside his coat, up the length of his chest and slipped it off, over his shoulders. Suddenly he was overcome with desire and he had to have her, to feel her body writhe with pleasure beneath him, to know she belonged to him and no other.

  Tearing his coat from his body, he dropped it onto the floor, then scooped Sarah into his arms and carried her up the stairs, taking two at a time while she clutched at his neck, kissing his cheek and whispering his name. He kicked the bedroom door open with his boot. It slammed and bounced off the inside wall.

  He carried her to the bed and gently laid her down, careful not to hurt her injured arm. Her bodice—it had to come off. One button, two buttons...his fingers trembled uncontrollably with impatience.

  At last he was unfastening her corset in the front, removing it and sliding her chemise off her shoulders to uncover her beautiful breasts, bare and calling to him. She pulled his head down and he took what he could into his hungry mouth, more than willing to give her as much pleasure as he was capable of giving.