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

by Julianne MacLean

  Slowly, cautiously, Briggs returned to the bar and wrapped his hand around the glass. “What else?”

  Garrison reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a cigar. “I’m assuming she told you they were dead, then.”

  “Aren’t they?”

  He cut off the tip of the cigar and lit it, shaking his head as he puffed a few times in succession. “They are alive and well in Chicago.”

  Briggs felt his chest constrict.

  “You must have had a feeling that something wasn’t quite right,” Garrison said. “Instinct? She would have come to you with some obvious experience in the bedroom. Didn’t that suggest anything to you?”

  Unwilling to confide in this man, Briggs stood in silence. But yes, his instincts had been to doubt her, but he’d told himself at the time it was his own problem—that he had come to the relationship a skeptic. Even George had tried to convince him of that.

  But perhaps it had not been because of what happened with Isabelle. Maybe his instincts had been correct all along....

  He gulped down another mouthful of whiskey and felt it sear its way down to his knotted stomach. He looked at Garrison. “If it’s as you say, why do you keep taking her back?”

  Garrison puffed on his cigar. “You should know the answer to that. You’ve been with her a month. She’s an incredible woman.”

  Briggs stared down at his glass and worked hard not to reveal anything.

  Garrison continued. “There’s something about her, don’t you think? Something that makes you want to protect her, even when you know she can take care of herself, better than anyone, in fact. I suppose I’m no different from you. I want her still, after everything she’s done. The thought of letting her go, well, I can’t easily live with that. Isn’t that how you feel, too? Aren’t you trying to justify all this, to figure out a way to fix it and put it behind you?”

  Briggs didn’t answer Garrison, but the question flapped wildly in his brain. Sarah had deceived him from the beginning, saying that she’d never been married. Then, to trick him on their wedding night as she had....

  Briggs prepared himself for the question he was about to ask. “Do you have children?”

  “No. Sarah doesn’t want any, and she knows how to prevent it.”

  By now, Briggs’s head was spinning...his limbs felt shaky. And it had nothing to do with the whiskey.

  He tipped his glass back to empty it. Laying his money on the bar, he turned away.

  “Where are you going?” Garrison asked.

  “Home.”

  Garrison’s hand snaked out and clasped Briggs’s arm. “What are you going to do? I won’t stand by and let you beat her. Just let her go. That’s all you have to do. Bring her back to me and I’ll take her home where she’ll be safe. You can forget any of this ever happened.”

  Briggs hesitated, glaring down at this man before him.

  “You’ll give me your word? You won’t mark her?” Garrison implored.

  Mark her? Briggs’s gut wrenched with disgust. “That ain’t how I handle things.”

  Walking out of the saloon, disillusioned, Briggs wondered how he would handle this, when all he wanted to do at the moment was put Sarah on the first train back east, and never lay eyes on her again.

  Walking back to George’s house, Briggs had to focus hard on not staggering around the cow patties and falling face first into the mud. In fact, in his pathetic, intoxicated condition, he wasn’t sure he could distinguish between the two.

  He flipped his wet hair out of his eyes so he could see better in front of him. The rain had finally stopped but the road remained a sticky pool. With each step, he sank down at least four inches, the dark muck pulling at his boots.

  And oh, God, his head...pounding like a drum. He should have known better than to accept that last drink. He should have known better than to take the first one. He’d never had much use for liquor. It dulled a man’s senses.

  By the time he reached George’s house, it was sufficiently dark. He stopped on the veranda to scrape the mud off the soles of his boots, and paused there, gazing blurry-eyed at the lighted windows. He didn’t want to go inside. He didn’t want to do what he had to do, but the time for indecision was over. He just didn’t want to get Sarah into trouble with the law....

  Nearly losing his balance, he reached out to grasp the door handle, and kicked himself again for drinking all that whiskey.

  He entered the dimly lit house.

  No one came to greet him.

  The silence pulsated around his garbled senses.

  Standing unsteadily in the foyer, he heard a chair slide out from the kitchen table. George appeared. “You’re back,” he said softly.

  “Yes. Where’s Sarah?”

  “She’s resting. I’ll get her.” He made a move to go upstairs.

  “No. Don’t.”

  George stopped on the bottom step. “I promised her I’d wake her if...when you returned.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  Suddenly, the room began to spin, and Briggs stepped sideways. George grabbed his arm and drew his brows together. “Are you drunk?”

  “No. Yes. I had a few drinks, but I’m fine.”

  Wearing a disapproving frown, George went into the parlor and lit a second lamp. “It’s not like you to take a drink, Briggs.”

  “I know, and believe me, I’m already regretting it.”

  The room brightened and George sat down on the sofa. “Sarah was upset after you left. She didn’t eat any supper. She went straight upstairs to bed.”

  Briggs leaned against the door frame and folded his arms. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? I’m not the one who lied.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Whose side are you on, anyway?”

  George raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I just think Sarah needs—”

  “Sarah needs? I’m your family, George. Me. She lied to me from the beginning and you act like I’m the one to blame here, like I’m the one who’s being unreasonable.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  Briggs moved into the room with deliberate care, trying not to knock over the lamp on the side table as he passed it by. “Then what do you think?”

  “You can’t turn your back on her, Briggs. She has no one.”

  Briggs squeezed his eyes shut against the throbbing sensation in his head. “No one? Did she tell you the story of her poor deceased parents?”

  “Yes. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “So, you lent her your sympathetic ear, did you?”

  “You’re not making any sense.

  Briggs walked to the mantel. He leaned one elbow upon it, rested his temple on two fingers. “George, you don’t understand.”

  George rose and gripped Briggs’s shoulder. “You need to get some sleep. You’re a mess. And Sarah does love you.”

  Wincing inside, Briggs stepped away from his brother. His speech was slurred. “I don’t want to hear that.”

  “But you care about her, Briggs. I know you do. You’re just gun-shy.”

  “Damn right, I’m gun-shy. And you don’t know everything, big brother. You think you know her because you’ve spent some time with her, but you don’t. She’s beautiful and she uses that to get what she wants. You’re playing right into her game.”

  George backed away with a frown, retreating into the dark kitchen. “You’re drunk.”

  “Am I?” Briggs followed him.

  George said nothing. He went to the kitchen window and pulled it closed.

  “You’re always taking her side,” Briggs went on, “like I’m the one who did everything wrong. Granted, I haven’t always been easy to get along with, I’ll admit that, but hell, George, I’m your brother. We really don’t know anything about Sarah.”

/>   George sank into one of the kitchen chairs. Leaning both elbows on the table, he said, “I’m sorry, Briggs. I just can’t accept what you’re saying.”

  “I know that—because you were taken with her the moment you saw her at the train station. Weren’t you?”

  George shook his head. “No. She’s your wife.”

  Briggs laughed bitterly. “Funny, you were the one trying to convince me not to marry her in the first place. You wanted me to get to know her first.”

  George leaned back in his chair. “I remember. I had a bad feeling about everything.”

  “And you were right. You have no idea what I learned tonight.”

  George inclined his head, curiously. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

  “I sure am.”

  A half hour later, George sat back in his chair and sighed. “Do you believe him?”

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Briggs replied. “I’m just starting to have the feeling that this marriage was never meant-to-be. I thought I was avoiding trouble by getting myself a mail-order bride. I thought it would be simpler.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Briggs rested his forehead in his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. “I should do what any man in my position would do. But the idea of it...”

  George looked up. “The idea of what?”

  “The idea of....” He couldn’t believe this was happening. “God, George, I do care for her. I’m practically obsessed, because I can’t stop thinking about her every damn minute of the day. But that’s crazy, and I can’t let how I feel about her change what has to be done. I know it’ll be hard, but I gotta do the right thing. I gotta protect myself, and I’m going to need your help.”

  George exhaled heavily and sat back in his chair.

  Chapter 27

  Sarah lay awake in the darkness staring at the ceiling. The pain in her arm had woken her an hour ago, and she’d tip-toed into the hall only to find herself alone in the house, which was odd because it was past midnight.

  Her mind had already created an alarming number of unpleasant scenarios. What if Briggs and George had gone out to find Garrison? What if something terrible had happened to them? What if they’d reported everything to the sheriff?

  Back in bed now and turning onto her side, she rested her cheek on the back of her hand. If only she could sleep through this physical pain and emotional uncertainty.

  About a half hour later, she heard a wagon pull up in front of the house. She leaped out of bed and hurried to the window.

  They were back. A sigh of relief escaped her. She stood at the window, one hand resting on the sill. George and Briggs spoke for a moment. Then George hopped down from the wagon and came to the door.

  Briggs drove off.

  A sick feeling crept into Sarah’s stomach. Where was he going?

  She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and hurried downstairs where she met George in the kitchen. “Where were you?” she asked, unable to hide her fear and desperation.

  George laid some papers on the table and seemed to have some trouble meeting her eyes. His tone was cool as he spoke. “You’d better sit down, Sarah.”

  Her heart began to thump inside her chest. “Why? What happened? Where did Briggs go?”

  “Please sit down,” George suggested more insistently as he pulled a chair out for her.

  Sarah hesitated, then slowly made her way into it. She sat there waiting while George flipped through the papers. “Would you like a cup of tea before we begin?” he asked as he put on his spectacles, hooking the wires behind his ears.

  “No, I don’t want anything,” she replied, feeling confused and anxious, “except for you to tell me what’s going on.”

  George folded his hands on top of the papers in front of him. “I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

  A jolt of fear left her paralyzed.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, but Briggs has decided to seek an annulment.”

  Everything seemed to grow dark around her as George’s words settled into her mind. An annulment? Had she heard him correctly?

  “He feels very strongly about it, and he hopes you’ll understand.” George took a deep breath. “He doesn’t want to see you again.”

  Tears flooded her eyes. She swallowed hard, trying desperately not to cry. “Did he tell you why, exactly?”

  “I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you, Sarah, but I will say this much—it’s on the basis of fraudulent misrepresentation. You may want to seek your own counsel if you wish to contest it, as I am representing Briggs now.”

  The chill in her brother-in-law’s voice wounded her deeply, for she’d always felt that George thought highly of her. Now it seemed as if the whole world was turning against her.

  “Does he still love Isabelle?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  “As I said, it’s not my place to discuss that with you.”

  But she could not back down, because this made no sense. “Did Garrison say something to him?”

  George picked up the papers and ignored her question. “Everything’s right here. You should read it over carefully. Briggs has already signed it.”

  Staring in disbelief at what George held in his hands, Sarah felt a sudden burst of anger. When she made no move to reach for the documents, George offered her some information.

  “It may come as a relief for you to know that it doesn’t implicate you as a bigamist. We discussed it at great length, and he doesn’t want to see you go to jail. He just wants his freedom. So, we came up with a phrasing that would—”

  “I don’t care about that,” she blurted out. “I just want to know what his reasons were. Because everything was fine this afternoon. I still believed he loved me.”

  George cleared his throat awkwardly. “It says you misrepresented yourself. That you led Briggs to believe things about yourself that were not true.”

  She shoved her chair back and stood. “This annulment won’t make me go back to Garrison if that’s what Briggs thinks. I’ll make my own way. I want you to tell Briggs that.”

  George stared at her, his face pale. “I will.”

  “And if Briggs can walk out on me knowing how much I love him, and how much I wanted to be his wife, then I welcome this annulment. If he’s incapable of trusting me—or of loving me—then I’m better off without him.”

  Heart racing, she turned and walked out of the kitchen, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs. The papers. She hadn’t signed the papers....

  She squeezed the railing. Should she do it? Should she let Briggs go so easily, without a fight, or without an explanation on his part?

  Sarah’s anger quickly became a scalding fury. After all they’d been through together, how could he leave her without even saying goodbye? He’d sent his brother to do it for him.

  As she stood at the base of George’s staircase, she began to wonder if this swift death to her marriage had been inevitable from the beginning. They hadn’t known a single thing about each other when they spoke their vows at the courthouse, not fifteen minutes after they’d first met. Surely that had been madness.

  Of course, Sarah knew why she had been so desperate to become someone’s wife that day, to change her name and disappear into the vast Kansas prairie—but what had driven Briggs to act so imprudently? Clearly he hadn’t been in his right mind either, after the loss of his family, and then the heartbreak of his broken engagement to a woman he might very well still love. Now reality had set in, and he had come to realize that marriage to a stranger wasn’t what he’d thought he wanted after all.

  And as desperate and frightened as Sarah had been on her wedding day, she couldn’t deny that she had been wrong to deceive Briggs, and perhaps this was her comeuppance.

  Fighting her grief over how it had all played out, Sarah spun on her heel, walked into the kitchen,
and hastily scrawled her name.

  The sun was just coming up when Briggs drove into his yard feeling sleepy, sore, and hungover. He’d driven all night in a post-drunken stupor, brooding over Sarah’s lies and deceptions. At the same time, he’d fought the urge to turn back around, rip up those annulment papers, and bring her home with him. Though now, he had to wonder what there was to come home to. Dead crops? A tiny structure made of sod? A bitter cold winter on the way, which he would spend alone, missing her?

  He pulled the wagon to a halt, set the brake and hopped down. The chill of the night had not left his bones with the advancing dawn. Autumn would soon be here. With the sky growing brighter, he could see his breath.

  The barn door swung open just then, and Frank Whitiker appeared.

  “Briggs! You’re back!” the boy shouted. “I was looking after Maddie for you. She’s milked and the pigs are fed.”

  Briggs walked toward the boy and messed his hair. “Thanks, Frank. I knew I could count on you.”

  The boy’s face beamed with pride. Briggs smiled, but noticed how much effort it took to do so.

  “I should be getting home,” Frank said. “I still have my own chores to do before breakfast.” He bolted across the yard, but stopped suddenly and turned back. “Wait until I tell Ma and Pa you’re back! They’ll want to come over again for more dancing.”

  Briggs frowned. He wasn’t looking forward to explaining any of this to Howard and Martha. “Mrs. Brigman isn’t with me, Frank. She stayed in town.”

  Frank scratched his head. “Oh.”

  “You can tell your folks not to worry, though.”

  The boy hesitated, then slowly turned and took off across the barren field.

  An hour later, Briggs sat down at the table and stared at the dirt wall while the wind roared eerily across the endless ocean of prairie. Why did he not feel more relieved? He’d just cut loose a deceptive wife—gotten out of it legally—yet the only thing he could think about was how desperately he wished she was here.