The Substitute Wife (Brides of Little Creede Book 1)

by CiCi Cordelia

  “Is your name Harrison?” the lady repeated, drawing his attention back to her delicately lovely face.

  Harrison nodded briefly. “It is.”

  She expelled a breath and fished in her bag with her free hand, drawing out a slip of badly-wrinkled paper. “This is—I mean, I’m—” She stuttered to a stop, held out the paper with fingers that visibly trembled, and whispered, “I’m Retta. You might not remember—well, I’m Jenny’s sister.” She waved the note.

  With a sudden sense of foreboding, Harrison took it from her.

  Slowly he opened it, while she fidgeted beside him and the toddler she carried yawned and snuggled against her shoulder. Harrison started reading:

  Dearest Harrison, please forgive me—

  His head came up as a horrible, breaking sensation tore through his chest. He didn’t want to read any further.

  He had to.

  Meeting the eyes of Jenny’s sister—who would have been just a tad short of sixteen, last time he saw her—Harrison spotted the glitter of tears on her cheeks before he managed to return his attention to the letter.

  A few minutes later, he crumpled the note in one shaking fist. Unable to spare another glance toward the bearer of the most agonizing news he had ever received, Harrison strode toward a trio of shabby bags piled on the platform, hefting two of them under one arm and grasping the third in his free hand. “These all you’ve got?” he ground out.

  “I don’t think I should—”

  “Are these all you’ve got?” He tried and failed to keep the fury from his voice.

  “Y-Yes,” she stammered, as the child in her arms whimpered.

  Above the roaring in his ears he managed a rasping, “Fine. Follow me.” He stomped off toward his wagon.

  After several moments, he heard the hesitant click of her boots on the wooden platform behind him, the sound of the child’s soft whimpers echoing in the gentle, early evening breeze.

  Chapter 2

  Dying. Grief held him in an iron grip, and Harrison’s heart ached at the thought of the beautiful girl he’d fallen in love with, wasting away over fifteen hundred miles from here. This was not how he’d envisioned the day ending. He flicked the reins to encourage Copper to get moving. Clamping his jaw, Harrison ground his back teeth together, struggling to keep from snarling at the girl, his supposed ‘substitute wife,’ sitting meekly on his right.

  The sound of her timid voice reached his ears, along with the jingling of coins. “Jenny sent along her dowry.” There was a short pause, before she hesitantly continued. “She wanted you to have it, Harrison.”

  He didn’t dare look at her. Not yet. If he did, he might lash out in anger, and she was already frightened enough. She’d put as much distance between them as the wagon’s bench seat allowed, holding her child protectively in her arms. Sucking a thumb, the little girl clutched the front of her mother’s dress. Her big eyes filled with wariness as she stared at Harrison, before she finally gave in to sleep.

  “Keep it,” he gritted out, snapping the reins to get Copper moving faster.

  Goddammit, he’d never harmed a woman or child in his entire life, and he wasn’t about to start now. But how in the hell was he supposed to take this stranger as his wife, when his heart belonged to Jenny?

  Jenny. Images of her lovely face flashed before his eyes, and he inhaled deeply, trying to control his pain and anger at the loss of his dream. Jenny had spoken fondly of her sister in their letters, and he knew all about the drifter who’d passed through their little hometown, seducing Retta and leaving her with child, before riding off again. Considered a soiled dove, she’d become a disgrace in Bolster.

  Now she was his burden. What was Jenny thinking?

  Am I really going to marry her?

  Did he even have a choice? In her letter, Jenny had pleaded with him to wed Retta. She’d called him a good man. An honorable man. A man she could trust to provide for her sister and niece so she could die peacefully, knowing they’d be well cared for. What kind of a man would he be if he threw them onto the streets?

  A real bastard, that’s what. Rounding the bend, Reverend Matias’s church came into view, ending Harrison’s internal conversation. “Let’s just get it done,” he muttered under his breath, tugging on Copper’s reins.

  Hopping to the ground, he finally met Retta’s blue-eyed gaze, reminding him so much of Jenny’s. Which angered him all over again, and for a moment he couldn’t speak as he fought to reel his temper back in. But he was angry with everyone right now.

  Jenny.

  This girl and her child.

  God.

  Even the damned Reverend for what he was about to do, tying him to a woman not of his choosing.

  Squaring his shoulders, Harrison walked to her side of the wagon and lifted his arms. “Give me the girl.” The words came out gruffer than he’d intended.

  Retta lifted her chin in a defiant manner. Her clear blue eyes clouded with suspicion. “Why?”

  He blinked. Her sharp response wasn’t what he’d expected. Retta’s timidity so far hadn’t been very inspiring, but now it was as if he saw her for the first time. The woman staring down at him appeared ready to do battle. Pink stained her pretty cheeks and her lush full lips pursed in annoyance. Long, pale curls escaped from her bonnet, framing a very appealing, sweet face.

  His blood heated.

  And that, too, angered him.

  “We’re getting married.” Harrison didn’t even try to hide his annoyance when he spoke to her. “Now, give me the girl.”

  For a moment, he thought she might refuse, and almost hoped she would, even if that meant letting Jenny down. But then Retta’s shoulders drooped, transforming her into the meek woman he’d met at the coach station. She nodded and handed down her daughter.

  A sliver of guilt tamped his anger to a slow boil as he took the sleeping child and tucked her in the crook of one arm, holding his free hand up to help Retta from the wagon.

  Twenty minutes later, he exited the church a married man. The Reverend hadn’t blinked an eye when Harrison showed up with a stranger to marry, though he must have wondered. But he didn’t so much as ask whose child Harrison held throughout the ceremony, while a tearful bride spoke her vows.

  ~ ~ ~

  What have I done? Retta couldn’t quite believe she’d wed the grim man at her side. He’d barely spoken a word to her since she’d arrived on the stagecoach. And when he did, he seemed furious. During the short ceremony, hard steel threaded his vows. It’d taken every ounce of strength in her not to snatch Adeline from his arms and run out of the church.

  “Mama,” Addie said sleepily, snuggling into her arms, “thiwsty.”

  Retta pressed a kiss to her little girl’s forehead, then gathered much-needed courage, addressing the man she’d married only minutes earlier. “May I have some water?”

  Her breath froze in her lungs when she met his icy gray eyes. A scowl darkened his face. “There’s a canteen tucked under your seat,” he growled.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, hating the insipid sound of her own voice. She’d spent years being ridiculed by the ‘good’ townsfolk of Bolster. Abused by her father, too. Yet she’d managed to hang on to her pride, keeping her head high and her eyes level with every scornful stare she’d met.

  What was it about this man that intimidated her so?

  Breaking contact with his piercing stare, she placed Addie onto the wide spot between them, then reached under the wooden bench to locate the canteen. After quenching her thirst, her daughter snuggled back down in her arms and fell asleep.

  Retta tenderly brushed the curls from Addie’s face. Poor darling. She hadn’t yet napped this afternoon. Overwhelmed with love for her babe, she pressed a kiss to her chubby little cheek.

  When Harrison spo
ke again, the deep resonance of his voice sent a tiny shiver through her. Wondering what her wedding night would bring, her thoughts flashed back to her experience with Addie’s father, Cal. Unpleasant memories, not something she was eager to repeat.

  Will I have a choice?

  “Retta, are you listening?” Harrison’s exasperated tone snapped her mind from thoughts of the past.

  She met his eyes over the top of her daughter’s sleeping head, hugging her tighter as though that’d save her from her husband’s temper. It hadn’t worked against Papa and she doubted it’d work against this man either, who appeared upset with her. The question was, how bad would it be?

  As long as he doesn’t touch my baby, I can survive anything.

  He scraped back thick, brown hair with a broad, long-fingered hand and demanded, “Tell me about Jenny.”

  Retta found it impossible to look away from his commanding stare. She wet her dry lips before saying, “Everything should have been in the letter.”

  Harrison’s eyes lowered to her mouth. His jaw flexed before he slapped the reins to get the horse moving faster. “Humor me.”

  With a deep breath to settle her nerves, Retta spent the next hour, the length of time it took to reach his ranch, to talk about her sister. The happiness they’d shared growing up, the sorrow of their mother’s death, and their father’s downward spiral into a bottle. Jenny’s sickness that’d come upon her so viciously. Everything, all the way up to Retta’s departure at the train station. The only thing she didn’t discuss was her father’s escalating need to ‘beat the sin’ out of her, and her disastrous liaison with Cal.

  Retta’s voice cut off when she caught sight of Harrison’s home, tucked at the foothills of a low mountain range. A medium-sized ranch nestled in a cluster of trees, with a wide, shaded porch facing the magnificent view. Jenny had said Harrison was successful in the silver mines, but this was more than she’d envisioned.

  The buckboard rolled to a stop before a long iron gate, and without saying a word, Harrison hopped down to open it, then pulled the wagon through, closing the gate behind them. It was getting late and the setting sun graced the area in soft shadows of reds and golds, giving the home a calming, picturesque quality. In contrast, a cloud of tension hung in the air, growing thicker and darker with each passing minute.

  Retta nervously licked her lips again, uneasiness churning harder in her stomach. Shivers snaked up her spine. What would this man expect of her tonight? Their wedding night. You can do this, Retta, she assured herself, just close your eyes and think of something else.

  Harrison took Addie from her before helping her down. The jostling movement woke her daughter, and a few drowsy moments passed before she realized she wasn’t being held by her mama any longer. With a wail, her lower lip trembling, she held out her hands as fat tears fell from her big brown eyes, so identical to Cal’s.

  Frowning fiercely, Harrison eased Addie back into Retta’s arms. Collecting her bags from the bed of the wagon, he strode up the steps and deposited them on the wide-planked porch before unlatching the sturdy split-door and flinging both open.

  Rooted to the spot, Retta told her feet to get moving, but they weren’t listening. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t force herself to enter his home, and into a life she didn’t choose. A life with this implacable stranger. All the things Jenny told her about him had been wrong. He was neither kind nor gentle. Whoever he’d been years ago, he wasn’t that same man today.

  Too late. There’d be no going back for her now. That’d ended when she’d allowed Cal to doggedly coax her into submission under the stars on a hot summer night.

  Harrison pinned her with stony eyes, brows drawn down. “Coming?”

  Retta gulped, but slowly stepped onto the porch like a prisoner on her way to the gallows, which was exactly how she felt. By the time she approached the threshold of the narrow but functional foyer, anger seemed to ooze from him.

  Silently he scooped up her bags. “This way.”

  Trying to ignore her rising anxiety as he led her into the house, Retta took in the spacious parlor. Harrison lit one of the wall lamps, filling the dim interior with the faint smell of kerosene and a soft golden glow. Although lacking any sort of feminine touches, the room appeared comfortable. A stone fireplace covered part of one wall. A tufted sofa and matching chair took up space across from a lovely formal dining set, framed by a huge picture window, perfectly smooth without a single ripple. She couldn’t conceive the cost of glass for such a window. Many of the fancier houses in Bolster couldn’t boast an extravagance like this.

  Harrison strode from the room and she followed, more intimidated than ever. He brought her to a long, wide kitchen, taking a moment to light another sconce. Floor-to-ceiling shelves on one side of the sink area held an assortment of pottery and dishes. A simple block table and four chairs filled the middle of the room. On the other side, a thick wooden slab with a satiny finish provided a functional place to knead bread. Shiny copper pots and pans hung from a rack near the cast-iron cooking stove, which looked new and unused.

  Her gaze lingered on its fancy scrollwork. Cooking on such a luxury would be a true joy, and for the first time since she’d boarded the train in Chicago, Retta felt a rush of anticipation. She loved to bake.

  One corner held wooden barrels, and a narrow door against the far wall had been left ajar, cracked open a good six inches. She stared curiously, and ventured, “Root cellar?”

  “Yes. Could be bigger, deeper. More shelves, too. But it’s enough for now.” He eyed Addie, snoring softly on her shoulder. “I suppose the girl still nurses?”

  Retta felt her cheeks heat at the very private question. “N-No, Adeline can drink milk from a cup.”

  Her new husband grunted. “Might consider an ice box, then. I’ll order one from Silver Cache.”

  “Where would you get ice?”

  “Got access to plenty of ice up there.” Harrison jerked his chin toward the window and the mountain range beyond. Along the higher elevation, she spotted snow. Mesmerized by the sight, she perused the craggy dips and soaring summits.

  Then she started when Harrison advanced toward her, his eyes on Addie.

  Retta stiffened. As exhausted as she was, if he tried to harm her girl in any way, she’d fight him.

  A gruff chuckle near her ear indicated he’d reached her. “Relax, Retta. I don’t bite.”

  He smelled of leather and dark spice. Such a combination under different circumstances would have appealed to her. Right now, she just wanted it, and him, to go away.

  His broad chest brushed her shoulder when he continued past her, carrying her bags down a short hallway and disappearing through a door. Her heart raced as apprehension filled her, wondering if the room was for her and Adeline, or her and Harrison.

  Of course it’s for me to share with Harrison. I’m his wife now.

  A heartbeat later, he returned, a determined expression on his face. Stopping in front of her, far too close, he peered down at her with unreadable eyes. “It’s getting late. Put the child down for the night. Use the room across from ours, on the left. Then go to bed, you’ve had a long trip.”

  Across from ours . . .

  That answered her question about the sleeping arrangements. She ran her tongue across her teeth, searching for some moisture so she could speak. “Maybe I should stay with Adeline tonight. She might wake up frightened, being in a strange place.”

  Harrison’s face hardened. “No. You’re my wife, your place is with me.” He indicated a back door at the end of the hallway. “I’m going to tend to my horse. When I return, I’ll expect to find you in my bed.”

  With that, he strode away without a backward glance and slammed out the door.

  Retta sucked in a deep breath, her legs shaking beneath her as the finality of her situation crashe
d down on her.

  Oh, Lord. What have I gotten myself into?

  ~ ~ ~

  Pausing outside the back porch, Harrison stomped the excess dirt from his boots. He’d remained in the barn far longer than intended, brushing Copper until he gleamed, then lingering while the feisty mustang chomped oats and hay. Scraping out hard-packed muck from Copper’s hooves, digging stones from the wagon wheels . . . it all took time.

  Stop stalling. He had a wife waiting for him inside. Not the one he’d expected, but she was his nevertheless. He had to deal with her sooner or later. Later, preferably.

  With a self-deprecating snort, he entered the hallway leading to the kitchen. Prying off his boots, he dropped them next to the stove; first one, then the other, each dull thud on the floor echoing his bleak mood.

  What now? The woman was afraid of him, not that he blamed her. He hadn’t exactly been welcoming toward her or the girl.

  The girl. The child had a name. Adeline.

  He scrubbed a hand through his hair and blew out an impatient breath.

  Not only was he wed to a woman he didn’t love, he was an instant father. To a dainty little female, no less. Hell, if he were a bettin’ man, the money would have been on his brother ending up in a shotgun marriage. Frank was as wild as Harrison was steady.

  And there’d be no living with the ornery cuss when he found out.

  Enough moonlight filtered through the window that Harrison didn’t bother with a lamp as he headed for the sink. A few hard jerks on the pump filled the tin washbowl halfway to the rim, enough to scrub his hands and soak his head. Straightening, he tossed back his damp strands, sending drops flying. Harrison sluiced the excess off the back of his neck, the cool water soothing some of his tension.