Eden Creek
Page 1
Eden Creek
Lisa Bingham
Copyright
Diversion Books
A Division of Diversion Publishing Corp.
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 1004
New York, NY 10016
www.DiversionBooks.com
Copyright © 1991 by Lisa Bingham
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For more information, email info@diversionbooks.com
First Diversion Books edition January 2014
ISBN: 978-1-62681-199-7
More from Lisa Bingham
Temptation’s Kiss
Silken Promises
Silken Dreams
The Bengal Rubies
Distant Thunder
Dedicated to Lyn, Danice, Sharilyn, and Karen for putting up with jet lag and writer’s block. And to Shirlene, who never ceases to be there when I need someone sane.
Prologue
Plymouth, Missouri
February 26, 1870
Throwing a final nervous glance over her shoulder, Ginny Parker dodged from the boardwalk into the dim vestibule of the Tower Hotel. With each step she took, her excitement grew. It had been weeks since she and Billy had been together. Lately he’d become so involved with business, he hadn’t had time to see her.
Ginny meant to make time.
She hurried up the staircase and tiptoed down the familiar hallway, shifting the picnic hamper she held. Inside the container she’d packed slices of ham, potatoes, and fresh-baked bread. Billy’s favorites.
She hoped he would be surprised. How many hours had she spent dreaming of this moment? A dozen? A hundred? Whenever she’d grown lonely, she’d envisioned the way Billy would greet her after such a long absence. The weariness left by his work would fade, and he would open his arms to hold her.
Today she needed his affection more than ever. She’d spent the morning enduring one of her father’s icy silences, and as the endless minutes passed she craved Billy’s kindness and flattery even more. When he showered her with attention, she felt needed. Loved.
Pausing at the last room at the end of the corridor, Ginny placed the heavy basket on the floor. She gave the chestnut hair coiled beneath the edge of her bonnet a final pat, then smoothed the basque jacket over the curves of her bosom.
A flush bloomed in her cheeks. Billy had touched her there the last time they’d seen each other. Just before he’d slipped his hand beneath her skirts.
At first she’d balked at the scandalous caress. But Billy had assured her that a love like theirs needed fulfillment.
So why had she felt bruised and hollow when it was over?
The thought raced through Ginny’s head with the strength of a thunderbolt, but she banished the traitorous voice to the furthest reaches of her consciousness. She loved Billy. He loved her. It would simply take a little while for her to grow comfortable with his embraces. Soon she would enjoy his marital rights as much as she delighted in his smile. After all, they were to be married within the month. Billy had promised.
Eager to see him, Ginny took a key from the pocket hidden in the folds of her skirt. Billy had given her the key some time ago. Now, wanting to surprise him—her beloved—she released the lock, then turned the crystal knob. The door eased open without a creak.
“Billy, love.”
The audible groan came from the bed in the center of the room.
“Bil-ly.”
As if she were a spectator to some horrible drama, Ginny’s eyes were drawn to the figures entwined upon the ticking. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think.
A coldness seeped into her limbs, but she was unable to tear her gaze from the sheen of sweat on Billy’s shoulders.
The flush of exertion on his face.
The feminine legs wrapped tightly about his hips.
A wave of sickness rose in her stomach. How could she have been so stupid? Ginny reached out to pull the portal closed, moving so silently that the couple on the bed never knew she’d been there. Then, grabbing hold of the hamper, she ran from the hotel.
It wasn’t until she’d reached the sanctuary of her own room that she felt the sharp sting of betrayal.
And the shame.
The picnic basket dropped from her numb fingers. Choked sobs tumbled free as she fought with the fastenings of her jacket, then her blouse and skirt. Only after she had stripped to her underwear and rubbed herself raw with a wet facecloth and a bar of perfumed soap did she realize what she was doing.
Looking up, she found her own haunted expression looking back at her from the depths of the mirror. The weight of her actions came rushing forward. It would only be a matter of time before everyone knew that Billy Wicks had betrayed her. She would become the laughing-stock of Plymouth. An outcast.
What was she going to do?
Chapter 1
Utah Territory
March 15, 1870
This couldn’t be Ogden.
Could it?
Squinting gray-blue eyes against the drizzling rain, Ginny Parker stepped from the protection of the crowded railway station, pulled the rich woolen fabric of her cape more firmly around her shoulders, and began to search for some tiny speck of beauty that could justify the glowing report she’d been given about this bustling territorial town. A sense of unease trickled down her spine. Ruby Ghant had told her Ogden was a grand and glorious city with wide, brick-edged lanes, gas street lamps, and stately buildings. But this place was nothing at all like that description.
Clouds hung over the Wasatch Valley, causing the railroad town to huddle in chill early shadows. Buildings that had been new only months before squatted in the mud like old women too settled in their ways to worry about appearances. Even the air was thick and heavy, laden with the odors of woodsmoke and manure.
“Come along, Ginny.”
Ginny regarded her traveling companion in disbelief. “Mrs. Ghant, there’s been a mistake. This can’t be Ogden.”
“Watch your step. I don’t want you falling in all this mud. In all your born days, have you ever seen so much?”
“But Mrs. Ghant!” Her protests sailed over the older woman’s head as if they hadn’t been uttered.
Ruby seemed prepared to leave her if she didn’t follow, so Ginny held her tongue and gathered up her skirts. Juggling a hatbox and two carpetbags, she trailed her chaperon’s portly frame from the station and down the stairs to the boardwalk.
Blinking against the raindrops, she darted quick glances at the weathered storefronts jumbled together like children’s building blocks on either side of the street. Ginny had formed such grand expectations. She’d imagined a quaint Western town with new shops still gleaming with their first coat of paint. She hadn’t envisioned anything like this.
Huge drops of rain splattered against the rough planks, collecting in pools that were already thick with grime. The hem of Ginny’s indigo skirt soon became coated with mud, making her wonder why she’d spent the last two hours of travel worrying about her appearance.
The jostling of Ruby Ghant’s bustle informed Ginny as effectively as words that the older woman was eager to see Ginny married to Orrin Ghant, Ruby’s nephew.
Ginny’s stomach suddenly filled with a whirl of butterflies. She shouldn’t have come. She shouldn’t have let Mama talk her into this harebrained scheme. After all, what did Ginny know about housekeeping, or marriage? Or men—sweet heaven, she didn’t know anything about men!
But she couldn’t go back.
Ginny tried to smile as if it were no concern to her that her future husband hadn’t bothered to meet them at the train. Hadn’t bothered to leave a message. Hadn’t bothered to consider that his new bride-to-be would be apprehensive about their first meeting. She was beginning to wonder if the man were stupid or if he just didn’t care enough to make her feel welcome.
Why hadn’t she insisted that she needed some time to decide whether or not to agree to this marriage? Perhaps then she could have obtained references, exchanged letters—or at least seen a picture!
But there hadn’t been time.
The walkway gave way to bare, muddy ground. Grimacing, Ginny tried to carry her bags while keeping her skirts free from the puddles. Ruby led her down the line of boxcars and cattle cars, then through the traffic of wagons and animals that was being directed toward the trains. With all the hustle and commotion Ginny could only hope Ruby had some idea of where to find her nephew. Otherwise they could spend most of the afternoon searching the freightyard.
Without warning Ruby Ghant sniffed in satisfaction, spun on her heel, and walked toward a trio of men slinging crates onto a slat-board wagon.
Ginny’s arms trembled, though not from the weight of her bags. Judging from the determined angle of Ruby’s double chins, the woman had just caught sight of her nephew. And Ginny’s husband-to-be.
Unconsciously, Ginny began to pray: Please, please don’t let him be old, or unforgiving, or lame.
But what other kind of man would have his aunt arrange his marriage this way?
The nervous churning in Ginny’s stomach increased until she thought she would be ill. She shouldn’t have given in to the urge to lace her corset so tightly, but she’d wanted to look her best when she met her future spouse. Now the rigid boning of her stays pressed so firmly against her torso, she feared she would lose the sandwich Ruby had given her for lunch. Or worse yet, that she would faint.
Eyeing the puddles at her feet, Ginny tried to remain calm. She absolutely refused to fall facedown into the mire. Not with her prospective husband watching her.
Peering beneath the brim of her bonnet, she studied the men on the wagon. Though Ginny and Ruby had been traveling together for nearly a week, Ruby had told her very little about Orrin Ghant. According to Ruby, he was a sturdy, upstanding citizen. But that gave her little help in guessing which man he could be.
Of the three males working near the wagon, one was short and stout, nearly twice the size of Ruby herself; one was tall and lean, but missing most of the teeth in his mouth; and the last…
The last was so coated with mud and manure, his hair lank and dripping, his jaw covered with the scraggly beginnings of a beard, that he could have been the devil incarnate and no one would ever have known.
Ruby snorted. “Orrin! Orrin Ghant, you get down here this minute.”
Ginny watched the three men to see which one responded to Ruby’s command, but Ruby’s shrill voice had startled the lot of them, and they all turned at once.
At her second real look at the candidates Ginny wanted to drop her bags, sit in the mud, and cry like a child. But she didn’t; she wouldn’t. She kept reminding herself that Ginny Parker was made of sterner stuff than that.
Wasn’t she?
None of the men proved a welcoming prospect. Ginny cringed when Ruby made a beeline for the huge gentleman by the back wheel. No doubt corpulence ran in the family, and—sweet heaven!—she was about to wed someone three times her own size. One who couldn’t be a day under forty-five. She was about to marry a fat old man who would chew tobacco and spit on the floor.
“Orrin! What’s the meaning of leaving me high and dry at the station—with your new bride arriving and all?”
The huge man spat onto the ground and guffawed, revealing blackened teeth. “Bride?” he chortled, then he nudged the dirty figure on top of the wagon. “What’s this talk of a bride, Orrin?”
Orrin?
The filthy character dragged his hat free, using his arm to swipe at the rain that drizzled into his eyes.
“Hello, Aunt Ruby,” he drawled, his teeth flashing white against his grimy skin when he grinned.
“Orrin Ghant—why, I declare your mother must be spinning in her grave right now, absolutely spinning! And don’t you glare at me like that—I’ve got no disrespect for the dead. But I sent you a telegram days ago specifically telling you to meet us at the station at one o’clock so the ceremony could begin at one-thirty and I could head back to Plymouth at two. I told you to bring a pretty bouquet of flowers, a ring, and the proper papers. Yet, here I find you standing in the middle of a wagon full of crates!”
“You said you’d be arriving on the fifteenth.”
Ginny straightened when the dirty man—apparently the true Orrin Ghant—jumped from the wagon and landed ankle-deep in mud, splashing mire all over the front of Ruby’s skirt.
“Look what you’ve done to my suit!” Without taking a breath, Ruby lifted a finger to stab Orrin in the chest “And this is the fifteenth.” Her chins quivered in disapproval. “No wonder you’re in need of a woman to care for you. You’re lucky you haven’t stepped into the snow wearing nothing but your long Johns. Because if you had, you would have slipped on a piece of ice and died for all the smarts you’ve got taking care of yourself. And those children—I’m surprised they aren’t dead, just like their mama.”
A sudden pall of silence descended over them all. Orrin’s companions ducked away, intent upon the excuse of finding more crates to load onto the wagon. Even Ruby realized she’d gone too far, because her mouth gaped, devoid of sound, while her nephew stared at her with eyes that had grown cold and hard. One of his hands clenched into a fist as if in an attempt for control, but when he spoke Orrin’s voice betrayed none of his apparent anger.
“Is this the girl?”
Ginny found herself the object of his attention.
“Yes. Yes, that’s the girl.”
Ginny stood stiffly as Orrin and his aunt scrutinized every inch of her body with the same attention they might have given a mare they were purchasing. She became overly conscious of the way her hair peeked from beneath her bonnet like a tangled haystack, and the way her travel-stained clothing hung limply over the supports of her gown.
“She seems strong enough,” Orrin finally stated.
“She’s from a good family. I told you that in my letters.”
Orrin moved forward and, after gesturing for Ginny to remain still, began to walk a circle around her. Ginny would have uttered a pithy remark, but the two of them continued speaking as if her opinion was of little consequence.
“Her eyes are blue, though. Just like you said.”
“She’s a good worker, too. She’ll be a big help to you on the farm.”
The whole conversation was galling! Ginny wanted to inform him that she was not a slave on the block, but she knew that if she opened her mouth, she would explode in indignation.
This wasn’t at all how she’d envisioned her first meeting with Orrin Ghant—he wasn’t at all how she’d imagined him. She’d thought he would be an older man—a shy, mouselike farmer. She certainly hadn’t considered that she would marry someone like this. A man who was tall and lean and powerful. Square-jawed. Determined.
“I guess you’d like to settle into a hotel room and clean up a bit. No doubt you’re tired.”
Finally he was speaking to her as if she existed. Ginny opened her mouth to respond, then realized he’d been talking to Ruby. How dare he? she thought. How dare he?
But the anger drained away beneath a wave of despondency. What had she expected? Flowers? Poetry?
Not from a man who’d sent back East for a brid
e.
“Don’t you listen?” Ruby burst out, her earlier blunder forgotten. “You two need to be married before my train leaves. I can’t let her stay here without the benefit of clergy. Not when I promised her mother I’d see her soundly wed before I came home. We’ve got to get that taken care of right away. I’m scheduled to leave this godforsaken country of mud and manure in less than an hour. Did you make the arrangements like I asked you to?”
“Yes, I made an appointment.”
“And did you take care of the papers?”
“Yes.”
“And buy a ring?”
“Yes.”
“And a proper bouquet?”
Orrin settled his hat onto his head once again. “No,” he retorted firmly, his lips thinning in apparent irritation at his aunt’s hounding. “I told you. I thought you were coming tomorrow.”
Ruby spun on her heel and marched back the way they had come. “Well, tomorrow is here today, so you’d best get us to the justice of the peace on time.”
She strode toward the sidewalk, leaving Ginny and Orrin alone. His gaze passed over her frame as if he hadn’t believed what his eyes had told him the first time.
Before she could break from the nervousness that held her in a tongue-tied grip Orrin offered her a smile and pointed to her bags. “Those your things?”
“Y-yes. They’re mine.”
“Might as well load ’em up now. We’ll be leaving for Eden Creek as soon as the wagon’s packed.”
“So soon?” The minute the words were out Ginny wished she could retract them, but Orrin had already reached for her bags and turned away.
When she remembered she’d need the hatbox for the wedding ceremony Ginny hurried to stop him. “Oh, wait! I need the box.”
Judging by the look on his face, Orrin thought she’d lost her mind for wanting to carry the sodden container back into town, but he waited until she’d taken it from beneath his arm before he tossed the other two bags onto the wagon. They landed with a dull plop on the back of the pile of crates.
Ginny winced at the careless treatment of her baggage, but didn’t speak. To her, the two satchels were a sad reminder that she would never be going home to Plymouth, Missouri.