“Thank you for showing me around. I think I’ll head in and fix dinner now.”
“That’s fine. I have a couple of chores to finish, and then I’ll be right in.”
As Brooke gathered dinner ingredients she couldn’t seem to keep her mind off the double bed in the corner. He had said he wouldn’t touch her, but there was only one bed. Fear crept back into her soul. He had been kind and courteous all the time she’d known him, but experience had taught her that men were explosive, choosing to do whatever they wanted, often on the spur of the moment’s whim.
Nervousness made her fidgety, and she jumped when the door clicked open. If Sky noticed, he did not let on but went straight to the wash basin and cleaned up as she placed dinner on the table. Thankfully Darcy, Uncle Jackson’s cook, had taught her to prepare several different dishes. Tonight she had relied on an easy favorite—beef stew with potatoes and carrots. Hot biscuits with butter and honey also graced the table.
“Do…do you prefer coffee with dinner or m-milk or...water?” Brooke stammered.
He dried his hands on the towel, watching her as though he knew something was bothering her. “Coffee is fine.” He nodded at the pot and took his chair, his back to the main part of the room.
She moved to the stove, picked up the coffee pot, and let out a yelp of pain. Reflexively, she let go of the searing handle, spilling the contents all over the stove and floor.
Sky was at her side in an instant. “Here, let me see that.”
He took her hand into his, examining her palm and adding to the turmoil already churning in her heart. Her pulse began to race at the tender touch of his hand. Averting her eyes from his expression of concern, she focused on the droplets of coffee that sizzled and danced across the stovetop, sending steam wafting through the air. On the stone firebreak. On the patchwork quilt covering the bed. On anything to get her mind off the way his touch curled her stomach and increased her breathing. A floorboard creaked under their feet, and somewhere outside an owl sent a lonely call into the night.
Only a split second had passed, but she couldn’t stand his closeness any longer. Snatching her hand away, she rubbed it down the side of her skirt. “I’m okay, really. I’ll clean up this mess,” she gestured to the spilled coffee, “and put on another pot. You go ahead and eat while the food is hot.”
He shook his head, leading her to her chair and gently pushing her into it. “Don’t move,” he commanded as he headed out the door. “I’m going to get a bucket of cold water.”
Brooke felt a surge of irritation. Who is he to tell me what to do? She got up the instant he was out of sight and, crossing the few steps to the stove, began to clean up the mess. Mopping up the coffee, she wrung it out into a bowl, her burnt hand stinging unmercifully every time the warm coffee soaked through the towel and touched the seared flesh. But she kept on, willing herself to forget the sensations his touch had sent coursing through her.
Only when she heard Sky come back in the door did she pause to consider what her impetuous actions might cost her. She had just cleaned up the last of the mess and was down on her hands and knees wiping up the floor when Sky spoke from behind her.
“I told you not to move.”
She tensed, half expecting a blow, but then realized that his voice had been gentle.
He took her elbow to lead her back to her chair.
Embarrassment at her own carelessness and anger with herself for allowing the feelings this man evoked sparked her temper. She jerked her elbow from his grasp. “Someone had to clean this up—” she gestured emphatically to the stove and floor, “—before it soaked into everything and made stains that wouldn’t come out!”
When the surprise on his face registered, she felt chagrined. She walked back to her seat and sat down.
Coming over beside her, he set a small bucket on the table. She obediently put her stinging hand in the cool water, watching as he set about making a second pot of coffee. When he sat back down, she said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
A twinkle lit his eyes. “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Jordan. I’m sure there will be plenty of times in the future when I will need to be put in my place. That temper of yours might come in handy.”
Plenty of times in the future? Suddenly the morrow seemed to stretch out for eternity. Could she live with this emotional stress for the rest of her life?
He ladled stew into both of their bowls and they ate in silence, the only sounds in the room the metallic tink of silverware on tin bowls and the perking of the coffee. When she finished eating she removed her burnt hand from the water, finding that it felt much better.
Still, the closer it got to the time to turn in for the night the more nervous she became. She was attracted to this man like she’d been to Hank at first, and the thought that he might turn out to be like Hank scared her more than she would admit, even to herself.
As she washed dishes at the sideboard, Sky read an old paper in the cane chair by the door. But when she dropped the second dish with a metallic clatter, she heard him get up, his stealthy footsteps coming nearer. He spoke from directly behind her. “Brooke?”
She stilled, not daring to look at him.
“Brooke, look at me please.”
Slowly she turned and fixed her eyes on his intense face, her wet, soapy hands held over the wash basin.
He stood casually with his hands behind his back. “Do I look like a liar to you?”
She was caught off guard by the question and could only shake her head.
“I made you a promise. Last night and again this morning. I always keep my promises, Brooke. You have nothing to fear from me.” He slid one hand over his head, his eyes intent on hers. “I have made myself a bed in the barn. I hope you will be comfortable in here. Feel free to look around if you need anything. If it’s here, you are welcome to use it.”
With that he bade her good night and, picking up his bag by the door, went out into the night.
Brooke finished the dishes and crossed to the bed, tears of thankfulness coursing down her cheeks. I don’t deserve a man like this. Are there really men in the world who are the same in the privacy of their homes as they appear to be in public? Maybe it has something to do with his religion?
She quickly dismissed this idea. Uncle Jackson had been faithful to attend church every Sunday. Wasn’t it at a church social that she had met Hank? And once her inebriated father had beaten her when he found out she’d forgotten to say her prayers before bed. With a sigh, she blew out the lamp and dressed for bed. Sleep didn’t come for quite some time as she pondered the mysterious man she had married.
5
At dawn the next morning the crowing of the rooster penetrated her consciousness. Brooke rolled over with a groan, not yet ready to wake up. But the memory of how late she had slept the day before propelled her out of bed.
She had the bed made and was in the middle of making coffee when she heard men’s voices outside. She recognized Sky’s voice, but the other was unfamiliar. She went to the front window and peered out into the yard. Sky stood talking with a huge burly man. Greasy blond curls hung limply about the man’s head and a sweat-stained red shirt stretched across his broad chest.
She saw Sky turn, heading for the house, and went back to preparing the coffee pot. When the door opened, she turned with a questioning smile. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he returned, a strange light in his eye. “We have company.”
“Yes, I saw. Should I set an extra place at the table?”
He ignored her question. “He is my cousin. His name is Jason.” Giving the name time to sink in, he finished, “Jason Jordan.”
Her hands stilled, and she turned to him. “Jason Jordan? The Jason Jordan? The one I was to marry?”
He nodded, his eyes intense.
“So? What? Is he angry? If we have him in for breakfast, is he going to pull a gun and shoot us both?” She tried to inject a light tone, but nervousness tinged her words.
“Why?” she voiced incredulously. “What do you mean by that?”
He shrugged. “You’re very beautiful. It won’t prove to be a very pleasant meal, I’m afraid.”
She gave an unladylike snort, but a tingle of pleasure traversed her spine. He thinks I’m beautiful? Without a word she crossed to the table and set three plates on it. But as he headed for the door, she stopped him. “Sky?”
He turned.
“How is it that I came to marry you instead of him?”
His eyes softened. “God’s intervention.”
Brooke decided that if Sky could eat as much as she had seen him eat yesterday, his beefy cousin could probably eat twice as much. She warmed up the biscuits, left over from the night before, and set them out with some strawberry preserves from the cellar. A plate heaped with scrambled eggs steamed in the middle of the table, and cool milk sat at each place. Sky and Jason entered minutes later, as she was giving the last stir to a large pot of oatmeal.
Although she didn’t understand the whole situation, Jason was, after all, Sky’s cousin and therefore family. She didn’t want him to feel that he was not welcome in their home, so she smiled what she hoped would be a warm welcome, extending her hand. “Hello. Sky tells me you are his cousin, Jason. I am pleased to meet you.”
A light of approval gleamed in Sky’s brown eyes before he seated himself at the table.
Jason nodded, his gaze raking over her form. He shook her hand and leered. “So, did Sky also tell you how he swindled me? Convinced me to sell you to him so he could have a pretty little wife around the place seeing to his needs?”
She blanched, cleared her throat, and had to forcefully pull her hand from his grasp. She didn’t know what to do now. Jason’s expression was scathing. Brooke knew in an instant that this was the type of man she understood.
Sky saved her. “Jason, have a seat.” His tone held an edge of steel. Jason reluctantly sat down at the table.
Then Jason’s words registered in Brooke’s mind. Sky bought me? Disappointment coursed through her. Sky had been so kind to her that she had not considered the fact that he had purchased her. Of course he had. She was a mail-order bride—someone a man bought because he needed a woman around the place to help with the work, and because they wanted a physical companion by their side. She had been so hopeful at Sky’s kind treatment, so surprised, that she had neglected to remember the circumstances that led her to this situation.
A spark had begun to burn in her heart. A spark of hope that one day Sky might become attracted to her, maybe even fall in love with her.
But with Jason’s cruel words, reality crashed in like a flood, extinguishing the spark before it could grow to a flame. Sky would never love her! She was a mail-order bride. Purchased for convenience…not for love. Brooke walked rigidly to the stove, picking up the coffee pot with the pot holder. She poured first Sky’s cup, then Jason’s, then sat in the cane chair Sky had pulled over to the table. It’s not going to kill you, Brooke. No one but Mama and Sis have ever loved you before. Why should things change now?
She was surprised beyond words when Jason bowed his head for the prayer without so much as a thought. When grace had been said, she looked up to find Jason’s angry eyes fastened on Sky. With a measured look, Sky returned the stare, only his face showed no emotion.
Brooke rubbed her palms together in front of her, hoping they were not going to break out into a fist fight over the breakfast table. “Do you want some cream for your coffee, Mr. Jordan?” she addressed Jason.
Instead of answering her, Jason sneered at Sky. “Got yourself a real polite one, didn’t you? Does she do everything as well as she welcomes guests to your home?” He gave a meaningful look to the bed in the corner.
Brooke looked down into her lap, mortified.
“Brooke.” Sky spoke to her quietly, but his snapping eyes never left Jason’s face. “Did you gather the eggs yet this morning?”
She took the hint. He knew she hadn’t even been outside yet today. “No, I’ll go and do that right now.” She rose and fled the house to the relative safety of the barnyard.
As soon as Brooke left the house, Sky stood. Walking deliberately around the table, he grabbed Jason by the collar of his dirty shirt and jerked him to his feet, propelling him toward the door. His tone deadly calm, he said, “Get out of my house and don’t come back until you can show some respect for my wife.”
Jason was already sorry, but he didn’t let it show. Reaching up, he knocked Sky’s hands from the front of his shirt with a slap. He had always been the bigger of the two, but Sky was invariably quicker. He debated taking a swing at Sky but decided against it. He knew he’d acted childishly; still, it galled him that Sky always seemed to make the right decisions when he chose to make the wrong ones.
He wanted to fight in the worst way; wanted to be right. But he knew he was wrong. He had been rude to a woman he didn’t even know because he was jealous of his cousin and didn’t have enough self-control to check his emotions.
As he glared into Sky’s eyes, his thoughts turned to his grandmother Jordan, but he carefully kept any emotion hidden.
Gram had loved him like her own son as he grew.
His parents had been some of the first settlers when gold was discovered in Pierce City back in the 1860s. His father’s luck had come to the fore, and he hit it rich. But he had a consuming gambling addiction. He had gotten into a fight in a saloon one night when Jason was only five. He was beaten to death.
Jason’s mother had kept only sporadic contact with her late husband’s family, but he could remember that a letter arrived faithfully every week from Grandma Jordan.
His earliest memories were anything but happy. His mother, in her grief, had begun to smoke opium to “calm her nerves,” she had said. Lee Chang had been happy to supply her with the vile drug, but he required cash. So she had turned to a life of prostitution to support her growing habit. Jason could remember more than one occasion when he and his sister, Marquis, had been forced to hide under the bed while his mother entertained a customer.
Two weeks before his eighth birthday his mother had overdosed, and Jason had been the one to find her. He and Marquis had been sent to live with Grandma Jordan, and she had raised them as her own.
Sky and his family lived near her, and every Sunday after church everyone gathered at Gram’s house for lunch. Gram invested every minute she had teaching her grandchildren about Jesus and His love, often making them sit at her kitchen table to memorize Scriptures. She had shed many tears over Jason in his lifetime, and he knew she’d have shed more today if she had seen how he’d treated Brooke.
He was ashamed of himself but refused to admit it.
He and Sky were still glaring at one another. Jason dropped his gaze and turned on his heel without saying a word. He stalked across the yard to his horse waiting at the hitching post by the barn, mounted, and spurred the animal away from the house, trying to run from his conscience.
Once out of sight of the house he slowed his horse to a walk. What did I hope to gain by going there today? He had wanted to thank Sky for letting him read Gram’s letters. He had wanted to ask Sky to pray for him. He wanted to change. However, when he had walked into the house and seen the beautiful woman who might have been his, jealousy had overcome him. Why was it that no matter what Sky did, he always seemed to come out on top? His jealousy had turned to bitterness. Bitterness came easily these days.
He reined his horse to a stop. Sliding to the ground, he rubbed the back of his neck, staring up at the covering canopy of evergreen needles above him. He was chagrined to feel tears pricking the back of his eyes. He blinked hard. “How did I come to be here, Lord?” The words surprised him—he couldn’t remember the last time he had prayed.
As soon as Jason galloped out of the yard, Sky went looking for Brooke. He found her standing
on an overturned bucket gathering eggs from the chicken coop. “Here, let me do that.” He tried to take the bowl in her hands from her. “I didn’t really mean for you to come gather the eggs. I was just giving you a reason to leave the house.”
She did not relinquish the bucket but kept on gathering eggs, her face set in stone.
Thinking her silence was due to Jason’s earlier behavior, he said, “Jason is gone. I told him not to come back until he could be polite.”
“You think that’s what this is about?” she snapped, turning blazing eyes on him.
He couldn’t have been more surprised if she had thrown the bowl of eggs at him. She’s mad at me? He was bewildered. “What is it about?”
“You bought me, didn’t you? And for what? So you could have someone around the place to do your cooking and the chores and—” She rolled her hand through the air, her cheeks flaming in embarrassment at the next thought that apparently swept through her mind. She stuttered for a moment before she finally said, “Well, cooking and chores I can do! So here I am!” She turned back to searching for eggs.
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Oh really? What was it like, then?”
He stared at the barn wall, unwilling to malign Jason’s name even with the truth. “It was just something I felt I should do.”
“Oh, I see!” Her tone held more than a little sarcasm. “Do you get these urges often? To go out and buy women, I mean? Here I have been thinking that you were the kindest man I’d ever met, but now I see the truth. You’re just like all the rest of the men I’ve ever known.”
“Brooke!” This woman was maddening. One minute she was so nervous she could hardly function and the next minute she was hotter than a mother bear protecting her cubs. His anger sparked. “You were a mail-order bride, in case you have forgotten! That’s what mail-order brides are, women purchased by men!” He regretted the words the minute they left his mouth. All his anger drained away.
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