by Natalie Dean
The pink tinge came back into his cheeks, and he gave her another small smile.
“Mr. Jacobs was my father,” he said. “You can call me Matt. Everyone else does.”
“All right then,” she said feeling her cheeks grow warm as well. “I suppose it is fitting that fiancés should know one another by their Christian names. You may call me Bernadette.”
He nodded and looked at her awkwardly for a moment as though not sure what to say.
“Well…good night then, Bernadette.”
He swallowed hard before reaching out and taking her hand in his. Gently, his blue eyes never leaving hers, he moved her hand up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.
This was very different from the cool, showy kiss she’d received from Mr. Miles. Matt kept his eyes on Bernadette’s so that the warmth of his lips filled her entire body, almost to its core.
When he released her hand a moment later, a surge of disappointment filled her. She instantly missed the warm touch of his lips on her hand.
With a nod and a tip of his hat, he bid her good night once more and started off down the path.
As Bernadette watched him go, she began to think that this foray into the West had not been such a mistake after all.
Of course, she would have to tell Matt about her condition eventually. She could not hide it much longer, after all. But, that night, the moment had not been right.
She would tell him in the morning.
Yes, the morning was soon enough.
Chapter 5
The next day, it seemed, was not the right moment either. Nor the next.
Bernadette realized she had plenty of opportunities to speak to Matt alone. Every night, he saw her back to her room after dinner. And, each morning, he appeared to escort her to breakfast.
They took numerous walks together around the ranch. He showed her his favorite spot for thinking, the places where the cattle grazed. On the second day of her stay, he even took the wagon and drove her into town so that she could see the church where they were to be married in six days’ time. That was when she was again introduced to the town pastor.
“I am surprised to see you two have met,” Matt said when the pastor greeted Bernadette by name as they entered the church.
“The pastor was gracious enough to introduce himself when I first arrived,” Bernadette explained.
“And I have been wondering when I might see the two of you together,” Mr. Rhodes said. “Now that I have, I must say you make quite the handsome couple.”
Bernadette looked at Matt out of the corner of her eye before looking down at the floor, heat filling her cheeks.
“I thought Bernadette might like to see the church,” Matt said. “This seemed like as good a time as any.”
“Well, here it is,” Mr. Rhodes said with a small chuckle as he gestured inside. “Not much to see.”
Bernadette had to admit silently that there was some truth to this. There were several small pews leading up to a sparse altar decorated with one, lone wooden cross on the back wall. All the same…
“It is just as a church should be, I believe,” she said. “After all, the people in attendance make up the true character of a church. No fancy decorations can replicate that.”
The pastor laughed again.
“You seem to have chosen a very wise bride,” Mr. Rhodes said. “I believe she will fit well in our little town.”
Matt smiled, but it faded soon after. He glanced between Bernadette and Pastor Rhodes as though he was about to ask something and he was not sure whether he should.
“I also wondered,” Matt said hesitantly. “If we might see the churchyard as well.”
The pastor’s good-natured grin faded. He now looked at Matt with a gentle, sympathetic gaze.
“Of course,” he said. “I knew you would want to show your fiancé where your brother has been buried.”
The pastor led them through a small set of wooden doors to a tiny cemetery behind the church. With a small bow, Pastor Rhodes bid farewell and left them alone with a simple wooden marker bearing the name of Matt’s brother.
“I thought about burying him by the roadside,” he said. “But, I promised Ma I would give him a Christian burial. She’d never forgive me if I didn’t.”
“I imagine it would seem lonely if he were buried on some secluded road,” Bernadette said, looking at the wooden headstone bearing the name ‘William David Jacobs.’
“Will wouldn’t have minded,” Matt said. “He was never one for crowds. He liked solitude.”
“He would have gotten along well with my husband,” Bernadette said. “Frank hated crowds. That is why he was so desperate to leave the city.”
“At least you know he’d be happy to hear you got out,” Matt said. He turned to her with an understanding look in his gaze which she reflected back to him.
“The truth is,” Matt said after a moment’s silence. “William is the reason I came back to the church in the first place.”
“How so?” Bernadette asked.
“Well…neither of us took our faith very seriously when we set out,” Matt said. “I’m sad to say that William died not understanding the truth about what lay beyond this world. But, when I set out to bury him, I met Pastor Rhodes. He talked to me a bit about what a Christian burial really means. About what it means for a Christian to live beyond death. And I…I suppose I began to feel as though I’d been away from God for too long.”
Bernadette was not sure what to say to that. She felt a sudden urge to tell Matt about Frank, the Bible hidden away in her drawer at the ranch. About how she had prayed for the first time in years after his death.
But, these small revelations came too close to her revealing the secret she held in her stomach. She needed to keep that a little longer. So, giving him a small smile that she hoped was sympathetic, she remained silent.
Soon after that, they left the cemetery, bidding farewell to Pastor Rhodes.
From there, he’d taken her to see the abandoned farm house that he planned to purchase. The house was wooden, small and a bit worse for wear. But, Matt was convinced that they could fix it up in no time. And, Bernadette found that his enthusiasm for the project was infectious.
“I’ve been researching the types of crops that grow well here,” he said. “Potatoes are supposed to be hardy. We should be able to grow plenty of them. Then, of course, there’s livestock.”
“I must add, I have always dreamed of owning horses of my own,” Bernadette admitted.
“Oh, we’ll have plenty of those,” he said. “Horses are no great expense out here. It’s the saddles you need to worry about.”
“Saddles?” Bernadette asked looking at him confused. She had never imagined that a device to ride a horse would cost more than the animal itself.
“Yes,” Matt said. “A good saddle will run you over forty dollars. A good horse is ten or less.”
“I suppose one learns something new every day,” Bernadette said with an impressed smile. She was rewarded by the half smile Matt sometimes gave.
As they turned back towards the ranch, the child in Bernadette’s stomach kicked once again. She knew it had to be her imagination but, she thought the kicks had become more forceful over the past three days. As though the baby was telling its mother that she couldn’t keep this hidden forever.
Putting a hand to her stomach as naturally as she could, she almost made the decision to tell Matt right then and there. But, the longer she left it, the more awkward it would seem.
So, they rode back to the ranch mostly in silence. Though, occasionally, Matt would proudly point out some landmark or homestead she should become familiar with. None of these served the purpose of opening a discussion about children or family.
When they arrived back at the Ranch, Bernadette took Matt’s hand to step off the carriage. The warmth of his callused palm was still there, just as it had been the first day they met. But, now, she was starting to see the warmth matched in his eyes as
well.
“Should I walk you back to your room before I head out to the cattle?” he asked.
Bernadette shook her head, she had no desire to return to her room just now. There was little to do there but think about her situation and how on earth she was going to make it known.
“I think I may head into the main house,” she said. “See if Billy needs any help with the cleaning.”
“He doesn’t mind doing it himself, you know,” Matt stated. “Besides, I wouldn’t want you in the habit of cleaning a house that isn’t yours.”
Here Bernadette gave him a slight eye roll though, she felt more than a bit touched by his concern.
“If I’m going to be the lady of my own household, I had better start working as soon as possible,” she said. “It will be good to practice at any rate.”
Matt gave her that reluctant, half smile, the one that didn’t reach his eyes. She’d just realized that in the three days she’d known him, he’d yet to give her a smile that seemed genuinely happy. He always either appeared sad or far away.
None the less, Bernadette gave him a half smile in return and made her way into the house.
Banging noises from the kitchen told her where Billy was cleaning in an instant. Even though little Billy took on most of the household tasks around the ranch, it was clear that he had little aptitude for them. This was confirmed when Bernadette walked into the kitchen to find a small pile of frying pans had fallen from a cabinet.
Billy looked up at her wide-eyed, his face flushed with embarrassment. A rag hung limply from his hand, and black soot covered his face.
“I came to see if you might need some help,” Bernadette said looking around at the chaotic kitchen. It was evident from the mess that Billy could use all the help he could get. None the less, he gave her a small smile as though trying to hide the fact that he was in over his head.
“Oh, no ‘mam,” he said. “I think I’m all right in here. As soon as I get this cleaned up, I’ll be just about done.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?” Bernadette insisted. “I’ve finished all the knitting I can in my room, and I’d like to prove useful while I’m here.”
Billy bit his lip as though wondering whether he should accept her offer. Finally, he seemed to decide that his need for assistance trumped his male pride.
“Well, Mr. Miles did ask me to straighten his office for him,” he said finally. “If you wanted, you could take care of that.”
“Of course!” Bernadette said feeling more than enthusiastic. She’d been aching for a chance to take a look at Mr. Miles’ private records since the first dinner she’d shared with him.
Billy gave her the key which she took gratefully and, grabbing an extra dust rag and broom, she made her way across the hall and behind the normally locked wooden door.
Once there, she found a room larger than any of the others in the house. It contained a desk, of course, but also a fireplace and a comfortable looking sofa and set of chairs.
The desk, she decided would be the best place to start.
So, taking her dust rag, she moved over to the handsome wooden structure with several papers strewn about. Considering it her duty to straighten these, she did so. However, she was also careful to flip through each one in case it held something of relevance to either herself or Matt.
It did not take long for the paper she had been looking for to reveal itself.
The top was clearly an application for a bank loan. And, there in pen and ink, Mattathias Jacobs had clearly filled it out in his loopy but very precise handwriting. She recognized it well from his letters.
There was no mistaking it. This was the application Mr. Miles was supposed to have given to his friends at the bank. This was the application that had apparently never made its way there and, if Mr. Miles had his way, likely never would.
Mr. Miles wanted to keep Matt working on his ranch until the day he died.
Quickly setting the other papers down, she rolled the application up and kept it in hand as she dusted and straightened.
She would show this to Matt. He couldn’t be so blind as to ignore his employer’s treachery once he had seen this.
She finished dusting the last shelf on Mr. Miles’ bookcase and made her way towards the door. Before she could reach it, however, it opened.
“I’ve just finished,” she said, expecting Billy on the other side.
However, it was not Billy who greeted her.
Instead, she was met with sharp black eyes, the fake and ostentatious smile she was used to was gone entirely.
It was replaced by a frowning sneer as Mr. Miles looked from her face to the rolled-up application in her hand.
Chapter 6
“When Billy told me you had volunteered to straighten up my study, I can’t pretend I didn’t suspect something like this,” he said closing the door, his hard black eyes never leaving her face.
Bernadette swallowed hard but stood her ground. She did her best to focus her own brown eyes on his black ones as she answered him.
“I don’t suppose you would mind explaining what this is,” she said, holding up the bank application. “But, I suppose it is fairly self-explanatory.”
“Is it?” he asked. Though his eyes still looked harshly into hers, he sounded as though he was only mildly interested in what she had found. Like he was asking about the weather.
“I think so,” Bernadette said, keeping her voice as steady as she could. “It must be difficult to find decent hands on a ranch so far removed. I imagine that, when good help comes along, you would be very reluctant to lose it. So, reluctant, that you might just concoct an elaborate lie about helping Matt get a loan from the bank to secure a farm. All the while hiding his application in your office.”
Mr. Miles’ smirk widened as he made his way towards her.
“Let’s assume for a moment, that is true,” he said. “And I am not conceding that it is. But, even if it were, I must say I am surprised by your sudden concern for Matt.”
“And why is that, Mr. Miles?” Bernadette asked. “I am his fiancé after all.”
“I think we both know there are extenuating circumstances that necessitated that.”
“And what might those be?”
Bernadette knew her voice was shaking now. She moved her fingers to the wedding ring still on her right hand and began to twist it nervously. Mr. Miles’ didn’t miss the gesture.
“You still wear your dead husband’s ring,” he said.
“And what of that?” Bernadette asked, pulling her fingers over the gold band as though to hide it from Miles’ gaze. “Many widows keep their first wedding rings. Even after remarrying.”
“Especially in the first months after their husband’s death,” he conceded. “Your husband passed on, what was it? Five months ago? Less than a year, at any rate.”
“I do not see what that has to do with the matter at hand,” Bernadette said. She tried to keep her voice as strong and neutral as possible. Even so, she was half ashamed of herself for moving her hands absent-mindedly over her stomach as though trying to hide the secret she carried there.
Once again, Miles’ eyes were sharp and followed her movement.
“It has quite a bit to do with the matter at hand,” he said. His eyes remained on Bernadette’s stomach. “If you are accusing me of tricking Matt by keeping something important from him, I’m afraid I must accuse you of the same thing.”
Bernadette’s heart began to beat quickly in her chest. Swallowing hard, she put up a fight to keep warm, embarrassed blood from rushing into her cheeks.
“You see, Bernadette,” Mr. Miles said. She realized vaguely that it was the first time he’d used her first name. “Women who so readily agree to marry a man they’ve never met do so for only two reasons. The first is that they are running from some trouble at home. And the second,” here his eyes traveled down to her stomach again, “is that they’re in trouble of a different sort.”
“Now I must ask wh
at you are implying, Mr. Miles,” Bernadette said. Her voice was small and carried a definite nervous shake even though she’d tried her best to make it sound as strong as she could.
“I’ve been watching you over the past few days, Bernadette,” he said. “You don’t seem to be running from anything. The ring on your finger means that your husband’s death was no lie. That combined with the fact that your…chest…is quite a bit larger than your small figure would indicate,” he glanced down at Bernadette’s chest, a lecherous smile on his lips. She felt the sudden urge to cover herself. “I take it your late husband left you with something you would rather not tell your new fiancé about.”
Bernadette swallowed hard, and now it was impossible to keep the flush from her cheeks. She had been discovered. And, what was worse, she had been discovered by this man. This horrible, swindling, slimy excuse for a man.
Even so, the pride her parents had instilled in her forced her not to give into him so easily.
“Assuming what you say is true, Mr. Miles, and I am not conceding that it is,” she said, echoing his words. “What business would it be of yours?”
“I could ask you the same question with regards to that application,” he said. “If you choose to become involved in this…issue regarding the bank and the farm…I may just feel compelled to make your condition known. I know Matt well. And, I know he does not take well to being lied to.”
Bernadette’s eyes hurried to the floor as she tried, frantically to think of some way out of this predicament.
“But,” Mr. Miles said, “if you put that application back down on my desk and let me handle things with the bank as I see fit, then your secret is safe. That is, until you decide to tell your fiancé.”
Silently, Bernadette cursed herself. She should have known this web of lies would cause her trouble in one way or another. And now, here she was. Forced to choose between keeping her secret and keeping hold of her dream of a farm and family.
Given a choice between the two, she knew which one she had to choose. Still, she could not reveal her hand to Mr. Miles.
