Loyal couldn’t speak. Surely the world was ending if August was apologizing for his actions. His father had never admitted his wrongs in his life. Her worry that August would follow his father’s path faded.
“That’s all,” he repeated and backed into the hall.
“Wait.” She swung her feet to the floor and padded across the room, craning her neck to look at him. “Thank you, August.”
“I heard you crying and I thought…”
He must have been sitting in the kitchen before he knocked on her door. She waved her hand, dismissing his reasoning. “I wasn’t crying because of you. Lately I can’t help it.”
He seemed a little more at ease, though he would probably grow sick of her tears before a week had passed. She had.
She reached out, slipping her hands beneath his arms. He didn’t move for a moment, even when she clasped her hands behind his back. Her cheek pressed against the soft material of his shirt and she closed her eyes. August wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders, and his breath stirred her hair. She clung to him as though she was a leaf and he was the root, an anchor in the storm.
For a moment, everything was alright. She had the farm, a child growing beneath her heart, and a strong partner to care for her. She stepped back, knowing what she had to do now.
August’s arms fell at his sides. His face changed and she was sure she saw the briefest flash of disappointment.
“Good night, Loyal.”
A knot formed in her throat. Jeremiah was gone, but his brother was offering to take his place. She inhaled, catching a faint whiff of leather that clung after his long ride and a scent that was all his own.
“Wait.”
He stood unmoving, watching her with a bemused gaze.
“August, I’ll marry you. For the baby. As long as we’re clear that Jeremiah is the father and we’re just friends.” Her throat scratched as she forced the words out.
“In name only.” His face was guarded.
“Yes.”
“Alright. Is your daddy—”
She dug her fingernails into her palm. “He won’t perform the ceremony, much less come.”
He nodded. “I’ll ask someone else.” For a moment he was quiet. “It’ll be alright, Loyal. I’m here.”
When he turned, she didn’t stop him. Tears rolled down her face. He couldn’t know Jeremiah had said almost the same words when she told him she was pregnant.
3
Loyal stood by a stall in the barn while August inspected the machinery. He studied each piece with the same intensity Jeremiah had every spring.
A buckskin mare watched August, her ears pricked forward with interest. Loyal stroked the horse’s silky soft nose.
“How much do you know about farming?” She hoped he wasn’t insulted by her question, but she’d pointed out before that logging was entirely different. There was so much work involved in getting the hay in. How quickly would he tire of it?
“I know enough about machinery that I think I can figure this out. Mower for cutting, rake, binder.” He pointed at each object as he spoke. “Harnesses for the horses, and rigs for each piece.”
“Handsome and Dandy.”
August looked up. “The horses?”
“Yes. They all have names and they respond better when you use them.” She patted the mare. “This is Molly. She should foal soon. Jeremiah bought her at an auction last year. She can’t be ridden because of an accident, but she has good lines and she can carry foals.”
“A dog named Sorry found on the side of the road. A crippled horse named Molly. Do the sheep have individual names?” A smile quirked his mouth.
“Only the ewes and the ram. He wouldn’t let me name the little ones because we’ll sell them this fall. No sense getting attached. No names for the chickens either.” She gave the mare another pat. “The milk cow is Sunny.”
“Mutton, bacon, roast.” August lifted a harness from its hook and slung it over his shoulder. “If we raise rabbits, we can call one Skillet.”
Loyal gaped. August’s dry tone was hard to distinguish from his regular voice, but she thought he was teasing. How unexpected. She followed him from the barn and told Sorry to stay when August entered the corral where Handsome and Dandy waited.
He harnessed the team, linking buckles and leather bits as though he’d been doing it for years, then led them to the mower. She swallowed her fear, remembering the moment those big wheels had rolled over Jeremiah. The horses barely twitched their ears and tails as August backed them to the machine. The blades clacked as the wheels moved and she leaned against the corral for support. It wasn’t the team’s fault the bird had spooked them that day. It was an accident, although that didn’t lessen the loss burning around her heart.
“Please be careful.” Her words barely reached her own ears. August couldn’t hear them.
He didn’t mount the mower seat right away, instead leading the horses toward the hay meadow. Under the early morning sun, he paused on the field’s edge. His face changed from determined to awestruck.
He owned a third of the hay in the field. With every row he cut, he’d make a profit either in the form of energy for the animals or in coin from selling to other farmers. The grass rippled under the breeze, flashing green and gold.
August turned and smiled. Loyal’s heart jumped into her throat. The smile, so honest and appealing, made her knees weak. She’d seen him smile when he was a boy, before his father’s anger ruined him. She’d seen him smile when he was older, but it was full of bitterness and his own fresh anger. This one reminded her of Jeremiah when he came in from plowing or shoeing horses or bundling hay. Except it wasn’t quite the same. Jeremiah was naturally joyous. His life revolved around the everyday miracles he witnessed here. August was like a boy discovering a long-lost treasure after a journey at sea. Her heart fluttered. Somehow she didn’t think he’d ever looked at a stand of trees that way.
But all that hay was worthless unless someone cut it. She wished there was anyone to do it except him.
“August.” She crossed the yard and put her hand on his arm.
He looked at her hand, then met her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s dangerous.” Jeremiah had cut sometimes three or four times a year. “He was experienced, knew how to do everything right, but…”
August’s jaw tightened. “I’ve driven teams pulling wagons laden with a ton of logs. I can manage a mower.” His face softened. “We’re not hiring someone to do work I can handle. It’s a needless cost.”
“I know.” She frowned at the sickle bar on the mower and the waving hay. Her fears were delaying August’s progress. “Be careful. For me…us.”
Something changed in his expression. His gaze dropped to her stomach and he nodded. Yesterday he’d offered marriage. Did he regret it? Taking on his brother’s fiancée and unborn child plus a farm was a lot of responsibility for a man who’d been reckless and carefree as long as she’d known him.
Handsome pulled on the reins, bobbing his head.
August patted the horse’s whither. “The horses are ready. I’ll come up to the house later for dinner.”
“Noon?”
“If that’s convenient for you.” He smiled, though it was tight. At her nod, he settled into the mower seat.
Loyal turned her back on the field. The ground had dried out and there wasn’t any danger of the wheels becoming stuck again. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bear to watch him move the equipment near the spot where Jeremiah had been fatally injured.
She turned for the barn again with Sorry at her heels, and took a halter from a hook to bring Molly outside to graze. The mare let her slide the rope around her muzzle and over her ears and followed along at a slow, limping pace. Her sides bulged with the new life growing in her. Loyal absently touched her own stomach.
The sickle bar’s clatter rang in her ears. She loosened her hold on Molly’s halter and released the mare into the pasture. When she turned, she saw the team pullin
g the mower, a row of hay on the ground behind it and August sitting stiffly on the seat. The mower bounced over the ground, but he looked calm and in control.
Loyal released a deep breath. She had chores, and watching him wouldn’t prevent an accident. There was no reason to borrow trouble.
* * * *
August left the team in the shade and wiped sweat from his brow as he walked up to the house. He caught movement behind the kitchen window and tipped his hat when he saw Loyal’s face framed by the curtains. She backed away, though she must have known he’d seen her.
The screen door slammed behind him when he entered the kitchen. Loyal had vanished, though she’d set out sliced meat, cheese wedges, and buttered bread. There was only one place setting. A cup with black-eyed Susans sat in the center of the table. It hadn’t been there this morning. The bright yellow petals added cheeriness to the table. The way Loyal’s smile could.
A knife lay on the sideboard along with a scattering of breadcrumbs. Neat as the rest of the house was, it seemed odd that Loyal would leave out a knife.
He passed through the kitchen and left his hat and boots by the front door. A quick look in the spare room didn’t turn her up, so he guessed she was in the bedroom. August went through the kitchen again and rapped on the door.
“Loyal?”
“I set dinner out. You can go ahead and eat.”
Her voice sounded clogged.
Worry settled on his shoulders. Strange, because he’d seldom had cause to worry about anyone except himself. “Alright in there?”
“I’ll be out in a moment. Just let me…”
He heard a drawer shut and the soft patter of her feet on the hardwood floor.
“Can I help you with something?”
“No. It’s nothing.”
He knew a lie when he heard it, since he’d told plenty himself. August twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open.
Loyal looked up, eyes wide. She held a cloth over her left thumb. Blood stained it, bright red against the white. Tears cut a path down her face.
“August, I’m fine.”
“You cut yourself.” He reached out and took her hand, lifting the cloth away from the wound. The material was smeared, although the cut wasn’t welling blood and it wasn’t deep. A thin slash opened her flesh below her nail.
“I didn’t do it on purpose.” She pulled away from his touch. “It’s almost stopped. There’s no need for you to worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.” The words left his mouth before he had a chance to think about them.
She dabbed the cloth against the cut once more and seemed satisfied it was finished bleeding. She lifted a short piece of cotton cloth from the bureau top and tried to wrap it around her thumb. It slipped before she grasped the other end. “Aren’t you pressed for time? It could rain any day and you need to have the hay cut as soon as possible.”
“Loyal, let me help you.” When he reached for the cloth, she stepped back. The tears formed again and he grimaced. “Does it hurt?”
She sniffed. “That’s not why I’m crying. The knife slipped while I wasn’t paying attention. This is nothing.”
August grabbed for the cloth again and caught the edge. There was nothing he could do to mend her broken heart, but he could damn well bandage a cut. Loyal’s hand trembled as she watched. A tear sparkled at the outside corner of her eye. When he tied off the bandage, he wiped it away, passing his finger gently over her lower lid.
“I remember years ago when I’d fallen and scraped my knee,” he told her. “My father was gone and your mother insisted on helping us. She was hanging clothes on the line and saw me crying. She sat me down, cleaned it up, then kissed the bandage.”
“She was a kind woman,” Loyal said. “Never turned away a wounded animal or a crying child.”
“No one was ever kind to me.” He’d grown up believing the world hated him, so he hated it in return. The only things he hadn’t hated were Loyal and Jeremiah, although he’d come to resent his brother’s love for her.
“Even me?” She looked up at him, distracted from her tears at least for a moment. “Was I unkind?”
August stared into her eyes, trying to lose his old hurts in the earthy brown tones. “Not you.”
She shook her head. “We fought a lot. We hurt each other’s feelings on more than one occasion.”
“I think we can do better.” The need to touch her pounded in him, beating faster than his heart.
“I think so too.” Loyal lowered her gaze, but lifted her finger. “Thank you. I’m ready for dinner now.” She had more color in her face and looked steadier.
August followed her into the kitchen and threw the bloody cloth into the basin for washing later. He stood at the water pump, cleaning the sweat and dirt from his face. The cold water dripped down into his shirt collar, making him long for the moment he could hang his hat on the peg for the evening. There were days of cutting ahead. No sooner than he finished baling it, he’d have to harvest the corn and reseed the field. The hay would take care of itself, growing tall again in a few weeks. Already his shoulders and back ached from holding the reins and sitting on the iron-hard mower seat. He reached for a dishtowel, groping blindly. Rough material touched his face. Peering through his eyelids, he stood still as Loyal dabbed the water away.
“There. You were almost unrecognizable with half the field covering your face.” She smiled. “One good turn.”
“You laid out food. It was good turn enough.” Her touch, although masked by the cloth, warmed his blood. He’d fantasized about the day she touched him out of love. If he was patient, it might come to pass. Now, he could act as her friend, help where she would allow it.
He nodded at the table. “You only set one place.”
Loyal tilted her head. “I wasn’t going to sit down. I nibbled while I was preparing it for you. But if it makes you uncomfortable to eat alone, I could join you.”
“I’d like that. Sit. I can get my own plate.” He didn’t want to ask if she was eating enough, worried she’d be insulted or tell him it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t yet, but next week when he brought a preacher out, her health would be his concern. She settled into the kitchen chair. August took a plate from the china cabinet and laid it across from her. He reached for her plate and took the majority of the meat and cheese.
Loyal stared. “You’ve worked up a powerful hunger, I see.”
“I have a long afternoon ahead.”
She watched him eat, picking at the food he’d left her. August tried not to count each bite she took, and clenched his jaw when she pushed her plate toward him and tipped it so the untouched remains fell onto his.
She gave him a steady look. “You’re right. You’ll be starved when you come in this evening. It looks easy enough, although I imagine cutting is difficult.”
“It’s more involved than I guessed.” He lifted a cheese wedge and put it back on her plate. “Eat.”
She prodded it with her finger, mouth in a tight line. “Do you miss him?”
August swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Every day.”
“You were close as boys. I always wondered what drove you apart.” She raised the cheese and took a bite, but the action was mechanical. She was doing it because he’d asked her.
He couldn’t tell her the real reason. Not the fight they’d had about how Jeremiah was spending too much time with her. As boys, they’d planned to get away from Wilson, leave their worthless father behind and go wherever the wind blew them. When he’d learned about the logging opportunities in the bootheel, he thought he’d found the solution. It had seemed better than staying here where everyone ridiculed them for being no better than bastards. Jeremiah had ruined that when he’d fallen in love with Loyal. And to make matters worse, August thought about her night and day. How many times over the years had he felt the urge to punch his brother each time he caught them sneaking kisses?
“It’s a private matter.” It wasn’t a good excuse, but
it was the best he had for now.
Loyal blinked. “I can’t say I’m surprised. He was as closemouthed as you on the subject.” She set the cheese aside again. “I tried, August. I’m not hungry. There’s butter to churn and I should do it before supper.”
He wasn’t getting anywhere with her. He didn’t know how to make her smile, or tell her he’d always loved her. There were chores to do around the farm before he could think about bringing a preacher out. He was at risk of losing her before then.
“Be careful. Don’t catch your hair in the crank.” He meant the words to sound teasing, but they sounded almost patronizing.
She gave him a dark look. “People cut themselves on accident all the time. And since my hair is up, it’s unlikely to get caught.”
An apology tangled his tongue. “I’ll clean up here. See you this evening.”
“August?” Her eyes were dry, although there was a wobble in her voice. “Do you want to marry me?”
Yes. He almost blurted it out without thinking. “I said I would.”
“But do you want to? Or do you feel it’s your duty?” She tilted her head and he felt as though she could see the feelings he was hiding.
“It’s not a hardship.” She was pretty and her laughter made the world brighter. Suddenly he realized she’d put off agreeing to marry his brother until she found out she was carrying his child. “If someone else was asking, would you marry him?”
She looked around the room, her face softening. “I love this house. I remember when he built it and I feel as though I know every board and nail. I always wanted to belong here. I accepted your offer. Wouldn’t matter if some exotic prince showed up and professed his undying love. He couldn’t give me this farm.”
The Wrong Brother's Bride Page 3
