The Wrong Brother's Bride

by Allison Merritt

  August ducked his head, hiding a smile. That was Loyal, forever talking about fairy tales and the books she’d read. She’d always carried a novel, never a manual about crops or animal husbandry, or anything related to farming. But he wasn’t a prince by any stretch and the world never failed to remind him.

  “He could give it to you, if the price was right.”

  She looked stricken. “Don’t you dare tell me you’d sell this farm. This was Jeremiah’s dream.”

  “I just meant—never mind. You were supposing about princes and I was going along with it.” His sense of humor was about as wet as last year’s corn husks. He kept forgetting she wasn’t used to it. “I won’t sell the farm.”

  Not if she loved it as much as she claimed.

  “Good, because if I have to climb on the mower or plant every kernel of corn myself, I’ll see it done. I want to live here until I’m too old to get off the porch without help.” She lifted her chin in a stubborn way that made August smile.

  “Guess I know how much work I have ahead of me, then. Enough to last the rest of my life.” He pushed his chair away from the table. “Go on with the churning. I’ll see you come suppertime.”

  All the work would be worth it if someday she understood he’d done it for her.

  4

  Loyal glanced out the kitchen window at the two men sipping lemonade under an oak tree. A peaceful scene on a late spring day. One that marked the aftermath of her sudden wedding. August looked at ease in the company of the preacher, Irwin Bowman. If exchanging vows had taken a toll on him, it didn’t show. His legs stretched out before him and he raised his glass. He looked…satisfied.

  Irwin said something and August nodded. Shade dappled the men, although she easily made out the cut of August’s cheekbones, his square jaw, and the lump in his nose that told of his rowdy youth. Wide shoulders used to carrying burdens, a slender torso that tapered down to lean hips and long legs. He was more rugged than Jeremiah, but it suited him. Dressed in a red-checkered shirt and brown trousers, he’d have looked out of place in the suit coat and string tie like his brother had planned to wear.

  Irwin’s wife Maud put her hand on Loyal’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to do it, you know. I saw your father a few days ago. Your decisions have taken a toll on him.”

  “I never wanted a common-law marriage. If I ever intend to look Papa in the eye again without being ashamed, it was necessary.” Loyal hadn’t seen her father in weeks, though she’d been his constant companion since Mama died almost four years ago. It was hard to think about him and know he didn’t have any help around the house. She swept a damp curl off her cheek, picked up a dishtowel and removed a pan of cornbread from the oven. It joined the fried chicken and the vegetable assortment on the kitchen table. She ignored the concerned furrows on her friend’s brow. Inside the house, the temperature was high and she looked forward to sitting under the shady oak. “That’s all I was waiting on. Let’s go out.”

  Maud lifted the chicken platter. “August doesn’t look very happy for a man who has everything he wants.”

  Loyal frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “You don’t know?” Maud’s eyes grew round with excitement. “The reason August left was because he’s in love with you. He fought with Jeremiah about it. In the end, he knew you’d never give him the time of day, so he left.”

  Loyal’s heart skipped a beat. Her gaze shot out the window, toward August again. “Who would say such a thing?”

  “Jeremiah never came out and said it. From what Irwin gathered by the few clues he dropped, that’s what happened.” Maud looked a little uncertain, but didn’t apologize for the gossip.

  She scoffed. “August and I have had our differences. I don’t think him loving me was ever one of them.”

  Maud raised her eyebrows. “Look around, Loyal. He has everything a man could possibly want—successful farm, crops, livestock, and now a wife. He must be pleased with his good luck. In your condition, I’m sure it took very little persuasion to convince you to marry him.”

  The words made Loyal sick. How could Maud repeat those things? It sounded as though she was suggesting August was glad Jeremiah was dead. “August doesn’t think about it like that.”

  Maud shook her head as though condemning Loyal for being naïve about the situation. “How long do you think this will last? August never stuck with one thing for long. He never held a job more than a few weeks because he disagreed with everyone. I’m not sure he’ll last six months here. Farming is hard work and his father never knew what that meant. You said it yourself years ago.”

  The air seemed charged with disapproval. Hurt by her friend’s opinion, it took Loyal a moment to recover.

  “Jeremiah was better than his father. August is too. Every day this week, he’s gotten up at sunrise. The hayfield is mowed and baled, or didn’t you notice? Thirty bundles to an acre, he said.”

  “All sewn by Jeremiah’s hand five years ago.” Maud’s mouth pursed. “He probably thinks it’s a novelty. His first hay cutting. What a lark. By the time the corn is ready to harvest, he’ll regret coming home.”

  “If you hate him so much, what are you doing here?” Loyal framed her hips with her hands. She wanted to believe Maud and Irwin had come because they were her friends, except she’d seen August pay Irwin. “I don’t want you telling everyone August is worthless. He’ll do right by me and Jeremiah. Let him prove it.”

  Maud clucked her tongue, shook her head and carried the chicken out the door. How many people had heard the rumor of August’s feelings for her over the years? Had Jeremiah really confided in anyone August had left because they’d fought over her? In all the time she’d known August, he’d never once acted the least bit like he thought about her as anything other than a pest.

  Loyal heard Irwin speak and Maud reply. Carrying the hot cornbread pan, she stepped onto the stoop. August stared out at the cornfield, or maybe the springhouse. He looked up when she approached. A faint smile graced his mouth.

  “Getting along out here?” she asked, knowing full well how he avoided churches and preachers. Not to mention gossips.

  “Fair enough. You need help?” He rose before the question was out of his mouth, and settled his glass on the ground by the chair.

  “It’s not necessary.” She placed the steaming cornbread on the table.

  The smile widened. “It’s no trouble.”

  Someone was in a good mood. If she mentioned Maud’s tales, his humor was bound to fade in a hurry. He led the way to the kitchen, leaving their guests outside. She ignored the burn of their eyes as she followed.

  “Are you holding up?” August’s smile faded as he rounded the table for the vegetables. “Maud’s a gossip, always was. Irwin will let her get by with it, too.”

  She thought about asking him if the rumor Maud told her was true, but dismissed the idea. They hadn’t married for love. There was little point in asking if he had any tender feelings toward her. “I think Irwin instructed her to keep quiet beforehand. She mentioned I might have made a mistake.”

  She waited for the tale-tell redness of anger to darken August’s face, but he plucked a green bean from the bowl instead and ate it. She didn’t have the heart to scold him.

  After he swallowed, he said, “Some things never change.”

  Stunned, although impressed with his calm, she smiled. “Some things do. I thought you’d lose your temper at Maud for offering unwanted advice.”

  “People will form their own conclusions. Nothing they say will be pretty.” He took another green bean. “You look nice.”

  His gaze seared her and she felt heat rise up her neck and face. She knew Maud liked the sound of her own voice, but for just a moment, Loyal wondered if August had ever found her pretty. If perhaps he’d have tried courting her if Jeremiah hadn’t beaten him to it. Dismissing the notion, she smoothed the front of her calico dress. Her Sunday best, butter yellow with little blue flowers printed on it.

  The dre
ss she’d planned to wear when she wed August’s brother.

  In the space of a week she’d gone from wearing mourning black to bright colors. She hated the dark colors that symbolized loss, and it didn’t seem appropriate to wear black at her own wedding. She was married and she had to put Jeremiah’s death behind her. Colored clothing was one small step.

  “Thank you.” She hesitated. “Can I ask something?”

  He picked a piece of bacon from the bowl. “Can’t hurt.”

  She swallowed. It could hurt. Over the past week, they’d treated each other carefully, avoiding unpleasant subjects. But what good was a marriage if they weren’t honest? “If none of this had happened, would you be working with the lumber crew next year? In five years?”

  He chewed the bacon slowly, studying her as though he could see clean through her. “What’s Maud telling you?”

  “She said you’re not upset that Jeremiah died. That his death allowed you to take over his life.” She felt shameful saying it out loud.

  August’s face turned flinty. “I didn’t need my brother to die so I could have a place of my own. I’m here because I owe him for taking care of me when we were boys.”

  “I know. She’s just spreading hateful rumors.” Loyal looked away from his pained gaze. Did he even care about her the tiniest bit? “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m grateful you’re trying.”

  He glared out the window. “I don’t know if I can sit at a table with her.” He faced Loyal. “You think I’d leave this? Walk away after the harvest and let the bank have the farm?”

  She hadn’t pictured an angry groom and company that couldn’t keep their tongues from wagging on her wedding day. She regretted inviting Maud. And worse, repeating her words.

  “I think you have good intentions.” She hoped it was the truth. “Please don’t take what she says to heart.”

  “What about you? She suggested I’ll leave you in trouble one day and I can see the doubt on your face. I didn’t come here planning to get married, but I’m happy with my choice. We can have a good life. Maud’s opinion about it doesn’t matter.”

  He was wounded by her questions. In the past, he’d have stormed away, used his fists and his voice to make his displeasure known. His temper seemed less fierce after his time away.

  “I need time, August. What we did today is a formality. What I feel in my heart.” She tapped her chest. “This is where the problem is. You’ll forgive me if I’m reminded of a time when you were carefree and didn’t accept responsibility.”

  “Then don’t listen to Maud. Listen here.” He rested his fingers over hers above her heart.

  The contact sent warmth spiraling through her. Loyal looked down at his hand, surprised that such a casual gesture made her feel weak-kneed when his quick peck on the cheek after Irwin’s pronouncement hadn’t.

  “I’m trying,” she promised.

  “I’m not asking for anything more.” His steel blue eyes bore into hers. He dropped his hand to his side. “The sooner we eat, the sooner we can get Irwin and Maud off the farm.”

  The sooner they’d be alone. Loyal’s throat felt dry. She managed a nod. August didn’t expect anything from her. Not even the right to sleep in the big bedroom. She’d requested his friendship, not a lover. The only thing different since yesterday was her last name. They’d carry on as they had before.

  “We should take this outside before it gets cold.” Breathless as though she’d run across the cornfield, she lifted the bowl of green beans. He reached out to snag another bean, but she shifted the bowl away.

  For a moment, she thought she saw a twinkle similar to Jeremiah’s light in August’s eyes. He rubbed his hand over his mouth, unsuccessfully hiding a smile before he took a bowl in each hand and left the kitchen.

  Loyal waited a moment before she took the remaining dishes, to let her heart stop racing.

  * * * *

  August made certain Loyal wasn’t left alone with Maud again. When the preacher and his wife left in the early evening, a weight dropped off his shoulders. He’d remained civil during the meal. False smiles and pleasantries wore on his patience. Being alone with his bride and unable to kiss or touch her left him frustrated. Unfortunately, he knew this was the first of many lonely nights.

  Loyal washed the dishes, laying them on the sideboard to dry, all without speaking. He watched her from the corner of his eye while drinking cold coffee she’d made before they sliced into the simple cake she’d baked for the occasion. He wanted to find common ground that would make conversation easy. The best he could come up with was her horse.

  “Walk with me to check on Molly?”

  An easy request. The horse was more of a pet than Sorry, and Loyal had saved leftover cornbread for the mare.

  She looked over her shoulder. “Let me dry my hands.”

  He carried the coffee cup outside and dumped the remains on the ground. The short grass in the hayfield was dotted with bundles he’d pick up in the morning. There was plenty this cutting. A good start for the winter. He carried the cup inside and heard Loyal in her bedroom. She’d changed her dress after the preacher and his wife left. He couldn’t imagine what she was doing now.

  She emerged and shut the door behind her. The simple gold band on her finger flashed. His ring, marking her as his wife. It was perhaps the one good thing he’d done with his life. That, and offering to help raise her child. The baby would know him as Uncle August, but he’d do everything in his power to make sure the kid had a good life. He and Jeremiah looked enough alike that people might assume the baby was his. He wondered if it would have chestnut hair or auburn. Blue eyes or brown? Hazel, perhaps?

  “What are you looking at?” Loyal’s smile gave away her puzzlement. “Is my dress dirty?”

  The plain brown dress was suitable for garden work, but didn’t flatter her features. In his eyes, she could still outshine the scrubbed copper pot hanging on the wall. It was far better than the black ones she’d worn up until today.

  “It’s fine. We’re going out to see the horse, not impress a queen.”

  Loyal laughed. “Molly’s queen of the barn.”

  He gestured for her to lead the way. The early June weather was warm, though not too humid. It seemed the heavens had smiled down on them today with sunshine and a light breeze.

  “What about Sunny?” The Guernsey milk cow had to be the bossiest bovine August had crossed paths with in years.

  “Sunny thinks she’s the boss, but Molly has more poise and grace. You can see which one is the real queen.” Loyal looped her arm around his, a casual gesture. It made the fine hairs on his skin stand up. Her touch was inflaming. “If you let Sunny get away with one thing, she thinks she has the right to do whatever she likes.”

  She was still going on about the cow. All he could think of was what it would be like to kiss her flower-petal soft skin.

  “August?”

  “Hmm?” He shook his head, clearing out the daydreams stuck like cobwebs in his mind.

  “You had a strange look on your face.” She studied him. “You’re not still thinking about Maud, are you?”

  “She’s the last person I’m thinking about.” The truth, without admitting the real issue.

  “Alright.”

  She took his hand, a gesture that surprised him, but he allowed her to pull him toward the barn. As they entered, she called, “Molly Mare, we have a treat for you.”

  The mare answered with a grunt and Loyal frowned. “That’s unusual. She didn’t poke her head over the stall.”

  August had been watching the horse the last few days, waiting for signs she was ready to foal. She was close. Maybe the time had come. “Stay back a minute and let me look at her.”

  He approached the wide box stall. Within a few feet of the door, he saw the mare lying in the straw. Her glossy coat was damp with sweat and she nipped at her side as though flies attacked her.

  “I think we’ll have a foal this evening.”

  “Can I see?”
Loyal sounded uncertain.

  “Slowly. Don’t startle her.”

  Loyal joined him and made a cooing sound. “She’s in pain. Isn’t there something you can do for her?”

  “She’ll do most of it herself. I’ll keep an eye on her, make certain everything is progressing like it should. Is this her first?”

  “Yes. She just turned four. Jeremiah had her bred last year.” Loyal curled her hand over the stall door. “Sunny had her calf overnight. We woke up and had two cows in the pen. Poor Molly, cooped up in this little stall.”

  “She probably feels more comfortable here. There aren’t any predators to worry about inside. Guess I’ll make myself useful. Clean the tack and oil the tools. No sense in sitting idle.” It shouldn’t be long before Molly had the foal, but he wanted to remain close. There were plenty of things inside the barn to keep his mind occupied and off his new bride.

  “Is there anything I can do? Get you more coffee, or bring you the Farmer’s Journal?”

  “Not right now. Hopefully in a few hours she’ll be nursing a new colt and I’ll be in bed.” Alone. Per their agreement, he didn’t have the right to share her bed.

  Loyal touched his shoulder. “Come check with me if something happens. I’d like to see her foal being born.”

  He almost asked her to stay, but a dusty barn with only a couple of overturned buckets for seats wasn’t a place for a pregnant woman. She’d grow restless long before Molly’s foal made an appearance and Loyal might change moods faster than the weather. He didn’t want to talk about his brother, not when this was supposed to be a happy day for him.

  He supposed he ought to thank Molly for getting him away from the house and giving him something else to think about besides his bride. Sorry stood at the barn entrance, wagging his tail as he eyed the cornbread in Loyal’s hand. She made him do tricks for little bites. She laughed as he sat up and begged, rolled over, and played dead on command. August smiled each time her laughter rang out.

  “Don’t forget to come get me,” she reminded him.