“Every day you’ve gotten up early. I didn’t think assisting Molly took that much out of you.” He held up a saltine. “The logging foreman’s wife was awfully sick for a while when she was in the family way.”
Loyal took the cracker and nibbled a corner. “I can’t believe you paid attention.”
“I thought it might come in useful one day. Seems I was right. I wouldn’t have entered, except I didn’t figure you’d answer the door.” August looked away.
Was he embarrassed by talking about babies and morning sickness, given it wasn’t his child?
She finished the cracker, then picked crumbs off her nightdress, dropping them on the saucer. “Why haven’t you married? Before me, I mean. There must be women in the bootheel.”
Something dark clouded August’s eyes. Hurt, loneliness, sadness. His jaw tightened, fingers flexed. “It was never the right moment. A logging camp isn’t much place for a woman. Few of them tolerate that life.”
Despite his restlessness, his voice was light. The young man he’d been was smothered by the new man. The one who brought tea and crackers to a pregnant woman. The one who worried he hadn’t done enough to save a foal. It could have been because of the price the foal would bring at the market, or the cost of the stud fee, although Loyal didn’t think that was it.
“Was there someone?” The teacup in her hand shook as she anticipated his answer.
He blew out a breath. “Not a woman willing to spend her life with me. She was more of a friend. A widow in need…” August’s mouth snapped shut.
Unexpected jealousy knotted Loyal’s stomach. “In need of what?”
Long fingers flexed again, tapping against his trousers. He didn’t quite meet her eyes, staring intently over her head. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a man around.”
“Her words?” To quell her temper, she sipped the tea, scalding her tongue. She had no reason to be jealous. August had as much right as any man to dally with women in his bachelorhood.
He folded his arms over his chest. “We weren’t hurting anyone. We were careful and it was only a few times. I’m here and she’s in New Madrid. You and I are married. That’s the end of it.” His hand sliced through the air in attempt to draw the discussion to a close.
Except Loyal wasn’t done.
“We agreed this marriage is in name only. While I realize you have certain needs, it’s best if you don’t fulfill them in the township. I won’t tolerate gossip about my husband cavorting with other women behind my back.” She stared hard at the tea, wishing the heat flooding her face would vanish. Talking about sex with a man she’d thought would someday be her brother-in-law was difficult.
“Loyal.” He came closer, until his knees touched the mattress. She couldn’t ignore him. “I agreed to your terms. There won’t be any rumors about me with other women. I’ll be damn—I’ll be hanged if I intend to give everyone any more reasons to dislike me.”
She pursed her lips and looked at him. August towered over the bed, hair rumpled. A shadow of chestnut-colored beard colored his chin. He hadn’t groomed himself before fixing tea, clearly putting her ahead of himself. He was trying, though for her sake or the baby’s, she couldn’t say. Either way, it was more than she expected, but exactly what she’d hoped for when she sent for him. She wanted to trust him.
Unbidden, an image of his naked body popped into her mind. What would it be like to share a bed with him...his hard body curled around hers, lips and hands touching her heated flesh? She took another drink, glad for the distraction.
“I believe you.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” Relief washed over his features, smoothing out the troubled crinkles around his eyes. “I need help harvesting the corn and I’ve got to find it today, so I’m riding to Springfield. You can go out to see Molly when you’re feeling better. I should be home before dark.”
Excitement over the foal carried her worry away. “Do you already know the gender?”
“I changed the straw and made sure they got through the night. He or she hid the whole time. Maybe you can find out. If it’s a colt, I’ll have to geld it in a few months. It would make a good riding horse for you in a few years.”
He was thinking ahead. Making plans as though he really intended to stay. Giving her a horse of her own, a gift. “I suppose you’d want me to feed it and care for it.”
“That’s generally part of horsemanship.” A wry smile transformed his face.
“I’ll think about it.” She almost couldn’t keep from smiling. Molly wasn’t really hers and could never be ridden. As a young girl, she’d often sneaked out riding with Jeremiah on a borrowed horse. Her father hadn’t allowed it, said it was crude for a woman to ride astride and wouldn’t spend money on a sidesaddle. There would be no riding until the baby was born, in any case.
“Good enough. I should get going. Don’t worry yourself if I’m not back before dinner. I expect a lot of questions about where I’ve been and how you’re doing.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Anything you want me to pick up?”
They’d been well provisioned before Jeremiah died and weren’t likely to starve with meat hanging in the smokehouse and all manner of vegetables, both canned and in the garden. “I can’t think of anything right now.”
“Guess I’ll get going then. Be careful around the horses. If Molly seems agitated, stay away from her.” He gave her a mock stern look.
She tried and failed to summon a smile. It took a moment to find her voice. “I should warn you that hardly anyone knows about the baby. Only Maud, Irwin and my father.” She lowered her eyes. “I suppose that’s not true. I’m sure everyone guessed when I left Papa’s house.”
“I won’t mention it. There’s enough colorful conversation going on about us as it is. We’ll take care of it together.”
He reached out and smoothed her hair back.
Loyal looked up, speechless. For just a second she saw Jeremiah there, his comforting touch and steady promises. She blinked and it was August, but no less tender than his brother had been.
“I’ll be back when I can,” he promised.
* * * *
Not much had changed in five years. Banks, a bakery, a funeral home, tailor and dress shops, barbers, hardware and sundries stores, the library and railroad offices. Town life, August figured, was much the same everywhere. Brick buildings cast early shadows over the hard-packed streets clogged with horses and wagons. Grateful for the anonymity the other patrons afforded him, August tied his horse outside the hardware store. Men might be waiting inside for word of day labor or someone who knew a family eager for a wage.
There wasn’t much time for lingering in town, not with acres of corn and hay waiting for his attention, but August knew Jeremiah had friends here. He hadn’t gotten close to anyone except his brother as a boy and it stood to reason he might be a perfect stranger to these people. Sure as anything, his last name was likely to be recognized when he introduced himself. His father had frequented the local drinking establishments and claimed to be present during the poker game when Wild Bill Hickok lost his pocket watch and the shootout between Hickok and David Tutt on the town square. Whether it was the truth or drunken ramblings, August never knew. So busy with his own brawls and troubles, he hadn’t paid much mind to his father’s tales. Depending on who had spoken with Maud, he might already have resurrected his reputation among the townsfolk.
He pushed his hat up on his forehead and entered the store, pretending interest in tools as he waited for the clerk to help a customer. Money changed hands, goods went out the door and he approached the counter.
“Help you?” The clerk was middle-aged with thinning hair and hawk-sharp eyes.
August nodded. “I’m looking for help on a farm. Corn’s ripe and I figure I have two weeks’ worth of work harvesting and two for shucking.”
The clerk eyed him. “Which farm?”
“O’Dell’s, in Wilson township.” He waited for the recognition and the inevitable questions
about who was running the farm.
“Heard he died.” Curiosity came through in the other man’s voice.
A dry knot formed in August’s throat. “I’m his brother, August.”
The three other customers looked at him. He ignored the probing eyes, keeping his mind on business.
The clerk didn’t reply. He pulled a book from beneath the counter, opened it and licked his fingers as he separated pages. “Your brother purchased some tools on credit. I can’t charge anything on the account until it’s paid off.”
August clenched his jaw. Thinking of Loyal and how she expected him home tonight, he knew starting an argument with this man wouldn’t be wise. “I’m not asking for credit. I’m in need of laborers.”
They exchanged a long look.
“How much?” He reached for the ledger, annoyed when the clerk pulled it away.
“Three dollars and seventy-two cents.”
“I’d like to see the copy of the receipt.” He drew out the slim bit of leather he used to carry paper money. Holding the currency aloft, he waited until the clerk located the carbon paper and slid it over the counter.
August did the sums in his head and laid the money down. Although he wanted to tap his foot against the floor as he waited for change, he held still, listening to the whisper of voices behind him.
“You hear about anyone looking for work, I’ll be in town all morning. I’ll check in before I go.”
The clerk looked bored and responded with a terse nod. August tapped his hat brim in acknowledgment of the other men. He heard one mutter his name and Loyal’s, although he didn’t waste time trying to hear what else they had to say.
He had the same results at the barber’s, but at least no debt. He received plenty of looks and little interest in the work he was offering. By noon his feet ached and he felt like the whole town had him under a magnifying glass. And of all the people to run into, Maud Bowman stepped out of the dress shop as he crossed in front of it. A parcel wrapped in brown paper fell from her grasp and August retrieved it. She looked startled at first, then batted her eyelashes and smiled as she accepted it.
“August O’Dell!”
She called his name loud enough that everyone within twenty feet heard her trilling voice. As though they were old friends instead of passing acquaintances at best.
“Mrs. Bowman. Fine day, isn’t it?” He’d rather have started harvesting corn by himself than run into her.
“It is. How is Loyal?” She gave him a sly look. “Everything alright with the—”
“Truth is, I’m searching for some help to bring the corn in,” he interrupted. “I’ve put out word today, but if you hear of anyone who needs a decent wage, Loyal and I would appreciate it. There’ll be more work after I plow again. We should get a second corn crop later this fall without any trouble.”
“I daresay Loyal won’t be any help then. She’ll be too far gone to bend and stoop for harvesting with her belly. Since you’re newlyweds and it’s her first baby, I hope you’ll let her take it easy.”
If there hadn’t already been dozens of eyes on them, he felt sure there were now. He wanted to wring Maud’s neck. Heat rose up his face. It wasn’t proper for anyone to mention a woman’s condition in public. The gleeful gleam told him she knew exactly what she was doing. He didn’t know why she delighted in gossip. If the shoe was on the other foot, she wouldn’t appreciate that sort of talk.
“I’ll be sure to see she gets enough rest.”
Maud’s smile widened. “You’re awfully good to take on your brother’s farm and his wife. Some might think you stepped in at just the right time.”
“You mean on purpose. Tell me how I arranged it so the mower rolled over him?” He kept his voice low, aware anyone standing close could hear.
She looked affronted. “I never said any such thing, although I imagine you were pleased to learn he left you a farm and a woman in the family way.”
“Enough, Maud. Loyal isn’t here to defend herself and I won’t let you talk about her that way.” His hands were balled into fists at his side. Instead of anger, an ache grew around his heart. “At least she’s trying to provide for her child.”
They had a crowd now. About two dozen people watched him stand up to Maud.
She flushed, but he didn’t think embarrassment caused the color. “She’s a woman of loose morals,” Maud announced. “We don’t need her kind or yours around here.”
It was never about Loyal, although she’d brought down shame on her father’s church. Maud was striking out at him personally. He’d forgotten that before she’d become a preacher’s wife, she’d had a wild streak of her own. Despite her best efforts, he’d never had an interest in her. He supposed this was her revenge for the day he’d rebuffed her before a gaggle of girls. “Your husband married us, but you know damn well she’d have married Jeremiah and set things right. We never saw eye-to-eye. That’s no call to insult my wife.”
“Your wife is a scarlet woman,” Maud shot back.
“They throw out the rule about casting stones in Irwin’s church?” He jabbed a finger at her, maintaining his distance in case someone mistook him for threatening. “You were her friend. She thought she could trust you. Guess you got hoity-toity since moving to the city. Those country folk aren’t worth your sympathy.”
“Your wife’s a whore and you were always a no-good drunken Irishman’s son.” Maud dropped her parcel and the little purse hanging from her wrist. The contents scattered across the walkway.
On reflex, he started forward to grab the fallen items then froze as she screeched.
“Don’t you touch me!”
“Did he hit her?” someone murmured.
August faced the spectator. “I didn’t.”
“August O’Dell.” The crowd parted as the sheriff stepped forward. “It’s been a few years since we saw you around here. I didn’t think you’d come back.”
The badge pinned to Eugene Fowler’s overcoat gleamed in the midday light. August had a long history with the lawman. Neither of them were likely to forget the offenses, which included public drunkenness, fighting, petty theft, and resisting arrest. He’d probably spent more time growing up in the county jail than his father’s house.
“Sheriff.” He relaxed his hands, letting them hang at his sides. Like everyone else, Fowler must know damn good and well why he was here. “Family business brought me back.”
“There a problem, Mrs. Bowman?” Fowler’s gaze slid over the woman and back to August.
Maud straightened the little hat pinned to her dark brown hair. “Mr. O’Dell accosted me.”
Fowler’s eyes went steely. “That true, O’Dell?”
“Hell, no. We were talking. She said some impolite things about my wife, but I didn’t touch her.” He backed up a step, knowing Fowler wouldn’t hesitate to blame him. “People change, sheriff.”
“Anyone see O’Dell touch Mrs. Bowman? Give her a push, grab her arm?” Fowler studied the contents of Maud’s pocketbook on the ground.
A murmur went through the crowd. Someone cleared his throat. “He lunged at her. Couldn’t say whether he hurt her.”
Cold sweat broke out on August’s brow. He held his hands up. “She dropped those things. I tried to help her pick them up. There’s no call for speculation, Fowler.”
“Except you’ve been known to cause trouble around here on a whim.”
What Fowler didn’t say was you’re your father’s son. It had passed through his lips on more than one occasion.
August swallowed hard, aware that there were people in the crowd who knew him beyond Maud’s talk. “This time’s different.”
“We’d better take this down to the jail. Come on, O’Dell.” Fowler gestured at him. Impatience was written across his age-lined face. His mustache twitched over his thin mouth.
August caught Maud’s smug smile. “Sheriff, Loyal’s expecting me home. She’ll worry.”
“You can come along peaceful, or we can do it the way w
e used to.” Fowler closed in, hand on the gun strapped to his waist.
A hand snaked around August’s upper arm and he turned, startled by the contact. Old instincts to protect himself kicked in. He struck out with his free hand. Too late he realized the man was Fowler’s. The deputy staggered back, holding his nose.
“Same damn August.” Fowler grabbed his shirt collar, dragging him away from the bleeding deputy.
“Wait a minute.” August put his hands out to steady himself. “I—”
Before he could defend himself, Fowler’s fist flew through the air. Pain exploded in August’s skull and his knees gave out. He landed flat on his back, gazing up at the sky through a murky haze clouding his vision. He’d assaulted a law officer and it meant he was headed for jail.
With a sinking feeling in his heart, he knew Loyal would never trust him again.
7
Loyal longed for the sound of horseshoes on the road as she clutched the porch railing. She didn’t know whether to be furious or worried or both. August had left yesterday morning and hadn’t returned. Where could he be? Had running the farm become a burden for him already?
She wasn’t sure how their financial situation stood. Perhaps hiring labor would be too costly. With no help, the corn crop was as good as spoiled. He might have emptied his brother’s bank account, taken the money saved there and fled. Or maybe it was because of her. After she’d told him she wouldn’t tolerate infidelity, he’d realized what a mess he’d gotten into and decided to leave.
She paced the porch. How long would it take the bank manager to demand payment on the farm equipment, and how would she come up with the money to give him? Jeremiah had owed on the land too, but maybe she could sell some of the outer acreage to cover the payments. Her head ached with worry.
Just like August to bring this down on her. She’d been naïve to think he was different, even with the changes she’d seen over the last two weeks. He was no good and never would be. Somehow she’d make this right and provide for her baby. With every step she took, her anger multiplied. He didn’t even have the courtesy to leave a note explaining why he’d abandoned her. She’d show him. Him and everyone who thought poorly of her since she’d left her father’s house.
The Wrong Brother's Bride Page 6
