Year of Jubilee

by Peggy Trotter

  “I’ve cooked up some rabbit stew.” His voice rumbled low. “Don’t suppose you’ve got bowls? It’d make eating a lot easier.”

  She jumped up like a bee had stung her.

  “I’ll get bowls.” She took off through the darkness, trying not to run lest it indicate her fear. At the cabin, she quickly gathered the bowls and spoons and made her way back to the fire. Handing them to him would prove a tricky thing.

  * * *

  Rafe eyed her. By his estimation, she was plumb out of her mind with fright. He spooned the thick stew into the dishes, wondering how he’d hand it back to her given her reluctance to approach him. He chose to stretch out as far as he could without actually standing and setting it on the ground. She all but snatched it, yet didn’t devour the contents as Rafe would’ve suspected.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He stuck the spoon in the hot stew.

  They ate quietly for a few moments. Then Rafe spoke. “No fish today?”

  She shook her head, her eyes drifting back and forth from him to her meal.

  “I guess we oughta talk,” he murmured. “It’d be easier if I knew your name.”

  She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Jubilee.”

  “Have you thought of a place to go?”

  Again, a shake of her head.

  “I see.” He went back to eating. “You need some more?”

  “No.”

  She could probably barely eat what he’d given her. He helped himself to a second portion and didn’t speak again until they had both finished.

  “Okay, I’ve been thinking about this all day.” He paused and fixed his gaze on hers. “I gotta lot of work in store for me on this property.”

  She clenched her hands in her lap and stared at him with those huge, dark eyes. The fire’s light revealed dirt smudges across her forehead. He returned to focus on the campfire.

  “It might work to have a little help around here. Like a ‘business arrangement,’ of sorts.” His eyes flicked back to her.

  The woman’s eyebrows drew together. Rafe cleared his throat and kept talking.

  “You’d stay in the cabin and cook dinner and clean up. I’ll occupy the barn. You could also tend the garden, put up the harvest, and take care of the barn animals.” He paused as if he’d just thought of something, “You do cook, don’t you?”

  Hesitantly, she nodded.

  Satisfied with her answer he continued, “I’ll clear the land and plant the crops according to my plan. I’ll make sure we have food, clothing. The basics. The whole thing will sort of be a cooperative effort.”

  The woman’s hand set to kneading the fabric of her skirt. His eyes narrowed. What was going through her brain? Didn’t she understand the arrangement?

  “Course, folks roundabout will soon get wind we’re both living out here, and to keep any damage to our reputations, we probably ought to marry.”

  She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth.

  Rafe shook his head. That hadn’t gone well. “We’d still stick to our arrangement of you in the cabin and me in the barn, but to everyone else we’d be just…a married couple.”

  It was finally out. Rafe took a deep breath. Jubilee blinked at him.

  “Now, you’ll probably need a night to think it over. Either way you decide, we’ll be heading into town tomorrow morning.” He cleared his throat and stood. The woman nearly broke her neck trying to jump up and stutter-step behind the bench.

  “Well, I’ve got a few chores to tend to.” He strode to the barn.

  * * *

  Jubilee stared after him, then covered her face with her hands. He had to be kidding. She shook her head to clear her thoughts. A forced marriage? Again? Tears gathered at the back of her throat. Well, at least this time she’d have a choice. Colvin had kindly set a revolver to her temple.

  She shivered, having left the relative warmth of the fire. Waiting until he disappeared into the barn, Jubilee took off at a run to the cabin, tears streaming. Not bothering to gather wood, she barred the door and pounced into bed to cover up with the quilt. She blinked in the darkness, and her brain grew numb. How had all this happened? Too much had changed in the space of twenty-four hours.

  Yet, what other option did she have? It was this or…it was just this. Pulling the ragged blanket tighter, she sobbed into the pillow. If she wanted to stay, she’d have to marry a stranger. Another stranger. Colvin’s cousin. Oh, glory. What am I going to do?

  * * *

  Back at the barn, Rafe picked up a brush and began to groom Horse. He disgusted himself. Horse sidestepped to avoid the rough strokes, and Rafe gentled his hand. Why had he suggested marriage? Because he felt responsible for her, that’s why. Horse nickered, turned his piebald face to him, and butted his arm.

  “Sorry, boy.” He scratched the swirl of hair between Horse’s blue eye and his brown one. With a tender hand, he detangled the streaked mane.

  But what did it matter, really? The one he desired was lost to him. God’s plan, his father claimed. Rafe gritted his teeth, annoyed that this piece of advice had crossed his mind.

  Bad things happened to people all the time. Wrong things, awful things. God’s plan. Was there such a notion? He pulled a burr from Horse’s mane. What was the difference if he married a strange girl? The woman he wanted was out of his hands.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Rafe rubbed his smooth chin and patted the old wagon he’d worked on till late in the night. A fresh paint job and it’d be good as new. He flicked his glance toward the cabin. No use trying to waste any more time. Horse stomped his indignation at being harnessed, bringing a grin to Rafe’s stiff face.

  “Sorry, old buddy.” He thumped his flank. “This is your job till I get my hands on a good harness horse. Trust me, we’re all making adjustments.”

  She appeared and rounded the corner of the house to the front porch. He shut the barn door, then leaped to the buckboard seat and slapped the reins. Horse took off with a jolt. Humph. They’d have to work on that. He pulled Horse to a halt as he neared.

  “Mornin’.” He greeted and touched his hat.

  She bobbed her head.

  “Am I loading your stuff, or are we driving in to meet the preacher?”

  “I don’t have anything.”

  So, she was leaving. Rafe took a deep breath and rubbed his neck. Hard to understand why that didn’t set well.

  The woman’s face appeared white and strained. “I have a question.”

  He nodded, climbed down from the wagon, and approached the rickety porch. “All right.”

  She cleared her throat. “If I stay…would you…?”

  His gaze dropped to her hand working circles in the soft ragged material of her dress. She kept her gaze on the wagon but didn’t finish.

  Finally he spoke. “Mrs. Stallings, I…”

  “Don’t call me that. Please,” she begged, her soft, brown eyes round as she pressed a hand to her breast.

  He leaned against the porch support. “Fine, how should I address you?”

  She shrugged one thin shoulder.

  He sighed and shook his head to clear it. “You had a question?”

  “Yes. If we married and had a…‘business arrangement,’ would you agree not to…” she swallowed and stepped back, “…beat me?”

  Her dark eyes fastened on him again. Their neediness mesmerized him. Anger at Colvin seared the pit of his stomach.

  With exaggerated slowness, he removed his hat and ran the brim around in his hand. He kept his eyes on the dirt to keep the anger toward his cousin from showing in his face. Finally, he looked up and waited until her gaze latched to his.

  “Ma’am, as a gentleman. I would never strike a woman.” He spoke with deep conviction. “Never.”

  She studied him for a long moment. “Then, I will agree to the…‘business arrangement,’ as you explained last night.”

  * * *

  Refusing to let fear choke her, she stepped from the porch, leaving
a wide berth around the huge man who’d soon be her husband. A sob rose, and she forced it down. Scurrying to the other side of the wagon before she changed her mind, she set her foot on the base of the bed to swing herself aboard.

  “Here, let me…”

  She screamed and leaped away from the wagon. The man moved so silently, and he loomed terribly close. She pinned him with her eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face puckered. Surely he wouldn’t break his promise already.

  “Ma’am, a man usually helps a woman up to her seat in the wagon.”

  She shook her head swiftly. “I can ride here in the back, and I’ll board myself.”

  He placed his hat back on, and Jubilee glanced at his golden-blond hair lit by the rays of the sun.

  “Ma’am, it’s polite manners for me to help you up, and I’d much rather you ride up front where it’s more comfortable. I’ve already promised I won’t hurt you. You’ve got to trust me if this is going to work.”

  She raised her chilly fingers to her face. To be that close to him. To let him touch her. Jubilee inhaled a trembling breath and stepped forward. It took all her courage to allow his big hands to encircle her waist and lift her. Her throat went dry, fearing he wouldn’t let go. But he did, and he circled the wagon to the driver’s side.

  As he boarded, his big body juggled the seat and she, panicking, grabbed hold of the seat.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to jostle you.”

  He settled in and grasped the reins. Jubilee struggled to keep her leg from touching his, but he required a lot of room.

  “I’ve got a coat if you’re cold,” he mentioned, pulling the long garment from the back.

  Jubilee gratefully slid her bare arms into the huge sleeves. The outerwear was nearly big enough to wrap around her twice. She kept her head turned as she pondered the man. His physical stature intimidated her. He was a hulk of a man, a great deal larger than Colvin. As a matter of fact, they seemed opposites in many ways. Colvin had been small and wiry, with dark hair and close-set eyes, much like a mouse with his narrow face.

  Rafe stood well over six foot, with broad shoulders, blond hair, and striking hazel eyes. Brown one minute, green the next. His nose stood out a bit strong and he wasn’t overly handsome, yet, he was appealing. Nothing Jubilee could remember had been appealing about Colvin. She took a deep breath and tried to calm the trembling in her middle. Perhaps they’d be opposites in personality, too. Jubilee certainly hoped so.

  * * *

  Rafe’s stomach clenched in pity for the woman next to him. Why, she’d trembled when he’d lifted her to the wagon. She weighed less than a newborn calf. And he couldn’t deny he admired her pluck to have survived the struggles she’d seen in her young life. He pulled himself up short. Hmmm, how old was she?

  “May I ask you a question?” He rephrased her words, emphasizing, ‘you.’

  She nodded and gave a one-shoulder shrug.

  “How old are you?” He glanced at her. She shrank from him.

  “Eighteen.”

  They rode in silence for a while.

  “What about you?”

  “Twenty.”

  The creaks of the old wagon and the soft plodding sound of Horse’s feet were the only sounds for a long spell. Finally Rafe spoke.

  “I’ll drop you at the mercantile while I go make arrangements with the pastor.” He gripped the reins as the faces of his family flitted through his brain. They’d miss the wedding. “Then I’ll stop back and pick you up. Make sure you purchase several yards of fabric. You’ll need a couple of dresses, and I’m sure you’ll want curtains for the cabin. A new quilt for winter will come in handy, and I figure you’ll need one too. So get plenty, and any other necessities. We’ll load up the wagon with food and head home.”

  She gaped at him. “I can get fabric?”

  “Yes, for all the items I mentioned. Get plenty. We’re set pretty far from town.”

  She stared for such a long time that he finally turned. “Problem?”

  With a quick shake of her head, she turned her gaze from his.

  All right now. This was going to work. Rafe whistled a made-up tune as the wagon plodded to town. It was better than he could’ve planned. She’d cook for him, so he could concentrate on farming. She’d take care of the laundry needs, so he had no worry with that. The garden would be tended to, the cow milked.

  Yep. Almost like hiring a servant. Better even, because she had a vested interest. He leaned back in the seat and relaxed. The woman next to him recoiled. He cleared his throat. Except for that. Uneasiness needled him and he shifted again. He had to remember that, without him, she’d be homeless. Yep. This was for her own good.

  * * *

  New dresses? Curtains? Quilts? He could afford all this? A shot of dread rippled through her. What would he want in return? Selecting fabrics, yard after yard, then multiple threads, was like a dizzy dream. Jubilee could barely believe the volume after so much want. That, with the rest of the supplies Rafe had ordered, came to a very large amount.

  On a bench outside of the mercantile, she shivered and laid her hand upon the brown package containing the precious material. Could it be true? Was she really going to take all of this fabric home? She glanced up and searched the street. Fear raced through her. Perhaps this was the way it’d be. He wouldn’t show up and she’d be abandoned here in town. Just as the treacherous thought leaped to her mind, she saw the wagon appear from the direction of the sawmill.

  He waved, vaulted from the high seat, and loaded the stuff in the back of the wagon. When he reached for the brown package in her hand, she hugged it to herself and shook her head. He gave a half-grin and encircled her waist to heft her to the seat. She sat for a moment, trying to still her frightened heart. Would she ever get used to that?

  He strode into the building to pay for their purchases and reappeared. “We’re supposed to be at the church at one.” He climbed aboard. “So I figure we ought to eat before we head over.”

  Eat? Were they going home? She didn’t question him as the wagon set in motion. But he didn’t turn around to head back to the cabin. He went a block up the street and drew to a stop. Jubilee studied her surroundings.

  “Pastor told me this place had good food.”

  Jubilee waited for him to reappear at the side of the wagon. After he set her on the ground, she stepped back with a puzzled look on her face.

  “We’re eating here?” She motioned to Millie’s restaurant, with the red-checked curtains at the windows. Her hand grabbed the side of her skirt.

  “Yep.”

  He started for the door, but she froze. When he shuffled back to her, he rubbed the back of his neck and raised his brows. “This not a good place?”

  “I don’t know, I…” They were eating in a restaurant? She licked her lips and stepped hesitantly toward the door.

  He hurried to open it, and she halted, eying him. A gentlemanly gesture. Perhaps he’d been telling the truth, though it did seem strange for someone to hold the door for her. He motioned with his hand to precede him. Once inside, Rafe selected a table and waited for her to sit, then helped her to slide her chair forward. Jubilee gave a gasp and grabbed the table edge. He sat opposite her, his eyes probing hers.

  “Do all men open doors and push in chairs?” She scrutinized him.

  “Yes. Gentlemen do.”

  This would explain Colvin’s lack of manners. He’d been no gentleman. She continued to analyze Rafe a moment as she fingered the flatware. “Oh. They have a lot of silverware. Why are there so many forks?”

  Rafe removed his hat and set it in an extra chair.

  “Well, the small fork is the salad fork. The large fork is for the main course.”

  Her brows drew together. Realizing her mouth hung open, she snapped it shut. The place setting resembled the table at Mrs. Galston’s house. “Can’t you eat your salad with the same fork?”

  He chuckled softly. “I suppose you could.”

  The waitress app
eared, rattled off the specials of the day, then took Rafe’s order. Jubilee paused and dread filled her chest.

  She leaned forward and whispered,

  “I don’t have any money.”

  He smiled. “I do. Get what you want.”

  She swallowed and glanced at the waitress again.

  “I…” Oh my. She turned pleading eyes to Rafe.

  “You like roast beef?” At her nod he told the waitress to bring another plate of roast beef.

  Jubilee scanned the interior uneasily, feeling totally out of her element.

  “Have you ever eaten in a restaurant before?” He gentled his voice.

  She shook her head and saw the pity in his eyes. She glanced away.

  “Pastor Barnett said they have good food.”

  Her tense muscles wouldn’t relax. She was to be married in a little less than an hour. Again. Her nerves quaked, and she took short breaths. Her hands knotted in her lap.

  “I don’t remember thanking you for the fabric. I’ve never had so much.” Her voice came out as a whisper. Oh dear, that made her seem even more stupid, if that were possible. Any moment now he’d stand and announce she was too much of a dunce to marry. But he just nodded and leaned back in his chair. He smiled good-naturedly.

  “Reckon it just means work for you.”

  He probably thought her a simpleton. She glanced away. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. “Oh, no, I’ll be glad to get started. I haven’t done sewing in a while.”

  It grew quiet at their table, and Jubilee scanned the room. The people seated seemed like regular folk. It must not be uncommon for most people to eat at these establishments. A fancy-dressed couple sat at the corner table, he with his long black coat and vest, complete with his top hat resting in the chair beside him, and she with an enormous amount of ruffles and a large, strange-looking gathering of fabric at the backside of her dress.

  The lady wore a crazy-tall feathered hat covered with ribbons, and tied beneath her chin, that looked plain uncomfortable. Surrounding another table, a group of older men in casual clothes told yarns to each other and slapped their legs with glee. Three ladies dressed for tea, pinkies up, sat nearby, deep in conversation.