The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3)

by Lena Goldfinch

  Which was why she was a dirty as a pigpen now, and around all these decent people. Seeing one middle-aged woman and her husband talking in hushed tones and looking her way, Annie tried to scrub her face clean with the sleeve of her dress. Problem was she suspected her dress was even dirtier than her face. She didn’t have a single thing to clean up with or change into, and she couldn’t very well ask the man across from her for anything. One, because she couldn’t ask him a thing—not speaking out loud anyway. And, two, because he wasn’t looking at her. Sometimes if someone was looking at her, she could get her meaning across, but most times people just avoided looking at her altogether. The man across from her—James, he’d said, or Jem—seemed that sort of person. He’d rather look right through her. She knew the type. She was an embarrassment.

  The only problem was she was tied to him for life now.

  Because she was his wife. It seemed so unreal, like it had happened to someone else. Or it hadn’t happened at all.

  Except she’d seen him stuff the marriage certificate down the front of his shirt, and she could see the bumps the folded paper made against the blue fabric of his shirt.

  A “mail-order” bride. That’s what Daniel had called her. That was a laugh. More like a slave. Cooking, cleaning, mending. She doubted he ever meant to marry her. He’d had the opportunity before they left Tennessee, but he’d pushed it off, telling Mr. Ruskin that he “wanted to get married with his family in attendance.” Whatever the reason for him delaying, she could only be grateful she wasn’t tied to him for life.

  She eyed Jem thoughtfully. Half his face was covered in a full black beard and mustache, and the other half was shadowed by his brown wide-brimmed Stetson hat. He had on a brown leather jacket and darker brown trousers. In fact, he was pretty much dark brown, dark brown, dark brown, except for his blue shirt and the little patches of flesh where his skin was showing. She’d count herself lucky if she could ever catch another glimpse of his eyes. What she’d seen of them earlier, she thought they were gray or blue, like a stormy sky. Like his daughter’s. He’d called her Mae several times. An adorable little wee one.

  The puppy snuffled at Annie’s fingers, and she stroked its downy-soft fur.

  She was glad Jem had stepped in and done something to help the poor creature—she just hadn’t expected him to do quite so much.

  Like tearing up that marriage certificate Daniel had made her sign.

  Like marrying up with her instead, evidently so no one else would have her.

  What kind of man did that?

  In appearance, he seemed a not-very-nice sort of man. Not the kind of man you’d want to sneak up on unexpected. He was lean and rugged every which way: broad-shouldered, tall, muscular... You wouldn’t want to startle this man in the dark, for instance. He was dangerous that way. The other man—the one with the mean eyes—had seen that too. It was the only reason he’d backed down. The money hadn’t mattered. He’d just been plain old scared of Jem. And that was a fact.

  She rather liked that. She’d married a dangerous man. A dangerous man who’d stood up for a puppy and a filthy girl in a filthy dress.

  He’d come running over to check on his little girl too, which meant he must have a softer side. It was the one reason she’d made any sort of effort to get through to him about the dog.

  And, thankfully, she had gotten through.

  The sweet little pup licked Annie’s fingers and pushed its furry little body in closer to her side. It was a nice feeling, being snuggled into.

  It felt…safe. Nice.

  She hadn’t felt this safe in a long time, despite not knowing where they were going, or what was going to happen to her next. For now, she was on the train.

  She thought of Daniel and what he’d whispered to her to sign the paper.

  I need this. Without it I can’t get home. I can’t even get on the train.

  He’d meant money, of course. He hadn’t lied to the men about not having any money. He’d spent the last revival donations—not much at that—on food. They hadn’t been robbed, unless you called charging for two good bowls of stew being robbed. Forget that Daniel could have worked for his money. He could have done something. He wasn’t completely useless. He had arms. He could speak. And he wasn’t a bad preacher, as far as the preaching part went. In fact, Annie had to admit that Daniel had quite a talent for delivering a stirring message. It was his life when he wasn’t behind the pulpit that pained her—that he didn’t live what he professed to believe. That he took advantage of those girls. The very ones he should have been protecting from such things.

  Annie sighed.

  She couldn’t say Daniel had ever hurt her. He’d always made sure she had what she needed. It had genuinely seemed to trouble him that she refused his offers of fresh water to bathe with or a brush for her hair.

  In his way, he’d tried to provide for her. She just couldn’t bear to be near him. Thank goodness he’d never made true his promise to marry her.

  He was a boy, really—a boy who’d never grown up.

  So she’d signed the paper, even though it made her married to that awful mean-eyed man. She signed because Daniel had asked, not threatened—because he so obviously wanted to go home. She signed so she’d be free of him. And though fear had run ice-cold through her, she’d signed even knowing the mean-eyed man was a very bad sort of man. There was something about his flat stare that had struck her with the shivers. Why had he wanted her? Why? For no good reason. None that she could see. Her mind had raced ahead with the possibilities. Grab the pup and run. That was as far as she’d got. She would have too at her first opportunity.

  Where she would’ve gone and what she would’ve done...she had no idea. She’d only known she’d need to get away.

  The whistle blew, and Annie snuck a glance around for nearly the hundredth time to be sure the man who’d “bought her” hadn’t boarded the train. There was no sign of him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in one of the other cars, she supposed. He had come off the train when it stopped, been one of the first ones Daniel had approached. So that meant he was headed south like the other folks on board. Anyway, why would he want to stay in a tiny old town like the one they were about to pull out of? Why would anyone? It didn’t even have a name as far as she could tell.

  Across from her, Mae squirmed. She’d been trying for a good while to be quiet. Annie could tell that from the way the little girl gripped her knees tightly and kept pulling her lips in and out of her mouth.

  The train pulled away from the depot with a jerk and then a steady roll.

  “Daddy,” Mae finally said, watching the depot roll past the window with a crestfallen expression.

  “Umm?” he mumbled, his face still hidden under his hat. Maybe he had his eyes shut—it seemed like it to Annie. Maybe he’d been sitting there this whole time, searching his mind for answers.

  “Daddy, so hungry.”

  He turned his head toward her. “I’ll ask the porter when he comes ’round. Maybe they’ve got some more apples. Or soda crackers and cheese.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and spilled over.

  “Don’t you dare cry,” he said gruffly, but not in any truly mean way. It was actually sort of a tender thing, the way he said it.

  Mae sniffled.

  He rested his hand over her head for a moment and gave it a playful waggle.

  So, the man wasn’t entirely dangerous. Not nearly as dangerous as Annie expected he wanted people to believe, which was curious.

  Annie looked from one to the other: father, daughter. She was hungry too. She didn’t know quite what to expect if there were to be apples, crackers, or cheese. Would he buy some for her too? She didn’t have two cents to rub together. Not even one, truth be told.

  She cleared her throat, and when he glanced at her, she quickly placed a hand over her stomach before he could hide back under his hat again.

  He nodded. After a few seconds, he seemed to get a bit agitated, rubbing his knees, tapping th
e heel of one boot, which set the spur jangling, making a tinkling metallic sound. He tugged his hat down more securely over his eyes, when it would have been more polite to take the thing off inside the car, Annie would’ve thought.

  When he stood abruptly, she jerked a bit in surprise. The puppy and Mae looked up at him too, every one of them expectant, herself included.

  “Come along, Mae,” he said, reaching down a hand toward her. “Let’s go find the porter. Maybe he’ll have something for us.”

  But now that he indicated he was going in search of food, the little girl immediately turned her attention to the puppy again, sliding to the very end of her seat and pointing her toes across the space between them. Her shoes lay on the floor. She must have kicked them off. For its part, the puppy was stretching as far as it could on the end of its chain, using its support to lean out farther than it could have otherwise. Its nose evidently tickled Mae’s toes, for the little girl smiled, delighted, and stretched father—so far Annie feared she was going to topple off the edge of her seat.

  “I stay,” Mae said to her father, shooting an impish grin at him. Adorable. Irresistible.

  Jem hesitated, clearly torn. If he went on his own, Annie figured he could move much faster, going from car to car. But he probably didn’t want to leave Mae alone with her, a stranger. Not that she blamed him. What did he know about her? Nothing.

  Finally he seemed to come to a decision, for he heaved out a breath and squared his shoulders.

  “All right then, stay,” he said. “I’ll see if I can find the porter.”

  Before he left, he leaned down close to Annie’s ear, his beard tickling her cheek.

  “If he comes by here—finds you—you need to stay put,” he whispered, an order. He was obviously used to be listened to. His nearness sparked an awareness in her, not entirely unpleasant. Not like when Danny tried to sidle up next to her. With Jem it was more like bacon sizzling nicely in a fry pan, even with that furry beard and the hat pulled down low over his eyes. Maybe because she’d decided she could trust him.

  “Don’t even look at him,” he added. “He has no rights over you. Understand?”

  He was worried about her?

  Annie nodded, surprised. She lifted one finger purely out of habit, as she’d become accustomed to doing back home with the Ruskins—one for yes, two for no. It had worked as a form of communication even between floors.

  “If he tries to touch you or Mae or the dog,” Jem said, “I want you to scream as loud as you can and don’t stop. Can you do that—can you scream?”

  She nodded, embarrassed that he had to ask. Again she lifted one finger, yes. She could make any number of truly awful screeching noises, loud as could be if she needed to.

  “Okay, good. I don’t think he’ll try anything here on the train, not really. Too many people. But it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” He stood and took an assessing look around their car. Apparently satisfied, he told Mae, “You wait here.” He glanced down at Annie again to get her commitment to stand watch over his daughter. She sat up straighter and nodded.

  He hesitated.

  Annie tried to fix her most trustworthy face on. Go on. She waved him away. I’ll watch the wee one.

  Maybe it was hard to trust her in all her filth—or maybe he was still worried about the man coming to look for them—because he hesitated one more moment. Then he stalked off, as if intent on getting where he was going and back as quickly as possible. She saw him disappear through the connecting door to the next car up.

  It wasn’t fifteen minutes, maybe twenty at the most, and he was back again. He held up his prize: one wrinkled red apple, two hunks of cheese, and a packet of soda crackers. He also had a large metal flask of what she hoped was cold, clear water to share.

  Annie’s mouth watered, just thinking about cheese.

  She watched as Jem sat back next to Mae and handed her the apple straight off. So the apple was out of the offing. Gone to a hungry little girl. That was fair.

  Mae didn’t even wait for grace to be said. She bit down into that apple and chewed, an expression of relieved delight crossing her face. The apple must not have been too dry, for juice dripped down her chin. She didn’t bother to wipe it off—she just took another bite. More juice dribbled down onto her dress. Her white pinafore was nearly as dirty as Annie’s dress from playing in the dirt, but a small child could be excused for that. A child on a long train journey anyway.

  Annie didn’t have that luxury. She was all too aware of the glances still being slung her way. Her appearance was one thing, but then add to that the fact that she’d just newly come on board. They’d been traveling with this man and his child for who knows how many days. They all knew he hadn’t been traveling with a woman. None of them would have dreamed he’d married at the last stop—just like that—and least likely to a woman like her. What on earth did they think she was? She didn’t dare consider it.

  Jem handed one of the hunks of cheese across to her, and she made an effort not to grab it from him and shove the whole thing in her mouth. She was that hungry. Instead, she nibbled at it, making it last, and watched with greatest interest as he opened up the packet of crackers. He passed her four, which she took gratefully. Gave two to the puppy, who gobbled them down right quick. Two more he sat on his knee, presumably for Mae, and then he broke pieces off the other hunk of cheese and set them atop his remaining crackers, downing them one by one. It wasn’t nearly enough for a man his size, she guessed, but he wasn’t complaining any. As soon as Mae finished her apple, he took the core from her and passed her one of the remaining crackers with a piece of cheese on it. She munched that down and looked to him immediately for another, the last one.

  He gave it to her, then showed her his empty hands.

  She frowned. “More?”

  “No more,” he said, and showed her his empty hands again, making a bigger gesture out of it, as if the little girl was accusing him of hiding some.

  If Annie weren’t so intent on eating her share of cheese and crackers she might have smiled at the sight of them, one of the most dangerous men she’d ever seen sitting side by side with that tiny little girl. They made quite a mismatched pair.

  Mae looked over at Annie, at the last cracker in her hand and the last bit of cheese.

  Annie gulped down the mouthful she was chewing. She looked down at the last of her meal and back at the little girl. To her shame, she didn’t want to give up her last cracker. She could barely remember the last meal she’d eaten.

  “That’s Annie’s food,” Jem admonished the little girl. “You’ve had yours.”

  Mae bit her lip. She glanced down at her lap, then back at Annie again.

  I can share, Annie attempted to tell Mae with her eyes alone. She snapped her cracker in half—simply unable to bear parting with the whole thing—and passed it across to the little girl. Mae took it and popped the whole thing in her mouth, making Annie smile.

  “Mae!” her father said.

  She looked at him wide-eyed, her mouth full of cracker. “Whaf dafdda?” she said, muffled, spraying a few cracker crumbs onto his trousers.

  He closed his eyes briefly and brushed them off. “You didn’t have to give her any,” he said to Annie, “but thanks.”

  Annie grunted, her way of saying she didn’t mind that much. She looked down quickly and finished her last bit of food. The crackers had been crispy and the cheese silky and smooth. They’d tasted like heaven.

  “You must be thirsty,” he said. “Do you mind sharing?”

  She shook her head and automatically lifted two fingers.

  “Two’s no?” he asked.

  She nodded, pleased, and lifted one finger. She’d grown up sending signals through the floor of the Ruskins’ house, one stomp for yes, two for no. It came natural as rain now.

  “And one’s yes,” he said, catching on quick.

  Annie drank deep when he passed her the flask of water, amazed he’d let her drink from it. She tried her best to
pour it down her throat without touching her lips to the flask, so he wouldn’t regret giving it to someone so dirty.

  She wished she could tell him thanks, but after Mae had her fill and he took his own swallow, he was back under his hat, likely going over the events of the day.

  How he’d stuck himself with her.

  How he probably regretted even stepping off the train at the last stop.

  She couldn’t say she blamed him.

  She hadn’t much wanted to marry a stranger herself.

  THREE

  Jem stared at the back of his eyelids, still seeing the reddish patch of light where the train window was. The apple core was sticky in his palm, and he thought about tossing it out the window. Just couldn’t seem to get himself to move. That was the problem. That and the young woman sitting across from him. Annie. His wife.

  He didn’t want a wife.

  He wanted to be alone. He wanted to spend his next ten years burying himself in work. He longed to be busy, to fall in bed at night so tired he wouldn’t even dream. It was hard to fit Mae into a plan like that though. She was little. She needed things. Like time, attention, and affection. It felt like a pair of heavy boulders riding around on his shoulders all the time. Weighing him down. It should have been a joy. If he was any kind of father, he’d be more, do more. But it felt like he didn’t have anything left to give.

  He certainly didn’t have the strength or drive to open his heart to someone new. A woman. Someone to replace Lorelei? The thought was as repulsive to him as the thought of eating the pulpy apple core in his hand. Who would do that? Eat the core, chew up the seeds? Yet that was what he’d just done. He’d opened his mouth and shoved the whole thing in.

  And now he had a wife.

  But if he could go back, would he leave her there? Let her go with a man who was that rough and mean? No. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker of doubt about what he’d needed to do. He couldn’t even let the dog go with such a man. There was something else about the man that plagued Jem now—that scent he knew he’d smelled before, but couldn’t quite place. What was it? Something acrid. Like burnt paper or... No, it eluded him. Just out of reach. Whatever it was.