by Leah Atwood
Sam threw a glance behind him. “Should be ready by next week, at least the first part, so that Ma and the younger kids can move in.”
“Will you and Maeve move from your cabin when the rest is completed?” The house was being built in such a way that it allowed for easy, smooth, additions while maintaining a cohesive look. Patrick knew he would move himself and Candace in, once another living area was added. That or build another smaller house on the property. The cabin they were in now was not sufficient for long-term living.
“We’ll keep our little place for now.” Sam glanced at him as they walked. “But that’s not why I invited you along. What’s going on? You’ve been withdrawn since the night of the fire.”
He removed his hat and traced a finger along the brim. “Candace is better off without me.”
“How do you figure that?” Sam’s features scrunched and his steps missed a beat.
“Nothing good has come her way since she was forced to marry me.” A conversation with his brother that was this personal in nature seemed strange—it wasn’t so long ago they barely spoke at all. “I’ve only brought her pain and sadness.” Patrick stopped walking.
Sam also stilled and pivoted to face him. “The way I see it, you rescued her from a bad situation. Wasn’t her father abusive?”
“Far as I could tell.” He pursed his lips and looked around, not that anyone was within hearing distance. “She’s never said it outright, but I have my suspicions. At a minimum, he treated her poorly, talked to her something nasty.”
Slapping his shoulder, Sam gave him a knowing smile. “Don’t you think her life here is better than what she had? She’s made friends with Maeve and Liza, Ma approves of her, and Jeanette adores her.”
“I guess you could look at it that way.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Shaking his head, Sam continued. “I understand you feel guilty, but you’re not the same man that you were when you met Candace. Everyone can see how much you’ve changed.”
“Not Candace.” He sucked in another long breath, preparing for his admission. “Do you know she cries at night? She barely looks at me and blames me for her arm.”
“Did she say as much?” Sam rose a shoulder and slanted his head.
“She doesn’t have to and even says she doesn’t blame me, but I can see it in her expressions, and I don’t fault her. If I were her, I would hate me too.”
“That doesn’t sound like the Candace I’ve come to know.” Sam scratched his jaw. “Would you like me to have Maeve talk to her?”
“No.” His steely refusal made Sam blink. “This is my marriage. I have to find a way to make it right even if it means letting her go.”
“Hold it right there.” His brother gripped his arm with severe force. “What do you mean ‘let her go’?”
Patrick shifted his feet under the weight of Sam’s stare. “She deserves better than me,” he said in a low tone.
Sam glared, deepening his scowl. “You are wrong for so many reasons. The first of which, you have made a commitment before God. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“Yes, but I think he’d understand if I give her up for pure reasons.” Goodness knew he didn’t want to let Candace go. He wouldn’t say he loved her, but he cared deeply for her. Before the fire, he lived for those smiles she would bestow upon him. Now she’d probably never smile at him again.
“You’re a fool if you believe that.” Spitting on the ground, Sam’s face was red with anger. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Oh, I understand plenty.” Sam’s nails dug into him as he tightened his grip on Patrick’s arm. “I might not know much about women, but I do know if you send Candace away, it will crush her. Have you, for one second, stopped to think that maybe she is insecure right now?”
“Insecure?” He stumbled backward. What kind of husband was he that he hadn’t thought of that?
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Candace was timid, shy and reserved, unlike any other girl he’d been involved with. She was wife quality, but he hadn’t treated her as such. In Pine Prairie, where they’d met, he’d toyed with her, convinced her to give him mild affections, knowing he had no intention of becoming involved with her. It went against her character. He’d known that, but had still pressed, coercing her with the words he knew she wanted to hear.
An unintended side-effect, their marriage had little basis beyond two people caught in circumstances. They’d moved forward since then, talked and agreed to make their marriage work, but did she really trust him? Unlikely—trust took time. In reverse roles, he certainly wouldn’t trust him, considering his history. Only he knew for certain that his heart had genuinely changed. He could only pray others could see it through his actions.
Sam’s grip loosened, and he removed his hand. His muscles relaxed as the anger visibly left him. “Don’t make any rash decisions. What we might think is best, isn’t always the right thing to do.”
They continued to walk for several more minutes. The new home site was far enough behind them that the sounds of construction fell silent to their ears. Up ahead, the old house’s ruins were crumbled to the ground in a pile of ash. Little had been touched, as the sole focus had been to complete the new house before winter set in, and they were in a race against time.
He spotted two dress-clad figures walking toward them. Maeve’s red hair gave her away, but Patrick’s focus was on Candace, her blonde curls escaping the chignon she often wore. When she was ten feet away, their eye met and held briefly. In that short time, Patrick tried to read her, see if what Sam had said was true, but Candace turned away too quickly.
Maeve gave her husband a kiss on his cheek. “We were about to load a cart and haul it to the men. Now you can help.”
A scowl crossed Patrick’s face, and he looked at his own wife. “You shouldn’t be doing anything with your arm yet.”
“The doctor said it’s healing nicely and the risk of infection is gone.” Her words went straight into the ground, upon which her gaze was fixed.
Doubt filled Patrick. Was it insecurity or blame that caused her not to look at him? He wished he knew for certain. “Either way, I don’t want to chance any setbacks. Tell me what you need to be done, and I’ll take care of it.”
Candace’s demure voice pierced his heart. “We fixed three pots of stew and several loaves of bread that need to be put on the cart. There’s also the bowls and spoons Nell from the restaurant loaned us.”
“Where are they? Better yet,” Sam winked at his wife, “why don’t you come and show me where they are, Maeve.”
Giggling, Maeve followed her husband, leaving Patrick and Candace standing in uncomfortable quiet. Envy whooshed over Patrick—his brother had found a perfect wife in Maeve. By all accounts, their marriage was special, contented, and filled with love. An arrangement he suspected he would never experience.
At least all his shenanigans brought one good thing. If he hadn’t been delayed in Pine Prairie, he would have come home, not married to Candace, and married Maeve. That would have been another disaster to add to his list. He liked his sister-in-law well enough, but the love she and Sam shared was obvious to everyone. Besides, if he listened to his heart long enough, he knew it was only Candace who could make it beat faster.
Patrick nodded, absently. A rickety wagon in the distance stole his attention. There was no lumber loaded behind the driver, and the contraption didn’t look familiar. It hit a rut, and the man bounced, uttering an oath so loud it carried to where Patrick stood with Candace.
With that one word, Patrick recognized the man.
“Go to Sam’s cabin and stay there, Candace. Don’t leave until I come for you.” His jaw locked, and Patrick patted his hip, feeling for his revolver. It was there, just as it always was unless he was sleeping. “Now, please,” he ground out between clenched teeth.
He prayed he wouldn’t have to use the weapon.
&nb
sp; Chapter Three
“I’m staying.” Candace dug her heels into the ground.
“I’m your husband, and you’ll listen to me.” His gaze never left the approaching man, but she didn’t miss the glint of anger flashing in his eyes.
Let him be mad—that was okay. For the first time in her life, she was standing up for herself. She snorted. “You might be my husband, but you’re not my boss. Besides, we both know our marriage is in name only and means nothing.”
Patrick flinched. His chest rose with a quick intake of air then deflated. “I’m sorry, but now’s not the time to argue. We need to talk but later. Please, for the love of everything, go find Sam and Maeve.”
Her hands flew to her hips and rested there. “And hide from Pa? No.”
“I’m begging you, Candace. There are lots of things I’ve done wrong, but I won’t let him inflict any more pain upon you.” He turned to her for a split second. “Until I know why he’s here, indulge me this one request.”
Despite the urgency of their current conflict, a pleasant shudder passed through her. For the first time since the fire, Patrick talked to her as though he really cared. Hope infiltrated her soul. Regardless, she wasn’t leaving. Whatever Pa’s business was, it concerned her as well.
“I’m staying. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll stand behind you.”
“What kind of concession is that?” Patrick gave her another quick glance, his brows drawn into tight lines. “Fine, but make sure you stay behind me. I’d trust drinking water after a cholera casualty before I trusted your pa.”
Time was up. As promised, she positioned herself a foot behind him but craned her neck to watch Pa. Her arm itched and bothered her. The wounds were healing better than expected, but Doc Foster told her to keep them bandaged for another few days. To her disappointment, the skin remained puckered, as she feared it would. It created a hideous vision and forgive her vanity, but she couldn’t stand to look at her arm.
Shaking the thought, she focused on her small victory. Her bold refusal to cower to a man and not be left in the shadows renewed her spirit—never mind that she was in Patrick’s physical shadow at the moment. She moved her gaze, taking in the barren-looking landscape. Maybe it was the wildness of this place, living on the vastly untamed land instead of skipping from one town to the next that unleashed her bravery. Or it could be that, finally, she’d discovered that she was a survivor and had acknowledged that she possessed an inner strength. Whatever the reason, she was changing, no longer the person she’d been just a few weeks ago.
“No greeting for your pa?” The slurred words broke Candace’s wayward thoughts.
Looking up, she saw her father had stepped down from the wagon and was standing several feet from Patrick. Had he and her husband exchanged words, she’d, unfortunately, missed them.
She stepped forward. “What—”
“State your purpose, Burl.” Patrick’s arm swung out, blocking the path and preventing her from moving forward.
“Can’t a man come visit his only daughter?” He stumbled then steadied himself. Obviously drunk, he could barely hold himself upright.
“Not when you’re that man.” Patrick’s tone gave no welcome. A finger rested on the trigger of his gun. “I’ll give you one more opportunity to state your business.”
Brash arrogance crossed Pa’s face. “I’ve come to take my daughter home.”
Patrick laughed, a deep, mocking chortle from the depths of his gut. “That right?”
“Yep, so let’s make this easy.” Pa shuffled forward, reaching an arm to her. “Come with me, darlin’, and I’ll take you to Cheyenne.”
Cheyenne? Had Pa left Pine Prairie already? Wait—did he really think she would go with him? She and Patrick might be on tense terms, but life with him was far better than life had been with Pa, ever.
“You’re not taking her anywhere.” Drawing his gun, Patrick gave Pa a scathing look. “I’ll give you five minutes to get off my land.”
“Lookee here, now. Candace is my daughter and a God-fearing woman who knows to obey her pa, don’t ya?”
Stunned, she couldn’t say a single word, only stared at Pa with wide-eyed surprise.
“She is also my wife, as you’re well aware, and I say that takes precedence.”
Pa laughed and drool ran into his beard as he stroked the long whiskers. “See, there’s a funny story. Turns out, you all aren’t really married.”
The blood drained from her face, leaving her lightheaded and dizzy. That couldn’t be true. She gave Patrick a sideways glance. His left cheek twitched and his eyes were tiny slits, but not too narrow that he couldn’t shoot daggers toward Pa. Thank goodness she wasn’t on the receiving end. Simply seeing the venom in him was enough to shake her freshly discovered confidence.
“You’re a liar.” Patrick aimed the gun at Pa’s chest. “Climb back on the wagon, turn it around and get off my land before I put a bullet in your heart.”
Stepping backward, Pa tripped over a rock and fumbled to regain balance. “This ain’t over. You and my girl ain’t no more married than I am a saint.”
“I’ll count to five and you better be on your way. One.”
Without a doubt, she knew Patrick wouldn’t hesitate to harm Pa should the need arise. There wasn’t time to stop and dwell on the fact she wouldn’t feel much sympathy if that happened. Family or not, she’d had too many bruises, too many insults hurled her way, to have much affection for Pa.
“Two.”
Candace watched, amazed that her husband showed no nervousness. He was steadfast in his demand, unwavering in his stance. Her admiration of him couldn’t be quelled, even in spite of the situation’s gravity. So opposite of her own reaction—her legs barely supported her, and her arms trembled at her sides.
Pa scrambled in the wagon, bumbling with the reins. “I’ll be back. Mark my words.”
She and Patrick stood as statues, watching him ride away. A few minutes later he was out of sight, moving faster going than he did coming in. Her legs didn’t feel like they’d last much longer. She turned at the same time Patrick pivoted to face her, and she put a steadying hand on his chest.
To her surprise and pleasure, he took her into an embrace, careful not to press against her injuries. A strange sound came out of her mouth, a mix between a sob and a sigh.
“Are you okay?” Patrick rubbed a hand on her upper back. Hot and cold. Gruff but tender. He was a mystery whom she couldn’t decipher.
“I don’t know.” With her husband’s support, her legs regained their ability to hold her upright, but she made no move to leave his arms. It was a rare touch, which she’d missed. There had been so few since that fateful night of the party, only the occasional touch to her arm or shoulder.
“He’s gone now. He won’t be back anytime soon.”
“Do you think it’s true?” She couldn’t allow herself to think what would happen if it was true.
“I don’t know.” He stared down at her, and she saw a note of apprehension.
“Do you want it to be?” The look he gave her made her sorry she’d asked.
“We’re married. If it makes you feel better, I’ll go to Pine Prairie, find the judge who married us and validate the truth.”
“But what if we’re not? What then?” She wouldn’t go back to Pa. Couldn’t go back.
“I won’t kick you out if that’s what you’re asking. No matter what, you have a home with my family and you will never have to return to that man.”
His words offered only a small measure of relief, for he hadn’t said they would marry, just that she would have a home. Tears burned the back of her eyelids, but she blinked them away. No sense borrowing trouble until they found out the truth.
Chapter Four
“What are you going to do?” Sitting at one end of the table, Ma had her hands clasped in front of her.
“Find out what he is after.” All afternoon Patrick had thought about Burl’s visit to the spread earlier in the
day.
It didn’t make sense. Candace and he were married, good and well. He’d been there for the ceremony, recited his vows in front of God. So had Candace. All of which begged the question, what was Burl after? The craggy, ill-tempered man hadn’t come around for pure motives, that much was certain. If he cared that much about his daughter, he wouldn’t have married her off to a prodigal like Patrick.
“You don’t think there is any possible way that Burl’s telling the truth?” Sam’s question agitated his nerves.
“Absolutely not. Judge Thomas married us and gave us a certificate.” Patrick looked at his wife who sat beside him at the Simpson’s oval table. “It’s in the family Bible now, isn’t it Candace?”
“Yes.” She nodded, and he saw her fingers fidget in her lap. “I put it there the day Ma Holden asked me to so that all the records would remain in one place.”
“There’s one problem—” Ma began.
“Judge Thomas you—?” Sam said at the same time. He stopped. “You first, Ma.”
Ma took a deep breath, a crestfallen expression written on her face. “The family Bible, it was in the house and didn’t survive the fire.”
An air of melancholy filled the room. It seemed every day brought another reminder of something lost in the fire. The family Bible, while holding little monetary value, was irreplaceable and had been in the Holden family since the turn of the century, nearly a hundred years ago.
Patrick wasn’t to be swayed from his belief. “That’s not a problem. I’ll take a trip to Pine Prairie and have Judge Thomas give us another one. While I’m there, I’ll do some poking around and see what prompted our visit from Burl.”
“That’s not possible.” Everyone turned to look at Sam.
“Why not?” Shrugging his shoulders, Patrick didn’t see the problem.
“Because Judge Thomas died last spring, was thrown off a spooked horse. I remember hearing about it in town one day.” Sam rubbed his jaw. “Judge Williams and Judge Donald have been riding in, taking alternate turns serving.”
