The Bride Price

by Tracey Jane Jackson

  “Are you ready?” Christine asked.

  Sophie nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  They took it slow, riding leisurely over the vast countryside, Sophie in awe of a land that could very well soon be ravaged by an unfinished war.

  She felt free. To Sophie, there was nothing like the elation she felt when riding. The troubles of the world just seemed to disappear when she was on the back of a horse. She decided she wanted to go a little faster but without “thigh power,” she wasn’t completely sure how to get the horse moving. She gave it a good swift kick and nothing happened, so used the crop to get him moving from the other side.

  Bad idea.

  All she could think about as the landscape flew by, was how the heck do I stop this thing? She pulled on the reins, but that didn’t work, and she didn’t want to cut the horse’s mouth up with the bit. She couldn’t place her rear in the right position without the use of both of her legs to stop him, so she just hung on for dear life and hoped the horse would eventually tire.

  Hearing pounding hooves behind her, and hoping she hadn’t scared Christine’s horse, Sophie gasped when a very strong arm grabbed around her middle, and she was pulled onto someone’s lap. Looking back, concerned for the horse, she let out a sigh of relief when she saw him slow down and turn back toward the group, reins dragging on the ground.

  Once both horses had stopped, the strong arms gently lowered her to the ground, and she looked up. Into the face of Richard Madden.

  Of course.

  She really shouldn’t be surprised.

  Christine rushed up, her horse panting with the exertion used to try and catch her. She quickly dismounted and came over to check on Sophie. “Are you all right, Sophie?”

  “Yes, I think so. I’m really sorry if I scared you.”

  “What did you think you were doing, if you didn’t know how to ride?” Richard snapped. “Samson is a difficult horse and you had no business riding him.”

  Oh right, he’s still here.

  Sophie’s hackles rose. “I can ride Mr. Madden, I am simply unaccustomed to a side-saddle.”

  “A proper lady wouldn’t ride any other way.”

  “Well, then I suppose I’m not a proper lady,” she snapped. “Not to mention, Mr. Madden, if you truly thought I was, you wouldn’t continue to manhandle me at every turn.”

  Richard smiled slowly, a little like a shark, and stared, fixated on her chest. Glancing down, Sophie noticed the bodice of her habit, slightly askew and missing a button. She couldn’t stop the blush stealing her cheeks as she attempted to fix her clothing.

  “Mrs. Ford, perhaps you might want to take a few riding lessons to help you feel more comfortable on a horse. If you’d like, I would be happy to oblige.”

  The muscles in Sophie’s shoulders crawled, and she felt as though steam would escape from her head like a cartoon character as she fisted her hands at her side in an attempt not to hit the man. “I bet you would, Mr. I’m-a-Big-Man-and-I-Need-to-Save-the-Poor-Weak-Women-of-the-World. Well, you know what? You can just take a flying leap off a very high—”

  “What Sophie means, Richard,” Christine laid a hand on her arm, “is that she is very grateful you came along in the nick of time. I’m certain that thank you is on the tip of her tongue, isn’t it, Sophie?”

  Sophie’s unladylike grunt received admonishment from Christine in the form of raised eyebrows.

  “Well, Mrs. Ford, the offer stands if you would like instruction in the equestrian arts. I’m available on most Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and would be happy to assist.”

  At his continued appraisal of her chest, Sophie turned her back on him and stomped back towards the Wades house.

  “Mrs. Ford?” Richard called.

  “What?” Sophie snapped but didn’t break stride.

  “I believe you have forgotten your horse, ma’am.”

  Patronizing, son of a ...

  She knew he threw that little ma’am in there to irritate her. What she really wanted to do right now was throw a good temper tantrum and perhaps find a doll she could draw his face on and poke pins into. Turning around, she made her way back to Richard and Christine, snatched the reins out of his hands, and stomped back towards the stables as she muttered under her breath. Richard and Christine followed at a slight distance. She felt somewhat vindicated when she heard their conversation.

  “Richard, is it really necessary to antagonize her so?” Christine asked.

  Richard bowed his head in contrition. “I cannot seem to resist.”

  Christine rolled her eyes. “Well, it’s unseemly—and entirely unlike you.” She frowned up at him. “Since when did you become so ungentlemanly?”

  Richard sighed. “I apologize.”

  Once they arrived at the Wades barn, Richard spoke with the groom, and asked him to rub down Sophie’s horse. As the young lad made his way to tend to the horse, Richard cornered Sophie. “Mrs. Ford, I am truly sorry if I offended you. It was not my intention. Could we please call a truce?”

  Sophie glared at him.

  “Mrs. Ford?”

  “I’m thinking!”

  “I see.” Taking a deep breath, he smiled – less like a shark this time, as he folded his hands behind his back. “I have an idea.”

  Sophie continued to glare at him without comment.

  “Tomorrow is Tuesday, and I happen to have the afternoon free. Why don’t you and I go for a ride? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “Like that is ever going to happen.”

  Christine took Sophie’s arm. “Richard, give us a moment, please?”

  Christine pulled Sophie further into the darkened stables. “Sophie, I don’t want to tell you what to do, but you will be alone tomorrow afternoon. Richard has been a friend of our family for years and I have to admit, he’s acting somewhat out of character at the present time, but I have the utmost faith that you would be safe with him. You might even enjoy his company.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  “I know things are confusing at the moment. I know you miss Jamie, but at some point you have to realize that you’re here, and I don’t know if that will change.”

  Sophie paced the small space. “I know. But why do I have to spend any time with Mr. Obnoxious? I’d be happy to read a book and hang out at home.”

  Christine clasped her hands in front of her and let out a quiet sigh.

  “What?” Sophie narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

  “Richard would be a great champion, Sophie.”

  Sophie’s stomach dropped. “A champion? Why would I need a champion?”

  “You are a young woman alone. Beautiful, but without a past,” Christine whispered. “You won’t make it far without a husband to protect you.”

  Sophie’s gasp echoed the rafters. “Are you saying that I have to marry that horrible man? I’m already married.”

  Christine took her hand and squeezed it gently. “You must be realistic, Sophie. You don’t know where your husband is. He could be dead or lost to you forever, and without a man to protect you, you are at the mercy of someone who may not treat you as well as Richard Madden.”

  Bile rose unbidden. She couldn’t do it. She could never marry someone she didn’t love, even if she’d not already married the love of her life. And she certainly couldn’t marry someone she despised. “I will not betray my husband.”

  Christine shook her head. “I’m not asking you to. I am simply suggesting that Richard would be a great protector. Will you give him a chance while you sort out your personal business?”

  “I don’t want, or need, a protector. You don’t have one and seem to be doing fine.”

  “I’ve lived here most of my life and have my family. I also have Andrew. No one would cross my brother or do anything to offend Peter Martin’s widow.”

  Sophie’s eyes filled with tears.

  “You have Michael’s protection, Sophie. I don’t want to suggest he wouldn’t defend you. However, there
were several men asking after you last night, and I think it concerned Michael.”

  Sophie rubbed her forehead, a headache rapidly approaching. “Why were men asking about me?”

  “Because you are beautiful and very young, Sophie.”

  “I’m not that young,” Sophie whispered frantically. “I’m twenty-six.”

  “But you look much, much younger, dear. There are many lonely men who have been at war for too long. None of whom are near the caliber of man that Richard is.”

  Sophie shrugged. “Just tell them I’m married.”

  “That will work for a time, but I still think you should get to know Richard. He’s wonderful company.”

  “Then you date him—or marry him—or whatever!”

  Christine chuckled. “He has never had any interest in me.”

  “But he has interest in me?” Not that she was surprised. Her stomach roiled and she wrapped her arms around her waist. She couldn’t understand why the thought upset her so violently.

  Christine slid her arm around her shoulders. “Sophie, don’t fret. You don’t need to make any decisions right now.”

  “There is something not right about him, Christine.”

  “Whatever do you mean? Richard’s a wonderful man. If you spend any time with him, you’ll see that as well.”

  Sophie wondered if her feelings were due to her emotional upheaval, rather than fact. She didn’t really know the man, but Christine did. So she tried to approach the situation objectively. Perhaps Christine was right and she was overreacting. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her spine and made her way out of the stables. “All right, Mr. Madden, tomorrow will be fine.”

  “Wonderful, Mrs. Ford. I’ll see you at two.”

  Sophie nodded, and she and Christine made their way back to the house.

  Miriam joined them for dinner and Sophie enjoyed her immensely. She was a woman in her mid-sixties and full of energy. Christine had moved in with Miriam after Peter died, and it seemed to work out well for both of the women.

  The rest of the evening was spent in the parlor, the same room she was brought to after she was found. Was it really only a few days since she arrived in the nineteenth century?

  As the night came to a close, Christine and Miriam said their good-byes. Sophie wasn’t sure what she was going to do until two o’clock the next day, having already finished her novel, so she snuck back to the library for another look and then made her way to her room.

  Once inside, Sophie tried her best to concentrate on her pages swimming before her, but she had miscalculated exactly how much light a candle actually gave off. Not quite enough to read—actually, not quite enough to do anything other than avoid tripping over one’s own feet. After about thirty minutes, she gave up.

  Blowing out the candle, Sophie climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The soldier had been closed away in the south guestroom for four days and Amelia thought her head would explode with curiosity. Her mother watched her like a hawk and she hadn’t had the chance to sneak away.

  Today would be the day. Her mother was going into town to do some shopping, and Amelia planned to feign a headache and a cough. She stood by the fire and made certain she was close enough for the heat to form sweat on her brow, just in case her mother needed further convincing. She heard the knock at her door and buried herself further under her quilt. She started to cough, quite convincingly if she did say so herself, just as the door opened.

  “Amelia?”

  Cough, cough.

  “Dear? Are you coming to town?”

  Cough, sniffle, cough. “Mama, I don’t feel well,” Amelia rasped.

  Her mother hemmed quietly and made her way to the bed. Amelia felt the cool hand on her forehead. “Dear, you’re burning up.”

  Cough.

  Mrs. Powell sighed. “I don’t think you should come with me today. I’ll let Della know she needs to tend to you as well.”

  Sniff.

  “You’ll stay in this bed, Amelia.”

  “Yes, Mama,” she rasped.

  Mrs. Powell stared down at her for several seconds before turning and walking out the door with a swish. Amelia waited for as long as she could before throwing the covers off. She eased out of bed and tiptoed to the window. Her mother’s carriage was already halfway down the road and would be out the front gates within minutes. She was safe.

  A knock at the door had her flying back under the covers just as Della came in with a tray. “You’s mama said you’s sick, Miss Amelia.”

  Amelia poked her head out from under the sheet to see the raised eyebrow of a woman not at all convinced she was telling the truth. Amelia giggled and jumped out of bed. “I never can fool you, can I, Della?”

  Della set the tray on the bureau. “What you up to, chil’?”

  “I want to see the soldier and Mama won’t let me.”

  Della crossed her arms over her thick chest. “I don’ blame her.”

  “Did you find out anything else? What’s his name, Della? Where’s his unit?” Amelia pulled off her nightgown. “Oh, and did the doctor get the bullet out?”

  “Your daddy said he’s a lieutenant 'cause of the bars on his jacket, but the man only remembers that his name is James Emerson.” Della picked up Amelia’s discarded nightgown. “He don’t know where he from or nothin’ else about his life. He’s healin’ jus’ fine. He don’t talk much, but he’s polite when he does.”

  Amelia clapped her hands. “So, he’s a mystery.”

  “Yes’m.”

  “Please help me dress, Della. I want to see him.” Amelia started to pull clothing from her drawers and then paused with a sigh. “He’s so handsome.”

  Della gathered hoops and skirts for Amelia and turned to face her. Amelia slipped her corset on and Della pulled the ties. “Now, Miss Amelia, don’t you go doin’ nothin’ reckless. That man’s far too old for you. He’s got a ring on, so’s he mus’ be married.”

  Amelia wrinkled her nose. “Oh. Well, I don’t mind, Della. I can still look at him.”

  “Miss Amelia!”

  Amelia giggled. “Perhaps he’d like me to read to him.”

  Della tied off her corset and helped her with the rest of her clothing, all the while mumbling warnings that Amelia had no intention of listening to.

  * * *

  “Wake up, beautiful girl.”

  “Jamie?” Sophie’s eyes fluttered open, and she stared at the vision of her husband standing over her bed. “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been here, sweetheart. What do you mean?”

  “No, you haven’t been here. I’ve been looking for you.” Sophie tried to sit up but felt frozen to the bed. “Why can’t I move?”

  “Ten-Cow, I’ve been here the whole time. Have you forgotten me already?”

  “What? No!”

  “Then why haven’t you found me?”

  Tears streamed down her temples and she shook her head. “Jamie, I couldn’t find you.”

  “I don’t know why you couldn’t find me; I have been here waiting for you. I thought you’d never come.”

  Sophie felt both relief and frustration as she stared up at him. “Why can’t I move? I need to touch you. I need you to hold me.”

  “I can’t do that, sweetheart.”

  “What? Why not?”

  Sophie’s eyes flew open and she sat up, sobs racking her body. “No, no, no! Jamie, come back.” Jumping out of bed, she made her way to the window and drew the drapes back, with the silly hope that maybe Jamie was behind one of them. “Where are you?”

  She stared out the window and let out a little sigh at the scene. Unfolding before her was the most incredible sunrise she had ever seen. Truth be told, it was the first sunrise she had ever seen. Sophie and Jamie were not morning people, so were more likely to see a sunset. Oranges and yellows filtered over the ground, contrasting the stark white of the snow, and it was almost as though the sun
were painting the landscape in front of her.

  Sophie stood for several minutes, praying for wisdom as she watched God’s artistry before her and then walked to her door and popped her head into the hallway to listen. The house was eerily quiet, indicating everyone must still be asleep.

  Grabbing her book, she made her way over to the window seat. Pulling one of the curtains further open for light, she managed to get through the first five chapters before movement out the window caught her eye. Several men, including Richard, worked with the horses, putting them through what appeared to be military movements.

  Sophie stayed glued to the window in utter fascination for close to twenty minutes. Just as she was ready to go back to her book, Richard looked up and seemingly straight at her. Sophie doubted he saw her from so far away but pulled herself away from the window just the same. The last thing a man with a big head needed was someone staring at him. He might think she cared.

  Hearing the household slowly rising, she turned as Betty knocked and came in to help her dress. Once she was finished, Sophie made her way downstairs, delighted to see that Christine had popped around for a quick breakfast before heading to the hospital.

  As they sat down to breakfast, they got on that very subject. “Christine, I believe some simple changes at the hospital could very well make the soldiers more comfortable. Would you be open to hearing them and perhaps discussing them with the doctors?”

  “I’m always happy to listen, Sophie. I’m just not sure if the doctors would be, however. Especially Dr. Palmer. It’s not our job to tell them what to do, we’re there to assist and comfort the men.”

  Christine sat down again and gave Sophie her full attention. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Well, for starters, washing their hands and boiling the instruments. It would go a long way to stopping the spread of disease. Also, do the doctors ever splint broken legs, or do they immediately amputate?”

  “I know that we rarely see soldiers with broken bones. For the most part, their legs have already been amputated in the field. You know who you should discuss this with?”

  Sophie held her hands up. “Don’t say it, Christine.”