Annie: A Bride For The Farmhand - A Clean Historical Western Romance (Stewart House Brides Book 3)

by Charity Phillips

  The difference in her tone threw him off. “Yes, I guess I am.”

  She smiled, and it brought an enchanting glow to her face. “I’m a bit tired, I think. I can get snarky when that happens. I’m Miss Caroline Green, and you must be Isaac Lee Walters.”

  Isaac hesitantly took the hand she offered, her grip was surprisingly firm, and she pumped his arm like a man might have. He was impressed, and it must have shown on his face, because Caroline laughed, throwing her head back so her curls bounced around her neck.

  “Most men are surprised,” she said, her voice conspiratorial. “Since I became a nurse I shake a lot of Doctor’s hands and I’ve got to give as good as I get.”

  “Do they try to hurt you?” he asked in surprise.

  Caroline shook her head. “No, but they test me. Everything is a competition with doctors.”

  Isaac laughed, but Caroline’s face took on an edge of darkness that made him stop. “Would you like to put your things in the guest room?” he asked nervously. “The rooms are a little small, but I’ll eventually get someone to knock down the wall and combine them—”

  “That’s fine,” Caroline said, stooping to pluck one trunk from the ground. “Lead the way. I’ll be there in a few minutes, if you don’t mind—I had a long trip. I’d like to compose myself a little better.”

  “Of course!” Isaac said.

  The truth was, he felt some sense of relief when she closed the door behind her and heard her begin to shuffle things around. Mrs. Johnson knocked on the door afterward with the casserole, but he thanked her and shooed her away immediately to be alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know what to think of her; she wasn’t as warm as she’d seemed in her letters, but anyone would be warm if they wanted to leave behind a town as dull as the one she’d left. Caroline said the last single man was a balding forty-year-old who had never shown a scrap of interest in a single person of any gender, and the hospital she worked at was overstaffed and could no longer pay her. Both of her parents were dead, and she only left a sister behind, but even she was getting married and moving to Oregon to start a new life. Caroline had seemed so excited each time she’d written; had he simply been naïve?

  She’s tired, he reminded himself sternly. That’s a long train trip. So, he sat at the table and listened to the distant sounds of her moving things around, trying to keep the casserole from losing too much heat. Finally, he put the dish in the oven for ten minutes, hoping he wouldn’t burn something in the process. When he put the casserole on the table again, Caroline was seating herself in the seat opposite his.

  Isaac’s heart leapt into his throat as her eyes met his, and he remembered how long she’d lingered on the lines of his muscular stomach. He’d recovered by the time she spoke to him, thankfully, but his arms felt oddly weak from the adrenaline rush.

  “I’m sorry I took so long. I didn’t realize how much I’d brought.” She watched him ladle food onto a plate and took the spoon from him when he was done.

  “Are you ready for work tomorrow?” Isaac asked.

  She looked at him quizzically. “I don’t start until the day after, remember? You set it up for me.”

  He realized with a jolt that she was right. “Ah, right. Well, I guess my plans have changed.”

  “Have they? What were you going to do?”

  There was a long pause, and Isaac was amazed by the heaviness of his shame. “I had the day off. After getting you settled, I was going to have a few friends over for cards.”

  “Cards? Won’t they have work?”

  Isaac felt heat spreading over his face. “Ah, they’re farmhands. They need a day off, and I think they’re technically under the weather…they’re nice fellows!” he said hurriedly. “Just need some time to themselves.”

  Caroline stared at him, apparently unsure of how to react. “You were going to let some of your friends play hooky from work?”

  “Stanley’s sister just died, and Marcos—”

  But her laughter cut him short. “You soft-hearted fool. They’re probably playing you for your food and your good China.”

  “I haven’t got any china,” Isaac said, laughing with her. Then he thought of something, and the heavy shame swallowed his happiness again. “Actually, I haven’t got much food either.”

  “What?” Caroline asked, her tone told him she thought he was joking, but as her brown eyes roved over his hesitant features, she slowly shook her head when she saw he was serious. “Well. I suppose your plans have changed.”

  ****

  Isaac could hardly sleep after they cleared the dishes away and Caroline retreated to her room again. He still wasn’t quite certain of how he felt—she was incredibly beautiful, and her wit was just as sharp as it had been in her letters. But something felt off; she didn’t allow him to cross the thresh hold of her room in the morning, and she snapped at him when he tried to look inside at the papers spread across the rickety little desk under her box window.

  “Don’t you have manners?”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  She pushed past him and stood on the porch until he was ready to join her outside.

  By the time they walked to Ida’s and pushed through the crowd, the incident was forgotten, and they managed to assemble enough groceries for the next few days. Ida herself wasn’t at the counter, and Caroline was noticeably distressed by having to wait in a line with so many people milling about her, picking up potatoes and tossing them into sacks. She jumped every time someone shouted or dropped something, and Isaac was amazed when she let him slip an arm around her shoulders in comfort; she didn’t seem too eager for contact at any other time.

  They found a horse and cart outside, and the driver turned out to be someone for whom Isaac had once made a brand-new set of horseshoes, so he and Caroline sat pressed together in the back of his cart between their bulging bags of produce and breads, Isaac struggling to keep his breathing even because Caroline was squeezing his hand with an iron grip. She was almost on his lap, and trembling like a leaf. Isaac nearly asked her what was wrong, but he was afraid she would pull away. He was almost disappointed when they stopped in front of his house, and even more disappointed when Caroline pulled away to climb down the side of the cart and dust off the rear of her skirt.

  Isaac saw the man –Stevie, his name was—watching Caroline’s hands with some interest. He cleared his throat, and Stevie jumped and turned tomato red as Isaac fixed him with a stare.

  “Thanks for the ride, the wife and I appreciate it.” He stuck out his hand and squeezed it a bit harder than he would have normally, satisfied at the man’s panicked reaction after he backed away.

  When he turned and picked up one of the sacks, Isaac noticed that Caroline was watching him and trying not to laugh.

  “What?” he asked.

  Caroline just laughed and shook her head as she followed him inside. “Handshakes are always a competition with all men, I suppose.”

  He blushed, still not sure enough of her feelings toward him to know whether she was really teasing him. He settled on focusing on the sack and its contents. “Well, he was being rude.”

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t!”

  “Okay!” Isaac said, setting a head of lettuce next to the coffee pot. He stared at the hairs on his knuckles after emptying the sack, willing his cheeks to stop burning; he finally raised his eyes after the bag was emptied, and when he turned around, Caroline was grinning more widely than he thought she was capable of.

  “What?”

  Caroline laughed. “You told me you were easygoing, but you just got jealous.”

  Isaac gasped. “I did not! He’s just—it’s just that he’s—”

  “You got defensive!” she said, taking a step toward him. “Which means you’re jealous!” She poked his chest when she was close enough to do it, and the move startled him.

  Isaac caught her hand before she could pull it back. Caroline was surprised, but she didn’t try to pull away; Isaac laced his fingers around hers, fee
ling his skin crackle at the places where their palms were touching. “I just want him to respect me, and he wasn’t being respectful.”

  “He wasn’t being disrespectful,” she countered. “Not to you.”

  “He was just admiring you, then,” Isaac said sarcastically, and the smile Caroline shot him nearly stopped his heart. She put her other hand on his shoulder lightly, and he leaned down toward her to hear her next words.

  “Haven’t you been?”

  Caroline’s lips were inches away from the stubble on his cheek, and he could smell a light fragrance on her sleek curls that was almost spicy, like sage. Her eyes kept darting to his lips, and he wanted to wipe away the space between them and finally find out if hers were as soft as they looked; Caroline’s breath was coming a little quicker, and he wondered if she was waiting for his move, or afraid for him to make it. Then he got a peculiar sense of déjà vu, and he straightened and pulled away from her like he’d been burned. Caroline’s mouth opened in surprise, and Isaac turned away from the pain in her eyes, burning with shame.

  “Are you hungry now?” he asked, his voice sounding high and tinny to his ears. “I can make us some omelets.”

  Caroline was quiet for a moment. “Yes, please. I’ll be in my room for a while.”

  Isaac listened to her footsteps recede, and the sound of her door closing behind her was like a lance through his heart. He didn’t understand what had just happened—hadn’t they been about to kiss? Wasn’t she already acting more warmly than the day before? Hadn’t her letters indicated that she was as interested in exploring a relationship as he was? The answer to all of these questions was a resounding yes—but it didn’t change the way he felt. It was something more vague than doubt, but more needling than discomfort, and it had begun before her arrival. Isaac poured himself into each letter he’d written, sometimes writing one a day for a week straight; Caroline wrote as often, and though her letters were full of wit and vibrancy, they failed to include much regarding who she was. He knew details about her—orphaned, on good terms with her sister, some knowledge of nursing—but he knew very little about what she yearned for, or the things that were important to her. She wouldn’t exactly avoid his questions, but her words never quite seemed to answer what he’d asked. Now he still felt like she was being evasive—and that it was indeed purposeful, and somehow without using any words at all; could it still be because of tiredness?

  Sometimes brides have secrets, he thought. It happens.

  And he knew it did. Was knowing those secrets worth ruining whatever chance they had at a life together? Isaac made the omelets and set the table again, lost in his thoughts and the maddening uncertainty of love. When Caroline came out, he was ready to apologize again, but the words caught in his throat when she smiled at him.

  “Smells good. Is everything ready?”

  She was so nonchalant that Isaac wanted to be suspicious, but her face was unreadable. “Yes, have a seat.”

  “Thank you. You know, I don’t know much about our neighbors, but they make a great casserole.”

  Isaac laughed. “Yes, Mrs. Johnson is a fantastic cook. Her husband works at the mine a lot, so she’ll end up wasting food if she doesn’t give it to me.”

  “Mm.”

  Isaac hesitated as Caroline chewed her eggs. “Caroline, are you afraid of horses?”

  Her fork slipped from her fingers, and her face flushed a bright red. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Horses,” Isaac repeated. “Are you afraid of them? You started shaking in the store, and we walked past the horse to get in. And you were terrified on the ride back. It’s okay, I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. I want to avoid making you uncomfortable, is all.”

  Caroline gaped at him, but her expression was one of soft wonder. “I’m sorry. No one has ever cared to ask before, so I’m a little surprised. They frighten me, but I can ride in wagons if they’re covered. I didn’t think to mention that at all.”

  Isaac reached across the table and took her hand in his. When she didn’t pull away, he took her other one. “Please tell me anything and everything you think I should know about you. And stuff you think I shouldn’t know, too.”

  Her slim face was full of suspicion. “What?”

  “I want to know everything about you,” he insisted, peering into her eyes intently. “I want to know what you like, and what you hate…I was ready to be passive about this, but you’re different from what I expected. I want to know what’s inside you.”

  She stared at him so long that he finally pulled his hands back, and she looked remorseful when he did. “Isaac, do you really mean all that?”

  “Yes,” he said fervently, laughing at her incredulity. “Absolutely. You’re going to be my wife. Why wouldn’t I want to know you? Isn’t that what you do with a spouse?”

  Her eyes were shining with emotion. “Yes. I suppose it is. “

  Isaac smiled and picked up his fork again. “Good. So, tell me more about you.”

  Caroline took a breath. “I was born in—”

  Isaac put his fork down and shook his head. “No, I know all that kind of stuff.”

  Caroline’s thick eyebrows knotted together, and her cheeks turned the color of her faded red dress. “What do you want to know, then?”

  “What other fears do you have?”

  Caroline laughed. “You tell me yours first,” she said, smirking.

  Isaac looked at her, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Okay.”

  Caroline’s smirk slipped. “Really?”

  “Really.” Isaac thought for a moment. “I’m afraid of spiders.”

  Caroline laughed again, but kindly. “A big guy like you is afraid of a little spider?”

  “They’re not like other bugs!” Isaac said indignantly. “Tell me one of yours.”

  Caroline smiled and closed her eyes. “I’m afraid of thunder.”

  Isaac nodded. “You have that in common with horses. Maybe you could bond with them over it?”

  Caroline’s eyes snapped open as she dissolved into giggles. “And you’re deadly, like a spider. Why don’t you pull up a stool for a black widow?”

  “I’m deadly?” Isaac repeated in surprise.

  Caroline nodded. She stretched out a hand and laid her fingers against the warm muscle of his bicep. “You could probably crack a skull with those.”

  She said it with such a grim tone that Isaac shivered. “I wouldn’t, though. I’m like a stuffed toy. All fluff.”

  Caroline chuckled softly. “That’s what they all say.”

  There was a trace of acidity in her words, but Isaac moved past it. “I’m also afraid of heights. What else are you afraid of?”

  Caroline brought her eyes to his. “I don’t know if I can really explain it…I suppose I’m afraid of accidents. Does that make sense? Just being out of control in general, I think. That’s one of the things that scares me about horses. They can decide to jump and run off, or even kick you hard enough to kill. “She shivered so violently her auburn curls shook along with her. “I don’t like it.”

  Isaac’s heart hurt for her. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Caroline. You’re safe here.”

  She smiled. “That makes me feel a lot better, Isaac, and I do feel that about you…I guess I’m just being silly to fear so much.”

  Isaac didn’t think so, but he kept his mouth shut. Caroline was more open with him afterward, though, and the difference was striking. He learned a lot more details about her during the next six weeks—so many that he had trouble keeping them all straight. She was allergic to lilies but not tulips, and daisies were fine, but she hated roses with a passion for a reason it took him two weeks to discover.

  “My sister always got roses from the boys growing up,” she confided in him bitterly one night over dinner. “The boys would pick sunflowers and dandelions for me sometimes, but they knew they were weeds. They did it to make to me cry.”

  “Why would they do that?”

&
nbsp; “I was an ugly duckling, remember?” Caroline reminded him exasperatedly. “And my sister was so beautiful.”

  “I thought she was ugly, too?”

  “No, just in spirit!”

  She learned things about him as well, of course, but she’d already learned so much during their courtship that Caroline eventually began playfully finishing his stories for him. By the second month, it felt like they were already married, even though the wedding was a month away. He was delighted to find that Caroline was happy stealing kisses from him and even embracing him while they lay on his bed, though she was careful to stop him from getting too fresh. Her lips were even softer than they looked, and she melted into his touch like sugar being stirred into hot coffee. Whenever he touched her, her skin would glow like a gas lamp, and her breath got high and thin for a few minutes after; Isaac loved to see her so flustered, but she never let go of a chance to make him blush, either. She was only working at the hospital a few days a week, but Isaac would make excuses to go see her no matter what—and they would always have a private moment behind a curtain before he left.

  Isaac couldn’t believe how amazing their chemistry was. He could feel the happiness wafting from her when he came home, and he loved the way she giggled when they teased each other. He thought about her all the time, and the men at work were starting to rib him for it, but he didn’t care; every word of friendly fire was worth it if he was coming home to Caroline every night, or she to him. Caroline fell asleep next to him most nights, but still made sure to go back to her bed before it got too late—she still wanted to wait until the wedding to sleep in the same room. Isaac noticed that she seemed likely to reverse this decision on some nights, but he didn’t want to rush her, and she loved how understanding he was.

  “Sometimes things are so hectic,” she said lazily one evening as she dozed off. “At the hospital, at the store, in my head…but when you’re around, everything slows down. As though things are freezing. But in a good way.”