***
“Oh, Harriet, he’s perfect.” Giselle gazed down into the face of tiny Theodore White, who was already being called Teddy by his parents. “Could he be any more perfect?”
“Well, I certainly don’t think he could,” Harriet said, grinning at all the girls who had clustered around the kitchen table to admire the baby. “I’ve looked him over several times so far and have yet to find a single flaw.”
“If Tom were any more proud, he wouldn’t have a single button left on his shirt,” Elizabeth commented. “I’m so happy for both of you.”
This was the first time Harriet had brought the baby out of the cottage. The air was warm outside, having lost that chilly edge it had held, and she couldn’t wait to show off her child. Of course, each of the girls had gone out to see him already, but this was different—this was his introduction into public, and that was a rather significant event.
Camille admired the baby for another moment, then climbed the stairs to her room. Mr. Brody had just come from the post office, and he’d brought her a letter from Mr. Johnson. His handwriting was so familiar by now, she knew it the moment she saw it, and she was filled with a curious mixture of excitement and dread. When she read the letter, though, she saw that he meant what he said about not pressuring her into making a decision—he spoke lightly about his ranch and the animals, and the only comment he made about anything romantic was the closing sentence. I guess we got our horseback ride together after all, though it wasn’t how I’d pictured it.
That statement carried a touch of poignancy, and Camille felt a little stab of regret in her heart. She quickly steeled herself against it, though. She’d done the right thing—she knew she had. She needed this distance so she could make the right decision—she’d hurt him once before, and she didn’t want to rush headlong into anything and hurt him again.
She took out a piece of paper and began her reply.
Your horses sound like friendly fellows. I’m sorry the one ate your hat, but if you’re going to put your head so close to his mouth, I suppose that’s what you get.
Little Teddy is five days old today. He’s definitely loved around here, and Tom can’t stop grinning. Now Rose will have a playmate, which makes the Brodys happy.
Mr. Dupree has stopped in a few times to see his wife and to have some dinner. I wish we had some fresh cherries to offer him, but Sarah does a wonderful job of reconstituting dried ones for his favorite pie. Come spring, everything will be made fresh again.
And speaking of the Duprees, Mrs. Dupree says she’ll be heading back home next week. She also says that she’ll be back soon, as she can’t let Teddy grow up without her. She’s also spent quite a lot of time with Rose. It’s a shame she hasn’t had children of her own—she would be an excellent mother.
Camille sat back and tapped the end of her pen on her chin, but she couldn’t think of much else to say. Finally, she concluded with, I finished the dresses I was making, so I’m now properly outfitted for the hotel. The other girls are glad that they don’t have to lend me things anymore.
After signing her name, she folded the letter up. It would reach Mr. Johnson with the next train, and slowly but surely, they’d come to know each other on these new terms, these new truthful terms. Even as right as that felt, though, there was still a feeling of disquiet, as though something was still missing from the plan.
Chapter Thirteen
David smiled as he read Camille’s letter over for the third time and then tucked it in his pocket. She had lost the formal reserve she’d used in her first few letters when she responded to his ad, and now she was speaking to him as though they were true friends. That meant a lot to him—it showed that she was willing to move forward.
He’d thought about it quite a bit on the train ride home. At first, he’d felt defensive. Yes, he lied about his name, and it was wrong. But was it really such a large thing that she wouldn’t marry him because of it? But then he realized the deeper truth—that it wasn’t about his name, but about trust. Everything else that he’d told her about himself was the truth, but that had all been layered on a shaky foundation, and how could she believe that he loved her if he couldn’t even be honest about who he was?
When he reached the house, he knew he’d drive himself mad if he didn’t keep himself busy. He mounted Jem and took a ride around the property, checking all the fences and making sure that everything was in good condition. Then he returned to the house, rolled up the rug, and put it in the barn. He’d be replacing it as soon as possible.
***
Several days had gone by since David Johnson left Topeka, and every time the dining room filled up with new passengers, Camille found herself looking for him. She knew he wouldn’t be there because he’d said he wouldn’t come back until she was ready for him, but still, a corner of her heart hoped that he’d throw caution to the wind like he had before and just show up.
The thought brought her up short.
She wished he’d throw caution to the wind and just show up . . . That’s what he’d done the first time, and she was angry at him because of it. How was that even fair? She’d been harboring resentment toward him for coming after her when she so plainly said she wasn’t interested in marrying him any longer, and then of course, lying about it, and now she wanted him to go against her wishes again? She wanted to marry a stable, dependable man, but when she examined herself, was she really a stable, dependable woman?
She scrubbed the tablecloth she held just a bit harder. The whole thing was so confusing. She’d demanded near-perfect behavior of him, and he’d done his best at every turn. He’d apologized and tried again. Gracious, he should have turned tail and run after she scolded him about the hair ribbons, but he’d moved forward with getting to know her better. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why couldn’t she let go of his perceived faults and come to know what lay beneath?
Once all the laundry was hung to dry, Camille hung up her apron and went in search of Mrs. Dupree. She had some additional questions to ask.
***
David had always loved watching the trains pull into the station. Well, until that unfortunate week he’d spent waiting for Miss Waterford. That nearly soured him on the whole experience, but now that he’d met her and knew her true character and intentions, he enjoyed visiting the train yard again.
This particular afternoon, he was waiting on the platform for a specific reason. He’d been talking to Mr. Yates, the man who ran the general store, and was told that a new shipment of rugs was coming in. Granted, only a few had been ordered because they were larger and more expensive than the items Mr. Yates usually carried, but he was sure there would be something David would like. David hoped that would be the case because he’d been quite disappointed to learn that the store was all out.
As the train pulled in to the station, he smiled and waved at the conductor, and Wallace returned the gesture. Then he moved to the freight car and began to help unload the various bits of merchandise that had been brought in from all over the country. Ah, there were the rugs. He set them down on the platform and wished he could untie them right there, but that would only get them dirty. He’d have to wait to examine them and choose his favorite once they were in the general store.
He had just turned for his next armload when Wallace approached him. “Afternoon, David. Looking for anything in particular?”
“Yes, a new rug. Mr. Yates ordered some in, and they’ve just arrived.”
Wallace nodded. “Excellent. I’m glad you found them. I wondered, though, about this other parcel. Seems to have your name on it.”
“What other parcel? I haven’t ordered anything.”
Wallace gestured, and David looked where he indicated. Caroline stood at the bottom of the steps, a smile on her face, but then she stepped to the side and David saw what he was meant to see. Waiting at the top of the steps, getting ready to descend from the train, was Camille.
“I . . . yes, I believe I will claim that delivery,” David s
aid when his mouth would finally form words again.
He made his way to the passenger car in a series of long strides and looked up into Camille’s eyes.
“Mr. Johnson?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“My name is Camille Waterford. I’m the mail-order bride you sent for.”
David held out his hand to guide her down to the platform. Her fingers felt so soft and delicate in his. When she reached the ground, she looked up at him with soft eyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Johnson.”
“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Waterford,” he replied. “How long do you anticipate staying in Wichita?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Johnson, it’s my understanding that when one sends away for a mail-order bride, one marries her, and she stays forever. If you’ve had some other idea this whole time, I think it’s best that we discuss it immediately.”
“You . . . want to marry me?” David was so startled by her appearance, he couldn’t make sense of anything she said.
“That would be why I’m called a mail-order bride. Otherwise, I’d be a mail-order acquaintance or friend. There’s a wedding implied with the word ‘bride,’ you see.”
“I do see.” He studied her face, every sweet angle of it. “Miss Waterford, I would be greatly honored to be your husband.”
“Then I suggest that’s what we do.” She flashed him another one of those impish smiles. “There’s just one thing we have to do first.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“I insist—yes, I absolutely insist—that you take me to the general store and buy me some hair ribbons. I will not get married without them.”
“You won’t, hmm?”
“No, I will not.”
“Then we’d best take care of that immediately. However, one thing first.” David slid his arms around her waist and brought her up against him so swiftly, she let out a little squeak of surprise. Then he brought his lips down to hers and kissed her like he’d wanted to since the moment he’d first met her, and she melted into his chest like snow on a warm spring day.
Epilogue
The sun had warmed the earth to the perfect temperature, and it was easy to pretend that it was already summer. Camille pulled her bonnet from her head and let the wind play havoc with her hair as she rode to the crest of a hill up behind David’s house. She smiled. It was her house now, and she was riding her horse. David had surprised her with it the morning after their wedding, and she already loved it fiercely.
David cantered up behind her, and they both slid from their saddles and turned to face the horizon together. “Someday, Mrs. Johnson, the ranch will be three times the size it is now, and we’ll have a hundred head of cattle and twenty horses,” he murmured in her ear as he slid his arms around her waist.
“That’s quite simply the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” she replied, leaning back to be closer to him. “What else?”
“We’ll double the size of the garden and put in more corn,” he went on. “And we’ll start breeding the mares and selling the foals. Taking care of the newborns will be your job, since you’re so good at it.”
“Hmmm. Now you’re really talking,” she said.
He turned her around in his arms and gazed into her eyes. “And I think we’ll put in a flower bed,” he whispered before kissing her. She gave a little sigh, stepping closer to him. She didn’t think she’d ever get tired of being called Mrs. Johnson, or feeling his arms around her, or tasting his lips. This was heaven, pure and simple. Horses, a ranch, the love of a good man—she truly had it all. It had taken a little bit to get to this point, but now she appreciated it all for what it was—a truly undeserved blessing.
THE END
Have you had the chance to read Whiskey and Women, a new contemporary Western romance by Amelia C. Adams? Here’s a sneak peek …
Chapter One
“Yes, sir. I understand that. However . . .” Meg took a deep breath as the voice on the other end of the line interrupted her yet again. She’d never thought of herself as the type to ruffle easily. In fact, she was rather good at moderating disputes and coming to mutually beneficial resolutions. That’s what made her an effective lawyer. Right now, though, she was dangerously close to losing her cool. “Yes, I understand, but if you’ll recall, that’s not what we agreed . . . All right. You too.”
She hung up the phone and leaned back in her desk chair, trying not to let loose a stream of words she knew she’d regret saying. What was the point of being a junior partner in a law firm when one of the senior partners came in and snatched a case out of her hands and renegotiated the whole thing and cost her client hundreds of thousands of dollars in the settlement and made Meg look incompetent in front of everyone? Not for the first time, she thought about starting up her own firm. She’d need to arrange a partnership buyout, but she didn’t think that would be too difficult.
A rapid knocking sounded on her door. She glanced at her clock—it was midmorning, and her next appointment wasn’t until eleven thirty. “Come in?”
Kate, her best friend, stuck her head into the office, her curly blonde hair bouncing around her face. “Hey, sorry to bother you. Got a minute?”
Interesting. Kate only stopped by Meg’s work if there was an emergency, and she hadn’t even been around much at all over the last few weeks. This was a welcome surprise, although it made Meg worry that something was wrong. “Of course. What’s going on?”
Kate practically bounced over to the desk. “Look what I have!” She held up a large manila envelope and waved it back and forth.
“Um, I can’t look at it when it’s moving around in front of my eyes. You’re making me dizzy.” Thank goodness—Kate looked happy. It must not be bad news.
“Oh. Sorry.” Kate put the envelope on the polished surface of the desk and stood there expectantly, her eyes shining. “Open it!”
Meg couldn’t tell anything from the outside of the envelope—it obviously hadn’t come through the mail—so she flipped it over and pulled out the contents. Two first-class airline tickets, a brochure, some typed-up papers that looked like an itinerary—“What is all this?”
Kate bounced again. “So, you know that charity auction I went to last night? The one you couldn’t go to because you were too busy with all your paperwork?” She made air quotes with her fingers, like she thought Meg had just been making excuses. Okay, maybe that was true, but still. “I won! Look—a weeklong trip for two to Nashville, where we’ll spend several hours with country music singing sensation Quinn Dawson!”
Meg raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘we,’ Kate?”
“Well, of course you’re coming with me. You can’t tell me no—not after everything I’ve done for you this year. It’s the ultimate reward—I’ll be in my favorite place, meeting my favorite singer, with my best friend. Please?” Kate clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes dramatically.
Meg sighed. Kate had done a lot for her that year—cheering her up after some rough first dates, helping her move into a new apartment and painting the entire thing, talking her through countless difficult days at the office. Kate probably knew more about the interoffice politics of this firm than Meg did, and Kate didn’t even work here.
“You don’t want to take Kenny?”
Kate waved that off. “This isn’t a husband kind of trip. This is a girls’ trip.” She took a step closer to the desk. “I know you don’t like country music and that you’d probably rather spend your time holed up with your paperwork instead, but please? This really means a lot to me. All expenses paid, Meg. Hotel, airfare, food—the works.”
Meg leaned back in her chair and studied her friend. It felt like there was more going on here than just a fun getaway, but she knew Kate wouldn’t spill until she was ready. “Okay, I’ll go. I have some vacation saved up. What are the dates again?”
Kate gave a little squeal and tapped the envelope. “Everything’s in the packet.”
“I’ll
put in for the time off, but please don’t ask me to enjoy this, all right? Being with you will be fun, of course, but the rest of it—the studio visit and so forth—it’s just not me.” Meg glanced down the itinerary again. “Dinner with Quinn Dawson. A Quinn Dawson concert. A tour of Quinn Dawson’s ranch. That’s a whole lot of Quinn Dawson.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Kate wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks, Meg—this is going to be the best.”
Meg gathered up the packet materials and slid them into the envelope. “You’ll probably want this back. Plane tickets and so forth.”
“Well, not really tickets—vouchers for tickets.”
“Whatever. Don’t lose it.”
“Thanks.” Kate hugged the envelope to her chest. “Call me after work and we can talk it all out, okay? What we’re going to wear, what we need to get—shopping! This just gets better and better. Bye.”
“Bye.” Meg watched Kate leave the office, an amused expression on her face. She had no doubt that if the itinerary included getting a Quinn Dawson tattoo, her friend would be totally up for that too.
***
Quinn Dawson sat up a little straighter in the uncomfortable chair and tried to focus on what the doctor was saying. He was pretty sure the man was using all the medical jargon he could in an attempt to intimidate the family, and that didn’t feel too good to Quinn. After another moment, he lifted one hand, and the doctor paused.
“Yes, Mr. Dawson?”
“Let’s cut to the chase. If I understand you correctly, you’re saying that my mother is going to continue to deteriorate, and there’s nothing more to be done except keeping her safe. Is that about right?”
“I believe you’ve summed that up rather well.” The doctor took off his glasses and laid them on the table, then threw an apologetic glance at Quinn’s father, who’d been sitting quietly during the whole meeting. “I don’t believe that your father is in a position to take care of her by himself anymore. She needs round-the-clock professional care, and if your father continues on as he has, he’ll find himself losing what good health he still has remaining.”
A Begrudging Bride (Kansas Crossroads Book 11) Page 10
