The Mail Order Bride of Break Heart Bend (Break Heart Brides Book 2)

by Rachel Bird

  Rafe blinked. Could he be so lucky? Maybe Naomi had come to meet him for breakfast.

  “Another Mr. Morgan of Morning Star Ranch,” Teddy continued pleasantly. “Your brother.”

  Exposed! But Gensch didn’t seem to think anything was amiss.

  Rafe found Pres sitting at the window table that looked out on the street. “Morning, Preston,” Pres said. He tapped a package sitting in the chair beside him. “Your good suit.”

  “Thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Maybe.” Rafe sat down. “But Naomi doesn’t. She thinks I’m you.”

  “There seems to be a lot of that going around.”

  “Yes! It was an accident. The whole town thinks I’m you. There was a misunderstanding at the beginning, and it kept building, like a tumbleweed.” Only two other tables were occupied in the café, neither close enough for the brothers to be overheard. “People assumed. I haven’t had a chance to explain.”

  “And yet you need your good suit.” Pres’s look bore all the severity Rafe deserved.

  The waitress brought Rafe coffee. “The usual, Mr. Morgan?”

  “Sounds real good, Roxanna. Thanks.”

  Only a few days here, and the people knew him. It felt wonderful. The waitress left to take his order to the kitchen.

  “I’m going to tell Naomi today. Things have been busy around here.”

  “You’ve been busy.” There was a glint of humor in Pres’s eye. He was getting a kick out of the whole situation. “So, you’re going to marry the Break Heart bride after all.”

  “Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

  “I didn’t think you’d take me to heart. But it might be the best thing for you.”

  “You reckon?”

  “You need settling. It’ll be strange to think the youngest of the Morgan men will be the only one married.”

  “It’s your own fault. You could have had her.”

  “A mail order bride?” Pres winced. “Rosamund and I knew each other months before we fell in love. After her father died, we worked together to save the ranch, and one day we realized we wanted to work that ranch together forever.”

  “That’s wonderful, Pres. I’m glad you had that. But there’s more than one path to happiness. Not all marriages begin with love. With mutual respect and a general liking of each other, love can grow.”

  “You sound like the matchmaker.”

  It was true. And Rafe was counting on the matchmaker’s wisdom.

  “At least you’ve had a chance to look your bride in the eye before being bound and trussed. Tell me she possesses what matters most—kindness and a true heart.”

  “Yes.” Rafe found himself nodding. “Naomi Steele is kind and true. A hard worker. Considerate of others.”

  “Well, that’s good then.”

  Rafe grinned. “She also extremely beautiful.”

  “That’s always nice.”

  “Tell you the truth, she’s a bit too beautiful. A man can be overwhelmed sometimes, you know?”

  “Ah… no. That’s never been a problem for me,” Pres said drily. Then he grew serious. “I hope you’re not marrying this woman merely out of a sense of duty.”

  “What’s wrong with duty?” Rafe answered. “Doing the right thing?”

  “Would you want a wife who was with you only out of duty?” Pres pointed his fork at Rafe. “A woman who felt about you the way you feel about Naomi Steele?”

  “I admire Naomi. I could come to love her over time.”

  “Humph. How does she feel about you?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Truth be told, Rafe had been so caught up in his own problems he hadn’t considered the question. Naomi must want him, or she wouldn’t have set the wedding date. Something out the window caught his eye. “What’s she doing out there?”

  Pres followed his gaze and watched Charity Steele go into the sheriff’s office.

  “I thought Naomi Steele had dark hair.”

  “She does.”

  “Then who is the redhead you just now looked at with such interest?”

  “Naomi’s sister.” Rafe’s stomach fell.

  Pres put both his hands on the table and fixed Rafe with his sternest, most big-brotherly look ever. “Her sister.”

  Guilty! That’s how Rafe felt. As though he’d been caught doing a crime.

  “It’s not… There’s nothing between us.”

  “Did I say there was?”

  “She’s against marriage. A confirmed spinster.”

  Charity came out onto the street again, with Faith on her heels. Charity was laughing, excited about something, but Faith obviously didn’t share her enthusiasm. Rafe chuckled.

  Pres’s eye grew sterner.

  “From where I sit, brother, it looks like this Charity girl has caught your fancy, despite her confirmed spinsterhood. I never thought you were a stupid man, but if you’re thinking of marrying one sister when you’re in love with the other—”

  “I’m not in… I just think… She’s… I enjoy her company. She’s clever and funny. She cares about Naomi very much.”

  “I see.”

  “I would never do anything to hurt either one of them.”

  “Except marry one when you want the other.” Pres no longer looked judgmental. He looked downright worried.

  “You’re right! I thought the only thing I had to tell Naomi was who I really am, but…”

  “You have to tell them both the truth. A spark lit you up just now when you spotted that filly on the street. That glow inside, Rafe, it’s a gift. When you look at her and realize everything in this world is right and good and the only thing you want is to share that world with her. Now I’ve always believed that glow only grew over a lifetime of two people working together. You’ve seen it between Corby and Consuela, and it happened with Rosamund and me. But what if love at first sight is real? Just as powerful. Just as real. I’ve never seen it. Until now, maybe.”

  “I don’t know what to do,” Rafe said. “Charity is the lightning-bolt kind of love, but she doesn’t want me or any man. Naomi is the lifetime kind of love. She’s a good person. She’s everything I said and more. Kind. Self-sacrificing. Practical. Brave. I like her.”

  “And she does happen to want you.”

  “Appears that way.” If Rafe was honest, he’d felt nothing close to that spark with Naomi, and he had no notion that she’d felt it with him. “I’m getting hitched tomorrow, most likely. I’ve made my bed.”

  “Well, then.” Pres put his napkin on the table and stood. “You’ve got your suit. Time for me to get.” He picked up his hat.

  “You’re not going to stay and see me get married?”

  “I’ll be back. I have to go to Greeley, see the lawyer and the banker about this year’s cattle drive. I’d already made the appointments when your telegram came.”

  Rafe asked Roxanna to put their breakfast on his bill and handed her the package Pres had brought. “Could you ask Mrs. Gensch to have this suit pressed and sent up to my room?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Morgan.”

  He walked outside with Pres. “I wish Schuyler was here.” A more comfortable subject than marriage. “I’m no good to you in such things, but he could take the ranch’s business and legal affairs off your hands.”

  “That he could.” Pres grinned. “Your escapade has got me thinking about our family. By Schuyler’s letters lately, I think he might finally be ready to leave New York.” He put out his hand. “I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.”

  They shook hands, Pres went up Main Street to the livery, and Rafe headed down toward Calico Manor. The angel on one shoulder told him not to stop at Tagget’s. The little devil on the other whispered, What harm is there in stopping by? You can buy a treat to take to Naomi, a tin of tea or some candies for Luke.

  The depth of his disappointment at finding only Mae Tagget in the store surprised him.

  “Is your helper gone today?” Rafe as
ked nonchalantly, pretending to decide between peppermints and butterscotches. When Charity and Faith left the sheriff’s office earlier, they must have had something to do together.

  “She’ll be back soon. The girls next door enlisted her to go get Faith to try on a ballgown that came in the shipment from New York.”

  “That would be something.” That explained Charity’s grin before—and Faith’s look of dismay.

  Taking Mae’s advice that Luke was partial to butterscotch and Naomi to peppermint, Rafe bought half a pound of each. Next door, the curtains were again drawn with the sign barring men in the window, and raucous, delightful female laughter spilled out from inside.

  Rafe was off to Calico Manor, where he should find Naomi alone, tell her everything, and be able to consider himself once more an honest man.

  It had been wonderful seeing Pres interested in the family again. Maybe at long last he’d begun to heal on his own, without help from any matchmakers. Too bad. Pres would have liked Naomi. A niggling thought pricked at Rafe. He tried to push it away, but it persisted like a buzzing fly:

  When Pres finally met Naomi Steele, would he regret saying no to the Break Heart Brides?

  Chapter 29

  “Faith, come out!” Charity said. It had been hard enough getting her sister to come down to Abigail’s to try on a fancy dress from Paris, France, and now she wouldn’t come out from behind the modesty screen. “We all want to see.”

  “You’ll laugh.”

  “No, we won’t,” Hannah said.

  Unfortunately, at the same time, Charity said, “So? Since when did that bother you?” Hannah glared at her, but it was too late.

  There was quite a gathering in the front showroom. Besides Charity and Faith, there were Hannah, Jane, and Abigail, and both Lily Rose and Charlotte Gensch had come down for a look after hearing about Belle’s shipment.

  Naomi hadn’t arrived yet. Standing still for hours while Jane fretted over every seam and inch of trim of the elaborate wedding dress had taken a toll, and last night Jane had told her to take a nice lazy morning off and come in today as late as she liked—so long as it wasn’t past ten thirty. Then this morning while waiting for Naomi, Jane had come over to the general store and asked Charity to wrangle Faith down to the shop, determined to see her in that scarlet ballgown.

  “It feels too strange.”

  “Of course it does,” Jane said matter-of-factly. “You’ve grown too used to wearing men’s clothes. You don’t even wear a corset on Sundays—yes, I can tell. Women must suffer for their beauty.”

  “At least that’s something I’ll never have to deal with,” Faith said. “Being beautiful.”

  Charity’s first impulse was to agree. Faith had always been so boyish, clumsy even—unless she was shooting a gun or riding a horse. At those times she was as fluid in her movements as a trained dancer. But for the most part, she galumphed all over God’s creation and made a racket coming and going, bless her heart.

  But now Jane Stedman’s mysterious smile brought Charity up short. The seamstress knew more about beauty than anybody else in Break Heart ever would, and that smile told Charity that Jane thought Faith was dead wrong.

  “Come out, Faith.” Charity tried again. “I have to get back to the store. Mae’s all alone.”

  That did the trick. The lady deputy stepped out from behind the modesty screen, skittish as a kitten—and everybody caught their breath. Even with her thick dark braid clumsily thrown over one shoulder, Faith looked wonderful. Elegant.

  And yes, beautiful.

  Then she lifted the gown’s skirt and galumphed over to the cheval mirror, her boots clump, clump, clumping on the wooden floor. Her eyes went wide when she saw herself.

  “Criminy.”

  “Better not let Cole Deckom see you in that,” Lily Rose said. “He’ll be after you to marry him, in a double ceremony with Red John and Charity.”

  Everybody thought it was great fun to tease Charity about Red John. She wished they wouldn’t.

  “I shudder at the thought of those Deckoms marrying anybody,” said the owner of Vanderhouten Brides.

  “Now, Abigail.” Charlotte clucked her tongue. “Marriage to a good woman might redeem them.”

  “They won’t have my help finding one. Redeeming a Deckom would be more difficult than any of the labors of Hercules.”

  “You got to see what you wanted.” Faith galumphed over to Jane. “Now let me out of this thing. Doc spent the night in the cells, and I want to watch him bite Polk’s head off when he wakes up.”

  Jane reached for the gown’s laces, shaking her head. “What untold numbers of women wouldn’t give to wear a dress like this so well as you do.”

  “Maybe.” Faith begrudged Jane that much. “But I don’t know where I’d wear it anyway.”

  “Wait,” Charity said. “Keep it on for two minutes and let Mae see you. I’ll send her right over.”

  Charity returned to the store. As suspected, Mae did want to see Faith in the scarlet gown.

  “Oh, goody.” She stopped at the door. “By the way, I just sold the last of the Arbuckles’ on the shelves. Would you be a dear and restock them?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Charity went to the storeroom. Bending down to get to the low shelf where the coffee was stocked, she thought about something Faith said. Charity loved Break Heart, but her sister was right. There was a sore lack of social functions hereabouts that might require a gown that made a girl look like a princess.

  She loaded up her arms with the one-pound bags of beans, and as she straightened, two strong hands covered her eyes.

  “Guess who?”

  “I told you—” Charity’s heart started pounding like crazy. There was a strange edge in Red John’s voice today. Something was wrong.

  He moved his hands to her shoulders and spun her around with such force she dropped all the coffee. “Charity.” He looked distressed. But why?

  “How did you get in here?” She glanced at the back door, which was open, the lock broken and hanging awkwardly. “Red John?”

  There was agony in his eyes, and something more—desperation. Today Red John wasn’t playing the pitiful fool. She broke free of him and ran.

  “No, you don’t.” In the front of the store, he caught her at the bolts of fabric. They struggled and tripped over the display.

  Charity fell to the floor, crying out in pain as she hit her cheek against the hardwood. Red John grabbed her apron ties, but before he could pull her up, she saw something round and black on the floor behind the display. Ma’s brooch!

  Red John hauled her to her feet and wrapped an arm around her waist. He was so strong! She heard the click of a revolver and stilled. She wouldn’t bet her life it wasn’t loaded.

  “Let’s go.” He pushed her along toward the front of the store.

  “Go where?”

  “To find Hood and make him marry us. Right now.” At the door, he stopped and wailed against her neck. “You told me you were never getting hitched.”

  “I’m not. I don’t want—”

  “Don’t lie to me, Charity! To me! All I ever did was love you, and you never even cared. I heard all about it at Sweet Dee’s. That Morgan fellow is to marry Miss Steele of Break Heart.”

  “No. That’s not me.”

  “I seen the way you look at him.” He pushed her against the door. “Open it.”

  Her hands trembled, making her fumble, but she got it open. The bells jingled cheerfully as Red John pushed her out onto the sidewalk just as Lily Rose and Charlotte Gensch came out of the modiste.

  “Goodness!” Charlotte cried.

  “Red John, what do you think you’re doing?”

  Red John ignored Lily Rose and pushed Charity away from the ladies into the street. There wasn’t much horse or buggy traffic, but Mr. Morgan and Naomi were walking up from Calico Manor.

  Her captor was oblivious to the people around them. The pistol pressed against her temple and he half growled, half cri
ed in her ear. “Fourth of July it was plain for all the world to see how he looked at you, and how you looked at him. I saw it at the river, and then at the churchyard.”

  “You’ve got it all wrong. Mr. Morgan’s to marry Naomi.”

  “Ha! Not even a good lie. He barely had the time of day for her. Oh, Charity. My pretty Charity. You’re my strawberry tart. Mine!” He lowered his weapon and turned so they were face-to-face. “Why don’t you ever look at me like—”

  A shot rang out and echoed and echoed and echoed. Red John let Charity go, surprise writ large on his face, and fell down dead.

  The world pushed in on her and the street started racing toward her face and she thought so this is what it’s like to faint… or die.

  But she didn’t faint. Two powerful arms wrapped around her and steadied her. Mr. Morgan had caught her! He was so strong. He smelled so manly, so good it hurt. Let me die then.

  But she didn’t die. The world started coming back to her. The sound of people yelling in the street, the smell of dirt and horse droppings and gunpowder, the fear in Mr. Morgan’s eyes.

  “Are you all right?” He whispered. She felt his desperate concern, and it made her want to die all over again. She couldn’t deny it. She loved him! Not what she had in mind when she vowed to be a better sister.

  “I am.” She righted herself and stepped away from him—then away from Red John, who lay facedown in the dirt. “I was just shaken up is all.”

  “Did I get him?” Polk swaggered toward them, coming from up the street, his six-gun still in his hand.

  “You idiot!” Rage flooded Charity’s mind, and it felt wonderful—because the searing heat of it drove out all hints of desire and every vestibule of guilt. It was wrong, and she knew it, but still she welcomed the fury. She hated Polk more than Faith could ever come close to. “You fool! Red John was… mostly harmless.”

  She was immediately surrounded by her sisters—Faith, back in her deputy clothes, Hannah, and Naomi.

  “Charity!” Naomi hugged her so tight she could barely breathe. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.”

  Oh Naomi! Charity was the worst sister in the world, and Naomi still loved her. She felt more rotten than ever.