The Mail Order Bride of Break Heart Bend (Break Heart Brides Book 2)
Page 20
I never keep secrets from my wife, Rafe. This is the formula for a good marriage—if you don’t mind my saying so.
Rafe hadn’t minded. He agreed with it! Which was why he felt so miserable.
“I was waiting for my brother Pres, but it looks like he’s not going to make it.”
“Ah, the famous Preston Morgan of Morning Star Ranch. And I’m told you’re Rafael Morgan.”
“Yes, ma’am. Rafe.”
“And you’re going to take on the job of acting sheriff until Brady Fontana returns?”
“Deputy will do, as far as I’m concerned.” Rafe looked at the mayor. “I wouldn’t want to put Deputy Steele’s nose out of joint.”
“Diplomatic of you.” Gensch pushed up his spectacles.
Mrs. Gensch looked at Rafe dubiously. “I never pictured Naomi as a lawman’s wife.”
“Now, Charlotte, I’m sure Naomi will be just fine about it.” The mayor patted his wife’s arm genially. “Belle seems happy enough with our Brady.”
“Could be.” She didn’t sound convinced.
Gensch just chuckled. “Young man, we’d best get you down to the church. You’ll want to explain all this to your bride before she says I do.”
When they got to the end of Main Street, the Gensches headed on to the church and Rafe turned toward Calico Manor.
“Hold up there, Morgan!” Faith Steele came bounding through the churchyard and caught him at the beginning of the lane. “We won’t have any pre-wedding chinwags.”
“But I—”
“It’s bad luck. You come with me.” Without further ado, she dragged him into the church. Rafe felt impending doom closing all around him. It was like having one of those dreams where he needed to run but could hardly move his feet.
Parson Hood waited in front of the altar, leaning for support against a lectern where it looked like the wedding service had been placed for his reference. He bore the dreamy expression of one dosed with laudanum, and Rafe wondered if the poor man would make it through the ceremony.
Hood’s sister manned the pipe organ and launched into something by Bach. Rafe surveyed the filled pews. So many had come. All Naomi’s friends and family—but Charity wasn’t here.
This is wrong. At every turn, he’d kept quiet about his identity, not wanting to cause Naomi embarrassment. It had led to possibly the most embarrassing scenario imaginable.
The front door opened.
Naomi entered. Like a heavenly white cloud, she came closer and closer—although it could be anybody inside that formidable-looking fortress of silk and satin. Even the veil was too dense with frills to be able to see much.
What was he doing, joking at a time like this? It was madness. Naomi thought she was marrying Pres and everything that entailed. It was fraud!
* * *
Charity was barely two steps up the aisle when it hit her how ridiculous the whole thing was. She looked at Mr. Morgan. Worse than madness, this was fraud!
And there was Mae, sitting with Abigail. Charity hadn’t even had a chance to tell her wonderful employer, who’d been so good to her, that she would be leaving Break Heart, and Tagget’s, forever. Abandoning the woman who’d championed her so kindly.
Charity didn’t want to leave Mae! Not even for Mr. Morgan, though she felt to her bones he was meant to be her partner though life. She was so confused.
Once again, she’d messed everything up. Somehow Naomi had bamboozled her into this. No. That wasn’t fair. She had no one to blame but herself. And when Mr. Morgan realized they’d pulled a switch on him, what would he think?
It had been so easy to believe he’d be thrilled, that he loved her and not Naomi. But that was only wishful thinking. She’d assumed his feelings were the same as her own.
“Dearly beloved…” Parson Hood started in on the service.
No, no, no, no, no. Charity couldn’t think. What was she going to do?
* * *
A woman stood outside the church, peering in through the open double doors. As Pres got closer, he heard the drone of a parson methodically going through the wedding ceremony. Apparently, Rafe had gotten straight with Naomi Steele.
Pres was glad for his brother, but who was this woman at the door?
She was dark-haired, tall and dignified, and her clothes were exceptionally stylish. There was an elegance in her manner—if Pres was a betting man, he’d wager she was from back east. He had the impression she was pretty, but he could only see a part of her profile. Why didn’t she go on inside?
The preacher stumbled over a phrase, and the woman frowned and chewed her lower lip. Pres thought, That’s adorable.
He must have made a sound, for she turned her face to him. Her dark eyes widened, as if he’d surprised her—and Pres sucked in a breath.
What had he told Rafe? …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.
Pres couldn’t take his eyes off this woman. Here was the safe place he didn’t know he was longing for. The respite from the storm. He wanted to tell her everything, and he couldn’t think of a word to say.
He’d heard tell of the lightning-bolt kind of love, and he’d feared Rafe was suffering with it over that redhaired sister of Naomi Steele. He’d warned his brother away from a woman who could make him lose all self-control. Pres had always believed love at first sight was nothing more than lust.
But this was nothing unholy. It was a blessing from heaven, knowing this woman existed in the world. All his sorrows melted away, as though he’d found his true path. How did the song go? I am just going over Jordan. I am just going over home…
She nodded toward the groom. “Do you know Mr. Morgan?”
Sweetness and light, her voice was lovely too.
The flutter of butterflies in his stomach turned into a mess of cicadas dancing a reel. His pulse quickened. “I came to see my brother get married.”
She raised an eyebrow, and a grin tugged at her lips. “I came to make sure my sister did.”
Sister? He looked inside the church. Rafe, truth be told, didn’t look so good. Dread and consternation weren’t emotions one liked to see on a groom’s face. As to the bride, she was covered in silk, satin, and lace. It was impossible to guess anything about her.
“So that’s Naomi Steele.”
“No.” The lovely woman blinked. “I’m Naomi Steele.”
What? “You…”
The cicadas became armadillos, and now for some reason they were dancing an Irish jig. “I was supposed to marry you.” The words came out in a wondrous whisper.
She heard him, and her brows crunched together in puzzlement.
“I don’t suppose you’d consider it.” What was he doing? Was he out of his mind? If the armadillos could just stand down for two minutes, maybe he could think straight.
She blinked again. “Consider what?”
There was humor there, but kindness too, and maturity and intelligence. And something more. Something that had been missing from his life for such a very long time. Perhaps she was a fellow survivor. Could she be a kindred spirit? A friend.
He crossed to her side of the doors and took hold of her hands. She didn’t pull away. “Marry me.” Madness, yes, but something told him it was right and necessary to his happiness. And, he hoped, to hers.
“Who are you, exactly?” She crossed her eyes.
Was she mocking him? He wanted to kiss her. She chewed her bottom lip again, and he wanted to kiss her more. And protect her. And lay everything he possessed in this world at her feet.
“My name is Preston Morgan. And I believe you are supposed to be my mail order bride.”
“Who’s in there marrying my sister?”
“That man happens to be my brother Rafe.”
She tilted her head, like a curious puppy. “I have a brother. He’s eleven.”
“I have a ranch. He’ll love it there. Marry me, Naomi Steele.”
* * *
/> “Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.”
This had gotten way too far out of hand, and Charity had to put a stop to it. Parson Hood was coming to the fateful words. It was now or never.
“If anyone can show just cause why they may not be lawfully joined together, let them speak now or forever—”
“Wait!” She didn’t mean to shout. She looked at the groom. Had Mr. Morgan said the same thing?
“I object!” She and he both said.
“Why?” Again, both spoke simultaneously.
“I’m not Naomi Steele.” She tore off her veil.
“I’m not Preston Morgan.”
“Great thunder on the mountain! Then who are you?”
The dearly beloved gathered there today were not stunned to silence. The church erupted in a boisterous cacophony of gleeful opinion.
“Well, I never!”
“I knew it all the time!”
“There’s something you don’t see every day.”
“I don’t know about that. The other sister had objections at her wedding too.”
Charity didn’t mind any of it. Her heart leaped with joy, for the man who wasn’t Preston Morgan was grinning at her like a lovesick fool.
“It’s you,” he whispered, his delighted gaze dancing over her face and hair.
“But if you’re not Preston Morgan”—Reverend Wood asked the question before Charity could—“who are you?”
The man who wasn’t Preston Morgan leaned in so close his forehead nearly touched hers, and he spoke low, so that only she could hear. “I’m not a wealthy cattle baron. I’m not a rancher at all—that’s my brother. I’m Rafael Morgan. Rafe. I’m twenty-seven years old, and I’ve accepted Mayor Gensch’s offer to be a deputy here in Break Heart.”
No wonder he’d seemed younger than his years. And he wanted to live in Break Heart!
“So, are you two going to get married or not?” Parson Hood gripped the lectern and winced. Charity wondered if his laudanum was wearing off.
Mr. Morgan—Rafe Morgan—certainly appeared willing to go through with the ceremony, and no doubt about it, she loved this man. But…
“Charity doesn’t want to get married,” Luke piped up from the first pew. “She’s said so many times.”
Great thunder, Luke. Not now!
“It’s true.” Faith shook her head sadly before Charity could get a word in, but she had to cover her mouth to hide her grin. Beside her, Hannah nodded and affected to be seriously chagrined.
“Charity?” Rafe Morgan looked at her anxiously. He still had hold of her hands, and she squeezed his gently.
“Not today,” she said. “But soon. You promised to woo me after we were married, remember? But since you’ll be in Break Heart a while, I’d like a little wooing before I say I do.”
“I see.” A smile slowly spread over his face. With a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I can’t abide a man who doesn’t keep his promises.”
She wanted to kiss him right there in front of everybody. And she did.
And it was wonderful.
When they broke apart and turned away from the altar, Parson Hood said, “So I take it nobody’s getting married today?”
“I am.” When had Naomi entered the church? She strode purposefully up the aisle, with a tall dark stranger trailing behind her. “To this gentleman.”
What?
“And who might you be, sir?” The preacher’s gaze turned upward as the impressive fellow drew near.
“My name is Preston Morgan of Morning Star Ranch.”
Something like a gasp mixed with a shriek echoed through the church, and Mae Tagget said, “Goodness. Abigail has fainted!”
Chapter 33
Three weeks later
“I’m going.” Charity filled a bag with butterscotches and saltwater taffies. She threw in handful of peppermints and added the total to her tab. “I’ll be back in a jiffy, and we can walk down to the church together.”
Mae looked up from sorting the mail and winked. “See you soon, Mrs. Morgan.”
“I’m not Mrs. Morgan yet,” Charity called over her shoulder.
But Rafe had done everything in his power to woo her and make it so. He’d even bought the parcel of land next to Calico Manor and built a house there for them to live in. They would be staying in Break Heart.
The only thing that could make Charity happier would be Morning Star Ranch magically relocating itself closer than fifty miles away.
The day after Naomi married the real Preston Morgan, Charity had written to Belle in New York and told her all the news. Immediately, Brady telegraphed Mayor Gensch to suggest he hire Rafe Morgan permanently. Turned out the two had already discussed how Break Heart had grown so much it needed more than one deputy. They’d planned to look for someone as soon as he returned from his honeymoon.
Grinning, Charity headed up Main Street. She was so happy! She wasn’t Mrs. Morgan yet, but in another hour she would be. She’d never tire of the sound of it: Mrs. Rafael Morgan. So very fine.
Why did she ever fear marriage? She’d never felt so safe.
The trick was finding a man you couldn’t live without, someone you adored top to bottom, inside and out. Charity would risk any pain, any loss, to be with Rafe.
She looked at the bag of treats in her hand. As Rafe had reminded her, not everybody died before their natural time.
She turned at the alley to the infirmary. It never ceased to amaze her how spotless Doc’s offices were compared to his always-disheveled appearance. The man took every care for the rest of the world, but none for himself.
That was her theory, anyway. He kept the infirmary clean because he believed it best for his patients. He had no use for what was best for himself. Something was broken inside Devon Declan.
And like Mae, Charity had come to suspect Jane Stedman possessed the cure.
The doctor was at his stove, stirring a cup of coffee.
“How is the patient today, Doc?”
“Well enough to leave the room for patients who need it, but his eviction can wait until tomorrow.” He handed her the mug. “Take this with you. I have no use for a man who puts sugar in his coffee.”
“Some need cossetting where it’s offered,” Charity said. “Let’s not begrudge him.”
She put on a smile and entered the back room where Red John was recuperating. According to Doc, he would recover his strength, but the damage to his brain was forever. He’d be simple for the rest of his days.
“Good morning.” She’d expected better. He looked weak. “I brought you some candies, and Doc made you coffee. Sugar and milk, the way you like it.”
“My Charity.” He smiled at her and through her at the same time. It was as if he truly was only partly there. “My pretty Charity.”
“I’m Mr. Morgan’s Charity, Red John. You know that.” She put the coffee on the bedside table and dragged a chair over by the bed. “Now sit up so you can drink your coffee.”
She fluffed up his pillow, and he grabbed her arm to push himself toward the head of the bed. He was shaking.
He was crying.
“Oh, Red John. It’s not that bad.”
“I ain’t got no reason to live.”
“Don’t say that.” She couldn’t think of anything to comfort him. “You’re getting stronger every day. Doc says you can leave the infirmary tomorrow.”
“I’m not myself anymore. I’ve lost… something. No woman will ever want me.”
There was never much chance of a woman wanting him before, but it would be cruel to mention that now.
“God will show you His purpose for you.” She wished Faith was here. She’d know the right words to say.
“I’m going to kill Polk. Better yet, I’m going to do to him what he done to me.”
“He’s gone. Mayor Gensch wrote to the sheriff in Greeley and found out Polk left Colorado, lit out for the Arizona Territory.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
“If he ever comes back, I’m going after him.”
“I don’t think he’ll be back. He’s terrified of Big Mama.”
She thought that would get a laugh out of him, but it only made things worse.
Red John shook his head woefully. “People are more afraid of that old woman than they are of me.”
“That was always true, Red John. But it’s because you were always a better person. Big Mama is no good. I’m sorry to say it, her being your kin and all, but it’s true.”
“What am I going to do?”
“You’re going to drink your coffee and enjoy your candies. And tomorrow when you leave the infirmary, Lily Rose has a nice room waiting for you at Sweet Dee’s and a job helping Cyril watch after the doves. Doesn’t that sound nice?”
Surprise lit up Red John’s face, and the trace of a smile played on his lips.
“Maybe that’s it.” For the first time since he woke up from the coma, hope came into his eyes. “My purpose. Looking after the doves.”
“No one could do it better, Red John,” Charity said. And she meant it.
* * *
After the excitement of Naomi and Pres’s wedding, Charity and Rafe opted for a simple ceremony with few invited guests. Faith and Hannah were there, and Mae, along with Abigail and Jane Stedman and the Gensches.
Charity wore no fancy wedding gown, not even a veil. She wanted only the brand-new frock Hannah had made for her of pale green linen covered with tiny dark green roses. In her hair, she wore a circlet of white rosebuds and baby’s breath.
She didn’t want a reception either. She told Rafe it wouldn’t feel right without all her sisters there. Naomi and Pres had promised to come stay at Nighthawk for Christmas and bring Luke and Pres’s two children. They’d have a big party then, when all the family would be together. But once Parson Hood pronounced Rafe and Charity man and wife, they all went back to Calico Manor for pot luck and cake.
It was twilight when Faith pushed the newlyweds out the door, saying, “Now therefore behold thy wife, take her, and go thy way.”