His Brother's Bride

by Denise Hunter

  He would have to go back downstairs, but he needed a few minutes to gather himself. It felt awkward having a woman in the house again. And not just any woman, but his wife. Not in the true sense of the word, he reminded himself.

  He looked at the bed where he and Ingrid had spent many cold nights huddled together beneath the covers. It had brought him some comfort over the past five years to sleep in this bed, as if he could recapture her here. But now, Emily would sleep here, and he would have to leave Ingrid behind. He knew it was time. Past time. Five years was too long to hold on to someone who was gone.

  A tap sounded on the door. Emily probably needed her things brought up to her room. He stood, walked to the door, and turned the metal knob.

  Emily stood on the threshold, a vision in white. A smile trembled on her lips. The simple nightgown she wore was modest, but his face grew warm, and his gaze dropped to the floor. There, ten bare toes peeked from beneath a white lace hem. His mouth felt suddenly dry.

  ❧

  Emily forced her eyes to meet Cade’s when he opened the door. Everything in her wanted to turn and flee. Her breath came so rapidly that her chest heaved beneath the gown.

  His eyes widened, his jaw went slack, then he looked down. He was embarrassed, she sensed it instinctively, and it only served to embarrass her further. Should she have waited for him to come to her?

  His body blocked the door and she wondered why he didn’t move to let her in. She should say something, anything. “Is Adam settled?”

  He nodded, though his gaze avoided hers. “He’s fine.”

  Silence filled the hallway again. “Supper’s all cleaned up.”

  He nodded. “Good, good. Find everything all right?”

  “Yes.” Her skin was growing warmer by the minute beneath the gown. She felt flushed and wondered if he could tell. No, he would have to look at her to tell, and he was looking anywhere but at her. Wasn’t he going to take the lead? Isn’t that what husbands were supposed to do? She bit the inside of her cheek. She would just have to say it. “May I come in?”

  He looked at her then. His eyes widened again ever so slightly, and his lips parted as if he were about to speak. Instead, he stepped aside. Far aside, giving her a wide berth.

  She stepped through the door into the small room. One lantern by the bed cast a dim light in the room. Shadows danced across the quilted bedspread, across the wooden floors. The room was clean and sparse, even more so than the rest of the house, so her eyes went automatically to the bags that sat on the floor. Clothes spilled from one bag while the other was topped with a daguerreotype in a wooden frame. The woman in the picture stared somberly back at her.

  His things were all bundled up together there on the floor. She cast another glance around the room. There wasn’t a single item on the armoire or night table. Her gaze found the bags on the floor, then Cade’s face. He’d packed up all his things. But why? A cold dread settled heavily in her stomach.

  “I thought you might be more comfortable in here.”

  In here? Of course she’d be more comfortable in here; where else would she go? The barn? She searched his face, but his eyes were avoiding hers.

  “I’m fixin’ to move to Adam’s room.”

  Confusion muddled her mind. He wasn’t sleeping here? He was moving out? But why? Her thoughts tumbled back to the scene on the stagecoach—mere hours ago. Before you say anything. . .I have some things to explain. . . .

  Is this what he’d wanted to explain on the stage? That he wanted a marriage in name only? He should have told her so right then and there!

  She’d come to him wanting their marriage to start right. She’d come to him wanting to please him. She’d come here. . . .

  She looked down at herself, clothed in a thin nightgown, and remembered the way he’d averted his gaze upon opening the door. Her skin grew warm until she thought she might glow. She’d all but thrown herself at him, and he didn’t want her. She was mortified.

  She bolted past him, wanting to escape the stifling room.

  He grabbed her arm as she passed. “Emily.” There was gentle coaxing in his voice.

  “Let go.” Lord, please just let me melt in a puddle and sink through these floorboards.

  “I’m sorry, I thought you understood.”

  She looked away from him—couldn’t bear to let him see her face. What a brazen woman he must think me, coming to him dressed so.

  “I tried to explain on the stage,” he rasped. “But the others. . .”

  Her legs felt weak, and she wondered that they supported her at all. His grasp gentled on her arm, and the skin beneath it felt so feverishly hot.

  “It’s not you, it’s—I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes stung, and she knew tears would soon follow. She would not let him see her cry. Hadn’t she humiliated herself enough this night? She gave a nod and tore away from him, dashing through the door and down the stairs. She wanted to run outside and keep going until she had no breath left in her. She settled for the porch instead.

  The door creaked behind her as she closed it softly. Her eyes still stung, though they were as dry as the prairie after a long, hot summer. She walked on wobbly legs to the porch swing and dropped into it. Please, Lord, don’t let him follow me out here.

  She’d never in her life been so humiliated. What had possessed her to go to him that way? They were strangers, she and Cade. No matter that they’d been joined in holy matrimony, they’d only met that very day. Who am I to presume what he wants? Perhaps he finds me repulsive.

  Her heart caught at the thought. The hollow ache in her stomach filled with pain. She wasn’t very comely, she knew that. Her uncle had reminded her often enough.

  She remembered the daguerreotype she’d seen in Cade’s room. The woman—his former wife—had been lovely. She’d had golden hair and petite features. And those haunting eyes.

  What did Emily have? Drab brown hair and plain features. She must look as appealing to him as a garden weed. She crossed her arms, feeling exposed. The night air had grown chilly, but it felt good against her warm skin. She wanted to stay out here all night. She wanted to stay out here forever.

  How would she ever face him again? She’d come to his room practically begging.

  She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it anymore. It was beyond humiliating. She was his wife now—even if in name only—and she had a job. She still had to find the treasure map for Uncle Stewart. She still had to take care of Adam.

  For the first time, it occurred to her that if there were no intimacy, there would be no child. She would never feel a baby kick her from within. She would never bring her own child into the world. She would never hold a suckling babe in her arms. Her throat constricted with the pain of it.

  Oh no, Lord Jesus, what have I done? In marrying Cade, she’d given up her one true desire, and there was no treasure in the world worth that.

  Four

  Dear Uncle Stewart,

  I’m sorry it has taken so long to write. There have been some changes you need to be aware of. When I arrived in Cedar Springs, I found, to my sorrow, that Thomas had recently perished in an accident. Before you get riled up, I will tell you that I have married his brother, Cade. I am living in his grandfather’s farmhouse, so I have been looking diligently for the map these past three weeks.

  I have many other responsibilities as well. Cade has a five-year-old son I am looking out for.

  Emily paused, her hand steadied over the paper, and watched Adam out the window playing with a pail beside a pile of dirt. She wanted to tell her uncle how sweet and precocious the boy was and how much his presence warmed her heart. But her uncle would not care about that. She continued.

  In addition, there are animals to feed and care for, a garden to start, and all the household chores. I spend every spare moment looking for the map. Cade plow
s the fields from sunup to sundown, so I am able to do so without suspicion.

  Emily cringed even as she wrote the words. Guilt had built up within her more each day. It felt wrong to search through Cade’s private things. Well, isn’t it wrong of him to deny me of my own children? She would never realize her dream because of his decision. Was it so wrong of her to help Nana? Her gaze focused on the paper.

  I have asked Cade some questions about his grandfather, but he doesn’t seem to know anything about the robbery. He describes his great-grandfather Quincy as a “scoundrel” and says he disappeared one summer day and was never heard from again. This must have been the day he and my great-grandfather stole the coins. Cade doesn’t seem to know Quincy and Great-grandpapa stole the gold or that they were hung for it the following week.

  Emily rubbed her hands over her face. She hated thinking about the past and her involvement in this mess. She sighed and began writing again.

  How is Nana? Does she still lie awake singing “Listen to the Mockingbird”? Please tell her hello and let her know I’m thinking of her.

  She closed her eyes against the sting. Uncle Stewart would do no such thing; she could almost guarantee it. Was he making sure she was eating properly? Was he being kind to her? She knew better than to ask.

  I promise to let you know as soon as I find the map. Until then, please take good care of Nana.

  Sincerely,

  Emily

  She looked over the last line and knew she was pushing things. He didn’t like to be told what to do. But she was keeping her end of the bargain, and it was only fair that he did as well. She folded the note, tucked it into an envelope, and addressed it. Now she had only to take it to the post office.

  As she and Adam rode to town on the wagon, they sang songs together. She taught him “Camptown Races” and “Pop Goes the Weasel.” He had his pa’s dark hair and coloring, but his eyes were clear blue, and she wondered if they were like his ma’s.

  Once they arrived in town, she parked the wagon outside the mercantile and went to post her letter in the adjacent building. She left Adam on the porch with another boy while she entered the mercantile for a few things. It was not her first trip to the store, but she still felt like a stranger in town.

  There were a few women in the store, two she recognized from church.

  “Emily.” One of those women set down the bolt of fabric she’d been eyeing and approached. “Good afternoon. I’m Mara, we met at church.”

  “Of course.” Emily smiled, and wished she’d taken time to fix herself up. She must look a mess after gardening this morning.

  “I’m glad to see you. I’ve been wanting to invite you over to tea one morning.”

  “That would be delightful.”

  They set a time for the next day, and Emily finished her shopping. It wasn’t until Mara had extended the invitation that Emily had realized she was lonely for adult company. A friendship would be like a balm to her soul.

  That next week, Emily finished up the supper dishes while Cade repaired a chair on the sitting room floor. She could hear him driving in nails and knew Adam was probably sitting beside him, taking in everything Cade did. She admired the relationship between Cade and Adam. The boy watched his pa so closely and imitated everything he did.

  Emily dumped the dishwater behind the house and gathered up her sewing. Even as she dropped into the sitting room chair, her eyes felt heavy with weariness. Her busy days were catching up with her. Trying to run the house, look after Adam, and search for the map were taking their toll. She’d barely gotten started on the garden, and she knew she’d have to focus her efforts on that soon.

  She threaded the needle and grabbed a shirt of Cade’s from the little pile.

  In front of her, Cade drove a nail into the arm of the chair.

  “Can I try, Pa?”

  Cade shook the arm to test its strength then turned the chair. “Here, hold the nail like this.”

  Emily peeked up from her stitching. Cade molded the boy’s fingers around the nail’s body then picked up the hammer. “Put your other hand here.” Adam put his hand on the hammer, though Cade didn’t let go. Together, they drove the nail into the wood.

  “I did it!” Adam said.

  Cade set down the hammer and squeezed his shoulder. “I reckon you did.”

  “Look, Emily, I did it,” Adam said.

  Emily smiled. “You’re growing up. Before you know it, you’ll be as big as your pa.”

  The proud smile on the boy’s face was a picture that made Emily want to chuckle. Her gaze found Cade’s, and they exchanged a smile. He looked away before she had time to enjoy the private moment. It was the most attention he’d given her since that fateful first night of their marriage.

  She poked the needle through the fabric and pulled it out the other side. It was strange, their relationship. Cade cared for Adam and gave him affection, and the boy clearly adored his pa. And Emily had grown to care for Adam even in the short time she’d known him. Adam was starting to return her hugs and search her out when he did something he was proud of.

  But Cade and Emily—their relationship was hardly a relationship at all. It was more as if they were acquaintances who shared a house. They said “good morning” and “pass the potatoes” and “good night” and little else. And yet, they were husband and wife.

  Each night as she lay in bed waiting for sleep to come, she thought of Thomas and how different her life would be if he were still alive. They’d have shared their lives in a way that she and Cade hadn’t. He would’ve shared her bed and given her a passel of children.

  Stop it, Emily, it does no good to think of what cannot be changed.

  “Why you making a chair, Pa? We have enough already.”

  Adam leaned over Cade’s shoulder, almost smothering him with his closeness. Most men, she suspected, would have nudged him back. Cade just kept working as if it didn’t bother him.

  “It’s for Mr. and Mrs. Stedman. They need another chair, and I remembered we had one in the attic just needed a little fixin’.”

  The attic. Why didn’t I think of that? Emily had searched all over the house for the map, and she’d come up with nothing. But the attic would be the perfect place to look. Didn’t folks keep things from past generations in attics? There were probably trunks of old things up there, and surely she’d find the map among the relics.

  “—over there, did you?”

  Emily felt Cade’s gaze on her and raised hers to meet it. She’d not been paying a lick of attention. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “Adam said you went over to the Stedmans’ the other day.”

  “Yes, Mara had us over for tea.”

  He nodded and talked around the nail in his mouth. “Glad you’re making yourself some friends.”

  Emily was glad too. She and Mara had struck up an easy friendship, and the afternoon had sailed by before she’d known it. Afterward, she’d felt guilty that she’d been making small talk with a neighbor instead of doing her work or looking for the map. But she’d needed someone to talk to; she hadn’t realized the depths of her loneliness until she’d started talking to Mara.

  Cade set the chair upright and gave it a shake. “That should do it.” He grabbed Adam and tickled him, then swung him up in his arms. Adam’s belly laughs filled the room. “All right, Mister, it’s time for bed.”

  “Aww.”

  Another round of tickling quickly put an end to the complaint.

  Five

  Emily tossed aside an old quilt, and a cloud of dust rolled up around her like a prairie storm. She coughed as the dust settled on her damp skin, clinging to her and making her itch. She’d already searched through three trunks in this stuffy old attic, and there was so much more to go through. So far, her search had turned up no map, but the historian in her wanted to go slowly through each batch of letter
s and box of collectibles.

  There was no time for that, though. Already, she was putting off much-needed garden work. The laundry, too, awaited her, and the downstairs was in dire need of a good sweeping.

  She constantly worried that Cade would notice her neglect of other chores. So far, he hadn’t said a word, but she knew by looking at her neighbors’ gardens that she was behind.

  “I’m thirsty, Emily.” Adam looked up from his spot on the floor. His eyes peeked out from under an old beehive bonnet that was perched on his head. An old Prince Albert overcoat swallowed his body. She nearly laughed.

  “I see you’ve found some new clothes.”

  “These ain’t new, Emily, they’s got too much dust on ’em for that.”

  “These aren’t new,” she corrected.

  “I know, that’s what I said. Can I have a drink now?”

  Emily drew in a deep breath, then coughed at the dust she sucked in. She could use a break herself, but she wanted to finish this one trunk before she started supper.

  “Tell you what. Do you think you could get your own glass of water if I let you go down to the kitchen by yourself?”

  Adam stood up and the bonnet fell off. “Yes Ma’am!”

  “All right then, let’s get you out of here.” She helped him over all the piles of relics, then went back to work.

  She felt like she was getting to know Cade’s ancestors just by going through their things. The clothes were mostly homespun. Trousers and linsey-woolsey for the males and calico for the females.

  She’d come across old bank papers and coins, simple jewelry, and an old Bible. She’d found a lamp that was perfectly good and decided she’d take it downstairs. Cade had complained the sitting room was too dark.

  By the time she finished going through the trunk, she sat back on her heels and sighed. Would she never find it? The faded remnant of the map Uncle Stewart found in his father’s things said the more detailed map was hidden in this house. It was the only way he’d known there was hope for finding the gold. And her uncle’s map indicated the gold was buried on the Manning property. But it would be impossible to find it among the miles of hills and caves that encompassed the property. Why, the gold could be buried anywhere.