“Where do you sleep?” she asked.
“I have a cot out in the stable,” he replied. “I couldn’t sleep up here. It’s too lonely—too many memories.”
“But these rooms look fresh,” she exclaimed. “I thought…”
“I made them up for you,” he replied. “I thought you might like to pick the one you liked best.”
Betsy’s mouth fell open. “You made them up?”
“Yep,” he replied. “Why not?”
She looked around her. He made up those rooms? He made the beds and washed the curtains and set out the wash stands? She never would have believed a man could go to so much trouble for a woman he never met.
When she returned to staring at him, she knew it was true. That’s the kind of man he was, and he was hers. He was her husband.
“So which room do you want?” he asked. “I’ll put your trunk away, and you can get changed out of your traveling clothes…if you want.”
She looked around again. From the landing, she saw into each room. Each was nicer than the last. Finally, she pointed to one. “Let’s have that one. It’ll get the most sunshine.”
He hefted her trunk onto his shoulder and put it in the room at the foot of the bed. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get changed. I’ll go downstairs and rustle up something to eat.”
He headed for the door. Her hand shot out, and she stopped him. “Wait, Jed. I want to do it. It’s my job, and I want to start right now.”
He halted in his tracks. When his eyes met hers, they both froze in that eternal silence that surrounded them every time they looked at each other. Gravity pulled them together, and he put his arms around her. He breathed into her face. “I didn’t get a chance to do this at the church.”
Before she could stop him, his lips descended over her mouth. She closed her eyes and fell into a mystical abyss of warmth and safety.
Chapter 4
Betsy closed the drafts on the cookstove in the kitchen. She set a large cauldron of water on top of it and sat down at the table across from Jed.
“Thank you for this, darlin’,” he exclaimed. “This is the first meal anybody has cooked for me in three years. It smells delicious.”
“Don’t compliment me until you taste it,” she replied. “It might be the worst meal you ever ate in your life.”
His hand slid across the table, and his fingers entwined with hers. “Even if I wind up throwing the whole mess to the pigs, it’ll be the best meal of my life because you’re here. I don’t care if it takes you ten years to learn to cook. I’ve never been happier. This day has been greater than I ever hoped.”
Betsy blushed and bent over her plate. She put a cloth napkin in her lap and picked up her spoon. “I only wish that was true. I can’t stop thinking about everything that’s going to happen tomorrow. It seems too awful to be real.”
“Don’t let it bother you,” he told her. “We’re here now, and we’re happy, aren’t we? I am, at least, and I hope you are.”
“Oh, I’m very happy,” she replied. “It’s just that…”
“Then don’t think about it. If you’re happy right here, right now, don’t think about tomorrow. Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet, and even when it does happen, you don’t know it will be too awful to be real. It might work out all right.”
She peered at him over her dish. “Do you really believe that?”
He shrugged and looked away. “Well, either way, there’s no sense letting it ruin what we have right now. We’re married, and you’re here, and we’re eating our first meal together—which, I should say, is just as delicious as I knew it would be.”
He stuck a piece of meat in his mouth and chewed it. Betsy laughed. She couldn’t stop her cheeks glowing. In spite of everything she knew would happen tomorrow, she couldn’t stop the overwhelming sense of happiness filling her from the bottom of her soul.
She felt the same way Jed did. This day turned out so much better than she ever hoped. Nothing could dampen that happiness, not even the knowledge Jed might get shot down in the streets tomorrow.
He sat across from her in his ordinary work clothes. They ate in the kitchen, just like any ordinary couple, in spite of the grand dining room just a few feet away. Success did nothing to spoil Jed’s goodness of heart and his down-to-earth comforting presence. There would be plenty of time for grand dinners in the dining room.
They ate in silence until Jed spoke up. “By the way, the minister invited us to tea next Saturday.”
“When did he do that?” Betsy asked.
“When I paid him for the service,” Jed replied. “He said he never married a mail order bride before, and he wanted to invite us to tea at the manse to welcome you and congratulate us on our marriage.”
Betsy colored. “I wonder how the rest of the town will take the news.”
“I’m sure they already know,” Jed replied.
“Did you tell them you were getting a mail order bride?”
“No, I never told anybody,” he replied. “I couldn’t exactly tell anybody when I didn’t know if you would agree to marry me. You might have gotten off the coach, taken one look at me, and gotten straight back on it. The minister is the first person I told.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that,” she exclaimed. “Why would I?”
“I might have been too ugly for you.”
“You!” she cried. “You’re not ugly.”
He cast his eyes down at his plate. “I’m glad you don’t think so. Anyways, I didn’t tell anybody. The reason I say they already know is because enough people know by now that the word will have spread. The minister might have told somebody. Then there was Fred Anglesey, the bartender, and Abigail Duncan, the laundress.”
“How would they find out?” she asked.
“They were our witnesses.”
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “I wondered who they were.”
“Fred will have told a few of his customers by now. Word spreads fast around this town.”
“I’ll be the scandal of the neighborhood,” she muttered.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he replied. “You’re a respectably married woman now, and there’s not a household in this town that doesn’t need to stay in my good graces if they want to conduct their business. They’ll accept you, especially when they find out how wonderful you are.”
“What about the Foxes?” she murmured. “Do they need to stay in your good graces?”
He looked away. “Well, they’re a different story.”
“Even if you kill Wendell tomorrow,” she ventured, “you still have his father and the Sheriff to deal with.”
“Yeah,” he replied. “That’s the problem.”
“How good a gunfighter is Wendell?”
He shrugged. “I guess he’s all right.”
“What about you?” she asked. “I suppose you don’t get much practice gunfighting while you’re running the forge.”
“I don’t get much practice while I’m running the forge,” he replied, “but I do get a fair bit of practice at other times.”
Her head shot up, and she found him regarding her across the table. “You do?”
He wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it aside. He took her hand and leaned forward. “Listen to me, darlin’. I know you’re worried about tomorrow, and to tell you the honest truth, I am, too. I don’t want to die out there, but I’m not exactly a sitting duck. I can shoot straight. I don’t like to compare myself to anybody else, but I like to think I’ve got a fighting chance out there.”
“How much of a chance can you have?” she asked. “I don’t want you going out there to die like a dog. I would rather leave town or something. At least you’d be alive and we’d be together. You could start over somewhere else.”
“I’m not leaving town,” he declared. “Everything I’ve got is here, and I won’t run away from this. They’ve got to pay, and I’m the only one that can make them do it.”
“How much of a chance do you ha
ve?” she asked. “How much practice did you really get?”
“I’ve been alone for three years,” he replied. “I never really liked coming back to the house to find it cold and empty, so I used to go outside of town and practice until it got dark. Then I’d come back here, make something to eat, and go to bed. I did that every day without fail. So if you’re asking exactly how much practice I got in, I would have to say three to five hours a day for three years. Is that enough?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He picked up his plate and left the table. Betsy stared at the spot where his face used to be. Three to five hours of practice a day for three years? He must be amazing with a gun, and nobody knew it.
Did Wendell Fox have a clue what he was getting into tomorrow? He probably misjudged Jed the same way Betsy did. Jed might be the best gunfighter in town, and no one knew.
The clatter of dishes startled her. She saw Jed putting his dishes in the wash tub, and she jumped up. “I’ll do that. You relax by the stove if you want.”
“I don’t mind doing it,” he replied. “I’ve done it enough in my life.”
“No,” she snapped. “I’m doing it. What’s the point of having a wife if you have to keep living like a bachelor?”
He laughed and retreated. He pulled a chair over to the stove and sat down. He watched Betsy pour hot water into the wash tub and roll up her sleeves. “This is a whole new sensation. I never spent any time in this house after supper. I never had any reason to.”
“Well, now you do,” she replied over her shoulder. “I suppose we’re both going to have to get used to a different way of doing things.”
He sat silent for a while before he spoke again. “I meant what I said before. I don’t want you to think I got a wife to cook and clean for me.”
She spun around with her hands still in the hot water. “I don’t think that.”
“I know a lot of men are getting mail order brides so they can get a work horse and maybe a breed mare thrown into the bargain. I want you to know I’m not like that.”
“I don’t think that,” she exclaimed. “I never thought it.”
“I’m really glad you’re here,” he told her. “I’m glad you’re here for the company. I just want you to know that.”
She dried her hands on a towel and crossed the room. She laid her hands on his shoulders and bent down to kiss him. “I know, darling.” She went back to her work. “Why don’t you relax—smoke a pipe or something?”
“I never smoked a pipe in my life. I wouldn’t know how to begin.”
“Maybe you should try it,” she suggested.
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “I’d rather just sit here and watch you.”
“Now you’re gonna start making me nervous,” she called over her shoulder. “Watching me is gonna get mighty boring after about twenty years or so.”
He laughed. “Maybe. Maybe in about twenty years I’ll be ready to start smoking a pipe. If I need something to do, I can sharpen my tools.”
“Don’t tell me you plan to bring your work home with you,” she countered. “Promise me you’ll take a break sometimes.”
“I always worked in the evenings,” he told her. “As long as I was awake, I worked.”
“I suppose that’s why you’ve been so successful,” she replied, “but now you’ve got a wife, and you’ll probably have a family of your own before very long. You won’t need to bury your sorrows in work anymore.”
“You have nothing to worry about, darlin’,” he told her. “You’ll never be a widow to my business.”
She chuckled as she dried the last dishes and put them away. She dumped out the dish water and hung up the tub. She came back into the kitchen to find him still sitting there waiting for her.
He watched her hang up her dishcloth. “If you’re finished, what do you say we go upstairs together?”
Her eyes widened. Then she smiled. “Okay.”
He took her hand, but he didn’t lead her out of the room. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her by the radiant stove for a while. She broke away and peered up into his eyes. “Do you want to go upstairs?”
“We’ll get there eventually,” he replied. “I’m enjoying this.”
“I’m enjoying it, too. I just thought….”
He silenced her with kisses. His big protective presence banished all the haunted ghosts from her past and the future. Everything was perfect, right here and now in this moment.
She read the same transformation in his eyes. He didn’t have to take her upstairs to make this happen. It already happened. They were married for all time. No matter what happened, either upstairs or tomorrow at sundown, they were home. He was home in her and she was home in him.
The lamp started to die down, but when she tried to go fix it up, he held her fast. He whispered into her mouth. “Let it go out.”
The lamp died and cast the kitchen in darkness. Only a faint glimmer from the stove drafts gave enough light to see. Jed’s kisses escalated in passion until he left Betsy breathless. Was she really going to go through with this? She couldn’t back out now, but she didn’t want to.
She never dreamed she could marry a man who made her feel this way. She never expected to want this, to look forward to her wedding night with breathless anticipation. She always thought her wedding night would be a bothersome chore.
Now she couldn’t wait to get her hands on Jed. She wanted to feel him vulnerable and soft and vibrant next to her. She wanted to crawl under the covers and discover secrets about him no one else knew.
What would he be under there, and what would she be? All of a sudden, it was all okay. Nothing they did together could be wrong. That thought alone excited her beyond comprehension. She wanted it all. She wanted all of him, and she wanted him to take all of her.
He took her hand and guided her out of the kitchen. The whole house slept in darkness. He found his way by feel until he started up the stairs. When they got to upstairs, a silver moon cast a wave of light into the room Betsy selected as their bedroom.
Jed closed and latched the bedroom door. Then he drew her into his embrace one more time. Their kisses meant so much more now than they ever meant downstairs or at the church. These kisses were all theirs. No one shared these. No one would ever see them. What passed between them inside these walls would always exist in a shadow world.
Jed was a different person here, a person only she knew. She found herself changing into a different person, too. She could let herself loose in this room. She could unleash the wildness in her soul where only he would see it.
She wanted him to see it. She wanted him to know her as no one else knew her. She wanted to become something beyond the strict rules of society where her humanity blended into the cosmos and thought turned into dreams.
Chapter 5
Jed came in from the forge and tramped his sooty boots on Betsy’s clean kitchen floor. Soot darkened every pore of his face and blackened every line in his hands. Grime caked his fingernails and his heavy leather work apron. “I need to borrow your soap, darlin’. I’ll bring it back.”
Betsy laughed. “Soap—you? What does a blacksmith know about soap?”
He took a menacing step toward her and flexed his fingers into claws. “Mind your manners, or I’ll catch you and kiss you right now.”
She screamed and scurried away from him. He chased her into a corner. Then he turned aside and took the soap caddy from the shelf above the wash tub. “I’ll bring it back in a second. I need it to lubricate an axel pin.”
She didn’t argue. She let him take the soap, and in a few minutes, he brought it back. He handed it to her through the door and went back to the forge.
Betsy stood in the doorway and watched him work for a while. He laughed and talked to customers while he pounded his hammer on his anvil. He shoed horses and shouted orders to his apprentices. He commanded the forge in a way that showed her another side to him.
He was master of his domain out there. While his pers
onal life was empty and bereft, he thrived in his business. He knew everyone in this town, and everyone depended on him. This town couldn’t ask for a better blacksmith.
Betsy threw herself back into her own work. She loved the house, the forge, and him more than ever. This life offered her all the happiness she never knew back home. She never had to worry about Jed falling into drunken sloth the way her father did. He already faced loneliness and tragedy. He rose to the occasion by making himself and the forge a resounding success.
He came inside for lunch. She put a bowl of soup in front of him at the kitchen table and went back to kneading the bread. “How is it out there today?” she asked.
“Busy,” he replied. “It’s busier than usual.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. She turned around to see him staring down at his soup. He picked up a spoonful of broth and let it pour back into the bowl. He did this three or four times without saying a word.
“Is anything wrong, Jed?” she asked.
He still didn’t answer. He picked up a larger spoonful of soup, inspected it, and put it back. He gave the bowl a stir. Then he went back to lifting out the broth and pouring it back.
Betsy froze in her tracks. The dough went cold in her hands, and she understood. He could pretend to forget his appointment with Wendell Fox, but he couldn’t put it completely out of his mind. He must be thinking about it even now.
She brushed the flour off her hands and crossed the room to his side. She touched his shoulder. “It’ll be all right, darlin’.”
He raised his eyes to her face. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night, about moving to another town. If you still want to, I’m willing to call off the showdown. We don’t have to go through with this. I can capitulate to Wendell so we can live in peace, or we can leave.”
“No,” she replied. “We’ll never capitulate. If you did, the Foxes and the Sheriff would never leave us alone. If we left town, we would always be running from something. In the end, we’d be running from ourselves. We could never trust each other or ourselves. We have to do this now.”
The Blacksmith's Bride (Brides 0f Brimstone Book 1) Page 3
