A Bride for Henry

by P. Creeden

  Now the bank was forcing her hand.

  “You say he’s kind?” Would he be kind enough to forgive her for not being pretty? She clenched her teeth.

  Cal looked up at her with a softened expression. “When he was a child, he was always kind. Respectful to his elders, protecting and taking care of animals.”

  “Why would he want to marry like this though? He’s a man, isn’t he? Even if his father passes, and he has no family, surely he could find a bride there in Maryland?”

  A frown tugged at Cal’s lips. “He was courting a woman before he left for the War. They were both fourteen at the time, so a bit young to be married, but they grew up with one another. He was a border guard in the War for nearly four years before he was injured. And when he returned, he found the woman he’d been courting had gotten married on her own. She didn’t wait for him. He was heartbroken as well as injured, and he hasn’t shown any interest in women since.”

  The math of what he’d just said occurred to her. “He’s twenty.”

  Cal nodded again.

  “He’s younger than me.”

  “It’s only three years. It makes no difference.”

  This was all too much. She’d be resigning a young man to a marriage with her that he probably didn’t want any more than she did. Finally, she shook her head and stood. “I’ll need to think on it.”

  And she rushed outside. The cool night air kissed the heat from her skin.

  Chapter 3

  She found herself running to the family graveyard up on the hill. Brienne didn’t even know that was where she was headed until she collapsed next to the fresh mound of dirt where her grandfather had been buried. Tears spilled from her eyes. She felt like a child once again, only this time, she didn’t have her grandfather’s knee to rest upon.

  “I don’t know what to do.” When those words came out of her, the floodgates opened. Sobs wracked her body, and she didn’t hold them back. Of course, she knew that with her grandfather’s death, her life would change, but she hadn’t been expecting this.

  Why did things always have to change? Why couldn’t life just stay the same as it always had been? Time was cruel. Life was callous. Nothing made sense in this forsaken world. She poured her heart out there at her grandfather’s grave. And soon, it wasn’t just him that she was talking to, but God, himself. And when the person she spoke to changed, so did her attitude. Scriptures that her grandfather used to quote came to mind.

  Sorrow may endure for the night but joy cometh in the morning.

  But she felt so deep in this sorrow that she could hardly believe that life could ever be happy. Could she ever feel joy again?

  What she was agreeing to was a kind of enslavement. She’d always been free to do as she pleased. Her grandfather raised her with as much freedom as any man had. She’d grown used to making her own decisions. But if she married, could she continue to live that way?

  Henry was three years younger than her. Would that make a difference? Would he acquiesce to her because she was older and knew the ranch business better? She could only hope that was true. But why would he even agree to marry her, a complete stranger? Surely, he had other prospects. He was young. Then she remembered that Cal had mentioned his injury. She’d not even asked about it.

  She swiped the tears from her face as her breathing finally calmed.

  The brisk autumn breeze blew across the hill. Not a single cloud covered any part of the sky. Instead, every star shined brightly overhead along with the half-full moon. And for a minute, Brienne let morbid thoughts run through her. Part of her wished that she could join her lost parents and grandfather in death. But she felt ashamed at the thought. The last thing any of them would want her to do was give up. The Walsh family were fighters, and she’d do everything she could to keep the ranch going the way that her grandfather would have wanted. Even if that meant marrying a man that she’d never met.

  At least he was Cal’s nephew, so he was likely to be a good man, like Cal. And if he got too out of line, perhaps Cal could help rein the man in. She let out a slow breath. Her mind was already made on the situation. It was up to her heart to catch on.

  For a full minute, Henry sat at the dining room table, shocked, and looking at his hands. His long fingers folded over one another. He used to play the piano when he was younger but hadn’t touched the keys since he’d left for the War. Six long years ago. So much had changed in those six years. Anna had married his best friend. His Anna, the woman who’d promised she’d wait for him, married only two and a half years after he’d left. And now they lived less than a block away from his father’s house in Baltimore. If Henry went outside at all, he’d likely run into them.

  But he didn’t go outside of his house. He had no need. Between him and the nurse, Sally, they took care of his father. The maid, Nora, took care of the house. And his father was not long for this world. Henry understood that, but he’d been holding out hope that his father would just hold on longer... perhaps indefinitely. So, when his father’s lawyer sat him down at the dinner table to discuss his father’s final wishes, Henry could hardly think straight.

  “When I delivered this telegraph to your father yesterday, he agreed that this would be the best possible situation for you. You have no family left here in Baltimore. You have no friendships or relationships to tie you down. In Texas, you would have your uncle living on the same ranch with you—a ranch that you would become owner of if you decide to marry this woman and help her in this situation.” Mr. Clarke’s voice rose, full of hope.

  Henry didn’t want any part of this. “No matter. This is the only home I’ve ever known. I do not wish to leave it.”

  Mr. Clarke cleared his throat and straightened the papers he had in front of him. “You have no choice, Mr. Miller. Your father does not own this house, and his lease expires upon his death. With no job and limited income, how will you pay the increased rent?”

  Pain radiated through Henry’s chest. And whenever he felt pain in one part of his body, it passed to another. His leg ached where he’d been shot with a bullet from a Confederate Springfield. It had torn off nearly half his calf muscle, narrowly missing the bone. Worried about infection, the doctor was certain he’d have to amputate, but Henry had been able to convince him to wait with the promise that he’d heal and keep it clean. And then before the doctor could change his mind, Henry had limped out of the hospital tent as soon as he could stand the pain enough to put weight on his leg. He’d nearly lost his leg. He’d lost his girl. He was losing his father. And now he was losing his home. Was moving out west and marrying a stranger his only option? “How long do I get to know the woman before I’m forced to say my vows?”

  Mr. Clarke pushed his spectacles up his nose. “The bride has requested a wedding by proxy as soon as possible.”

  “What does that mean?” Henry blinked, a frown tugging at his lips.

  The Adam’s apple in Mr. Clarke’s neck made an appearance over his high collar as he swallowed. “It means that Miss Brienne Walsh wishes to be married today or tomorrow if possible. I’m to take the paperwork to the Justice of the Peace. You are to sign it. And Mrs. Nora Wilson, your maid, has already volunteered to stand in for the bride.”

  Henry’s breath hitched. “You want me to marry this woman I’ve never seen?”

  Slowly, Mr. Clarke nodded. “Your Uncle Cal assures me that she is a healthy, handsome woman of twenty-three years. She is in need of a husband in order to transfer her grandfather’s loan on the ranch to her name, expeditiously.”

  She was three years his senior. Henry blinked again, staring at his hands. At least she wasn’t even older... or much younger. Three years was a reasonable number. “Married today?”

  “Yes, if possible.”

  “When would I have to leave for Texas?”

  “There is no hurry. You may stay here until your father passes and all his affairs are in order. We’ll make arrangements for your travel afterward.” Mr. Clarke picked up a paper from his s
tack and slid it across the table to Henry. “This is the marriage certificate. It only needs your signature.”

  The ticking of the clock on the mantle echoed through the room. Henry’s hands remained folded over one another as he pulled them into his lap. He peered at the paper, afraid to touch it. This was the biggest decision he had ever made. He’d never thought of marrying anyone but Anna. And when Anna had betrayed him, he’d resigned himself to never marrying at all. Now this situation was thrust upon him because he’d done nothing in the last two years but help his father. He lived on the small pension he garnered from his injury. He had no prospects for employment, and once his father passed, he’d have nowhere to live. The last thing he wanted to do was go searching for another housing situation. “Wait. What about Nora and Sally?”

  “Your father has already had me draft letters of recommendation for both of them, as well as set aside a small stipend for their services.”

  Of course, his father always thought of everything. He’d made sure that both the housekeeper and the nurse were taken care of after his death. And this was his father’s way of taking care of Henry, too. But Henry hated this idea. He didn’t want to move to Texas and marry a woman he’d never met. He didn’t want to go anywhere or marry anyone for that matter. His back teeth ached from his grinding them together. His hands squeezed each other in his lap. In the war, he’d learned to do a lot of things that he didn’t want to do, simply because someone with authority over him had demanded it. And though his father wasn’t commanding that this marriage happen, Henry knew it would please his father and set him at a place of peace before death.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he pulled his hands apart, picked up the pen, and signed the paper.

  Chapter 4

  November 1867

  “Henry is supposed to arrive by stagecoach in Plano tomorrow afternoon,” Cal said as he sat at the dining room table for supper with a letter in his hands.

  Brienne’s heart dropped, and her stomach twisted. It had been over a month since her proxy wedding, and as the days went on, it was easy to forget that she was even married. Cal had encouraged her to write Henry a letter, but there was always work to do around the farm so she neglected the task. And Henry had never written her a letter either. Cal had kept in touch with his brother’s lawyer and had even showed her the marriage certificate when it had arrived. Other than that, Brienne had put the marriage out of her mind. Now it was coming on a stagecoach. No, not it. Him. The elusive husband she’d married by proxy.

  “That’s wonderful. I cannot wait to meet my nephew,” Mabel declared, pulling her three-year-old son, Joseph, upon her lap and trying to get him to eat mashed potatoes mixed with a bit of the meatloaf that Georgia had made. The children tended to turn their noses up at the meat unless it was smothered in gravy and potatoes.

  Brienne met Mabel’s blue eyes before she looked around the table and found that Evan and his wife were both watching for her reaction, too. Everyone’s eyes were upon her. She swallowed hard and fixed her gaze on Cal. “Will you meet him in Plano?”

  Cal lifted a brow and answered slowly, drawing out the word, “Yes.”

  She frowned. “Should I meet him there, too, or should I wait here for him? Honestly, Cal, I don’t know what’s the proper thing to do here.”

  Mabel and Cal both looked at each other, sharing a small smile between them. Mabel answered. “You should wear your Sunday dress and go out with Cal to meet him. It would be better if you don’t put it off a minute longer.”

  Brienne found herself chewing on her bottom lip. Fear was settling in her stomach. It had been one thing to be brave enough to sign her name on a piece of paper and say her vows with Cal by proxy. It was another to finally meet the man. What would he think of her when he saw her? He’d be disappointed for sure, but would he reject her and ask for an annulment? Her heart broke at the thought. Not just because she feared rejection, but because Mr. Bernard had warned her that if the marriage appeared to be falsified in any way, the bank would not only call the loan due, but would seek legal action against her for fraud. She needed this marriage to work, at least for a little while. Come spring, she could sell the steers for their full price and pay off the loan, if she needed. Things would be lean around the ranch for a while, but she’d make it work. If Henry Miller could just remain her husband until then, he could have an annulment if he wanted.

  She was getting ahead of herself.

  Georgia’s meatloaf sat in front of Brienne on a plate, getting cool. And there was nothing worse to eat than cold meatloaf. She picked up her fork and put off all thoughts of Henry that she could for the moment and tucked into the slab of ground beef on her plate. As she chewed, she tasted nothing. She may as well have had a mouthful of sawdust. Nonetheless, she swallowed it and smiled at Georgia when their eyes met. Everything was fine. And if she could convince Georgia of that, maybe she could convince herself, too.

  Henry stepped off the stagecoach, his back cramped and his thighs aching. It had been a long ride on the train from Baltimore to Louisiana, and then the stagecoach through Texas to Plano. The stagecoach had been cramped, for most of the way, with several passengers, but it had been empty on the short ride from Dallas, which allowed Henry to stretch out, but not nearly enough. He leaned on his cane, trying to stretch out his hip joint by pulling his leg behind him. The roadway was fairly empty, and he didn’t see anyone who remotely looked like his Uncle Cal, though he hadn’t seen Cal in nearly fifteen years. He still remembered that Cal and his father had been virtual twins, only Cal was the eight-years-younger version. Henry checked the time on his pocket watch and saw he had nearly a quarter of an hour before the coach was scheduled to arrive, so it was no surprise that his uncle was not yet present to meet him.

  “Would it be okay to leave my luggage at the stagecoach office?” Henry asked the driver.

  The man nodded and gestured toward the office. “They’ll let you do that in there, usually, but you’ll have to double check with them. I’m not sticking around.”

  Henry tucked his cane into his arm, took his carpetbag and one side of the steamer trunk he had, while the driver grabbed the other. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, Henry helped the driver carry it to the stagecoach office and set it down on the floor. Henry gave him two-bits for his help. Once the gentleman had left, Henry eyed the man behind the counter. “Is it possible to leave my luggage here for a short while until my uncle arrives?”

  From behind the counter, the gentleman glanced up and gave a curt nod before continuing to write in his ledger. Henry set the carpet bag atop of his trunk and turned back out into the street. He took a deep breath of the autumn air and let the breeze blow through his jacket. It felt good to be out of the coach.

  The town of Plano was small and dusty compared to Baltimore. The boardwalk was whitewashed and cleaner, though. Henry stepped onto the walkway and peered into the window of the haberdashery and considered buying one of the hats in the window. He’d not worn a hat in over two years. He’d not been outside much—not even to attend church. His father had become too sick to go, so Henry stayed home with him so that Nora and Sally could attend the services. At first it had felt like he was doing them a favor, but it became a habit that was hard to break since it helped him avoid people he didn’t want to see.

  Henry sighed and decided to keep strolling. At least here in this town, he had no worries about running into Anna or Robert. For that he could breathe easier. He shot a gaze toward the roadway to see if there was anyone who might look like his uncle. Then he stopped at the window of a music shop. There sat an upright piano, much like the one he’d had to sell in Baltimore before coming. His mother’s piano had been impractical to bring with him—it wouldn’t have survived the journey unscathed, and besides, it was smarter to sell it and save the money now that he was starting a new life. Especially since he hadn’t even touched the keys in six years. Now he found himself wanting to touch the keys on this piano.


  It was a strange feeling, to be drawn by a stranger’s instrument, but he couldn’t deny the feeling. He felt renewed already, here in Texas. Maybe change could be good. He was outside, breathing the fresh air of outdoors, in a new town, and married. His heart fluttered at the last thought. He’d been trying to forget that part as much as he could. He didn’t want to imagine what his new wife might look like. He hoped that he wouldn’t even be attracted to her. The last thing he wanted was for a woman to wrap him around her finger again.

  His hand fisted on his cane. Before he could talk himself out of it, he stepped into the music store. The bell over the door rang.

  The gentleman behind the counter had a handlebar mustache and an even part straight down the middle of his head. He smiled widely at Henry. “Hello, sir! It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it? How may I help you?”

  Henry forced a smile back. Smiling was another thing he hadn’t had to do often in years. “How much is the piano in the window?”

  The man’s smile grew wider, and his eyes sparkled as he jumped from around the counter. “It’s a beauty isn’t it? Inlaid wood, real ivory keys. Is it for your wife?”

  Heat filled Henry’s face as he shook his head slightly. He didn’t even know if his wife played the piano. “I’m just looking. It reminds me of my mother’s instrument.”