A Bride for Harper

by P. Creeden

  She nodded and stood, peering past him. “The water’s boiling. I think I’m okay now and can make the oatmeal myself.”

  “You don’t need to do that, I can—” he started.

  “No. You were busy outside, and Jack is still whining at the door. I’m sure you have other things to do, so let me do what I can to make your life easier. That’s what a wife is for.”

  His heart fluttered again. His wife. Her companionship was already easing his heart, even if he had new things to worry about. He nodded to her, and couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips again. Turning away quickly, he started for the door, as he did have more wood to chop. “I’ll leave this to you.”

  “Breakfast will be ready in half an hour then!” she called from behind him.

  Suddenly, he felt spoiled. He could get used to someone helping make some of his meals, but even more so, he could get used to the sound of her voice calling out to him.

  Chapter 10

  Mabel had ruined the oatmeal. She’d let the heat stay a little too high too long and much of it had stuck to the sides of the pot and gotten a slightly acrid, burned odor to it, even though it wasn’t browned much. How could she ruin oatmeal? Tears stung the backs of her eyes as she hung her head in defeat over the pot.

  “Smells delicious,” a deep voice said from behind her. “Is it ready?”

  Swiping at her eyes, hoping to stop the tears, Mabel turned about. How could it smell delicious? She couldn’t get the tart smell out of her nose. Slowly, she trained her gaze up to meet his. He smiled at her. She shook her head. “I think I may have cooked it a bit wrong.”

  “Nonsense,” he said, shaking his head and skirting around her to take hold of the pot. “Looks just dandy to me.”

  Then he proceeded to dish it out into the two bowls. He even scraped the sides of the pot and took a bit of the worst part and put it into his own bowl. The dried, tanned oatmeal looked very wrong.

  “If we add a bit of sugar and butter to this, I think you’ll be in for a surprise.” His cheery smile met hers as he proceeded to get the items he said from the larder and brought them to the table. He nodded to her. “Do you mind getting the spoons?”

  She blinked a moment and then turned about, quickly pulling two of them from the holder on top of the counter. Even though she still felt a bit confused, she found herself taking a seat at the table across from Harper. “Sugar and butter?” she asked.

  With a small smile, Harper put a pat of butter on both of the bowls, where it immediately began to melt. Then he took a spoonful of sugar and spread it around the top of each, then he pushed one of the bowls toward her. “Just trust me and mix that in.”

  Nodding, she accepted the bowl from him and mimicked his actions. Once finished, she copied him as he took the first mouthful, too.

  A smile spread across his lips as he swallowed. “See, it’s just fine.”

  Slowly she chewed. Honestly, it wasn’t half as bad as she thought it was going to be. With a small sigh, she continued to eat the bowl of oatmeal that somehow, Harper had saved. She watched him as he ate. His startling mixture of dark hair and blue eyes intrigued her. Even his skin tone was a bit darker than most men she’d seen, especially since they were just coming out of winter. The native blood in him shone through. Even though she’d had no dealings with the Crow Indians between the two forts, she’d seen them on occasion. They were rougher than Harper, more weathered. Maybe part of it was because Harper hadn’t spent as many years out in the sun yet. His smooth, square jaw bobbed in and out as he chewed.

  Suddenly, she realized that his gaze was on her. Heat rushed to her cheeks as she swallowed and looked away.

  “The oatmeal is good, isn’t it? Is everything all right?”

  She nodded, barely peering at him through her eyelashes. “Thank you for saving the meal. It’s not nearly as bad as I’d feared.”

  He huffed a laugh. “It’s not bad at all. I’ve eaten much worse than this. And this happens often, especially when you’re cooking over an open flame on the trail.”

  A tingle of fear pricked her heart. She’d traveled by coach and stayed in hotels when moving from Boston to Wyoming Territory. But the way Harper had described it, they’d be walking to his summer cabin. And if the journey took days, it meant sleeping under the stars. These weren’t things she’d ever done before. After letting out a slow breath, she continued to consume the oatmeal, even though it had become flavorless.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked.

  Just from the genuine care in the sound of his voice, tears prickled in reaction at the backs of Mabel’s eyes. She shook her head but feared looking up. “Nothing’s wrong.”

  After taking a deep breath and eating the rest of her oatmeal, she finally got a hold of herself and peered back up at Harper. He found her looking softly at her, leaning on the table with a hand under his chin. The sight of it made her laugh. His cheeks reddened and his brow furrowed in response. “What’s funny?”

  She shook her head and gestured toward him with her hand as she calmed. “I just thought about what a gentleman you are, but you have an elbow on the table. If I did that in my mother’s household, she’d knock my arm out from under me.”

  His brow furrowed more as he released his chin and sat up straighter, taking his arm and putting it in his lap. “But we are not in your mother’s household.”

  She nodded and sighed. “And thank goodness for that. My mother was always harder on me than my sisters. I think it’s one of the reasons my father favored me.” Then she choked a bit as she thought of her father. “I won’t ever do that to our children.”

  She gasped at her faux pas. Had she really just said our children? Her heart raced in her chest as Harper’s eyebrows rose, and his cheeks reddened further. He cleared is throat, blinking and looking away. He’d definitely taken note of the slip she’d made with her tongue. She winced and looked away, herself. How could she always trip over words just as easily as lumps on the ground that weren’t there? No matter. What she’d said was out there. Yes, she planned on having children someday. Yes, Harper was her husband. So, wasn’t it only natural that her children would also be his?

  Still, the thought of it heated her cheeks and made her heart race so fast, she thought a bird had been caught in her rib cage. She stood quickly and gathered up the bowls and spoons. Then she mumbled, quickly, “I’ll wash up.”

  Harper’s heart swelled in his chest. Mabel had talked about having children... with him. He swallowed hard after she took away the bowls. Then he got up and started for the door again. He needed to do something, because sitting there in the chair wasn’t doing enough to help rid him of the sudden euphoria he felt. If he didn’t get control of his emotions, he might get up and take hold of the woman and kiss her. And it was much too early for that.

  Outside, Jack jumped around his legs in excitement. The setter usually only did that when they were going out to check the traps. That was a reasonably good idea. Maybe a hike through the woods in the cool air would help him expend the extra heat he had warming his face and creeping up his collar. After grabbing hold of his sled, he marched headlong into the woods for the first beaver dam in the stream. Still feeling too hot, he peeled off the fur over his shoulders to expose his bare arms. The brisk cool air licked the sweat from his skin. He marched forward as fast as the sled would allow. He’d have run if he’d been able. Getting out of the house was a good idea. If he’d stayed, he might have done something he’d regret later. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Mabel off.

  Right now, Mabel at least seemed willing to entertain the idea of staying with him and becoming his wife. His real wife.

  As he stepped into the icy waters of the stream and waded toward the beaver dam, he couldn’t help the exhalation that left his lips. Maybe she felt that way now, but would she continue to? As things got tougher and harder because she was hitched to a mountain man, would she really want to remain with him?

  The trap had
been sprung, but no beaver in it, again. With a frown, he reset the trap. Then he waded through the icy waters, returning to Jack, who sat upon the bank of the stream with his tail wagging behind him. Jack stared at him hard, seemingly excited simply because Harper’s own feelings were high. When he got out of the stream, Harper leaned on his sled and slipped his moccasins from his feet, replacing them with a fresh pair. It didn’t take terribly long for the beaver fur of his shoes to dry, but he always carried four pairs of shoes with him as he checked his traps. Water sloshing in his feet would be unbearable. Birds sang in the trees around him. Even though the brisk air reminded him that winter hadn’t yet let its grip go on the year, the trees were already starting to bud with new growth and the birds were increasing their activity. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for another snowstorm to make its way through during the first half of May, but by the end of May it would be fully spring.

  That was when Harper usually made his journey north.

  Maybe he could skip the journey this year. The trapping was better northward in the summer. He’d get more foxes and possibly even a buffalo or grizzly hide or two. But he’d give it all up just to make sure that Mabel was more comfortable. After all, they were just married.

  Married.

  The word still felt foreign to him. Like he was talking about someone else’s situation, not his own. But this was his own situation. He was married—and to the one woman who he’d considered perfect from the first moment he’d laid eyes upon her. He didn’t want to ruin it. He didn’t want her to choose to get their marriage annulled and go back home to her mother. But what could he do to make her more likely to stay?

  When he reached the next beaver dam, he began wading in the waters, feeling the icy bite against his skin. One thing was for certain. He wasn’t going to ruin it by pursuing young Mabel to quickly. He’d give her as much time as she needed to make a decision on this. All he could do for now was pray that she’d want to stay.

  Chapter 11

  Sunday morning, Mabel walked beside Harper on the long, three-mile hike to town and to church. Puffy white clouds floated lazily across the perfect azure sky. She’d always loved springtime, and taking walks like these through the fresh air outside made her feel a bit euphoric. Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Harper walked beside her in his Sunday best, looking quite dashing in a suit that had nary a bit of fur on it. His eyes shined in the same shade of blue as the sky. And it seemed that his smile nearly matched hers.

  The only problem was that after a mile and a half, her feet hurt too. Harper had shortened his stride to match hers and stay with her as they walked, but soon, even he noticed that she’d started walking decidedly slower. He frowned down at her. “Are you all right?”

  Her smile had become forced, but she refused to allow it to slip, even as sweat dotted her brow. “I’m afraid these shoes might have become a bit too small for me. They’re pinching my toes.”

  He offered her an arm, and she immediately took it, leaning against him. He chewed his lip while peering down at her feet, looking suddenly guilty. “I wish I’d known. I might have had something else to slip on your feet for the journey.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” Then she looked around and slipped the shoes from her feet, allowing her toes to stretch out and sink into the cold dirt. “Do you think anyone will notice?”

  He patted her hand gently and winked at her. “I’ll let you know if I see anyone if you want to put them back on quickly. Until then, lean on me if you need to.”

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, and her heart leapt in her chest. Harper was charming and reassuring. It was quite a perfect combination in Mabel’s opinion. They continued to walk together for another mile before the town came into view. With a sigh, Mabel replaced her shoes. “I wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on those with delicate sensibilities in church.”

  After huffing a laugh, Harper shook his head. “I think I make a bad impression on those churchgoers every Sunday by my mere existence.”

  Frowning, Mabel tilted her head. “Why is that?”

  The smile he’d had on slipped a bit from his face and worry wrinkles appeared around his eyes. He swallowed, his gaze slipping past her as his face hardened a bit. “Not everyone is accepting of a half breed.”

  Mabel’s stomach dropped. She stopped walking and pulled Harper’s arm so that he would stop, too, and look at her. “You are a gentleman and a godly man. You are my husband. You are Harper Jones. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than those things by attempting to slur you.”

  He blinked at her a moment with his mouth agape.

  Then she squeezed his arm between both her hands and gave him an even bigger smile. “I like you just the way you are and would not have you any other way. Even my father approved of you. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

  He huffed another laugh, his face softening. “That’s right.”

  “Great,” Mabel said taking another step and then stopping to slip the shoes from her feet. She tossed the shoes to the side of the road. “In fact. Let them talk and judge me. It’s better than suffering through wearing those just to make someone I don’t even know think a little better of me. They are going to think what they are going to think, and I’m determined to pay them no mind.”

  Then she marched forward, pulling Harper’s arm with her. Though the pebbles on the roadway bit into her heels a bit, she ignored them knowing that her feet would toughen up as she kept going about barefoot. She’d spent a lot of time barefoot when she was younger—had even attended church more often barefoot than not. But she’d been spending too much time trying to be prim and proper for the sake of her mother and sisters. But none of them were around now, and Harper didn’t seem to mind. And for right now, he was more important to her than anyone else.

  As church ended, Harper stepped closer to Mabel who was spending time with some of the ladies during fellowship. He touched her elbow, and she turned toward him. He offered her a gentle smile. “Will you be all right here for a moment? I need to run an errand.”

  She nodded. “I’ll find some way to occupy myself.”

  He grinned at her as he squeezed her elbow gently and then stepped away. He quickly made for the exit and rushed to the bushes just outside of town to fetch Mabel’s shoes. Then he checked them over as he made the short walk to the mercantile. There he found the shop closed. With a frown he realized that of course the shop wouldn’t be open on a Sunday.

  A deep voice called from behind him. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

  Harper recognized the man right away as they had just shared a pew together in the church. Rubbing the back of his neck, Harper felt a bit awkward asking for anything, especially for help, but he was slowly beginning to realize that part of having a wife was not being able to do everything for himself any more than he could do everything for her, too. And in this moment, he needed a bit of help. “I’m sorry to bother you on the Lord’s day, but my wife only had one pair of shoes with her for church and it turns out they are a bit small. We have a three mile walk back to our home, so I wanted to see if perhaps you could help us. I’m sorry to bother you on the sabbath.”

  “Not at all,” the man said as he unlocked the front door of the mercantile. “Although it’s irregular to run business on a Sunday, the fact is that you are a brother in need. And Jesus even said that we should help those in need, no matter the day of the week.”

  Relief flooded over Harper, and tension he didn’t know was there left his chest. He bowed his head toward the man. “Thank you so much, sir.”

  The man put his hands out toward Harper. “Let’s see about the size of these shoes.”

  After no more than ten minutes, Harper had a new pair of shoes, slightly larger, to replace the old ones. His heart soared in his chest as he virtually skipped back toward the church. Most of the parishioners had already made their way to their homes or someone else’s for the afternoon. But there, sta
nding in front of the church building was Mabel. A smile tugged at Harper’s lip as he drew closer, until he realized that she wasn’t alone. His spirits fell as he realized that two soldiers stood in front of Mabel. He worried what kind of trouble they might be giving his wife when she forced a smile and added a tilt of her head as she said, “Not at all, Mr. Renault. I’ve been having no trouble of any kind.”

  “But he’s a savage,” the tall blond man said with a frown. “Surely you must be suffering in your current state, Miss Brown.”

  Harper’s stomach twisted, and he stopped in his tracks several feet away from where they stood.

  “Actually, it’s Mrs. Jones. And my husband is a perfect gentleman,” Mabel said with her chin lifted. “But I thank you for your concern.”

  She started to turn away when the man stepped forward and took hold of Mabel’s arm. He pulled her toward him and pointed at her feet. “You say you’re not suffering, but what kind of gentleman forces his wife to walk to town—to church—in bare feet?”

  Shame and anger intermingled in Harper’s heart as heat rushed to his face. He stepped forward and cleared his throat. The two soldiers turned toward him, their eyes going wide before narrowing at him. Harper glared back. “I’ll thank you to unhand my wife,” Harper said with a bit of a growl coloring his words.

  Blinking, the man released Mabel’s elbow and at least had the wherewithal to look chagrined.