A Bride for Keeps (18 page)

When she broke from his gaze, Everett turned to the crumpled woman on the bed. “Don’t
argue, Helga. You take the money and get on the next train.”

Helga shook her head, closed her eyes, and leaned against the wall. He glanced at
Julia, who kept wiping the woman’s wet hair with an equally wet cloth. Both women
held their bottom lip between their teeth.

How could Helga not jump at the chance to leave? Ned was not a good husband, but Everett
hadn’t known to what extent. If it hadn’t been for Julia, Helga probably would never
have ventured over for help. She’d always been too ashamed by how she’d abandoned
Everett to ask him for anything.

Why had he not done something before now? Had his embarrassment over being jilted
so many times caused him to turn a blind eye to her suffering? He clasped the injured
woman’s hand and squeezed it gently. “It is my wish as well
as Julia’s for you to use the money to return to your sister. You’ll not be putting
us out.”

The front door slammed against the wall. “But you’ll be putting me out.”

Everett sprung to his feet. Why hadn’t Merlin barked? The gall of the man to return
the same day he’d been warned off his property forever. “Leave or—”

“Or what? You’ll pummel me?” The smell of alcohol permeated the room. “You did that
already.” Ned flicked his hand, an unsheathed knife glinted in the filtered light.

Julia let out a gasp.

“You want to kill me? Try it.” Ned brandished his blade and ducked his head toward
Julia. “See? You ain’t enough. Now he wants my wife—again.”

Everett held out his hands and watched the path of the blade Ned haphazardly waved.
He had no experience in a knife fight, but Ned’s uneven steps and the knife’s chaotic
movements gave him confidence he could disarm him.

Ned lunged, his knife’s tip targeted at Everett’s heart. Without thinking, Everett
grabbed the man’s wrist with both hands. The sight of the blade inches from his nose
caused him to tighten his grasp.

“Well, you ain’t gonna get her,” Ned growled.

The stench of liquor made him cringe. How much whiskey had the man consumed in just
a matter of hours? Ned tried to shove the blade toward Everett’s face, but he locked
his elbows in defense. He took a step back and used Ned’s unbalanced momentum to pull
him forward, keeping his focus on the rusted blade. With each angry thrust Ned attempted,
Everett pulled him further around in a circle, attempting to keep the blade from hitting
anyone or anything. A few turns about the room brought the drunk down to the floor.

“Drop it.” Everett shook the hand holding the blade.

“Forget it,” Ned slurred.

Gritting his teeth, he slammed Ned’s wrist into the planks with as much force as he
could muster.

The knife clattered across the floor. “Ow! Stop hurting me.” Ned tried to retract
his hand. “Let me go.”

Everett stood, fists ready.

Ned swore and pushed off the floor.

Everett punched him—once, twice, three times.

Ned scrambled backward.

Heart beating double time, Everett noted the pain in his already bruised knuckles.
He watched Ned attempt to gain his feet and decided beating up a sloppy drunk didn’t
sit right. If he could steer him away, the drunk man might not even remember coming.

Yet, if he didn’t follow through, this morning’s threat had been empty. “Your wife
is under my protection for now. I suggest you go home and sleep.”

Ned hiccuped. “I’ll do what I want.” He staggered backward.

Everett shoved him to the door.

Ned hit the frame and called him a foul name.

Straightening, Everett glared at him. “Get out. Now!”

When Ned lunged toward him, Everett threw a fist and connected with Ned’s soft middle.
The man groaned with the contact, snarled, then lunged again.

Ned’s fingernails clawed at his neck. Wrenching off the man’s weak handhold, Everett
spun him around and pushed him completely out the door.

Ned fell in the dirt and struggled to stand.

“When you get up, you’d better move in the opposite direction.”

“I’ll go.” With one knee up, Ned used it as leverage to get the rest of him upright.
“But Helga comes with me.”

“Helga stays.” Everett grabbed his shotgun from above the doorframe. Would it convince
the man to leave without a further fight?

“You have no right anymore! You got Julia whether you want her or not.” His fist pounded
the air every few words, and Ned stumbled with the action. “You’ve no right to mess
with my wife. Helga’s mine!”

“If only you’d heeded my earlier admonition. Need I remind you that this morning you
assaulted Julia? And now you’ve gone and hurt your own wife beyond what any decent
man will forgive.” He stepped off his stoop and stood, legs spread, with the shotgun
aimed at Ned’s chest. “She’s staying. You’re leaving.”

“Who’re you to tell me what to do?” Ned heaved and took a step back, then retched
his lunch onto the dirt.

Everett wrinkled his nose at the foul odor. Ned’s pitiful position made both sympathy
and revulsion course through his veins. No reason to counter the man’s drunken arguments;
it would do no good. When Ned wiped his mouth, Everett pointed his finger to the south.
“Go.”

“I’ll go since you ain’t fighting fair.” He swayed. “But I’ll be back.”

“Not unless you want to test my marksmanship.”

“Don’t think you’ve seen the last of me,” Ned said with a hateful leer, then lurched
and stomped out of the yard.

Dropping his hoe against the barn wall, Everett wiped his brow and trudged over to
the well to get a long draught of water. A swell of Julia and Helga’s laughter came
from the cabin, and he stood still until the last chuckle died away. He gulped down
his water and stared into the inky hole, where a slight underground draft rose to
tease his hot face.

He couldn’t stay away from Julia long. Not anymore.

However, a one-room cabin felt entirely too small for two people who couldn’t trust
each other with their secrets. With three? Forget it.

Though it couldn’t be far past noon, he’d finished the chores. What else could he
do to keep from intruding upon the women’s easy camaraderie? The last five nights,
he’d slept in the barn and tended every crop and animal twice over during the day.

Two more days until Helga left. Had she told Julia about how she’d stayed in the Stantons’
barn while determining he fell short at farming? Never mind that the weeds had grown
tougher and the hedgerows had taken over the ground while he was away those long years
at war. Never mind that locusts and droughts had set him back once he’d returned.

But he couldn’t blame Helga for believing Ned’s farm was better than his. It was.
But Ned hadn’t informed his new bride he’d acquired the property from a group of brothers
who’d mismanaged their finances . . . but not their fields. Ned had no chance of maintaining
the farm as well as the brothers had.

Still, he couldn’t fault Ned for keeping secrets. Unless he blamed himself for the
same.

He sat on the rim of the well and let his head slump back against the post. He should
tell Julia everything—as soon as possible.

She’d said she wouldn’t leave without telling him, yet he hadn’t realized how easy
it would have been for her to do so. A hundred and two dollars surely could’ve bought
her a ticket back home.

His heart wasn’t going to break because she’d leave—rather because she’d stay and
never love him.

But Dex had said he treated her no better than Ned treated Helga. Oh, he’d not hit
her—never would—but did he truly love her if he was only worried about himself all
the time?

She didn’t want his touch, but why would she if she didn’t feel secure? A touch without
love was like the slaps Ned lavished upon Helga’s face. But how could he show love
without contact?

The jangle of harnesses and cadence of hoofbeats on the road raised his hackles. Surely
Ned wouldn’t come back so noisily, but he untied the knife at his side just in case.

At the bend in the road, William Stanton rode in alone, smiling upon seeing him. The
boy waved and then steered his mount toward the well.

Everett cupped handfuls of water to his face and neck and smoothed back his hair before
greeting him. “What brings you here on this surprisingly windless, miserable day?”

“Visiting.” William slid off his mare and rubbed her neck before leading her to a
shady patch of grass Blaze had yet to rip from the ground. “Ma said Julia was worried
about the gash in Helga’s knee. Dr. Forsythe isn’t around, so Ma thought I could look
at it.” He shrugged as if it weren’t odd for folks to ask a sixteen-year-old about
their coughs, fevers, and rashes. Most people simply consulted a passed-around copy
of
Gunn’s Domestic Medicine
to avoid paying—or feeling guilty for not paying—Dr. Forsythe. Half the time the
physician’s remedies of blistering and purging made them feel worse, so they only
called on him in dire circumstances.

But William’s strange interest in herbs had led him to be a walking medical guide
if the worn copy of
Gunn’s
was unavailable.

“Let me take you to her then.”

“Um, before we go in, do you mind if I ask you something?” The boy’s face was a little
too red. Unless he had a sunburn.

“Shoot.” Everett swiped at the trickles of water dripping from his hair and down his
neck.

“I can’t ask Ma or Pa because they’re . . . well, they’re the happiest couple I know.
The way they tell it, even their jabs at one another are an expression of love.” William
pulled a face only a child witnessing his parents’ kiss could. “They don’t understand
what it’s like to love someone who doesn’t exactly worship the ground you walk on.”

Oh, why hadn’t he been inside when William came down the road? However, he couldn’t
ignore the boy. He’d certainly come to the right man for advice if he loved a woman
who wasn’t in love with him. “Are we talking about Nancy? You’re both barely sixteen.”

William rolled his eyes. “People marry that young all the
time. And you can’t say I ain’t a man. I’ve been overseeing Pa’s cattle almost singlehandedly
for a year now.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t a man, William. I’m just saying you have plenty of time
to make up your mind about Nancy. Don’t rush into anything.” He swatted at a fly buzzing
his neck. “I was in love at eighteen—and too young to realize her love was shallower
than the root of a lettuce plant.”

William rubbed at his temples. “It’s not that I don’t think Nancy loves me. I just
don’t know if it’s enough. She’s really pushing me to go to medical school.” He flung
out his hands and sighed. “Which I’d love to do, but I can’t afford it. It’s a wealthy
man’s vocation. Ma’s been talking about saving money for me to apprentice under Dr.
Forsythe, but my parents need that money, and there’d be years of fees, though I could
work to pay some of them. And that’s only if he’d be willing. He’s never apprenticed
anybody as far as I know. But I’m not even sure I should.”

“Don’t you want to?”

“Oh no, I want to. But then, life isn’t always about wants, is it?” William crossed
over to the fence and sat on the top rail, sagging it a bit. “If I marry Nancy, what
kind of husband would I be if I’m gone all the time like Dr. Forsythe? He doesn’t
have a wife, and I’m sure everyone’s glad of it. He’d want to stay home instead of
attend patients. People who rely on him in emergencies would suffer while he dined
with the wife and kids. Or his family would eat without him days, maybe weeks, at
a time.”

Everett moved to sit next to him. He folded his hands between his knees. How could
he advise a boy who had his head screwed on straighter than he had his own?

What kind of husband would he be if he were gone all the time? Probably not much worse
than he was now. “I can’t
give you any better advice than you’re giving yourself. Have you prayed about it?”
Here he was telling him to pray about big life decisions, when he hadn’t bothered
to ask the Lord His opinion on which woman to write.

“I don’t feel any peace after praying about it either. I just don’t know what to do.”
William drummed his fingers on his thighs. “But I want both, Nancy and medicine.”

“Well, perhaps you can have both. Maybe it’s not worth being a doctor out here. Maybe
if you go east and settle in a town—”

“They’d want a college-educated doctor.”

“Or you could put off the wedding. You don’t have to get married the moment you find
the girl.” Or the moment one shows up who’s willing. “But I’m afraid I don’t know
enough about medicine to advise you there.” Not that he knew enough about women to
counsel the boy on that either.

William picked at his fingernails. “Should you part with someone because you don’t
agree on the big things in life?”

Closing his eyes, Everett wished he’d sent William back to his father for advice.
“I’ve always been the one left behind.” He let out a derisive chuckle. “I haven’t
had the opportunity to consider such a thing.”

“But Julia is . . . ” William looked askance before continuing. “Well, she doesn’t
exactly seem to be in tune with you, so what keeps you working at your relationship?”

Everett turned his eyes toward heaven. Why had God summoned a sixteen-year-old to
probe his failings? “I have wedding vows. You’re not as bound as I, but if you find
yourself in love, you’ll start counting the cost of the changes necessary to keep
her. Change hurts; but if she’s worth marrying, she’s worth the pain.” Everett stood
to avoid William’s gaze as he uttered the rest of the damning evidence against himself.
“If
you can’t make the changes, then your love isn’t deep enough to commit yourself.”

“Thanks.” William rose and gestured toward the shack. “Think they’d mind if I check
on Helga now? I’ve got a lost calf and its mother to find before dark.”

Everett tried not to audibly sigh with relief. He needn’t add any more shame to his
weighed-down soul by listening to a boy who’d thought through marriage more than he
had for any of his five brides. “Sure, we can go.”

William nodded, and a strange lump shimmied under his vest.

“Hold up.” Everett pointed to the boy’s chest. “You got some strange disease?”

William reached in and tugged at the stubborn lump. “She must have just woken up.
She refuses to stay in my pocket.” He pulled out a puff of white and gray tabby the
size of an apple from behind his vest. The kitten’s claws strained to keep contact
with his shirt. “She’s like sticky weed. You don’t think Julia would want to bottle-feed
a kitten, do you?”

“We’ll see.” With big blue eyes and fur sticking straight out around the kitten’s
body like dandelion fluff, how could a woman refuse?

“Pa told me not to bother with this runt since Tiger has eleven others and he doesn’t
want that many barn cats. So it’s not like you have to take this one. You could have
your pick when they’re weaned . . . but I couldn’t just let her die.” He put the cat’s
nose up to his. The little thing’s paws trembled as it cried. “But Pa’s about had
it with me nursing a cat instead of getting all my chores done.”

Everett held out his hands, and William handed the fluffy thing over. Within seconds
of getting close to his chest, the fur ball attached itself and started climbing up
his torso as if
a flash flood had risen to waist level. “I think this might make a good gift. Women
can’t refuse cute, needy things, right?”

“Sure.”

Maybe he should work on being cuter.

William handed over a little glass bottle with a makeshift rubber nipple at the top.
“I just feed her warm milk whenever she gets whiny and tenderize some meat for her
whenever we’ve got some left. She was a touch sickly before her eyes opened, but I
think she’s good as long as she eats.”

Everett pulled her off his collar and tried to stick her in his pants pocket. She
wasn’t about to go in there. “I’m going to go get a box. Why don’t you go on in.”

In the barn, he found a tightly slatted crate and put the kitten inside, but she mewed
pitifully and climbed out. “All right, I’ll give you a ride to the cabin.”

In the shack, Helga smiled weakly at Everett from the bed but continued answering
William’s questions. He seemed to find her ailments fascinating.

The kitten mewed in Everett’s ear.

Julia stopped kneading dough and turned a quizzical look on him. “What’s that?”

She must not see men wearing gray tabby mufflers in the summer often. He beckoned
for Julia to follow him outside, so she folded the dough one more time and plopped
it in the pan.

Sitting on the porch step, he patted the spot beside him, then tried to pull the cat
off his shoulder. “I have a present for you. Granted, a needy present that requires
bottle-feeding.”

“It’s adorable.” Julia grabbed the kitten, its claws pulling a thread in protest.
“Boy or girl?”

“Girl.”

She nuzzled it. “Did William bring her?”

“Yeah. He can’t care for it anymore, but I figured you could. And we could use a mouser,
as long as Merlin doesn’t eat it.”

“What shall we name her?”

She was asking for his opinion? “William said she hangs on like sticky weed.”

The kitten’s arms were spread out against Julia’s bodice as if it could hug her with
its six-inch arm span.

“She’s just frightened.” She extricated the thing off her shirtwaist and tucked it
up into a ball under her chin. “How about Sticky for short?”

He chuckled. “Sure, it’s your decision.”

“Can we can keep her inside for a while?”

“I tried putting her in a box, but for something so small she sure put up a fight.”
He displayed his scratched hand to prove it.

“Now look what you did, Sticky. You can’t go hurting Everett. He’s nice enough to
let you sleep with me until you’re no longer frightened.”

Lucky fur ball. And he’d continue sleeping in the barn, where a cat ought to be.

He scratched the kitten behind its ears, a funny rumbling coming from its throat despite
its wary eyes. “She likes you.” He let his hand move off the fuzzy lump and skimmed
Julia’s cheek with his thumb. He dropped his hand before Julia’s face registered the
same wide-eyed fearful stare as the cat.

Julia stared out at the horizon, and he turned to do the same. Lately, she seemed
irritated by his questions, so he held his tongue. Though being alone for the first
time in nearly a week tempted him to try conversation again.

He’d learned her favorite color was blue, she was an only child, and her middle name
was Anne. But she never gave him anything beyond simple answers. And she never asked
him much of anything.

No wonder they hadn’t gotten far in this marriage. He’d known more about Rachel’s
sister within two weeks of courting, and he’d willingly spilled his every thought
and dream to the vain girl. A woman who’d jilted him knew more about his heart than
Julia.

So he’d try a new tactic.

“I used to bring stray cats home when I was little. Mother would shake her head and
feed them, and then they’d disappear in the morning to a ‘good home.’ I’ve always
wondered if Father really found them a home or whether I just hastened the cats’ demise.”

“Well, that’s not exactly a happy story.” Julia’s eyebrows and lips scrunched as if
erasing the image of their likely fate.

He started to laugh, then couldn’t stop himself despite Julia looking at him like
he was a madman.