A Bride for Keeps (4 page)

She watched the oxen and Everett’s movements, waiting in vain for him to talk again.
More quiet minutes ticked by. She had to make him talk. She didn’t know how long the
Stantons’ hospitality would last, but she couldn’t waste several days in silence with
the man. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could handle another hour of it now. “What do
you use your land for?”

“I’ve several acres of grain and corn. Looking to get more cattle once I get more
hedgerow readied. Have a dairy cow and her heifer at the moment.” After another period
of silence, he said, “I do a lot of hunting on the property.”

“Will you teach me to drive the oxen?”

Everett’s head snapped her way. “I suppose you could learn.”

She smiled. Looked like he did want a worker. “When do I get to see your place?”

“Soon, I suppose. I’m having several neighbors over in a few days. They’re going to
help me put up a barn.”

“That’s nice.”

He flicked the reins and glanced at her dress. “I’m sure our get-togethers can’t compare
to anything you’re used to back in Boston, but they’re fun nonetheless.”

“I’m sure it will be exciting.” When they abruptly dipped into a wheel rut, her grip
on the seat slid, and she gained a splinter. Thankfully, her gloves kept it from lodging
deep into her skin. “I know this isn’t the city.”

“No, it’s not. It’s a rough life and requires hard work.”

“I can work.”

He eyed her, and she shot him her most winning smile. Pulling his collar away from
his neck, he looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m sure you can do whatever you set
your mind to, but I have to warn you, it’s not easy.” He glanced at her from under
his heavy eyelashes. “I’m sure you had servants or cooks or some manner of paid help
back in Boston, but I haven’t the money. The women here have to do everything from
mending to cooking to cleaning to farm chores. Sometimes, with big projects like a
barn, neighbors pitch in, but homesteading is all about self-sufficiency because everyone
needs to survive. And if you don’t sow enough, harvest enough, can enough, stockpile
enough . . . you may not.

“You may not like that. And that’s—” He cleared his throat. “That’s fine. And I can’t
promise I can help you adjust since I’m racing the first frost like everyone else
around here. And if you marry me, so will you. I want you to know that I hold you
under no obligation if you decide that’s too much. Just . . .”

He squirmed, and she gripped her seat tighter. Was he trying to convince her to forget
this whole arrangement? She wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of marrying a stranger.
Getting married at all, actually. But maybe a man not wanting a wife was exactly what
she needed.

“Just, well, there’s no need to drag on anything if it’s not what you want.” He looked
off in the distance, and she could barely make out his words. “But if you want to
work hard and marriage is why you’re here, then I’m willing to offer that. For God
knows I need a helper.”

Julia swayed in the wagon seat next to Everett, her gaze glued to the waving prairie,
her hands clamped onto her wooden seat. Marriage. Funny how hearing him vocalize his
proposal made her heart skitter in fear—she’d come here for this very reason, known
that’s what he wanted, but somehow it hadn’t seemed real. But now he’d asked, and
she’d have to answer—aloud. But words wouldn’t come.

“You don’t have to say anything now.”

She let the tension in her body flow out with a slow, controlled exhale. She’d never
been so thankful to have someone read her thoughts.

Everett pointed to a faraway stand of trees so close together they entwined with one
another. “Dex and Rachel’s place is just beyond that hedgerow.”

She nodded, the only answer she was capable of giving.

The wagon swayed at an agonizingly slow pace until they finally passed the line of
hedge. Julia watched as William hefted her largest trunk from the back of the Stantons’
wagon and hauled it toward the barn. The peace of knowing she had
a place to stay while she worked up the courage to discuss Everett’s proposal in more
detail washed over her.

Everett’s wagon jerked to a stop, and she clenched the seat to keep from hopping down
unassisted. She could see the question she hadn’t yet responded to lingering in Everett’s
eyes as he held out his hand. He supported her elbow as she navigated her way down.
Her feet found solid ground, yet she felt as if she were sinking as she stared up
into his cold blue eyes, a touch of heat in his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mr. Cline.”

He swallowed and dropped her hand, yet stood staring at her. She quickly clasped her
hands together. He’d said she didn’t have to say anything now; had he not meant it?
But how much more time did she need to frame a reply? He’d not wait forever.

“I can’t stay for dinner. I have to get home.”

“Oh.” Julia sighed with relief. She’d at least have tonight.

“Good-bye, Miss Lockwood.” The tone of his voice descended, sounding final and resigned.
He hoisted himself back into the wagon and was off before she could think to bid him
farewell.

Rachel walked up beside her and jammed her hands on her hips. “Where’s he running
off to so fast?”

“He said he wasn’t staying for supper.”

“Hmm.” Rachel wrapped her arm around Julia. “It will just take some time. You’ll be
talking marriage any day now.”

Yes. Already. A half hour ago. How she wished she never had to talk about marriage.
But that wasn’t an option.

The cool night wind threatened to blow out the lantern in Rachel’s hand, though she
shielded the light with her body.
She held the door open with her backside and tilted her head toward the barn’s dark
interior. “In here.”

Julia pulled her skirts up as she crossed the threshold but didn’t release the fabric.
The smell of manure, hay, and mice cautioned her against letting her dress drag on
the floor. She could imagine Theodore’s look of disdain if anyone had even suggested
that he were to sleep in such a place. She tried to discreetly cover her nose.

A circle of illumination around Rachel closed in around them. “I’m sorry to have to
put you here. We’ve had guests find these accommodations not to their liking.” Rachel
sighed. “But unlike the boys’ loft, you can stand up without hitting your head. I
do so hope you can bear it for a while.”

“Rachel, you told me I’d be out here, and I came anyway. I can handle it.” Julia squeezed
Rachel’s upper arm to assure her. To assure herself. The sudden lowing of a cow caused
her to jump.

Rachel giggled. “Sure you can.”

“I can.” She had no choice. She loosened her grip on Rachel’s flesh.

Rachel headed to the ladder at the back of the barn, then hitched her skirts and climbed,
keeping the lantern extended from her side. “Mornings are still quite brisk in March.
It’d be best to sleep in the loft. The air is warmer. Plus, there’s no chance Daisy
could wake you with a wet tongue to the face up here.”

“Is Daisy the dog?”

“No, the cow. Dixie’s the dog.”

Julia gathered her skirt material with one hand, stepped up to the first rung, and
stopped. “Did the boys put my trunks up top?”

Rachel peered over the edge of the hayloft. “Goodness,
no. I forgot. You’ll want to get yourself a nightgown. It’s there in the corner. But
I see Ambrose brought the quilts up here like I asked.”

Rachel’s lamp dangled over the edge of the loft, giving Julia enough illumination
to find her trunks. But she had to feel the fabrics to find her nightwear. Something
small scurried over her shoe, and she rushed back to the ladder, suppressing the childish
squeal that bubbled in her throat. Would there be more rodents up there? She had whapped
quite a few mice with a broom before, but never in her bedding. A shiver shook her
entire frame as she clung to the ladder’s rungs. At the top, she pulled herself and
her voluminous skirts onto the straw-littered floor.

“This is the best I can do.” Rachel gestured to a corner. Several quilts spread on
top of a flattened pile of hay formed a bed. Shards of moonlight filtered through
cracks in the exterior wall.

Julia removed the straw clinging to her skirt. “Really, you needn’t apologize anymore.”

Rachel set the lamp on a box. “I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth, but not quickly
enough to conceal her amused smile. “I’ll bid you good night, then. Make yourself
at home. But don’t fall asleep with this lit. Don’t want a fire.” Rachel walked off
into the darkness, but at the ladder, she stopped. “Just so you know, Everett’s coming
in the morning to help Dex and William round up calves for branding.”

A few minutes later, the barn door creaked open and slammed. The lamp’s feeble light
couldn’t reach the four walls of the barn, and a mouse, perhaps, scampered across
the beam above her. Gooseflesh formed on her arms, and she hugged herself. Undressing
quickly, Julia laid her crumpled clothing across a pile of hay and slipped into her
nightgown.
Thinking it unwise to bring the lamp any closer to her sleeping area, she blew out
the flame and felt her way to the pile of quilts.

The sound of animals moving and making noise would take getting used to, but they
didn’t disturb her sleep—her brain did. How many disparate feelings had coursed through
her within so few hours? The feeling of belonging while chatting with Rachel, immediate
love for the children, discomfort as she rode beside taciturn Everett. Unrest in her
soul. She relived everything she’d done today since she’d awoken, replayed everything
she’d had the nerve to say to Everett and the few words he spoke in return, how he
sat stiffly on the wagon seat, his sun-darkened face intent on his oxen and his square
jaw clamped shut. His dark blond hair flopping with the ruts in the road, intermittently
giving her a peek at his eyes, the color of roiling ocean waves during a winter storm.
She sighed and rolled over.

Could his disturbingly familiar looks be a sign that she shouldn’t pursue marrying
him? She trusted Rachel hadn’t encouraged her to marry a disagreeable man, but what
did she really know of him? He didn’t seem drawn to her, he barely spoke, and his
proposal sounded more like a work agreement than a marriage.

But wasn’t that exactly the kind of man who would agree to her own proposal?

The corners of the hayloft came into focus with the dawn as Julia shivered under the
quilts.

A rooster crowed. Again. She swore he’d been aiming his morning vocal display at her
for the last half hour. A dog’s bark made her jump. The barn door creaked.

“Julia?” Rachel’s voice called softly. “Are you awake?”

She moaned despite her teeth chattering.

“I came in as late as possible to let you sleep.”

She pulled the quilt tight around her shoulders before scooting to the edge of the
hayloft and leaning against an upright beam. After rubbing her eyes, she focused on
Rachel’s cheery face below. “Yes, I’m up. Your chicken woke me.”

“Big Red’s quite good at crowing—won’t let you forget it either.” She walked over
to Daisy and seated herself at the cow’s side. “If I’d waited any longer, Daisy here
would have woke you with some pitiful lowing.”

Julia tried to make her gravelly voice heard over the sound of liquid spraying metal.
“I need to learn how to do that.” No better time to start learning to be a farmer’s
wife than now.

Rachel stopped to stare at her. “You’ve never milked a cow?”

Julia shook her head. “City girl. From Boston. Remember?”

“Right.” Rachel returned to her chore. “Didn’t stop to think you hadn’t milked a cow
before.”

Julia stood, stretched, and then rushed through changing clothes. She had no brush
in the loft to fix her hair, so she settled for finger combing. “I’ll help you.” Climbing
down the ladder carrying a lantern and not stepping on her skirts was tricky.

“If you don’t mind, go ahead and take the lantern to the porch. It needs refilling.”

“Of course.” She’d wait and let her help, wouldn’t she? Rachel couldn’t milk a cow
that quickly, but the barn door refused to budge. Julia kicked at the bottom corner.
If she couldn’t open a simple door, how would Everett believe she could do the work
around the farm that needed to be done? Using all her weight, she rocked the door
back and forth.
With a final push, the bottom hopped over a dirt rut and flew open. Her feet entangled
with each other and she tumbled to the moist dirt outside, the lamp rolling from her
grasp.

“Whoa, there!” Dex’s hands encircled her upper arms.

She bit her lip as he hoisted her to standing. His face, aglow with suppressed laughter,
appeared through the hair obscuring her vision.

With a big puff of air, she blew the errant strands away. “The door was stuck.”

Switching the placement of his hands, Dex turned her to face the door. “I saw that,
but . . .” He reached around her and took hold of the handle. “If you lift it ever
so slightly,” he pushed up a bit and pulled the door toward him, “no tumbling in the
mud required.”

She laughed, but her face still burned. “I’ll have to remember that.” She bent over
and grabbed the lantern handle.

“Good.” Dex glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back, Everett.” Dex let himself
inside the barn, the door giving him not even a modicum of a problem.

A violent chill traveled the length of her body. She didn’t have enough time to wait
for her raging hot face to cool before she would look rude for not acknowledging Everett’s
presence.

Prepared to see him laughing at her, she turned, but was surprised at his expression—almost
like he was in pain. “Good morning, Everett.” Was he afraid she’d hurt herself? “I’m
all right.”

“Good morning, Julia. Good to hear.”

She ducked her head and hurried past him, intent on setting the lamp near the house
and then running back to Rachel. She’d known he was coming today, but she thought
she’d have plenty of time to ready herself to see him. Ready herself to talk to the
man she’d decided she’d marry if he agreed to her terms.

But she wasn’t ready, not yet. Or was she only fooling herself into thinking that
she’d ever be ready?

Everett stayed outside the barn, his mild gaze clinging to her back, sending more
heat to her face. Would that her reddened cheeks were already hidden on the other
side of that barn wall!

She put the lantern on the porch and returned to the barn, hoping she was strong enough
to push up effortlessly on the door. She gave him a slight nod and headed past him.

He took a step in front of her before she grabbed the handle and pulled the door open
for her. “Let me.”

Rachel’s voice reverberated from the dim interior. “Everett? Here already? I hope
you haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“We both know whatever I scrambled up back home wouldn’t keep me from eating whatever
you’re offering.”

Julia ducked under his arm and into the barn. She might not know her way around a
farm, but she could cook. Perhaps making him breakfast might cause him to think better
of her.