Beloved Texas Bride (8 page)

An honest woman he rescued from a whore house.
 

He slapped his forehead and rubbed his eyes. Was he blind? Could he be so stupid? Was this a game she had been playing and did she play the ingénue so very well that he had been completely fooled? He felt he was saving her, but what if she had counted on him doing just that? How had she known about the whore house and had she really believed that the nannyhouse was for children? Could she be that naïve?
Could he
?

 
During their travels, he had watched her repeatedly, catching a glimpse of personality here and there when she let her guard down. Other times, he would watch her movements as she would take a short walk or stretch when they were let out of the coach. Each time she was free of the coach, she was graceful and elegant. Weren’t most courtesans? He had wondered why a lone woman was traveling across the country and he assumed she was running from someone… maybe she was running because she could not be seen in society.

 
Cole had already fallen into a trap. If she was looking for a husband, there was no way he could get out of it if she cried wolf stating that he had his way with her. It was too late for him and if not, he would take her to the closest home for women or a convent. He would prefer to have an extra set of hands on the ranch, but that meant making sure there were plenty of people around…and without knowing where everyone had run off to, it would make things difficult. When she awoke, they needed to talk.

Elizabeth woke to the sunlight streaming in the window above her bed. Stretching and languishing for a few minutes, she listened for any sounds coming from the house. Taking her time, she stretched once again, feeling the cool sheets caress her sore body. Everything ached and several spots were extremely tender. Who knew travel would be so tough on the body? She felt as if she had walked from Indianapolis all the way to Fort Worth and grinned as she pictured what it would do to her boots. Imagining her toes wiggling in large holes, she giggled aloud at the picture.

Elizabeth shook her head to dispel the silly imagery and listened for Cole. Silence filled her ears along with a few faint birdcalls. She rose and moved about the room in her chemise as she padded over to her bag that lay at the foot of the bed. Digging deeper in the bag, she searched for any item of clothing that was presentable or somewhat clean. It seemed that the very dust from the road had seeped through the material and everything had a tinge of dirt to it. Looking down, the chemise she donned last night had a tinge of dust to it. Even her clean items had signs of smudging where it had rubbed against the material of her bag. Still cleaner than when compared to the clothes she had worn though! Her stockings were in atrocious condition and she shivered at the thought of putting herself back into them. Shrugging, she opted to go without-promising silently to herself to wash them immediately so they would be wearable once again.

 
She nudged the filthy shirt and dress with her toe as if expecting something to crawl out or for a bit of dirt to fall from the folds of the fabric. She left her chemise on and managed to wrangle herself back into the corset she had worn. Lacing it, she winced as the spots rubbed raw were once again subjected to the whalebone that fashion dictated she wear daily. She pulled a blouse over and tucked it into the printed cotton skirt she had packed. She felt so strange to be bare under her layers, but relieved to be out of the coach and clean. Twisting her dark hair, she pinned it into place atop her head loosely and smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

 
Wondering what Cole was doing, she quietly opened her door, unsure if he was sleeping, still. He seemed so exhausted yesterday when they parted after their makeshift dinner, she assumed he was still out cold since the sun hadn’t made it high into the sky yet. Tiptoeing barefoot, she was surprised to see that his door was open and he was nowhere to be found.

 
Elizabeth did a double-take when she turned and noticed a small metal plate on the table with a few pieces of fried bacon waiting. Did he leave that out for her? She did not remember having any bacon left over from last night. She shivered as she thought of her possible side dishes from the remaining jars: tomatoes or beets. Neither was appetizing.

She spied a bowl of dried beans soaking in water and sliced a piece of cheese from the small wheel they had brought up from the cellar. The cheese was tangy and smooth; her stomach gave a slight growl as if it realized more was coming to fill the empty void. Elizabeth cut another piece of cheese, added it to the pieces of bacon and fished out a few beans from the bowl.

 
Grabbing the small metal plate, she made her way over to small bench to sit and eat. Placing a bit of bacon in her mouth, her eyes closed in rapture as the salty, smoky taste hit her tongue. Giving a big sigh, she chewed in delight, swallowed and grabbed another piece. Elizabeth grabbed a bean off her plate, eyed it and promptly dropped it guiltily as she noticed Cole standing in the doorway watching her with the most peculiar look on his face. Had she eaten his breakfast?

Cole could not believe Elizabeth was getting ready to eat a raw bean. He wondered if she had eaten several already. “I hope you weren’t planning on eating those? They will give you the quickstep, Elizabeth,” he explained cautiously.

“You ate just the bacon and cheese, right?” He looked in the bowl to see if much was missing and glanced warily at the plate with the few beans remaining.

 
Elizabeth blushed furiously, embarrassed that she had been caught eating too much. “Of course not, I was saving the beans for you. I thought you were kind enough to put out the bacon for me, I would serve up the beans for you,” she stammered, mortified.
He did leave the bacon out for her right?
She wondered and turned her face away when he started laughing uproariously at her.

 
“What is so funny?” she said hotly, refusing to meet his eyes. She got up from the bench as quickly as possible, moving away and placing the table between them. She watched as he turned away and got quiet, a smile still plastered on his face. She watched as he wiped his eyes and gave a loud sigh.

“Now that you are finished laughing at me, would you like to share the joke?” she asked frostily. Elizabeth stuck her nose haughtily up in the air and stared down it, watching him gain composure.

 
Elizabeth felt her stomach clench and she tossed it up to digestion as she stared as his large frame sprawled against the small counter that held the sink. The sunlight hit him in just the right angle to accentuate the sharp jaw line that still held a wide smile and revealed a dimple on his cheek. Smoothing her dress, she broke eye contact and picked off an imaginary piece of lint from her skirt.

“Well?” she asked, piqued.

 
Cole was more than surprised to see her getting ready to put the raw bean in her mouth. They were practically inedible and he had just put them to soak an hour ago. Eating them would make her miserable and horribly sick.

“Elizabeth, did you eat several beans?” he asked again. He watched her turn away from him, smoothing her skirt. She finally shook her head no and muttered to him that they were for him. He muffled a laugh once again and realized that she simply did not know anything about cooking.

“Thank you for saving the beans for me, but I will wait until they are cooked. If beans are eaten raw, it can give you a horrific case of the quickstep. You know, the trots?” he elaborated more at her blank, uncomprehending look.

“Raw beans will give you diarrhea,” he said bluntly, watching her pale cheeks turn vibrantly pink with embarrassment.

 
Elizabeth was not sure what to say, she was so mortified. “That is quite enough description, thank you. I would not recommend those beans then. You are more than welcome to the wheel of cheese that I cut,” she offered, trying to recover the situation. Last thing she wanted to do was look like she did not know what she was doing.

“The cheese is safe, right?” she asked sarcastically, but in all truth she really wanted to know because she had eaten several slices already. The idea of her stomach cramping due to illness was not welcomed at all.

 
Cole smiled at her question, “Yes the cheese is more than safe to eat. The beans will be as well once we cook them tonight. Why don’t you put those back in the bowl to soak and well talk about your future,” he said carefully. He needed to go into town and find someone else to house Elizabeth, hire a chaperone, or find a solution to their housing situation. It dawned on him he could stay in the barn loft if need be.

 
He watched as Elizabeth clasped her hands tightly in front of her and pursed her lips. She was putting up a front to do battle. Apparently her future was a touchy subject with the little woman in front of him. Her five-foot frame was ramrod straight and in a decidedly defensive position.

He grabbed two mugs and poured them each a cup of coffee from the small pot. Shaking his head, he realized he had to go into town regardless for supplies. He would not do without his coffee in the mornings and this pot finished up his small ration he had left over from the trip across country. He sat down, took a large sip and, once again, invited her to join him. Cole was surprised to see her shake her head and not move from the spot.

“I’m not going to bite you. I just want to talk. Have a seat,” he offered again politely.

 
Watching her stare at him, he pointed at the other bench and the cup. “Elizabeth, sit” he barked sternly and held back a groan. That was a bit more roughly said than he had intended and he could see her retreat, once again, as she stepped backwards.

 
It would not do to have her frightened of him or to have her ignoring him. Life out on a remote farm, you had to follow orders, sometimes for your safety. He watched as she eventually sat down quietly across from him, but would not meet his eyes.

“So tell me about what brought you here… what really brought you here to Texas. Why were you trying to become a nanny so far away from your home?” he asked gently, trying to get her to open up and talk with him. Women did not travel alone over one thousand miles without having a damn good reason and he would like to hear hers. When she did not answer, he cleared his throat and nudged the coffee cup towards her.

Elizabeth was not sure how much to tell him. Could she trust him? She had trusted him so far and he had helped her at every turn. So far, Cole had been a perfect gentleman but would that gentleman feel the need to return her to her family? Going home was the last thing she wanted to do. She heard him clear his throat when she did not respond. As a reflex, she automatically grabbed the coffee mug wincing at the heat coming thru the metal sides. The small, spotted tin cup was extremely hot and took her by surprise. It was far from the bone china floral cups her mother served tea in.

This was meant for a different environment in a different setting. It would be out of place on her mother’s linen tables, just as the dainty cups would be out of place on the wooden plank table they now sat at together. Could he understand that she did not want to be a part of a linen tablecloth world? Tea parties and soirees did not hold any appeal whatsoever.

Unfortunately, she did not know how to be a part of this world and it would take time to grow into it. Elizabeth took a small sip of the hot liquid and stared at the tin cup, as if for courage. “Cole,” she whispered, “I cannot go home. I want a new life,” she said quietly.

 
“I don’t want to be the dainty china cup,” she started, knowing she was making no sense whatsoever but she had no other idea of how to say it. The idea of being held to rigid standards, rules and obeying blindly just boggled her mind. She wanted her freedom to be her own person, to make her own decisions as to where her life would lead.

“I want to be free. I want the open air, the adventure, to see it all,” she said, rambling now that the mental barricade had broken free. Surely he could understand that? Men could always do what they wanted, when they wanted and she was jealous of that independence that being a man brought. Women were possessions and she wanted to be no one’s plaything.

She grasped the hot mug tightly and welcomed the burning sensation in her fingers.

“I want to feel. I want to be me. I don’t want to be Elias Barney’s wife. Not a debutante, not a wife, not someone’s piece of chattel to be bargained with or sold off. I want to be Elizabeth. To be me,” she said passionately, her shoulders heaving as she shook with intensity and then released the scalding cup as quickly as she had grasped it.

She stared at her pink hands for a moment in front of her and looked at Cole’s expressionless face. “I want to be me, not Elizabeth Barney. I do not want to marry him and I do not want to be forced to marry anyone,” she repeated intensely. Their eyes locked.

 
They sat there for several minutes, both staring at each other. Neither one sure what to say. Elizabeth had been on a tirade and it was obvious she was not trying to catch a new husband when she was running from the first one. Her eyes hard and dominant, as if asking him to challenge her and giving an ultimatum.
This won’t do- I am on her side and she needs to know that
, Cole thought. He wanted the two of them to get along and he had not seen this headstrong side of her personality as of yet.

“Are you already married? Do I have to worry about a jilted husband?” he asked roughly, watching her silently shake her head “no”, not breaking eye contact.

 
“Are you engaged?” he queried again and sighed when her eyes dropped from his. He felt a small sinking feeling in his gut. He watched her nod. Last thing he wanted was someone showing up on his doorstep accusing them of stealing off his fiancée.

 
“I assume he, nor your family, know where you are?” he said inquisitively, hoping this was true. He was starting out his life anew as well, and drama amongst a family was not how he wanted to begin it. He was looking to put down roots, not having to look over his shoulder for an upset daddy or husband.