The Sextet Presents… By Male Order [In Days of Olde] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (5 page)

She was an utter fool. In so many ways.

She’d married in haste when she should have learned more about her husband’s character. But the war had called to some of the younger men, and she’d taken Billy as her husband so that he would have someone to come home to when the fighting ended. Her marriage also gave her a home of her own after being fostered from home to home for so terribly long—the fate of an orphan. Her uncles couldn’t take her in, much as they longed to. No one but them had really wanted her, and she’d learned to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Her cousins often called her “Shadow”—the silent person who was there but not worthy of acknowledging.

Billy Adams had told her he loved her. They’d met in St. Louis at her uncle’s church, and he’d spun romantic stories of moving to the wild Dakotas and making a farm there. Since she had nowhere else to go, she’d agreed to marry him after only a few weeks of courtship.

He’d promised in front of her uncle and witnesses to love, honor, and cherish her. Instead, he’d bedded her like she was some whore instead of a loving wife. He’d belittled her, chipping away at what little confidence she had with his constant criticism. And when she’d dared stand up to him, the beatings began.

“Hope?”

She turned to Thomas, grateful for the reprieve from her painful memories. “I’m sorry… You were saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything. I was concerned.” He brushed the back of his knuckles over her cheek. “Your face is flushed.”

“Are ye feeling poorly?” Alec asked. Holding the back of his hand to her forehead, he frowned.

She could feel the eyes of the good people of Clearbrook boring through her. The reins in her hand kept her from swatting the men’s hands away. Had they been alone, she would have craved their touch rather than worry about the gossip that was sure to follow this visit to town. She’d had no choice. Not only was she in desperate need for supplies, but Mr. Smithson had also stopped by on his way to Hungry Horse to tell her there was a crate waiting for Thomas.

Pulling the reins, she eased the horses to a stop. “Tie them off, please,” she said to Alec when he hopped down and reached for her.

Thomas jumped out and then held his hands up as though to help her down.

Hope allowed his assistance but immediately regretted it when she saw Father Schmitt standing with Abe Driscoll.

The priest’s eyes narrowed as he inclined his head toward her and said something to Abe. Then both men glared at her.

She could almost hear the condemning words they exchanged—probably calling her a harlot. She honestly didn’t give a damn. Those men had no idea the purgatory she’d suffered married to Billy Adams. They couldn’t possibly understand the relationship that Thomas and Alec shared, and they probably believed she’d taken both men as lovers.

So be it
. Gossip had never concerned her. While paying attention to rumors might have saved her from Billy, she still couldn’t abide by people who had nothing better to do than pass stories that had little to no foundation in the truth simply to gain attention.

Let them call her a harlot. A Jezebel. A wanton. She’d ignore their snide accusations and live her life as she saw fit.

When Thomas refused to let go of her waist, Hope looked up into his brown eyes. They were fixed on Abe. “Who is that man?”

“Father Schmitt.”

“Hope…” His tone was scolding.

“The man standing at his side is Abraham Driscoll. He owns quite a bit of land around these parts. His farm is one of the largest in the Dakotas.”

“What is he to ye?” Alec asked as he came to join them.

“To me, he is a raspberry seed between my teeth.” She tried to brush Thomas’s hands away. “Please release me. People will talk.”

“Let them talk,” he replied. “We’ve committed no crime.” He did release her, but he immediately took her hand in his. “Come. Let’s get the supplies we need and go fetch my shipment.”

Hope pulled to try to take her hand away, but Thomas only squeezed a little tighter. Part of her loved the possessive gesture, but she could still feel the eyes drilling into her back as they passed Abe and Father Schmitt. “Who do you believe sent the crate?”

“I’m in hopes it was Father Kincaid. Since we traveled mostly by stagecoach and had relatively limited funds, I asked Father to hold on to a few important things and send them when he could.”

The excitement in his voice piqued her curiosity. “What
things?
”

“I would like to surprise you,” he replied. “We can open it tonight when we’re back home.”

Her heart warmed to Thomas declaring her farm his home. The three months the men had spent there had passed so quickly, and while the men might have been clueless as to the chores required to keep a homestead running, they were clever enough to catch on with little instruction. The farm ran so well now she even had time to read some evenings—a luxury she’d never been able to enjoy when she’d been alone. Or with Billy.

Billy couldn’t read or write, having never been to a school. He, too, had been an orphan, which explained why his parents hadn’t taught him. Her uncles had ensured she had the skills she’d need to handle herself.

She often thought Billy was jealous she could read and write. He’d tossed one of her precious books in the fire when she’d sat reading one evening shortly after their marriage. Once, she’d worked up the courage to ask whether she could teach him. The lesson that beating gave her was to never make Billy feel inferior or allow him to know she possessed other skills he didn’t.

Opening the door to the general store jostled the little bell that hung above it. Thankfully, there were no other customers as she walked in with Thomas and Alec.

Annabelle Wylie, the owner’s wife, was behind the counter, dusting a stack of cans with a feather duster. Her husband was nowhere to be seen, which raised Hope’s anxiety. Hal Wylie was always kind to her, even extending her credit when she’d desperately needed it not long after Billy’s death. Annabelle was an entirely different animal.

She wielded gossip like a weapon, her tongue every bit as sharp as any blade. Hope often wondered if she cheated customers and carefully watched to be sure the woman’s thumb wasn’t tilting the scale in her favor.

Annabelle stepped up to the counter. “Mrs. Adams. I haven’t seen you in town for quite some time.”

“I fear I’ve had my hands quite full keeping my farm running. It’s good to see you, Annabelle.”

When the woman didn’t return the sentiment, it came as no surprise, especially since her gaze was fixed on Thomas and Alec as they searched through a stack of books.

“Are they your…
cousins?
” Annabelle snidely inquired.

“They are my new farmhands.” Hope untied her bonnet, took it off, and set it on the counter. Then she pulled her list from her skirt pocket. “I’ll need salt and—”

“Where are they from?”

“—flour and—”

“You mean to tell me they stay on the farm with you? In your house?”

“Annabelle, I need to complete my shopping and pick up a crate that was dropped off by the last stage.”

Annabelle frowned and folded her arms over her breasts. “Why won’t you answer my questions?”

Because it’s none of your damn business…
“Yes, they live on the farm with me. Now can you please—”

The bell jingled, and a cold chill ran the length of Hope’s spine. She had no doubt who’d followed her in the store, and she had no desire to face him.

“Good afternoon, Abe,” Annabelle called, waving her hand.

Heavy boots worked across the wooden floor, drawing nearer. “Afternoon, Annabelle.”

Hope had no chance of escape, and before she could even react, Abe Driscoll put his hand on her shoulder.

“Hope Adams. You’re a sight for sore eyes. I was worried about you since you’d been away from town for so long. I was planning to ride out to see you on Sunday to check on your welfare.”

“Mr. Driscoll.” Hope tried not to clench her jaw as she spoke, but seeing him again was enough to make her gnash her teeth in frustration. His concern wasn’t for her. No, all he wanted was her land. “Good afternoon to you. I’ll be finishing my business here so you can talk to Annabelle.”

“Oh, I’m in no hurry, sweetheart. You go ahead and let Annabelle help you out.”

A glance to Thomas and Alec only raised her worry. They’d put the books aside and were speaking softly to one another, eyeing Abe as though he were the enemy. Then they came up to the counter.

Annabelle smoothed her hands down her stained apron. “Gentlemen. I’m Annabelle Wylie. I own this store.”

“With her husband,” Hope added. Damn it all if there wasn’t a note of jealousy in her voice.

Abe Driscoll held out his hand to Thomas. “Welcome to Clearbrook. I’m Abe Driscoll. You gentlemen traveling through our fair town on your way to the West?”

Thomas shook Abe’s hand. “No, sir. We’re here to stay. I’m Thomas Cameron.”

“Alec Buchanan.” Alec shook Abe’s hand as well, although the exchange seemed less than friendly. Both men narrowed their eyes, and the handshake lasted longer than most.

A test of strength, perhaps?

“Are you staying as well, Mr. Buchanan?” Abe asked.

“Och, aye. For a good long while I hope.”

“Well, then…” Abe looked at Hope. “Will you be needing help unloading supplies when you get them home? I could follow you out to—”

“She’ll nae be needing you,” Alec interrupted. “Thomas and I will handle things.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Thomas and I—”

“They’re her new hired hands.” Annabelle sounded downright giddy. “They live out on the farm with her. All three of them. Together. In that tiny house. A bit too…cozy, if you want my opinion.”

Alec hated the snide smile on Annabelle’s face. Hope’s face flamed red, and her hands shook. Was she angry at Annabelle’s insinuation, or did this Driscoll fellow frighten her?

“Thomas and I have a nice loft in the barn,” Alec said, throwing daggers at Annabelle with his eyes. “Mrs. Adams sorely needed some good hands on her farm.”

“What she needs,” Abe said, “is another husband. Ain’t right for a woman in this wild country to stay single, especially when she’s got a farm far too large for her to manage on her own.”

“Which is why she hired us,” Thomas said, stepping into the discussion. “Your concern is admirable, sir, but misplaced. Things are running quite smoothly now.”

Alec smiled, knowing that no one else there could possibly know it, but Thomas seldom engaged in arguments. The time he’d blown up at Mrs. Finster was one of the few times he’d initiated a confrontation. Whenever Alec lost his temper, Thomas would simply walk away until Alec cooled down. To have him defend Hope spoke volumes of his feelings for her.

“She needs a
husband
, not
employees
,” Abe insisted. “What’s she gonna do when you both up and leave?” He gave them both a quick head-to-toe perusal. “You look like the type that might take off for the gold fields and leave her high and dry.”

“Not likely,” Thomas replied. Then he dismissed Abe by turning to Annabelle. “I am also here to pick up a crate that was shipped from St. Louis.”

“You’ll have to bring a wagon ’round back,” she replied. “It’s too heavy for me to carry.”

“Hope, I’m going to drive the wagon to the back. Why don’t you and Alec finish getting our supplies and meet me there?”

Hope gave him a curt nod.

Alec didn’t like how quiet and intimidated his Hope was, and he placed the blame on Abe Driscoll. While he knew there was more to the story, he wouldn’t press her in front of witnesses. On the way home would be soon enough.

Taking the list from her hands, Alec glared at Annabelle. “Let’s get the things we need. Then I can help Thomas with his crate. We wouldn’t want to keep ye from serving other customers.”

* * * *

They were well away from the town before Alec started in with his questions. For him, that was showing an enormous amount of self-control. “What is between you and that man, Hope?”

“Man?” She kept her eyes on the horses’ rumps, but a blush covered her cheeks.

“Abe Driscoll. What is he to you?”

She gave him a dainty shrug.

“Ye were frightened of him.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Then why were ye trembling?”

Thomas rubbed her thigh. “You know that Alec and I will protect you—from anyone or anything.”

“I thank you for that, but Abe’s not dangerous,” she whispered.

“Then why the fear?” Alec asked.

Hope’s stubborn silence ate at him.

In his frustration, he reached over to snatch the reins from her hands, thinking he’d stop the horses and make her answer his question.

Hope flinched, quickly turning away from him.

He felt like an ogre. “I’m sorry, lass. I dinnae mean to scare ye.”

She replied with a snort and faced him. There was a restrained fury in her eyes, and he wondered for a moment if she’d strike out at him.

When he tried to hand her the reins, she shook her head. “You wanted them,
you
steer us home.”

Since he’d had some experience handling a team of horses, he didn’t panic. The team was moving at a decent clip, and now that she had nothing to do, perhaps she would finally answer his questions. “Who is Abe Driscoll, and what does he want from ye?”

“He owns one of the largest farms in the area. His land butts up to mine.”

“Ah…so
that’s
what he wants from ye. The farm.”

“Is he your friend?” Thomas asked.

“He was Billy’s friend, not mine. He only wants one thing from me—my land. The only way he thinks he can achieve that goal is to marry me. Can we please quit this topic now?”

“Not yet,” Alec replied. “I want to know one more thing.”

“Then you’ll cease this inquisition?”

“Aye.”

“Then ask your question.”

The words felt like poison in his mouth. “Do ye want to marry him?”