The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) (29 page)

“His leg?” That was her real worry. The images of him lying there so still and the way his leg had looked kept spinning through her mind.

“Stitched up tight. Infection is the biggest worry, but it will mend in time. He’s a healthy young man, and I suspect he’ll be on his feet soon enough. I’ve given him something for the pain.”

Becky wilted in relief. She felt as if she might float away or fall to the floor, so she gripped the edge of his desk to ground herself.

“Sam,” she said, realizing Pop would be worried when Isaac didn’t return to the site.

“Sam Jessup? Right. I’ll send a messenger up. He’ll need to know. I’ll inform him of his son’s injuries and assure him he’s doing fine, and that I’ll need to keep him here a few days until he’s back on his feet.”

“Can I see him?” she asked hoarsely. Her voice sounded odd and her throat was sore. Probably from yelling out to Isaac at the stream. Maybe from the weakness gathering in her limbs. Shock. That’s what it was.

“He’s in my guestroom—a recovery room, if you will—and you’re more than welcome to stay here with him. I’m sure you’re going to want to keep a close watch over him.”

Before she could answer, he spotted her rifle propped against the wall and bent to pick it up. “What an extraordinary weapon.”

“Thank you.”

“This is yours?” One dark brow lifted in surprise.

She nodded and felt her lips tremble into a smile. The relief of hearing Isaac would be all right, coupled with this sudden turn in conversation made her want to giggle uncontrollably. Maybe that was the shock too.

“Remarkable. You wouldn’t be willing to part with it, would you? No, no. Probably not. It’s just I’m a collector of sorts, and this gun looks quite special.”

Her prized possession. The gun Jack had given her so many years ago. What did it mean anymore? It was just a gun. Wood and metal. That was all and nothing more. She thought about how she’d considered becoming a trapper. That was a laugh. She would’ve been dead within a week from some wild animal. She shuddered to think about what it would’ve been like, being all alone. That was no kind of life. Especially if she couldn’t be with Isaac. She wanted to be with him, make a life together. Have a family.

She wanted a place to belong, and she wanted that place to be with Isaac, for the rest of her days. She thought about her rush from the cabin to tell him she loved him, to confess who she really was. It seemed so long ago now, and not nearly as important. But it
was
still important. As soon as he got better, she’d tell him the truth, no matter what.

Lord, I love him. I want him to love me too,
she prayed silently
. And, no matter what, I want to know you and be near you always. I know I don’t deserve Isaac, not after all I’ve done—how I came here loving Jack, pretending to be something I’m not—but if there’s any way
...

She realized the doctor was waiting for her reply. As she looked at the gun in his hands, a feeling of peace came over her. She could get another gun someday, one that didn’t have memories of Jack all over it. With the money, she could help Isaac pay for his doctor’s bill. He’d still have other bills. And there was that expensive order he’d been on his way to place, whatever that was for. There would always be something. But at least by paying this one bill, she’d know she’d helped him a little.

“Will it cover your fees?” she asked the doctor.

He smiled wide. “That it will, Mrs. Jessup. That it will.”

***

Isaac woke in a strange room. Shifting his head to the side, he found Rebecca sleeping next to him. No.
Becky
. It had been a Becky who’d flown toward him on her horse. Bareback? Had his eyes seen right? And she’d brought down a bear. On horseback. A crack shot. And it would’ve taken more than one good shot, most likely, to do the job. Bringing down a bear wasn’t an easy task, especially one charging mid-attack. A bear like that could take bullet after bullet before it went down. Some men died that way: bear and hunter falling dead in a pile.

But
he
was alive.

Where had she learned to shoot like that? Definitely not from him. There was no way on earth she’d learned to shoot from those few short lessons. Which meant
she’d already known how
. She’d let him try to teach her, and all along she could shoot like
that
. And the way she’d ridden that horse. She’d been a blur of motion: her hair free, her skirts flapping around her, clearly riding astride. Like she was born to it.

Who was she?

And why had she hidden herself away from him from the start?

It made no sense.

His head must have gotten a pretty good whack when he fell, because his temple started to throb something fierce from the effort to think about it.

Besides, it didn’t much seem to matter at the moment, not with her looking so warm and soft from sleep.

She’d
saved
him.

Isaac gently touched her cheek and whispered, “Becky...”

“Ummm.” She snuggled into his hand. “Love you. Don’t you dare die on me.”

He froze, not daring to move and wake her.

She was sleep-talking again.

“Don’t you dare die, you hear me?” she repeated rather fiercely. Her voice held that same tone of command he’d heard her use next to the stream. “Love you.”

She loved
him
, Isaac? If that was true—and just thinking it made his blood surge—that must mean, surely, that she no longer loved Jack. Didn’t it? He couldn’t wait another minute to find out. He shook her awake.

“Becky, wake up.” He mustered his strength and hugged her close. Thankfully his arms weren’t nearly as heavy as they’d felt earlier next to the stream. “I love you,” he said clearly, without the least hesitation.

***

Becky opened her eyes one at a time. She stared at Isaac, slowly registering that he was awake and looking right at her. He was also breathing in and out with comforting regularity and...

Wait.

“What—what did you say?” she asked, resisting the insistent pull of sleep, but her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Too much effort. She’d never been so tired. Was it the shock? Why couldn’t she wake up?

“I. Love. You,” he repeated slowly. He stroked her cheek, and it was the warmest sensation Becky had ever felt. His fingers came to rest under her chin. His gaze drifted down to her lips.

He loves me.

“That’s nice.” She smiled drowsily at him.

A glow spread slowly through her even as sleep tugged her back into its grasp. She snuggled closer—close enough for him to kiss her. His lips on hers felt like a dream, a wonderful dream that curled her toes in the most delightful way.

***

After a few days of strict rest, the doctor pronounced Isaac well enough to come to the table for a meal. Dr. Sawyer’s wife had served up a hearty breakfast for them, and Becky voiced her appreciation, but her eyes were for Isaac alone. Watching him walk unassisted across the room and sit upright in the chair beside her simply thrilled her. After the meal, Dr. Sawyer whisked Isaac off to the examination room and then returned smiling.

“Take your man home, Mrs. Jessup,” he said, beaming.

“Thank you, Dr. Sawyer.” Becky turned to the doctor’s wife. “Thank you both for your excellent care and hospitality.”

“My dear, you’re welcome here any time.” Mrs. Sawyer, a middle-aged woman with a motherly air, patted Becky’s arm.

Dr. Sawyer shook Isaac’s hand.

“I’ll settle up the bill next time I’m in town, all right?” Isaac asked.

“No need. Your wife here took care of it.”

“She did?” Isaac asked, looking confused.

“You’re a strong man,” the doctor continued, to Becky’s relief. “I’d say you’ll be back to work in a few days, a week at the most, if I had to guess.” The doctor led them out back to his stable, a sturdy two-stall affair, and helped Isaac into the saddle.

“Just make sure he takes it easy for a few more days,” the doctor said to her. “And I’ll take good care of that gun of yours.”

Hoping Isaac hadn’t heard that last comment, Becky gave the doctor a smile and accepted his hand up to mount her mare.

He grinned as he noticed the lack of saddle. “You’re a remarkable woman, Mrs. Jessup.” He chuckled as he waved them off. “Remarkable.”

***

As Isaac rode beside Becky up the mountain trail, he saw her again as that amazing frontier woman who’d barreled toward him in the woods. Gone was the delicate-looking waif he’d first met at the Pearsons’ house. Sure, she was still a tiny thing, but now, he could actually imagine her surviving in wild Seattle.

Survive?

She’d done more than
survive
that day with that bear. She’d saved his hide.

“Becky—” He cleared his throat and smiled as she turned to meet his gaze. “You were amazing with that gun. How’d you ever learn to shoot and ride like that? And don’t tell me you learned that from me. I know better.” He studied her features as if seeing her for the first time, filled with admiration and not a little confusion.

“You mean you don’t mind me being an absolute hoyden?”

He tilted his head to one side and let out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re not upset your wife’s not a proper lady?”

“What good’s a ‘proper lady’ up here? I’m glad you’ve got some spirit. You’ll need it.”

“Thank you.” Her cheeks colored at his praise.

She seemed to sit her horse more comfortably then, as if a weight had fallen from her shoulders. He sensed he was seeing her as she really was now, and he found her fascinating. How could he have failed to see this, to see
her
?

“I grew up riding and shooting,” she admitted, “but men don’t want their wives doing those things...at least that’s what I thought.”

She thought he wanted some prim and proper miss with wide skirts and white gloves?

“Think again.” He grinned. “I like you like this, Becky.” He reached over and stopped Siren, then lightly grasped Becky’s wrist, took her small hand in his.

“And I like that,” she said softly.

“What?”

“You calling me Becky. It’s so much better than Rebecca. That never quite sounded right to me. The only one who ever called me that was Papa, and only when he was angry with me.”

“Then Becky it is.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand. Her skin was so smooth and soft...and distracting.

“But you said I didn’t belong here,” she reminded him, sounding hurt.

He gripped her fingers. “Look at me, Becky,” he commanded.

As she lifted her eyes from their horses, he noticed with brief amusement that his gelding was stoically ignoring the fact that her mare was trying to nip at his mane. He bore it with such an air of grim tolerance, like a longsuffering husband. Which wasn’t nearly what Isaac felt for Becky at that moment. He wanted to reassure her. He wanted to hold her.

Isaac waited until Becky met his gaze, then continued clearly, “When I said that...well, I wasn’t quite in my right mind. I was so full of fury for what Jem had done. And I was afraid. When I think what could have happened to you...” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I said that. I wish to heaven I could take it back. I want you here with me.”

“But you keep pushing me away.”

“I thought you still loved Jack. That’s what I thought.” He pressed his fingertips to the bandage wrapped around his forehead, trying to ease the ache there. “You talked in your sleep on our wedding night and told me how much you loved ‘your darling Jack.’”

“I did?” she asked, her face turning slightly pink. “Really?”

“You did. And hummed that blasted waltz tune.”

“On our wedding night?”

“The very same.”

“Oh, so that’s how you knew about Jack.”

Isaac nodded once, struggling against the weariness eating away at his strength. He hated being so tired. Hated feeling weak. Knew he’d probably have to lie down as soon as they got back. It was in no way what he wanted though. He wanted to appear whole and strong, like he could take on the world. Like he could protect her and not the other way around. There was also something bothering him that he knew he needed to air. He’d never felt comfortable talking about feelings or bringing up incidents from the past, but he forced himself to go on.

“Becky...” he began. When she looked at him, his heart gave an unsteady bump. “I heard you sobbing in your room one night. Not that long ago.”

How can you say you love me when I heard you crying over another man?

He didn’t say it aloud, but the question hung in the air between them.

She hesitated, seeming to gather her words. She closed her eyes for a second as if bringing back the memory of that night. “It was kind of a ceremony, I guess you could say. Saying goodbye to old memories. I’d grown up with Jack. And I guess I always loved him—ever since we were children. Then he came back from the war, and he had a wife, and all my dreams dried up to nothing. I wanted more. I wanted something new. A fresh start, maybe. That’s why I signed up to come here. That’s why I married you.”

Her hand was trembling, Isaac noticed. As he listened to her story, he wondered why it hurt so much to hear her tell him again that she loved Jack. She was staring at him, her eyes so huge, so earnest. He pressed on his temple again and tried to think clearly. He couldn’t very well expect her to say she’d never loved anyone else. That would be a lie. She’d been honest from the first that she hadn’t come here with dreams of falling in love with him. She’d told him straight out she didn’t expect a love match, that her heart wasn’t free.

He cleared his throat. “You talked in your sleep again the other night. You said you loved me. Please don’t tell me I was dreaming.”

“I do love you,” she said, and her smile turned his insides all soft. “I was coming to tell you. That’s why I followed you that day. I was coming to tell you everything, honest. That night...that was the night I let Jack go. He wasn’t the man for me. I know that now. I was young, I guess, and it wasn’t meant to last. Do you know why I chose your letter? Or I guess it was Sam’s letter.” A brief frown marred her brow. “It was because of your name. I thought it was a sign: an Isaac for my Rebecca. Silly, I guess, but maybe it really was a sign. I was meant to come here. I was meant to marry you. What I felt for Jack was just calf love and nothing more—I can see that now. I love
you.
Like a woman loves a husband. Fully and completely, with all I have inside.”