The Unexpected Wife (4 page)

Mrs. Clements’s eyes brightened as if she could read his mind. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back in early July. I told him your horse flesh was the finest in the valley.”

If he were going to show the man his stock, he’d have to spend the next month rounding them up. More work. And still not enough time.

“Thank you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Where’s Frank?”

Her eyes dimmed a fraction. “Why, Frank left with Holden at first light on the stage. He’s on his way to Salt Lake.”

Shock and bitter disappointment tightened his throat. “I’d wanted to speak to him before he left.”

The anger in his voice had her smile fading a fraction. “He said you two had talked a good bit already.”

His fingers bit into the rim of his hat. They’d talked but to his way of thinking, they’d not come to a satisfactory conclusion. “Damnation.”

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Matthias shoved out a sigh, tamping down the anger coiling in his gut. Frank was gone and there was no sense worrying about what couldn’t be fixed. Time to cut his losses. “I’ve a list of supplies,” he said, his tone as matter-of-fact as he could manage.

“Of course. Holden brought in some fresh supplies. A few candies and couple of bolts of a nice thick wool.”

Matthias hoped by the end of the summer when he took his cattle and horses to the railhead there’d be money for a few extras but for now every cent counted. “Just the basics this trip.”

Again, children’s laughter drifted out from behind the curtain. He was surprised the boys hadn’t come running when he’d first spoken. Then he heard a woman’s soft voice speaking to them. This
last year the boys gravitated toward women—a sure sign they missed their mother.

For just a moment, he imagined Elise holding the boys, singing to them as she did when they were real little.

But when the curtain opened, it wasn’t Elise but Society Miss who was staring at him.

Disappointment slashed at his heart.

He’d forgotten all about Society Miss.

He nodded his head. “Ma’am.”

She’d gotten rid of that awful hat and changed out of that fancy traveling dress into a simple calico. Her cheeks looked pinker, a sign that she’d picked up some sun yesterday. She’d also unpinned her hair and tied it back at the nape of her neck with a simple ribbon. Her hair was thick, lush and despite a slight curl nearly reached her narrow waist. He imagined it felt like silk.

The smell of roses drifted around him again. His gut tightened and he grew hard. His body was letting him know loud and clear that it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman.

“I’d like you to meet Miss Abigail Smyth from San Francisco,” Mrs. Clements said.

Miss Smyth nodded as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you formally, Mr. Barrington.”

“Ma’am.”

Miss Smyth smiled. “Things were rather hectic by the wagon yesterday. No time for formal introductions.”

“No, I suppose not.” As much as he liked her feminine scent, he was burning daylight. There was a lot of work to do before the sunset today. “Pleasure meeting you. Thank you for your help with the boys.”

“They’re good children.”

“Yes.”

She looked as if she wanted to say something else. Another time he would have indulged in the conversation. He liked the sound of her voice. But he turned away from her now. He had more important matters on his mind.

“Mrs. Clements, can I talk to you outside?”

Mrs. Clements glanced at Society Miss. “Here’s fine, Matthias.”

He didn’t like airing his business in front of strangers. “I need to talk to you about the boys.”

Mrs. Clements didn’t look interested in stepping outside. “Go ahead.”

“With Frank gone and all, I’m in a bind. I was hoping they could board with you for the summer.”

He heard Miss Smyth’s sharp intake of breath.
No doubt, Miss Smyth thought him hardhearted for sending his children away. He couldn’t blame her.

Mrs. Clements’s smile faded to embarrassment. “Before we talk about that, there is another more pressing matter you and I need to discuss.”

“Is there a problem with those renegades again?” he said. So much anger and frustration bunched his muscles now he wouldn’t have minded a fight to work off the heat inside him.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. There’s a matter you and I need to discuss.”

Discuss. Hilda Clements could talk a man’s ears off if given half the chance. He decided to head her off. But before he could answer, Miss Smyth spoke.

“I thought caring for the boys was going to be my job.”

He swung his gaze to meet hers. He was certain that he’d heard wrong. “Ma’am?”

She held his gaze, though he sensed she was nervous. Still she pulled back her shoulders. “I mean, since I am going to be your wife, it only seems right that the children stay with us.”

For a moment, his head swam as if a prizefighter had landed a knockout punch. “My what?”

Mrs. Clements stepped forward, wearing a broad grin that hinted at trouble. “Miss Smyth
is
the bit of news I was referring to.”

Matthias’s head started to throb. The last thing he needed was a riddle. “What the devil are you talking about, Mrs. Clements?”

The older woman smoothed her hands over her white apron and cleared her throat. “We ordered you a wife. Miss Smyth is your fiancée.”

“Y
ou ordered a what?”
Matthias shouted.

Abby started at the sound of Mr. Barrington’s bellow. His voice, rich and full of anger, hinted at a man who was used to giving orders, a man who didn’t like surprises.

She watched the color drain from Mr. Barrington’s face and his full lips flatten in a thin grim line.

He hadn’t been expecting her.

Of course, it all made sense now. On the road yesterday and moments ago when he’d arrived he’d acted as though she was a complete stranger to him. Which of course, she was. Why hadn’t Mrs. Clements told her the truth last night?

For a moment her knees nearly buckled. She’d come so far, and given up so much. For what? A
lie. “Mrs. Clements, what do you mean,
we
ordered you a wife? Who is
we?
”

Mr. Barrington glared down at the older woman. The children’s voices drifted from behind the curtain. He lowered his voice. “Very good question.”

There was no hint of remorse in Mrs. Clements’s eyes. “Frank, Holden and I decided you needed a wife,” she said, her tone clipped and practical.

“Tell me this is a joke,” Mr. Barrington said, his voice laced with fury.

Abby closed her eyes, clinging to her composure. If this was a joke, she was the one who’d been fooled.

Mrs. Clements’s smile remained intact but her gaze reflected steel. “No mistake, Matthias. We put an ad in the
San Francisco Morning Chronicle.
”

“Was
she
in on this?” he asked, jabbing his thumb toward Abby.

Annoyance flickered in Abby. Her life was dissolving into a mess and Mr. Barrington was blaming her. “I can assure you, I had no idea. I believed your letter…
the
letters to be genuine and from you.” Abby pressed her hand to her unsettled stomach. Now she understood why Mrs. Clements had artfully dodged many of her questions last night.

Mr. Barrington’s gaze pinned her. “What letters?”

The heat in his blue eyes made Abby take a step back before she turned and went to her reticule. Frustrated by her cowardice, she pulled out a neat bundle of four letters tied together with a blue ribbon. Anger and frustration quickened her step. “Letters from you.”

He took the letters and thumbed through them, before he handed them back to her. His warm fingers brushed hers. There was nothing tender about his touch. Strictly matter-of-fact. “They are not from me.”

Abby lifted an eyebrow. It took everything in her not to run screaming from the room. “Yes, I surmised that much.”

Her sarcasm seemed to catch him by surprise. She imagined a glimmer of respect in his eyes.

“I wrote the letters,” Mrs. Clements said. “I acted on your behalf, Matthias.”

Mr. Barrington’s face looked as if it had been etched from granite. “Why would you stick your nose into my life? I did not ask you to do anything like that.” His voice rose again.

Mrs. Clements shrugged, but she did take a half step back. “You’ve done so much for everyone in the valley and you’ve been struggling so since Elise died. You are not the kind of man who asks for favors, so we took matters into our own hands.”

“Did anyone stop to think that I don’t
want
a wife?” he said tersely.

“In Montana one must be practical. It’s not always about what we want,” the older woman shot back.

Abby felt as insignificant and unwanted as she had in her uncle’s house. “Mr. Barrington, perhaps we need a moment to talk alone.”

Mr. Barrington speared her with a hard look. “Look, Miss…”

“Smyth,” she supplied.

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly tired and very frustrated. “We have nothing to discuss.”

Abby blinked at Mr. Barrington. “I beg to differ. There is a great deal to discuss, considering I just uprooted my life to be here.”

He was clearly a man who relished control. He worked his jaw and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling as if he were trying to keep his temper in check. “When will Holden be back, Mrs. Clements?” He fired the question like a bullet.

Mrs. Clements tucked her hands in the deep pockets of her apron. “He said he’d be gone at least a week.”

“If he’s smart he’ll stay away a hell of a lot longer. It’ll take longer than a week for my anger
to cool on this one,” he said. “Damn his scrawny hide.”

Abby pinched the bridge of her nose. At this moment, she was sorely tempted to take the last three dollars she had and buy a stage ticket to anywhere. The unknown was far more appealing than Mr. Barrington at the moment. But like it or not, she was stuck. “Mr. Barrington, you and I really do need to discuss this matter.”

He swung his gaze to her. “Lady, you were brought here under false pretenses and for that I’m truly sorry. But I’m not marrying you.”

Pride had her lifting her chin a notch. “Nor was I expecting you to.”

“Good.” He stared at her with bone-jarring intensity. Never had a man looked at her so intently. A soft shiver danced down her spine.

“Matthias…Abby,” Mrs. Clements said sweetly. “I think you’re both being a bit hasty. Miss Abby is right. You need time alone to get to know each other.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Time is the one thing I don’t have, Mrs. Clements. I got two boys to raise and a ranch to run. I don’t have time to be a nursemaid, let alone court a city woman.”

Abby clenched her fists. “I am not helpless, Mr. Barrington.”

He let his gaze roam the length of her body. “Lady, you don’t know the first thing about life out here.”

“I’ve learned many skills in my life. Montana is no different than many of the other challenges I’ve faced.”

He lifted a gaze. “That so?”

“Absolutely,” she said all bravado as she stepped toward him. Inches away, the energy from his body radiated.

“So you know all there is to know about working back-breaking hours, milking cows, planting gardens, churning butter and chopping wood.”

In truth, she didn’t know a lot about those things. “I know about hard work.”

“That doesn’t cut it. And I don’t have the time to teach you.” He swung his dark gaze to Mrs. Clements, dismissing Abby completely. “Put Miss Smyth up and when Holden arrives she can catch the next stage home. I’ve got a ranch to tend.”

Abby grabbed his arm. The muscles tightened like steel. “You can’t dismiss me like this. I’ve come too far to turn back now.” He was her only real connection to this land—the man she’d thought
she’d marry. And Uncle Stewart would never take her back a second time, nor would she ask him.

For a moment she imagined his eyes softened before a wall of ice descended over them. “I’d help you if I could, lady. But I can’t.”

The boys’ voices had grown silent. She imagined they were on the other side of the curtain listening to every word. She wondered how much of this they understood.

Mrs. Clements started to stack the can of peaches in a neat triangle. “Like it or not, Matthias,” she said, “you need a wife.”

“I
had
a wife,” he bit back.

“You loved Elise, but she’s dead and gone,” the older woman said softly. She jabbed her thumb toward the curtain behind her. Their laughter had stopped. “But those boys of yours need a mother. And you need a helpmate.”

“We’re surviving.”

“Not for long. You’re running out of choices,” Mrs. Clements said.

Sadness rose in Abby. This scene was nothing like what she’d pictured. If she had a lick of sense, she’d follow her first inclination.

But she didn’t.

Abby was through hiding in the kitchens and watching life pass her by. “Excuse me for saying
this, Mr. Barrington, but you and the boys don’t look like you’re doing so well.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “How the hell would you know?” he roared.

Quinn and Tommy appeared at the curtain then. Their freshly scrubbed faces tight with worry, their gazes darted between their father and Abby. They were holding the rag balls she’d made for them last night. She’d never imagined a handful of rags could be so entertaining.

“Pa?” Quinn said. He ran to his father with his younger brother on his heels.

“It’s all right, son,” Mr. Barrington said. He stabbed his fingers through his hair. It was clear he hated seeing the worry in their young eyes. “What’s that you’ve got in your hand?”

“Ball,” Tommy said.

Quinn held his up proudly. “Miss Abby made it.”

He brushed a lock of clean hair off Tommy’s face. “Who cleaned you up?”

“Miss Abby.”

Mr. Barrington’s gaze locked on her for an instant. Dark blue eyes reflected a mixture of gratitude, anger and frustration.

Abby looked past Mr. Barrington to Mrs. Clements. “Would you do us a small favor and take
the boys outside? The boys can toss their new balls, while Mr. Barrington and I talk.”

Mrs. Clements hustled around the side of her counter. “That’s an excellent idea. You two just need time alone.” She took Tommy from Mr. Barrington and grasped Quinn’s little hand. “Come on boys, let’s play a game of toss with those fancy new toys of yours.”

Tommy started to whimper and reached out to his father. “No.”

Mrs. Clements kept moving toward the door. “I’ve a new horse you two boys haven’t seen yet.”

Tommy stopped whimpering immediately. “Horse.”

“That’s right,” she said as she opened the door. “I bought him off an Indian. He’s got white and brown spots.”

The door closed behind them. Abby could still hear Mrs. Clements’s cheery voice but it quickly faded until nothing remained but an uncomfortable silence.

Abby shifted her gaze from the door to Mr. Barrington. Dark circles smudged under his eyes and three or four days’ growth of beard covered his square jaw.

“I thank you for what you’ve done for my boys, but I don’t want a wife.”

She was used to not being wanted. But she understood her value. “But you
need
one.”

He shoved out a deep breath. “I’ll make it without one.”

“Pride is a wonderful thing, Mr. Barrington, but there is a time and place for it. Believe me, mine has taken a sore beating today. This is not how I pictured our first meeting.”

Frowning, he shoved his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry for that, Miss Smyth. If I’d known what Mrs. Clements and the others were up to, I’d have stopped it instantly. But that doesn’t change anything.”

She shrugged, trying to look casual when she felt anything but as she watched her dreams fall apart. “I have spent the last ten years swallowing my pride and doing what was practical. I’d leave now if I had any other options. I severed all my ties with my family to move out here. Going back is not a choice for me, even if I did have the money to finance the trip.”

He shook his head. “Miss Smyth, I am sorry—” He stopped himself. “You are better off trying your luck in the marriage mart somewhere else.”

She swallowed, her throat tight. She wouldn’t leave now. “I disagree. We can help each other. I
am a hard worker, and I already have affection for the boys.”

Suddenly he looked very weary. “You are not their mother.”

His words were true but they stung nonetheless. “That does not change the fact that they need a woman to care for them. Mrs. Clements has already told you she can’t watch the boys.”

Anger flashed in his blue eyes. And then just as suddenly it was gone. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Miss Smyth, I don’t doubt that you are sincere and that you mean well. But this land chews young women up and spits them out. Montana will wring the life out of you and make you sorry you ever came to this place.”

Had his first wife felt this way? “I’ve survived a lot, Mr. Barrington. Don’t underestimate me.”

“Frank is a strong man, but after one Montana winter he was desperate to leave.”

“He is old. And this place claimed his daughter.” She moved closer slowly until she was less than a foot from him. “This is a land that’s full of possibilities for me.”

“Elise, my wife, said the same thing before we moved out here. Within a year, she’d grown to hate the place.”

“She said that?”

“She never would admit it, but I knew.”

He may have loved his first wife, but she suspected it had not been a successful partnership. “I am not your late wife.”

“No.”

“When I was nine, my parents opened a mission in the Arizona territory. We lived in a small adobe with dirt floors the first year. A half-mile walk separated our house from fresh water. Every morning, we had to shake out our shoes in case scorpions had nested in our shoes overnight. We stayed for six years and those were some of the happiest times of my life.”

He stared down at her as if he were really looking at her for the first time. “I swore on my wife’s grave I’d never subject another wife to Montana—that I’d never marry again.”

She felt as if a door had cracked open in his heart. She sensed he was a man who rarely shared his feelings yet he was telling her. “I’m up to the challenge.”

Abruptly, he stood and walked to the window. He was silent for long, tense seconds. “Thank you for washing the boys.”

His gratitude caught her off guard. She walked closer to the window. Outside, directly in front of the store, the boys were taking turns tossing their
balls to Mrs. Clements. “Quinn couldn’t sleep because his skin itched so I decided to clean them both up. The bathwater was black by the time I finished with them.”

“Thank you. I’ve not been able to nurture them much lately.”

“You can’t do it all, Mr. Barrington.” To her relief, her voice sounded steady and didn’t reflect her fear.

He sighed, and she sensed he’d come to a decision. He faced her. For a long time he was silent and she thought he might not have heard her. “I’m willing to hire you on for the summer. I can’t pay until the roundup in the fall, but I’m good for it. With the money, you can leave the valley, find a new home.”

Abby straightened her shoulders. “I came here to be your wife, not your servant.”

His body stiffened. “It’s the best I can offer.”