The Wrong Brother's Bride (3 page)

It was on the tip of his tongue to say the same thing. Weeks ago, he’d known Jeremiah was alive. He’d believed someday they would mend the rift between them. Loyal’s letter had destroyed that belief. He couldn’t make it up to Jeremiah, but if Loyal would let him, he could provide for his brother’s child.

Staring at his uneaten dinner, he was reminded of the days when his father had been on a week-long drunk, there was no food in their house, and Jeremiah had looked after him. He couldn’t leave Jeremiah’s child to fend for itself. That was why he’d blurted out a marriage proposal. He tried to convince himself it wasn’t because he was hopelessly in love with her and now that Jeremiah was gone, he wanted to offer marriage before another man could.

He glanced up at Loyal’s tear-streaked face. They both had a stake in the farm. There was no reason they couldn’t manage it together.

“Think about it, Loyal. For the baby’s sake.” He rose and picked up the plate. “I can’t eat right now. The dog can have it, then I’ll wash up.”

She sniffed. “The spare room is at the front of the house. When he had plans drawn up, I guess he thought he’d talk me into marriage sooner or later. Sometimes we imagined having a big family.”

Propriety suggested the barn would be a better option. “Don’t put yourself out.”

She stood and pushed the chair in. “I’ll fix up the bed with fresh sheets.”

“If you’ll show me where everything is, I can do it. I’m grown, for God’s sake. This isn’t a hotel. I don’t need special treatment.” He waited for her to break down into tears or snarl in response, but she did neither.

She waved her hand. “It’s no trouble.”

“You keep saying that.”

Loyal didn’t flinch away from his grumbling. “You sound like you doubt me. Please, it helps take my mind off things and I won’t be much use around here before long anyway.”

“I suspect we can find something for you to do. Even at the lumber camp, if a man got laid up, there were still tasks he could do.” He opened the door and whistled for the dog. It rushed across the yard, hesitating on the porch steps. A small crockery-style bowl sat near the door and August dumped the food into it. “Eat up.”

The dog wagged its tail and approached the bowl.

“His name is Sorry. When Jeremiah found him on the side of the road, he said he looked less like a dog than a sorry sack of bones.” She stepped out on the porch and petted the animal’s head. “What made you choose New Madrid? There are trees here.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to get away. Go someplace no one knew the O’Dells.”

“I’ll bet your temper didn’t go unnoticed long. Sometimes I think about the trouble you boys got into when we were children.”

Back east, he’d been able to leave the past where it belonged. The neighbors here would remember his actions. It might take a while for them to see he’d changed. “Having a temper creates problems. The lumber boss told me I could control it, or find myself another job.”

“I’ll bet it didn’t happen overnight.”

“He was a good man. Knew something about hotheaded boys himself.” The corner of his mouth worked up into a half-smile. “Guess he raised a few out there in the forests. Small quarters, bad grub, someone sneaking in whiskey, and men get restless.”

She took the plate from him. “I’m sorry you were called away from it. Sounds like you enjoyed being there.”

“So am I.” August rubbed the stubble growing on his chin. The sun was sinking below the hills and the yard was darkening. His need to reminisce passed. Weary to his center, he held the door for Loyal, then followed her inside. “I think I’ll turn in.”

She nodded. “Let me fix your bed.”

“Show me the linens. I’ll do it myself. If you don’t, I’ll sleep in the barn.”

“Stubborn. Always going out of your way to vex someone.” Her voice was soft, but loud enough he heard her frustration.

He collected his saddlebags and followed her. The tassels on her shawl swung as she walked. The point at the end of it drew attention to her bottom. The wool yarn clung to every curve, accenting the sway of her hips. August cursed himself for noticing. He had no call to ogle the woman who had almost married his brother. The will stated she belonged here and he owed her respect.

She led him to another doorway. The room was dark, but he made out the bureau, bed, and a chest.

“I hope you weren’t expecting anything fancier.”

“It’s fine.” Any place to rest his head and sort through his thoughts would do.

“It’s a trundle bed. The linens are in the drawer. The mattress had new ticking at the first of the year. I tried to keep the dust wiped away from everything. Jeremiah hoped we’d have a visitor sometime.” She gave him a pointed look.

“I’m here now. That’s all I can do.”

“I know. And I’m grateful.” She dropped her gaze and sighed. “If you need anything, the other bedroom is through the kitchen. Welcome home, August. Sleep well.”

“You too.” He doubted either of them would.

* * * *

Loyal watched the curtains blow in the breeze coming through the open window. Despite the moving air, she felt sticky. The lacy collar on her nightdress stuck to her throat, threatening to choke her. Shortly after laying down, she’d kicked the thin summer quilt to the foot of the bed. She hadn’t slept well since Jeremiah’s accident. Now she had a different problem weighing on her mind.

Jeremiah had given into laughter as though he hadn’t experienced the same turbulent childhood August had. The two were different as salt and sugar. She’d liked Jeremiah’s quick smile and smooth flattery—he was forever telling her how beautiful she was. August could be moody and difficult, but when he gave in to his brother’s teasing, they were a two-man circus. When Jeremiah had laughed, the world laughed with him. Even August.

There hadn’t been room for laughter tonight—her own aside. She’d angered August with her reaction to his proposal. Perhaps he wasn’t aware pregnant women got emotional. She couldn’t explain why she’d laughed, but she knew she’d insulted him. It was too much too think about so soon.

She pictured the moment he’d ridden into the yard. Although his sorrow was plainly etched on his face, beyond that she saw a man who was comfortable in his own skin after all these years. A man who was ready to pitch in where needed, who cared because he had regrets. She was grateful August had come, because living with him might prove difficult, but living without him would be impossible. He’d smiled while he was talking about his time away from Wilson. That little smile gave her hope.

Although he might not have the same sunny disposition as his older brother, she could count on August choosing his words with care. He was dead serious when he asked her to become his wife for the baby’s sake.

As usual, Loyal found herself without any good options. Before she’d left his house, Papa had ordered her to give the baby up, repent for her sins and carry on as his caretaker. She hadn't wasted time considering the choice. The tiny person inside her was already part of her life. Part of the man she loved and missed. The idea of giving it away horrified her. She’d spend the rest of her life regretting the decision if she did that. It wasn’t acceptable.

Her other choice was to marry and make the best of her life with August. Her child would have a last name and perhaps a legacy. She hadn’t smelled liquor on August, although it didn’t mean he wouldn’t become like his father. Loyal didn’t plan on becoming the wife of a second generation drunkard.

The horse looked healthy, its feet short and shod. His saddle was worn in a comfortable way. The tan cotton shirt and dark blue trousers he wore were rumpled, but not ragged. Sometime recently, he’d apparently barbered because his hair was trimmed shorter than he’d worn it before. He wasn’t fastidious about his belongings, though they weren’t neglected. If anything, his horse looked in better shape than he did, and he’d offered Sorry his dinner. A man who took care of animals might not mistreat his wife.

Then there was the way he’d looked at her right before he offered marriage. She might have missed it if she hadn’t known him so well. The softening of the lines around his eyes and the real concern for her future. It wasn’t a look she’d seen on his face before, because he’d always been so careful to keep what he was really thinking away from her.

The internal argument made sleep impossible. She couldn’t close her eyes because they popped open again as she thought. Was it too much to ask August for time? To allow her the opportunity to grieve for Jeremiah within the security the farm offered?

Loyal rolled onto her side. The pillowy softness of the feather mattress conformed around her body and she bit her lip. Time wasn’t something she had in abundance. On one hand, she’d have a place here as long as she wanted, protected by August’s name and the farm’s seclusion. On the other, if he returned to the bootheel, she wouldn’t have any say in the decision.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, barely rounded by her child. A memory of the way Jeremiah’s face had lit up when she told him the news flashed through her mind. He’d reacted with boyish enthusiasm, the same way he did when he saw seedlings sprouting each spring. He’d lifted her off her feet, spinning her in a circle. After her father’s reaction, Jeremiah’s joy had come as a welcome relief. With him watching over her, she knew everything would turn out alright.

A sob tore from her throat. At best, she and August might someday be friends. At worst, they’d be miserable. She hugged Jeremiah’s pillow, breathing his lingering scent. The aching wound left by his loss gaped wide.

In the kitchen, she heard a floorboard squeak. Loyal choked back another sob, holding her breath as she waited for August to return to his room or come to hers. The curtains fell against the window as the breeze died.

“Loyal?”

August’s soft call made her tense. She could ignore him, pretend she hadn’t heard, but too many nights she’d been alone. Grief brought with it some puzzling emotions. It had been a relief when their friends left her alone at the farm after the funeral. And so lonely she thought she’d go mad if she didn’t hear another human voice. Trying to sort through what she felt now made her long for the sleep she’d missed the last week.

“I know you’re awake. I heard you crying.”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “I thought you were asleep. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. May I come in?” His voice was muffled through the door. “I’d like a word with you.”

“Just a moment.” One of Jeremiah’s flannel shirts draped across the foot of the bed where she’d left it this morning. She drew it over her shoulders and slipped her arms through the sleeves, pulling the loose ends around herself. Striking a match, she lit the lamp on the bedside table. “Come in.”

The door opened and August filled the frame. In the lamplight, his eyes seemed bluer than she remembered, like the sky after rain. Both O’Dell brothers had gotten their looks from their father, but August stood straighter than his old man ever had. His wide shoulders strained against his tan shirt. He scratched the scruff shadowing his jaw.

“I can’t sleep.”

She frowned. There must be something she could do to make him more comfortable. “Is it the bed? Do you need different blankets? Or maybe it’s because you didn’t eat.”

He shook his head. “Wandering mind. It’s partly because we got off on a bad foot. It isn’t easy to admit I’m wrong. I shouldn’t have acted like you don’t belong here. Seeing you brought back memories about the way your daddy treated us. And how Jeremiah stopped having time for me when he met you.” August swallowed. His Adam’s apple jumped in his throat. “Even if you don’t think marriage is right, there’s a place for you here. I’d like to help raise your son or daughter the way he would have wanted. That’s all.”

Loyal couldn’t speak. Surely the world was ending if August was apologizing for his actions. His father had never admitted his wrongs in his life. Her worry that August would follow his father’s path faded.

“That’s all,” he repeated and backed into the hall.

“Wait.” She swung her feet to the floor and padded across the room, craning her neck to look at him. “Thank you, August.”

“I heard you crying and I thought…”

He must have been sitting in the kitchen before he knocked on her door. She waved her hand, dismissing his reasoning. “I wasn’t crying because of you. Lately I can’t help it.”

He seemed a little more at ease, though he would probably grow sick of her tears before a week had passed. She had.

She reached out, slipping her hands beneath his arms. He didn’t move for a moment, even when she clasped her hands behind his back. Her cheek pressed against the soft material of his shirt and she closed her eyes. August wrapped his strong arms around her shoulders, and his breath stirred her hair. She clung to him as though she was a leaf and he was the root, an anchor in the storm.

For a moment, everything was alright. She had the farm, a child growing beneath her heart, and a strong partner to care for her. She stepped back, knowing what she had to do now.

August’s arms fell at his sides. His face changed and she was sure she saw the briefest flash of disappointment.

“Good night, Loyal.”

A knot formed in her throat. Jeremiah was gone, but his brother was offering to take his place. She inhaled, catching a faint whiff of leather that clung after his long ride and a scent that was all his own.