No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) (11 page)

Adam lounged on the settee, reading his Bible. At least, trying to read his Bible. He wasn’t concentrating too well.

His job. He could lose his job.

He’d spoken to Mr Vernon again before he left the bank to try to convince him to reconsider, but he wouldn’t be swayed. He’d got the idea into his head that Amy living with Adam was in some way compromising the bank’s reputation and he wasn’t going to let it go, no matter how much logic was thrown at him. Adam had no idea what to do.

He’d been working part time at the bank since he moved back to Green Hill Creek. It fit in perfectly with his duties at the post office and for the most part he enjoyed it. It had been a godsend for the extra income he needed too. Where would he find something else? If he didn’t have the bank, he might be forced to find full time work and give up the post office. He desperately didn’t want to have to do that. Being the postmaster was the best job he’d ever had.

But how could he ask Amy to leave? Where would she go?

What would he do without her?

But she was planning to leave anyway, once she paid him back. It would be foolish to give up his job for someone who would be gone eventually.

But this wasn’t just anyone; this was Amy, the woman he’d known for three days but was already longing to spend the rest of his life with.

Pushing one hand into his pocket, his touched the house key he’d had made for her this afternoon. He’d told her this was her home. He
wanted
it to be her home.

Closing the Bible, he dropped his head onto the back of the settee with a groan.

“What do I do, Lord?”

A few minutes later, with no answer forthcoming, he lifted his head again to see Amy through the window, walking into the back yard. He drew in a breath and let it out slowly and, as the door opened, plastered on what he hoped was a convincing smile.

She returned his smile when she saw him, making his own transform into the real thing.

Her hair was escaping from her braid, rogue strands frizzing around her face, and her clothing was rumpled and covered with muck. But even exhausted, dishevelled and dirty she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Are you all right?” he said, rising from the settee.

She pushed the door closed behind her and slumped against it. “Apart from feeling like my arms are about to melt away to nothing and wishing that my back would go with them, I’m fine.”

His smile disappeared. “You shouldn’t be working there, it’s not suitable work for a woman. George should never have hired you.”

He knew immediately it was the wrong thing to say.

“Really?” She planted her fists on her hips, defiant and utterly adorable.

He raised both hands in surrender, fighting a smile. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. You can do anything you want. It’s just... you look so tired. He shouldn’t be working you so hard.”

“It was just harder today because the stalls needed a good scrub. It will be easier in the future because I’ll keep up with it all. I just need time to adjust.” She shuffled to the sink, using the pump to splash water on her face. “George is really very sweet, and at least he didn’t tell me I couldn’t come back. I was worried he would.”

“Sweet?” he said, taken aback. “George Parsons? Are you sure we’re talking about the same man? Owns the livery? Gives the word grumpy a bad name?”

She laughed, turning to face him. “Underneath, he’s lovely. You just have to look deeper.” She wrinkled her nose. “What’s that smell?”

“Um...” He’d noticed the odour as soon as she walked in, but he didn’t want to tell her what it was.

She grimaced, looking down at herself. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

He pushed his hands into his pockets and concentrated on not laughing. “Mm hmm.”

“I’m going to need to wash...” she waved her hands at herself “...everything. Maybe I should just go and jump in the creek.”

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll draw the curtains to give you some privacy and I’ll take your clothes and shoes outside and wash them while you get yourself clean at the sink in here. Then I’ll start supper while you get dressed and rest. How does that sound?”

She gave him a dreamy smile. “Like you’re the most wonderful man in the world.”

Adam’s heart thumped in his chest. If she hadn’t smelled so strongly of horse manure the urge to wrap his arms around her would have been irresistible.

He turned away to pull the curtains closed across the window and compose himself. When he turned back Amy was pushing off her shoes with her toes. She pulled her socks off and held them out to him, her nose wrinkling.

“Sorry.”

He smiled and took them. “I don’t mind.”

He bent to pick up her shoes and caught sight of her bare feet.
They’re only feet
, he told himself.
Perfectly shaped, delicate, amazingly lovely bare feet
. He grabbed her shoes quickly and straightened.

“Throw the rest out when you’re ready,” he said, filling a large bucket with water and carrying it to the door. “I’ll get started with these.”

When he returned for soap, Amy took his hand, pushed up onto her toes and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. You have no idea how grateful I am. You really are wonderful.”

Adam’s lungs appeared to have stopped working. “I... uh... I’m g-glad to help.”

He smiled and turned away. It wasn’t until he reached the door that he realised he’d forgotten the soap. Feeling his cheeks heating up, he went back to the sink for the soap, gave her an embarrassed laugh, and fled to the door again, pulling it closed behind him and taking deep breaths of air.

Ten seconds later the door opened and Amy’s trousers and shirt came flying out, accompanied by a “thank you” before the door closed again. Adam picked up the clothes and dropped them into the bucket, shaking his head and smiling.

He couldn’t give this up, this incredible feeling of warmth and joy. How could he risk losing her?

There had to be a way to make it all work, to keep his job
and
convince Amy to stay.

He would do whatever it took, but there had to be a way.

“You’re late. And what are you wearing?”

“I know, sorry,” Amy called as she ran past George to the back of the livery and into the alcove where her hook was. “I had to wait for Mr Lamb to open the store so I could buy some clothes. The ones from yesterday were still damp. Don’t come back here, I’m changing.”

She unbuttoned her dress and pulled it off, hanging it carefully on the hook, then put on the brand new shirt and trousers she’d bought. The shirt fit well since was made for a woman, but she’d had to buy boy’s size trousers and to get them the correct length they were too large on the waist. She buttoned them up and let go. The waistband settled impractically low on her hips where the hems would be tripping her up if she tried to walk.

Pulling them up again, she held them around her waist and went to the edge of the alcove. Peering around the corner, she saw George standing in the middle of the livery, looking like he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“Do you have something I could use as a belt?” she said. “I had to get boy’s trousers. I can alter them to fit tonight, but right now they’ll probably fall down if I don’t have something to keep them up.”

He looked around uncertainly. “Uh, yes. Um...” He rubbed the back of his neck and then patted the red checked neckerchief he wore. Pulling it off, he held it out to her, edging to within arm’s length then backing up as soon as she took it.

“Thank you,” she said, withdrawing out of sight again. “I’ll stay longer tonight to make up for the time I’m late.” She threaded the neckerchief through the belt loops of the dark brown trousers and tied it at the front then walked out from behind the wall and twirled. “What do you think?”

George nodded his approval. “Very hardwearing. Practical.”

It wasn’t what she’d meant, but his answer made her smile. “I’ll muck out the stalls first,” she said as she headed for the tools alcove. “Could you help me with the gloves...”

She stopped abruptly. A pair of leather gloves was draped over the edge of the bucket. Picking them up, she rubbed the supple tan-coloured leather between her fingers. They felt brand new. When she pulled one on, it was a perfect fit.

She turned to look back at George.

“They fit?” he said.

She nodded silently, blinking rapidly when her eyes started to burn.

He cleared his throat, stared out the doors and said, “Well, get to work then,” before striding back towards the front of the building.

Amy looked at the gloves on her hands. He must have bought them especially for her. It wasn’t that no one had ever been kind to her in her life, but it was rare enough that when it did happen her emotions tended to get the better of her. And since she’d arrived in Green Hill Creek she’d been bombarded with kindness, first from Adam and now George.

She wiped at her eyes and smiled. Maybe she’d have to try to get used to people being kind to her while she was here.

That didn’t seem like such a chore.

~ ~ ~

Adam looked up at the wooden cross on the Emmanuel Church building and tried to take comfort from it. His Saviour was with him.

If God is for us, who can be against us?

He believed it, he truly did, but it felt just about impossible to not be afraid of an uncertain future.

“Lord, I do believe,” he whispered, using the words from the gospel of Mark. “Help Thou mine unbelief.”

“Adam?”

He lowered his gaze to see the pastor’s wife framed by the open church door, a dusting cloth in her hands. “Good afternoon, Mrs Jones. Is the pastor inside?”

“I’m sorry, he’s out visiting a couple of sick members of the church. Can I help you with anything?”

“No. I don’t know. I need...” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t even know what I need.”

She smiled and moved back from the door. “Maybe you’d better come inside.”

He followed her to the front of the church where she sat in a chair and patted the one next to her. “What’s bothering you?”

He picked up one of the church Bibles from the seat and dropped into the chair. “If I tell you something, you won’t tell anyone else, will you?”

“Of course not. Not even my husband, if you don’t want me to.”

“Well, you can tell him I guess, since I came here to see him anyway.” He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the wooden floor. “Yesterday Mr Vernon told me that having Amy staying with me without us being wed is tarnishing the reputation of the bank and if she doesn’t move out within a week I’ll lose my job.”

“He
what?
”

Adam looked up, startled by the vehemence of Mrs Jones’ response.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice lowering in volume, “I know as the pastor’s wife I shouldn’t speak ill of anyone, but that man can be such a self-righteous, arrogant busybody.” She shook her head. “Sorry, go on. Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

At least someone felt the same way about Vernon as he did. “Believe me, I’ve thought worse of him the last couple of days. I just don’t know what to do. I need that job, I can’t live on the wages of a postmaster alone.” He flicked through the pages of the Bible he was still holding without looking at it. “But I can’t ask Amy to leave. She needs me.”

“Would you like me to ask Simon to speak with him, try to make him see sense?”

“I don’t think it would do any good. I’ve tried talking to him, but he’s made up his mind even though he was there when Pastor Jones said he supported my decision. At this point it may even make things worse, if that’s possible.” He leaned back, laid the Bible on his lap, and rubbed both hands down his face. Talking about it made the whole situation seem even more hopeless.

“Miss Watts could come and stay with Simon and me,” Mrs Jones said. “Louisa is staying with us, but we can easily find an extra bed. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind sharing a room, with them being friends.”

“It’s very kind of you to offer, but...” He let out a long breath. “This is going to sound irrational, but since I found out about Amy I’ve had this feeling that she’s my responsibility, like I’m supposed to keep her safe, protect her. She said she thinks God brought her to me and I think she’s right. I need her close to me. I can’t explain it, but I know it.”

Mrs Jones placed a hand on his arm. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but are you sure you’re not thinking with your heart instead of your head?”

He snapped his eyes to hers, startled. “I don’t... I mean, I’m not... we’re not...”

She laughed and patted his shoulder. “Adam, stop panicking. It isn’t a sin to like a girl.”

If she could tell, maybe Amy could. Maybe
everyone
could. No wonder they didn’t believe his relationship with Amy was innocent if all they could see was a lovelorn man yearning after her.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Probably only to a woman who’s known you since before you could walk.”

Only slightly reassured, Adam returned his attention to tracing the knots and patterns of the wood beneath his feet. “I admit it, I like Amy, but this...” he searched for the right word, “...
compulsion
I feel to keep her safe, it’s more than just that I want her around. Something happened to her in New York that forced her to run across the country. If you’d seen her the morning after she arrived it would have broken your heart. She was so afraid. I don’t want her to ever be afraid like that again. I have to know that if she needs me, I’m right there for her. Does that make me sound insane?”

“No. It makes you sound like a man in love.”

He raised his gaze to her knowing smile. He’d grown up with that smile. There was no hiding from someone who knew him like his mother’s closest friend did, so he simply nodded.

“If you feel that God has brought this girl to you to look after, then that’s what you must do, meddlesome busybodies with nothing better to do be dashed. The Lord will guide and provide. He always does.”

“Thanks, Mrs J,” he said, sitting back. Telling someone had made him feel a little better, if no less worried.

Mrs Jones reached her arms around his shoulders, giving him a warm hug that made him smile. “You can always talk to me about anything, you know that.”

“I do.”

He moved to stand, forgetting the Bible was still on his lap. It dropped to the floor where it flopped open. A verse caught his eye as he bent to pick it up.

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.

Adam couldn’t help chuckling.

“What is it?” Mrs Jones said.

“Nothing. Just, I think God has a sense of humour.”