The Wrong Brother's Bride (13 page)

“And…you.” There wasn’t any warmth in his manner. He stood stiffly, towering over her, making Loyal seem smaller than she was.

“August, can we have a moment?” She didn’t look at him. He’d been excused, whether he liked it or not.

“I’ll be close by.”

August wanted to protect her from her father’s judging gaze. Instead, he gave the preacher a hard look as he walked away. He rounded the house, leaning against the clapboard where he could eavesdrop.

“You married him.” Gideon’s voice came across as clear as if August was standing beside him.

“Yes. August returned because I asked him to. We decided it was best if we married. The baby needs a father figure. August is managing the farm and doing very well. Do you see the wagon and the fields?”

“I see. I also heard he was arrested.”

August peered around the house.

“There was a misunderstanding between August and the deputy. If anyone should complain, it’s August. They deliberately hurt him, Papa. He was defending me.” Loyal clutched the banister, her knuckles white. “You should have seen him when he got home. The sheriff and his men were cruel. August could barely sit his horse.”

He could have told her pleading his case with her father was a fruitless venture. Gideon hadn’t liked him in the beginning and was unlikely to start now.

“That boy has always found his way into trouble. If he was arrested, it must have been because he behaved inappropriately.”

Gideon’s cold voice made August’s heart constrict. What if Loyal’s father turned her against him? He took a step toward them, ready for Gideon to leave.

“You’re wrong. August has changed. He isn’t the boy you remember. He’s taken responsibility for the farm and he wants to raise my baby. In spite of the difficulties the farm has presented, he hasn’t shied from it. A careless man would sell it and waste the money. A careless man wouldn’t marry his brother’s intended when she needed him.” Loyal’s chin was up, her mouth set in a firm line. “If you want to be part of this family, you’ll accept him, because he’s a good man, Papa.”

“Loyal, I am your father and I won’t allow this kind of talk. I can see the O’Dells’ influence on you these past months.” Gideon’s face was inches from hers and his teeth were bared in a feral expression. “It isn’t too late to put this behind you and dissolve the marriage.”

The flush of anger staining her cheeks washed away. August wanted to hit something—preferably Gideon’s face.

“Papa, you have no idea what living on the O’Dell farm means to me. What it will mean to my child. If you can’t accept my happiness, then I’m afraid we don’t have anything else to say.” Her voice was hardly more than a whisper. August strained to hear the words. With each one, his heart felt a little lighter. She was defending him.

Gideon made an angry noise. “You disrespect me. And your mother, God rest her soul.”

“I think Mama would be more disappointed in you. I’m sorry you’re incapable of maintaining feelings for me and my family. If you’ll excuse me, my husband has corn to sell.”

“This isn’t over, Loyal. When you’re ready to admit your errors, I’ll be waiting.”

August’s temper slipped. He emerged from his hiding spot, fists clenched. “Get out, Redfearn. This farm is mine now, and I won’t have anyone speak to or about my wife the way you have.”

Gideon turned and marched to his cart, muttering under his breath. He climbed aboard and snapped the reins over his horse’s back. Sorry chased the cart, barking as it rolled down the drive. August charged up the steps as Loyal’s knees buckled. Cursing himself for allowing her to get into an upsetting situation, he gently helped her sit on the steps.

“I’m sorry, Loyal.” His inaction was cowardly. “I should have sent Gideon away before he set foot out of his cart.”

She shook her head. “I’m glad you didn’t get involved. My own father, who should turn the other cheek. He preaches about forgiveness and kindness, but when it comes to my decisions, it seems he forgets how.”

Fresh anger flushed her skin. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed hard.

“Settle down. He’s gone now.” August smoothed hair away from her face.

“I’m fine, I just need a moment to catch my breath and corral my temper. We still have things to tend today.”

“I’ll sell it while you rest. It shouldn’t take long. I don’t think you ought to be out in the sun while you’re upset.” Worried she’d overdone herself again like she had the day they’d tried picking corn themselves, he squeezed her hands.

“August, I’m not faint or ill. His behavior wasn’t acceptable. I’m more upset for you than myself.” She squeezed his hands in return. “Aren’t we going to pick out some things for the baby?”

He nodded dumbly.

“Don’t fret so much. I wonder why you don’t run off, knowing you have to deal with him.” She looked over his shoulder, her gaze far away. “Maybe after the baby is born, he’ll soften toward the idea.”

He hoped so, for her sake. If the baby never met its sole remaining grandparent, August didn’t see any harm in it, although he knew Loyal missed helping her father with the church.

“I’m ready to go now.” She shook free of his grasp and pulled herself up.

Perhaps she was, but he wasn’t in the mood to face anyone who might speak against her. Going to town on a Saturday might not have been his best idea. “Are you certain? We can wait until next week.”

She frowned. “You have to bring the stalks down and plow the field next week. Mr. Stiles and his boys are expecting to work then.”

He sighed. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

The smile she gave him was brave, although he knew she was trembling on the inside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shield her from every harsh word. While defying her father must’ve been hard, she’d taken his side. One small step at a time, perhaps he was winning her over.

* * * *

August helped Loyal find her feet on the hard-packed street. She smiled, but it revealed her uneasiness. Despite her assurances, he remained worried. Her naturally ivory skin looked paler than usual and her wide eyes were narrowed as she peeked around the street from beneath golden lashes.

Loyal had eggs, butter, and some vegetables to sell in addition to the corn. They’d decided the money would go for baby items. He reached for the basket of goods, drawing it out from beneath the wagon seat.

“Ready?” August offered his arm and she accepted, dainty hand sliding around the crook of his elbow. The tiniest lines marred her forehead. “No one will say anything with me at your side.”

“Wouldn’t they?” She touched a spot beneath his eye. “They said it before. All we need to complete the day is Maud and Sheriff Fowler.”

He forced a smile. “We’ll face them as they come.”

“Let’s get it over with.” She wore a billowy blouse tucked into a skirt he’d seen her let the waist out in just last night. In the two weeks since they’d cleaned the corn, she’d grown rounder. Partly because he sat with her for most meals and watched her eat and partly because she seemed to finally feel better—both physically and about his resolve to stay. He knew she’d chosen her clothing to hide her condition today.

She reached for the basket, but he held it behind him. “I’ve got it. No sense straining yourself.”

“For heaven’s sake. I’m not going to exhaust myself carrying a basket.” She blew out a long breath. Then a mischievous smile brightened her face. “Or perhaps I will. The bucket I carry chicken feed in gets awfully heavy.”

He laughed, surprised by how good it felt. “If you want me to take over caring for the chickens, just ask.”

With a light break in his farm work now that the crops were in, he could handle any chores. Having the hard part over with for a few weeks was a nice reprieve. It let him spend the evenings in her company.

“I don’t need you to do my chores. I’m not a princess with nothing better to do than sit around putting my hair in coiffures or trying on fancy dresses all day.”

“You used to read books about those things. Real ladies who were rescued by knights in armor and got whisked away to castles.”

She looked at him, surprise replacing her worry. “You remember that?”

There weren’t any fictional books at home. Their shelves held farm journals, manuals about animal husbandry, and a few newspapers he hadn’t read yet.

He shrugged. “They seemed important to you.”

“Maybe a few years ago, before I realized my life is far different than those princess fairy tales.” She frowned. “My father yelled fit to raise the dead when he found out I was hiding those types of stories.”

Mouth dry, August realized why he hadn’t seen any at the house. She’d given them up because Gideon demanded it.

“Idle hands do the devil’s work,” he muttered darkly.

She gave his arm a tug. “I thought we were going.”

“Jeremiah didn’t let you have books?” He couldn’t believe his brother would deny Loyal something she loved.

“He must have forgotten. I never brought it up. They’re just stories, August. No need to make a fuss about it.” She did an astounding job of pretending indifference.

No wonder she’d been surprised when he brought up the subject. How Jeremiah could have forgotten was beyond him. In the past, August had stolen books from Loyal to irritate her. He’d threatened to pull them apart page by page, drop them in water troughs, down wells, and toss them into trees if she didn’t join him and Jeremiah in the real world. All to get her attention. It hadn’t worked except to rile her temper. And, he shamefully admitted to himself, he’d liked watching her eyes spark with anger.

He gave in to her persistent tugging and they walked to Hooper’s Mercantile. The door was open wide, allowing air to flow into the building. Patrons looked up when August’s hat hit the bell hanging in the doorway. He felt Loyal tense, although she had a smile on her face.

A stout woman wearing an apron over her dress glanced their way and gave them a nod. She was checking items off a list in her hand. She gave them another look, scrutinizing August from beneath thin dark brows.

“For a moment I thought my eyesight was going. Looked like you had Jeremiah hanging off your every word as usual, Loyal.”

There was no malice in the woman’s voice. Hooper’s hadn’t been in business when August left, so he didn’t know the woman.

“This is my husband. Jeremiah’s brother, August. He worked for a lumber company in the bootheel until recently. We just got the corn in. He thought today would be a good day to sell.” There was a slight quiver in Loyal’s voice, but she smiled at everyone who listened.

He touched his hat brim in greeting, remaining silent.

“We brought some other things as well. I’m preparing…for the baby.” Her voice faded on the last word and she looked a little sick.

August unhooked his arm from hers and slid it around her waist. “You want to sit down?”

“I’m fine.” With a quick smile at him, she reached for the basket and he let her have it. “The time will be gone before I know it and I haven’t got much done. I hope eggs and fresh vegetables and some butter will get me enough to buy some cloth for diapers and gowns.” She lifted the basket onto the counter. “Go on and let me haggle with Mrs. Hooper, August. How much trouble could I get into if you’re looking around the store?”

She wasn’t doing a good job playing the happy newlywed, but aside from a few curious glances, most customers had returned to their business. Despite her assurances, he planned to stay nearby. He nodded and walked around her to look at hardware.

There wasn’t anything he couldn’t find in the barn at home, but he picked up a hammer, pretending interest in the head and weight before replacing it. Mrs. Hooper and Loyal talked quietly, heads low over the items they’d taken from the basket.

A book display caught his eye. Some were paper copies with cheap binding, others with leather spines, or hardbound. A few had pictures on the covers, some with the titles done in ink or gold leaf. Hard to say which Loyal might like. He picked up three, one with a woman pouting on the front, another for the title because it said
romance
in it, and the last was a thin volume of poetry. If she didn’t like the ones he picked, he supposed they could be returned.

“We missed your produce around here. Folks are always looking for fresh tomatoes,” Mrs. Hooper said. “Nice and firm. I swear I don’t know how you raise such big beauties.”

August turned to look at Loyal. She lifted one of the fruits. “Half a pound if it’s an ounce. The secret’s in the soil.”

“You must have bought some plant tonic from a catalog without telling me. I haven’t seen the like all season. These are perfect for a tomato sandwich.”

The idle gossip was about to bore him silly. He carried his book selections under his arm, studying ready-made wool trousers and a pair of boots with a sign claiming they were made from alligator skin. The sign warned him against touching. The price alone was enough to drive him away.

He wandered toward the textiles, marveling at the different materials, and touched a soft yellow flannel. It was a good choice whether they had a boy or a girl.
They
. He was already thinking of the child as his. He wondered what Loyal would say about it. Best not to mention his thoughts out loud, or he might let it slip.