The Wrong Brother's Bride (2 page)

A little starch returned to her spine as she stared at him.

“That in his will?” The brief letter she’d sent had listed the reading as yesterday. He hadn’t arrived in time for it, and now it was easier to pretend Jeremiah was coming home later than admit he was buried. Reality could wait. Or it would have, if not for Loyal.

“As a matter of fact.” She raised her chin. There was no joy on her face, no triumph over Jeremiah leaving her property.

“He never could resist those big brown eyes.” Despite his ire, August smiled. From the day Loyal had shown up on the school grounds, Jeremiah was smitten. August couldn’t order her off the property. She must have known what was in the will. So the farm wasn’t his, after all. He wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed or relieved. He hadn’t asked if he could turn his horse out, hadn’t asked if he could enter the house. As always, August had taken what he wanted and the rest be damned.

Loyal’s expression softened. “Took him long enough to invite me to stay.”

“I expect that’s more your fault than his.” August shifted his weight. He met her gaze, uncomfortable since he’d lost the tentative hold he believed he’d had on the situation. “I should go.”

Her eyes widened and she reached out, laying her hand on his arm. “Don’t leave.”

The warmth of her hand soaked through his shirtsleeve, pinning him in one spot. He heard the loneliness in her voice. Combined with her touch, he didn’t have the power to walk away.

“I thought—” He didn’t like admitting he was wrong. If Jeremiah hadn’t intended him to take over the farm, what was the use of traveling here?

Sympathy softened her face. “I’ll bring a copy of the will after you eat.”

“I don’t need to see it. I trust you.” His father would have knocked him senseless for giving in, but those days were long past. Jeremiah had trusted her. It was enough.

“It’s no trouble. And I’ll tell you about his last days.” Fresh grief choked her voice. Her hand slipped away from his arm. “He talked about you.”

August cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Jeremiah had said. They’d parted under strained terms. When he’d left, this farm was little more than overgrown weeds and a dream. He’d been arrogant to think Jeremiah wanted him to have it.

Loyal gestured for him to follow her. The kitchen seemed small and it had the usual trappings. Tidy and organized. Surely another of her projects. She’d made this house her own and she looked at home here.

She pulled out a chair. “Sit down. I’ll fix you something.”

When was the last time anyone had offered? “I can do for myself.”

“I know, but it helps keep my mind off of…” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “It won’t take a minute.”

August dropped into the seat she’d pulled out. Loyal’s tears made him uncomfortable. He hadn’t shed any. Each time they burned his eyes, he remembered Pa calling him a weakling.

She retrieved a plate from the cabinet and busied herself at the sideboard, cutting bread from a thick loaf. A pot steamed on the stove and she ladled stew over the bread.

“It was an accident. It’s time to mow again, as you saw, and he’d repaired one of the blades. You know how Jeremiah is—
was
—about keeping things in good shape. He harnessed the team and took them to the field, but it had rained and the wheel got stuck in the mud. The horses couldn’t pull it free, so he climbed down to give it a push. He was covered in mud, cursing fit to color the air. A quail flew up from some bushes and startled the team. The mower wheel…went right over him.” Loyal’s shoulders shook.

“You don’t have to—” August’s throat clogged.

“I do. You need to hear it.” She placed the plate in front of him. Her eyes were redder than before. “The mower crushed him and caused him to bleed inside. Doctor Roy couldn’t do much. He lasted almost two days, mostly talking about how he let you down. How your daddy was worthless, and Jeremiah wondered if he did enough to protect you. I told him you could tell him yourself. I wrote, because I hoped, selfishly, he might hold out if he knew you were coming.”

He looked at the plate piled with food. His brother had suffered. Fairness in the world was a dream he’d given up on long ago. Still, he couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t right that Jeremiah died before marrying his childhood sweetheart.

Loyal wiped her eyes with her hanky again, turning her gaze to the window. “He loved you and he talked about the day you’d come back.”

“He asked often enough, but I never made plans.” He barely got the words out. “Stubborn pride.” It was difficult to admit.

She studied him for a moment, then walked away.

August picked up a fork and raked it through the stew. His appetite hadn’t been strong since her letter, and coming here hadn’t replenished it.

Loyal entered the kitchen and placed a paper beside the plate.

Last will and testament of Jeremiah O’Dell.
Signed and dated three months prior, about the time Loyal had come to live with him. He’d included her in the will. She tapped a paragraph in the middle of the page.

To my brother, August O’Dell, I leave the majority interest of the farm, house, outbuildings, equipment, livestock, and seed. He shall retain one-third of the profit from crops planted each year. To Loyal Redfearn, I leave one-third of the planted crop for the remainder of her life, and the promise of a home for as long as she chooses to live beneath my roof. To my heir, until he or she attains the age of eighteen, I leave the other one-third of the crop. An additional sum of two hundred dollars shall be paid on his or her eighteenth birthday. In the event the heir does not survive, profits from the crops shall be split evenly between August and Loyal. The two hundred dollars shall go to the school.

August’s heart skipped a beat. The farm was his but for a few minor details. It was more than he deserved. All Jeremiah asked was that he shared the house and profits with Loyal and…

His sought the date again and glanced up. “What’s this part about an heir?”

She gripped the sideboard, her knuckles as white as her face. “I’m pregnant.”

* * * *

Loyal waited for August’s famous temper to reach boiling point. Making her announcement to him was worse than telling her father. Warmth crept up her face as August stared.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he digested her words. “Jeremiah’s?”

She grimaced. “There was never anyone else.”

As much as his question hurt, she’d expected it. Her father had scorned her for premarital relations. The fight had lasted for hours as she tried to reason with him. It hadn’t mattered in the end. He’d ordered her out of his house, forcing her to accept Jeremiah’s offer of shelter and marriage.

August looked ill. Shadows darkened the skin beneath his pale blue-gray eyes. He passed his hand over his chestnut brown hair, leaving it disheveled. He looked so much like Jeremiah that her heart ached for a comforting embrace and assurance that everything would turn out fine.

She guessed the news shocked him. His brother’s death, the will, and her announcement were a lot to take in after his long trip. He stared unabashedly at her stomach.

“He was happy about it?”

No one ever accused August of beating around the bush. His direct questions weren’t because he intended to be rude, but born from a genuine need to know. She tried to squash her defensive feelings. If she cried, she’d show weakness, and if she snapped, it would spark an argument. Loyal felt like she was drifting in an endless sea of dread. All she wanted was to share her trouble with the one man who might understand what she was going through.

“He wanted a healthy son or daughter.”

“Congratulations.”

August’s voice was flat and she wasn’t sure he meant it.

“We should talk about what we’re going to do.” Loyal sat across from him. “I’m not sure living together is the answer. We never really got along, did we?”

He shook his head. “We never tried.”

“I suppose not.”

She studied him, comparing the image she’d carried in her mind to the way he looked now. Years ago, he’d been wiry, stretched too thin as though he never got enough to eat, full of so much nervous energy, he rarely settled in one spot for long. He’d worked hard pretending he didn’t care what anyone thought about him. While she’d hoped he might have grown out of his wild ways, that he might want to help her keep the farm, she had difficulty believing this quiet man was August. He sat so still, she could hear the clock ticking in the front room.

She waited for him to provide a solution. “Were you planning to stay?”

“When you wrote, I told the lumber foreman I wouldn’t be back.” He blinked and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have stayed away so long. I can’t let his dream go to waste.”

She felt a little better, knowing he’d made up his mind, but it didn’t solve their living arrangement problem. He wouldn’t want to take a room at the hotel in town. There was no reason he should. His name was on the will too.

She wouldn’t have any money until the crops were harvested. Paying rent would cut into her finances. Work wouldn’t be easy to find since she’d need time off before and after having the baby. She wouldn’t be any use during the last harvest. No help cutting wood for winter. There wasn’t a place for her on the farm with a baby on the way.

Nevertheless, she wanted to protect the land Jeremiah had loved. “Farming might be a little more difficult than cutting trees.”

“I’m not afraid of hard work.” He opened his mouth as though he intended to continue, but stopped.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Realizing how it sounded—like she wanted the income from years of crops—she hurried on. “He hoped you’d work the land with him someday. Despite the man your father was, Jeremiah earned a place here. You will, too.”

August looked up, his eyes hard. “I’m not my father.”

“I know.” She didn’t, but felt too weary to argue. “I’ll go in the morning. The horses are strictly for plowing or pulling a wagon. He preferred to walk. I won’t take one and leave you short.”

A frown darkened his features. “Go where?”

“Town, I suppose. I might take in laundry for money, or…” She didn’t have any answers. Springfield was ten miles away and it would take her the better part of a day to get there. Instead of dwelling on what she would do after she got there, it was best to focus on one thing at a time.

He pushed the will across the table at her. “You’re not leaving this house. It says in black and white that he wanted you here.”

But I’m not sure you do.
She didn’t like his tone. “We don’t agree on anything.”

“Then I suggest we try harder. You plan to have his baby in a ditch because you’re too stubborn to live with me?”

August’s cheeks flushed, showing his famous Irish temper. He denied being like his father, but in his youth, August had been a hell raiser, the very type of person her father urged her to avoid. She hadn’t listened then, and with her options growing slimmer while her belly grew bigger, she didn’t see she had much choice now.

One other thing nagged her. “Bad enough I moved in without marrying your brother. I’m not sure I can take the rumors about us living together.”

He drew in a deep breath and released it. “They’ll come one way or another. It’ll be worse when folks realize you’re in the family way.”

Bastard.
They’d call her son or daughter that ugly word. Behind her back or to her face. To her child’s face. Hot tears stung her eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

August raised his gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, but he sounded earnest. “We could solve those problems if we got married.”

Loyal almost fell off her chair.

2

Loyal’s shoulders began to shake and she ducked her head, covering her mouth with her hand. Guilt churned August’s stomach. His proposal had made her cry. He hadn’t considered it was too soon to offer, only that he wanted to help Loyal and his brother’s child.

After the shock of the will and her announcement, the last thing he felt capable of dealing with was tears. “It was an idea. We don’t have to rush into anything.”

The noises escaping behind her hand sounded more like laughter than sobs. She raised her head and he saw a smile. It wasn’t anguish plaguing her; it was mirth.

August gritted his teeth. “Something amusing?”

The tears in her eyes belied her smile. She sobered quickly. “That’s the trouble. It’s not humorous in the least. I loved your brother, August. I can’t tarnish his memory by—”

“Marrying me?” Her ridicule was disheartening. He had difficulty believing the words had come from his own mouth. The boy he’d been when he left Wilson bristled at her refusal.

She looked hurt. “I didn’t mean it that way. He’s barely in the ground and you’ve just arrived. Things are changing so fast, I can’t keep up. Your suggestion caught me off guard.”

“Forget it. I don’t have any better ideas right now.” He pressed his palms against the table, about to rise and leave. To save face before he said something he truly regretted.

“I’m sorry. I know you have good intentions. It’s kind that you offered. We’ll work something out.” She twisted the hanky in her hands. “I feel so lost without him.”