His Substitute Mail-Order Bride Page 5

  She was tired. She was out of sorts. Perhaps she simply wasn’t reading beneath the surface of his actions. The facts were firmly embedded in her memory: Charlotte had eloped weeks after the jilting to avoid the scandal, and their father had disowned her. Anna hadn’t spoken to her sister since.

  If Charlotte and Russ had married, then Anna would still be in touch with her sister. If she’d had Charlotte to lean on after their father’s death, she might not have entered such a hasty and unfortunate marriage. If Russ had greeted her announcement about Susannah with anger and recriminations instead of pushing his feelings aside, then she’d feel better about deceiving him.

  If. If. If.

  The disparity in the villain she’d created and the man before her made her all the more determined to repay her debt quickly. Yet more questions balanced on the tip of her tongue. Considering the outsize role Russ had played in her life, she didn’t know much about him. He’d been in the war. His father was gone. He had siblings. That’s all Anna could recall.

  Against her better judgment, she was hungry for information about the life Russ led outside of his law practice. Perhaps the information might even be useful as she settled, albeit temporarily, in the town.

  “You lost your father, too, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “He’s not part of our family any longer.”

  Shock rippled through her. She’d always assumed the hint of scandal was linked to his father’s death, but the evasive answer pointed to something else. “What was he like?”

  She didn’t know why she’d asked such a personal question beyond a nagging sense of puzzlement about his father. Even if Charlotte had known the truth, she was hardly likely to confide in her younger sister.

  “He was a good man,” Russ said, his voice flat. “Proud. Honorable. Loyal to his family. Too proud, sometimes.”

  The hairs on the back of her neck stirred. Though his words were glowing with praise, the tone didn’t match his sentiment. There was a slight edge in Russ’s voice, a pursing of his lips when he spoke. As someone familiar with keeping secrets, she recognized the signs. There was more to Russ’s father than what he was saying.

  “You have a brother, as well, don’t you?” she prodded.

  “Two of them, to be precise. Seth lives just outside of Cowboy Creek with his new wife. They recently adopted three boys and his wife’s niece.”

  “Oh my, that’s quite a household.”

  “I haven’t seen my younger brother, Adam, in years.” This time the sorrow in Russ’s voice was obvious. “I used to receive letters, but I haven’t gotten one in months. I don’t even know if he’s alive. I have to believe he’s still out there somewhere. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’d know if he was gone.” Russ scoffed. “That probably sounds stupid.”

  “Not at all.”

  Anna’s eyes burned. Charlotte had always been a distant, ethereal creature. The years between them had been a chasm. Charlotte had been older and elegant, with little patience for a younger sister with dirt beneath her fingernails and muddy circles over her knees from digging in the garden.

  Even during the war, Charlotte had been sought after by the young bachelors in the community. She’d had pale blond hair, soft blue eyes and a delicate figure. She spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. Everything about her seemed to attract men like honeybees to nectar.

  How many times had Anna knelt on the balcony above the parlor, peeking through the railings, when Charlotte was holding court? Charlotte had been a fragile porcelain figurine. She was to be looked upon and admired but never touched or bothered. Most of her beaus had ignored Anna. Not Russ. He’d always brought her a sweet or an extra flower. He’d wink at her, as though they shared a special secret.

  For someone who was largely ignored in the household, she’d found his attention heady. Anna had adored his visits. Then he’d betrayed Charlotte. He’d betrayed their family. He’d betrayed her.

  Yet despite her better judgment, Anna was still drawn to the man before her. Did she trust her feelings or the facts? Did she trust the man who’d been kind to a lonely young girl, or did she accept that he’d callously thrown aside her sister and tossed their family into disarray? How did those two men exist in the same person?

  A wagon passed them, and the driver tipped his hat.

  “We’re almost home,” Russ said. “The traffic will be heavy soon.”

  Home. For now. The future remained uncertain.

  A skyline of boxy structures appeared above the horizon. The town was larger than she’d expected. Buildings sprawled into the distance, undulating over the rolling hills. Additional frame structures in various stages of completion surrounded the outskirts. A few of the buildings rose three stories into the sky. A train whistle blew, and she caught sight of a steam engine leaving a trail of smoke.

  Another rider passed them at a gallop, the horse’s tail whipping in the wind.

  The nearer they moved toward the town, the more wagons and riders appeared. Everyone seemed to know Russ. He made introductions and soon all the faces blurred together. After meeting countless new people, she gave up even trying to remember their names.

  As though sensing she was overwhelmed, Russ caught her gaze. “New visitors are always a curiosity. Especially when a bride train comes in.”

  She touched the side of her bonnet. “Will there be any awkwardness for you, because of Susannah?”

  “No.” He bent his head. “I kept the news to a select few. I’ll tell them all soon enough. After I’ve read Susannah’s letter.”

  Anna recalled the letter with a jolt. Had Susannah mentioned the scandal? The thought hadn’t even occurred to her before now. Pressing a hand against her pounding heart, Anna took a deep breath. There was no reason for Susannah to reveal anything about her. Anna was merely the messenger. Her role hardly warranted a mention.

  Russ pointed toward a shopfront. “Marlys Mason is the town doctor. She’s got some newfangled ideas about how to treat illness, but she has an excellent rate of success, so people mostly take her advice. It’s too bad that some of the old timers won’t see a woman no matter what the circumstances.”

  “A lady doctor?” Anna had never considered such a thing but immediately liked the idea. “Why shouldn’t a woman be a doctor?”

  “Folks get stuck in their ways, but times change. Sometimes it just takes a little longer than we’d like.”

  “Women should get to be whatever they want to be.”

  Anna had wanted to write articles about gardening for the local newspaper, but her husband had disapproved. He didn’t want his colleagues to think his wife had to work for a living. Especially at something as coarse and common as the women’s pages.

  Russ made a sound of frustration. “Looks like the doc is out. She often assists the town midwife, Leah Gardner, when there’s a challenging case. It’s difficult to keep regular hours.”

  A large chalkboard had been set up beside the etched glass window of the doctor’s office. Russ climbed from the wagon, retrieved the whittled piece of chalk dangling from a length of twine, then wrote Anna’s name along with The Cattleman as her place of residence.

  Anna made a note of the street. She’d return later and erase her name. A doctor’s visit was an added expense she could ill afford.

  “Put down your name, too,” Anna insisted. “You should have that cut stitched.”

  “I’m fine. It’s too late for stitching anyway.”

  “If I must see the doctor, then so must you.”

  Russ dutifully wrote his name and her gaze narrowed. She had a suspicion he’d come back and erase it too as soon as he ensured she was settled. She stifled a giggle. They’d run into each other if she wasn’t careful.

  “I’m going to ask Dr. Mason tomorrow if you’ve come for a visit,” she said.

  Chagrin flickered over his fea
tures, and she grinned.

  “All right,” he said. “But this works both ways. I’ll know if you’ve skipped your appointment, too.”

  Heat crept up her neck. “Except I wasn’t hit over the head.” She couldn’t very well ask the doctor if he’d visited if she wasn’t planning on doing the same. “I’m fine.”

  “You’ve been ill, and someone should look at that cut on your arm.” He climbed into the wagon once more. “Don’t worry, the visit will be charged to the town.”

  Her cheeks burned. The only thing more humiliating than being destitute was having everyone else know her circumstances. One needn’t be a Pinkerton detective to ascertain the situation. She hadn’t exactly concealed the fact. She’d begged Russ for a job before, and she was traveling on a borrowed train ticket she couldn’t repay. As demeaning as her circumstances may be, she didn’t suppose there was any harm if Russ knew the truth of her finances. He’d be more likely to assist her if he knew the dire nature of her situation.

  “I’m not one of the brides,” she said. “And I can’t accept any preferential treatment on false pretenses.” She might as well set her circumstances straight from the beginning.

  “The mayor is responsible for the reputation of the town. Having a lady accosted on the road outside of Cowboy Creek is most definitely bad press. Indulge him, if only for the sake of community pride.”

  “If a visit to the doctor will set the mayor’s mind at ease, I suppose I can concede the point.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Perhaps Dr. Mason had some suggestions for regaining her energy. The next few months were going to be difficult, and she needed her stamina. She had to stash as much money as possible before Russ—or someone else—discovered her secret.

  “This may be my only opportunity to meet a real live lady doctor. How can I pass that up?” she said.

  “You never know, we may have as many female as male doctors in the future.”

  “The mills of the gods grind slow,” she quoted.

  “But they grind fine,” Russ completed Plutarch’s line.

  Perhaps finding a job here wouldn’t be as difficult as in Philadelphia. A little anonymity didn’t hurt. Having one’s name slandered in the newspapers impeded gainful employment.

  The town vibrated with activity. Men on horseback and people driving wagons laden with supplies jockeyed for position along the wide, well-kept streets. Shoulders brushed, and a sea of hats bobbed along the boardwalk. Townspeople passed each other in opposite directions, many calling greetings to one another. Russ was forced to wait several minutes before he eased the wagon onto the street once more.

  A low whistle sounded, and she glanced around. A man tipped his hat at her with a leering grin.

  Russ glared at the man, and the whistler rapidly disappeared into the crowd.

  “I’m sorry for that,” Russ apologized. “Let me know if you have any trouble. In some respects, Cowboy Creek is little more than a glorified cow town. Women are still somewhat of a novelty around here.”

  Another wave of nausea that had nothing to do with her previous illness rippled through her stomach. She didn’t want attention. She didn’t want to be courted.

  “How do I make them stop?”

  “Get married, I suppose.”

  “Not likely.”

  His expression shifted. “I’m sorry, Anna. That was a thoughtless comment given your circumstances. Please accept my apologies.”

  He thought her a grieving widow. He couldn’t be further from the truth. One thing was certain, for someone who’d had her fill of men, she’d picked a terrible place to start over.

  “It’s not your fault.” She didn’t want him to be kind. She’d forgotten kindness even existed. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t missed the train.”

  “Why did you miss the train?”

  “Bad timing. That’s what Mr. Ward said this morning. He said life is all about timing.”

  Even if she’d been older when Russ had come to call on her sister, he’d have never glanced her way. There were few women who didn’t pale in comparison to Charlotte. There was no use pining over the past.

  Life was all about timing, and she’d been handicapped by a faulty watch.

  Chapter Four

  The sun had reached its zenith by the time Russ was able to break for the noon meal. After delivering Anna safely to the hotel, he’d visited the office before returning home at midday. There’d been some confusion over Anna’s name at the hotel—the porter had been expecting Susannah—but Russ had smoothed over the awkward moment as best he could. He tipped his chair against the side of the house and rested his crossed ankles on the porch rail. A cool breeze stirred the warm air, and he’d slung his coat over the back of the chair.

  Susannah’s letter rested on the table beside him. She’d apologized profusely in tiny script for several pages. The explanation was better delivered succinctly, but brevity had never been Susannah’s strong suit. His attention had drifted after her third apology, which only seemed to exacerbate the sting, and he’d skimmed the last page before the postscript had piqued his curiosity.

  Look out for Anna. The past three months haven’t been easy, and she deserves better.

  For all Susannah’s lengthy elocution, that line had been sparse. He figured she referred to Anna’s husband’s death. A pang of regret reverberated through his chest. Great sorrow only came with great love. Anna had said her husband’s death was “sudden” without revealing more. What must it be like, loving someone so much that you couldn’t let them go, even in death? What kind of man had Anna loved? Given her family connections and her father’s ambitions, her husband must have held some prominence in the community.

  If he’d been a community leader, Mr. Linford’s death would be noted in the newspapers. A fellow law school graduate had recently sent Russ a copy of the Philadelphia Morning Post after winning an influential case. If Russ recalled correctly, the paper had been dated about three months before. He hadn’t cleaned off the dining room table in ages, and the newspaper was probably buried beneath a stack of legal documents.

  He half stood and then sat back down again. Digging into the past felt intrusive. Anna Linford’s life was none of his business. He was protective of her, that was all. A natural inclination given their previous acquaintance. He had no romantic aspirations toward her or anyone else. Having lost out in love twice already, competing with the memory of a dead man held no appeal.

  He’d seen that sort of soul-deep love before in his parents’ marriage before his father’s fall from grace. As though she were summoned by his thoughts, he recognized his mother’s silhouette near the end of the block, her steps long and purposeful. Dread filled his stomach. He’d have to tell her about Susannah, but perhaps news of the attack on the road had failed to circulate.

  Moments later, she climbed the shallow porch stairs and leaned against the banister. “Lovely afternoon we’re having.”

  Sunlight glinted off the dark hair beneath the brim of her ribboned hat. Though she’d never admitted as much, she was still mourning the disappearance of her husband nearly a decade before. Once or twice, Russ had broached the subject, and she’d gently but firmly rebuked his questions. Whatever she thought of her husband’s defection, she kept the feelings to herself. Instead, she clung to his memory with love.

  “Isn’t today your meeting with the committee?” Russ righted his chair. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

  On Mondays, she met with the opera house committee and often stayed well into the afternoon. They invariably dined at one of the restaurants in town.

  She hoisted a perfectly winged eyebrow. “I heard there were outlaws in the area.”

  Russ heaved a sigh. “Not anymore.” Keeping the encounter a secret had been too much to ask. Gossip spread faster than a pla
gue of locusts.

  His mother gestured toward the house. “Did you find your lunch?”

  “Yes, but you don’t have to cook for me. I can eat at The Cattleman on the days you have meetings.”

  “I like to take care of you once in a while.”

  “Then I won’t argue. Too much. Having home-cooked meals has been a rare treat.”

  While his mother spent the bulk of her time living with Seth on his ranch outside of town, she was staying with Russ for a few weeks while Seth and Marigold adjusted to married life with an instant family.

  Just last month, Seth had become the guardian of three boys following the death of a childhood friend. Though a confirmed bachelor, Seth had taken on the added responsibility of raising three precocious children. The pretty, new schoolteacher had assisted with the transition. His brother had fallen head over heels for Marigold, and the two had recently married and adopted the three boys, as well as Marigold’s young niece, Violet, who had come to town. Seth’s bachelor home had gone from a hollow shell to a house brimming with love practically overnight. The transformation in his brother was both astonishing and heartwarming.

  Russ pulled out a chair. “Did you visit Seth today?”

  “I watched the boys for a few hours. Violet is still adjusting. She’s only seven and the last few months have been difficult. Before she lived for that brief time with her father, she was accustomed to having Marigold’s attention all to herself. Now she has three brothers to contend with. Marigold and Seth wanted a little time alone with her.”

  Russ nodded. “She’s gone through a lot, losing her mother and being taken from her aunt. She appears resilient, though.”

  “She’s an absolute delight. I took the boys to the opera house. I think Harper has a natural talent for the theater. He did cartwheels across the stage while Pippa was attempting to rehearse. And now James Johnson is taking them fishing for the afternoon.”