The Wrong Brother's Bride Page 2

  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.”

  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 everyth
ing 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.”