The Wrong Brother's Bride Read online

  The milk cow bawled from the pasture and she knew rather than wait for a man who was never coming home, she should start the morning’s chores. They’d keep her mind off worthless August O’Dell. Angry tears welled in her eyes. Hadn’t she suffered enough bad luck lately? Knowing Maud was right about August’s motives made her feel ill.

  She didn’t stop stewing as she milked Sunny and fed the chickens. Molly’s stall needed mucked and she dreaded the back-aching labor. No matter what August thought, she decided it would be easier to turn mare and foal out rather than deal with cleaning twice a day. Molly nickered when she entered the barn, but her foal hid behind its mother’s legs. The little bay was a filly, she’d discovered yesterday, before her world had collapsed again. Instead of feeling joyous about the foal, she realized she’d probably have to sell them soon along with the sheep, which she couldn’t sheer by herself.

  August had made her promises. What was the point, if he didn’t plan to keep them? She opened the stall door and approached Molly, who watched her with pricked ears.

  “Let’s go outside, girl.” Her voice cracked as the gangly foal stretched her neck as far as it would go, trying to catch Loyal’s scent.

  Taking Molly’s halter, she led the pair outside. The farm looked peaceful, and knowing it might fail made her heart ache. Jeremiah had struggled to build it. Because of his brother, it would all fall apart.

  Once the horses were secure in the field, she turned for the house again. There was laundry to do. Loyal wanted rid of every last reminder of the man she’d hastily married, from a napkin he’d used to the bedclothes.

  By the time she had water carried from the pump to the big pot she used for washing and had it bubbling, her back was in knots and her head pounded. It was nearly noon and she felt like she had accomplished little. She settled on the porch steps with Sorry at her side. The dog licked her face and she fought back tears. She slipped her arm around his shoulders, burying her fingers in his soft fur.

  “We’ll be alright.” It sounded as much like a lie in the open air as it did in her head.

  Sorry ignored her, perking up and studying the hilly horizon. His nose twitched and he barked three times before darting down the steps.

  Loyal held her breath when she heard hoof beats strike the earth. Her heart raced as she pushed herself up and a figure on a horse came into view. The horse moved at a leisurely pace, once pausing to snatch a bite of tall grass before moving on. August sat atop the animal, recognizable from his low-crowned coachman’s hat and the clothes he’d worn to town. His shoulders slumped and his head hung low. He looked defeated and not at all like the man she’d watched ride away yesterday.

  Well, he ought to feel ashamed for leaving her alone. She waited by the house, although she thought about marching up and demanding an explanation. He didn’t say a word as the gelding stopped a few feet from the porch. His hat was pulled low and he took his time dismounting. Almost as though moving caused him pain.

  She knew, sure as oak trees came from acorns, he’d been drinking. He must’ve gotten drunk and probably into a fight, even ended up in jail. Just like his father. Loyal folded her arms over her chest and clenched her teeth, insulted when he began loosening the saddle straps.

  “Don’t you have anything to say?” she demanded. “An excuse for your behavior? An apology for running off?”

  He lifted his head and pushed his hat up his forehead. When he turned and met her gaze, Loyal gasped. His right eye was swollen shut and bright purple. He didn’t answer, but he didn’t continue untacking the horse either. A dozen thoughts ran through her mind and the most likely reason for his face was a fight. Just as she’d feared.

  “The horse stood out in the street all night. He needs water and grain.” August hauled the saddle and blanket over the animal’s back and headed for the barn. The horse followed him like a dog, once again stopping to pull up a mouthful of grass.

  “Why?” Loyal didn’t let him get far before she followed. “Where were you?”

  He stopped and faced her. “I had a run-in with Fowler. A deputy surprised me and there were some punches exchanged. I hit a deputy and spent the night in a cell. I didn’t plan it, Loyal. You’re right to be mad.”

  She couldn’t believe he didn’t defend himself. That he gave her permission to be angry. “Why did you hit a lawman, August?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.” He resumed walking, carrying the saddle to the barn. Sorry and the horse stayed at the doorway, but Loyal followed him inside.

  “Tell me.”

  “It was Maud’s fault. She started talking about you, told everyone on the square about the baby. I tried not to get mad. She wouldn’t let it go. Then she dropped her things and someone said they saw me push her. I wouldn’t touch her with someone else’s hand. Fowler showed up and when his deputy grabbed me, I reacted.” He slid the tack onto a saddle rack and leaned against the wall, closing his good eye. “I had money to pay the fine, but they thought it’d do me some good to stay behind bars a while. I told them you were waiting and I knew what you’d think when I didn’t come home.”

  Maud’s betrayal pierced her like a hook. They’d been friends once, sharing secrets and laughter. She supposed their relationship had been deteriorating for a while. August’s words sank in and she realized he’d known all along she’d had ugly thoughts about him. She felt a little sick.

  “You defended me.”

  He shrugged and winced. “I tried. Didn’t do much good. Everyone thinks I’m the same person I was five years ago and you’re no better for taking up with the O’Dells.”

  The truth stung. Before she could say anything, he removed the bridle from his horse, hung it and opened the corral to let the animal inside.

  “Jeremiah—”

  “Was the son of a drunk, no matter how well he was doing. He caused enough trouble on his own around here as a boy. They won’t ever see us any other way. Same as you won’t ever see me any differently.” He turned his back on her. “You were worried, I know that. Tell me, was it because I was missing, or because you stood to lose everything if I didn’t come back? Am I your husband or your help, Loyal?”

  Speechless, she let him walk back to the house alone. He was right. She hadn’t considered he might be hurt or had run into trouble that wasn’t his own doing. He’d been good to her and she’d treated him the same way she had when they were children.

  She found August staring at his stripped bed. There wasn’t any use in claiming it was laundry day. He knew her routine. His expression said it all. She’d intended to wipe out his presence here and he understood.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “Not on purpose.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “Anyone would have done the same.”

  It might not be true, not if he’d made friends in the bootheel. Anyone in the township or Springfield would’ve written him off as a lost cause. Loyal knew her apology wasn’t enough, but she didn’t know how to make it up to him.

  “There any water in the reservoir?” He didn’t wait for her answer as he made his way to the kitchen in slow, measured steps. “Already wasted a day and this one is shot too.”

  His famous Irish temper was up, but it was better than the defeated look he’d worn since arriving.

  Unsure what to do next, she stood by the table. “Are you hungry?”

  “Don’t trouble yourself.” August worked the buttons on his shirt free and slipped it over his head. If his eye was ugly, it didn’t compare to the patchwork of bruises coloring his right side. One was unmistakably a boot print.

  Fresh tears blurred her vision. “Oh, August. What did they do?”

  She forgot her irritation with him and all the times he’d been smart or rude. He’d endured a beating for her.

  “It doesn’t hurt,” he lied, wincing as he took a breath. “I just want to wash the smell of the jailhouse off.”

  “Why would they hurt you?” She reached out, touching his
side, careful around the worst bruises.

  He flinched when she ran her fingers over his rib cage. “Because I threw the first punch. Fowler laid me out and it’s easy to kick a man when he’s flat on his back,” he answered bitterly.

  “‘Doesn’t hurt.’” She echoed his words. “Sit before you fall down. I’d never get you up.”

  “You don’t have to believe me.”

  “Would the foreman in New Madrid believe you?” she asked.

  He raised his left shoulder in a shrug. “He’d have knocked me out for not defending a lady.”

  Loyal shook her head. “I’ll never understand why men resort to using their fists in arguments. Let me pour some water. We have liniment for the soreness. I’ll make your bed and you ought to lie down.”

  “I don’t need coddling.” He sounded grumpy as an old dog that didn’t want a puppy bouncing around it.

  “It’s the least I can do.”

  He took a seat at the kitchen table while she gathered a cloth and the horse liniment. The warm water from the reservoir on the back of the stove would soothe his aching muscles. After she gathered the things she needed, Loyal pulled out the chair beside him and dipped a cloth in the water.

  His mouth tightened when she blotted his face, especially around his injured eye. The bruises were frightful. More than once, he ducked away from her touch like she’d stabbed him.

  “Hold a cloth with witch hazel against it. It should help the swelling.” She applied the herbal mixture to a clean cloth and pressed it into his hand.

  “I’ve had black eyes before. It’s nothing.”

  She noticed he didn’t refuse the remedy. “I know. I recall both of you coming around with black eyes more than once. It’s no wonder my father thought you were heathens.” She laid her hand on his ribs and he jumped. “I should make your bed. This would be easier if you were lying down.”

  “I don’t need special attention.” He pushed her hand away and stood, barely suppressing a groan.

  “You’re stubborn, August O’Dell, but remember I’m stubborn too.” She pushed hair away from her face and put her hands on her hips. “Wait right here while I make the bed. I’m going to put medicine on you, and you’re going to sleep for a while.”

  For a moment they stared at each other. August shook his head. “You’re gonna do what makes you happy. No sense fighting it.”

  She would have been satisfied with his concession, except he was beaten and worn and clearly not in the mood for a fight. Without a word, she went to his room and replaced the bedclothes.

  He padded in behind her, framed by the doorway.

  Loyal looked at him over her shoulder and her breath caught. He leaned against the jamb, chest bare and well-muscled. Broad shoulders and corded arms tapered down to a flat abdomen and narrow hips hugged by his trousers. Handsome was too tame a word for him. It wasn’t difficult to understand why the widow in New Madrid had a tryst with him.

  He held up the liniment bottle. “Brought this.”

  It took her a moment to remember why they needed it. She’d looked past the bruises, at the man beneath. “Good. Let’s use it and get you tucked into bed.”

  She drew the quilt down and straightened, taking the liniment so he could finish undressing.

  August froze, watching her like a rabbit trying to decide whether to run or remain still.

  “You’ll be more comfortable without your trousers. It isn’t as though either of us hasn’t seen the opposite sex without clothes on before. There’s nothing inappropriate about seeing your long underwear. I wash them, don’t I?”

  He didn’t answer, although he unfastened buttons on his pants.

  Loyal looked away and shook the bottle. The bedframe squeaked as he lowered himself to the mattress with a groan. Her gaze darted over him. Tanned skin against the white sheets, chestnut hair in disarray and undergarments low on his hips, August looked more like a lover expecting his concubine than an injured man who’d spent the night in jail.

  She stamped the thought away. Too soon since her former fiancé’s death to think about another man—particularly his brother.

  “Were you able to hire anyone?” She sat on the edge of the bed and tipped the bottle so the strongly scented liniment dripped on his side.

  Bruised muscles under his skin twitched as she rubbed the ointment in. He was trying for a blank face, but pain etched strain on his features.

  “I put the word out at a few places. There’s no telling how many people saw my confrontation with Fowler, though. We’ll be lucky if two or three men want the work.”

  Loyal’s stomach churned. “What will we do?”

  “Carry on as best we can. I’ll work from dark to dark.” Determination colored his tone. “I can do a couple of rows a day.”

  “August.” She hesitated with her hand on his chest. His heartbeat thumped under her fingertips, a connection to a man who wanted to do his best despite her worries. “There’s only a short period you can harvest in and get another planting finished. You’ll never get it all done on your own.”

  “What else can I do? I’m not letting the birds and vermin get it.” He propped himself on his elbow and met her eyes. “It’s not mine, but the next one will be. And there will be another one. I made a promise I mean to keep.”

  The liniment warmed under her hand, a reminder she’d lingered too long in one spot. “Lie back and rest. You won’t be any good if you can’t move.”

  Even with August here, the likelihood of keeping the farm felt like a distant dream. He’d come back and it meant more than he’d ever know. His breath hitched as she rubbed her palm over a tender spot.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. I have eyes and it’s pretty ugly.” She stroked the oily substance over his stomach, where he wasn’t bruised. His gaze jerked up to her face. “Thank you for trying to protect me.”

  He swallowed. “Maud wouldn’t have said those things to Jeremiah. I know this is my doing. I was stupid to listen, but sometimes…” He closed his eye again. “It would be easier if he hadn’t left the farm to me.”

  “You don’t like it here.” Fear clogged her throat. Wilson township was the only home she’d ever known. The rolling hills studded with wildflowers and trees amid pastures and homesteads were forever embedded in her heart. She couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.

  “I like it here. I don’t like the way people treat us.” He turned his face away from her, though the purple and black around his eye were still visible.

  “I’ll let you rest. Don’t worry. We’ll get the workers we need and everything will turn out fine.” For a moment, she hesitated, waiting to see if he’d disagree with her.

  He remained quiet.

  She rose to leave, turning away before he caught her hand.

  August didn’t speak, just looked up at her with one blue-gray eye.

  Loyal leaned down and pushed hair off his forehead, then pressed her lips there, lingering for a few seconds.

  He blinked in surprise and his mouth lifted in a smile.

  “Go to sleep, August.”

  He nodded and settled deeper into the mattress. She thought about how he’d told her no one had taken care of him since her mother cleaned his scrapes as a boy. It was a pity no one other than his brother had cared for him. With love, August could have been a good man. The kind their neighbors wouldn’t abuse. Maybe someday they’d see August was trying, and maybe one day she’d stop doubting him too.

  8

  It was still dark when Loyal heard the front door close. She fumbled to light the lamp and picked up Jeremiah’s watch beside it. Four-thirty in the morning and August was awake, ready to tend the corn. Bile inched up her throat, but she rose from bed and dressed, determined to help him.

  By the time she stepped outside, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, he had the horses hitched to the wagon.

  He looked up when she approached
. “You should be asleep.”

  “I could say the same about you. Didn’t the liniment help?”

  “It’ll ease the more I move. You sure you’re up to this? I won’t blame you if you want to go back to bed.” He took Handsome by the bridle and waited for her answer.

  She shook her head. “I can help.”

  “You ever help Jeremiah?”

  “No. Have you harvested corn?” She was sure he hadn’t, not if he’d spent the last few years sawing trees.

  “No.” He shifted his weight.

  “Then we both have some learning to do this morning.” Loyal tied her shawl and started toward the field. The harnesses clanked and the horses’ hooves thudded against the ground as August brought the team after her.

  * * * *

  August wiped his sleeve across his brow and glanced down the row at Loyal. The dewy dampness had burned off, leaving the air humid. Sweat stained her dress around the neckline and loose hair plastered against her cheeks. Her face was red, lips pinched as she twisted another corncob from the stalk and threw it at the wagon. Sometimes she missed and he’d dutifully retrieve the cobs before she could walk away from the row. She had fallen behind him about a half hour into their efforts. While he’d picked two or three dozen bushels, she probably hadn’t managed half that. The ears closer to the ground gave her the most trouble as she stooped to pluck them from the stalks.

  His hands ached from twisting the grain off the stalks, and little cuts made by sharp edges on the wide leaves covered his skin. Loyal looked to be faring worse. They hadn’t eaten breakfast and he was parched from the work.

  “Loyal.”

  She ignored him, tossing a cob at the wagon.

  He looked back at the row they were working on, disheartened to see they were barely halfway finished. “Let’s rest a while.”

  If she heard him, she didn’t acknowledge it. She was stubborn, alright, would work until she hurt herself if she thought they weren’t going to get the crop in on time.