A Bride in the Bargain (32 page)

“You’re really going?” His bucket dangled from one hand.

Her throat thickened. “I’m afraid so.”

“But why?” His face showed confusion, hurt.

“Because my obligation to Joe has been fulfilled.”

“No, I mean, why won’t you marry him?”

She fingered her watch pin. “It’s complicated.”

“I don’t see how. You love him. He loves you.”

She reached out and took his free hand. “He doesn’t love me, Ronny. He loves his land.”

“He loves both.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I know so.”

She gave him a sad smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure the new cook will take good care of you.”

He worked his jaw back and forth.

Oh no. Don’t cry
.

“What will you do?” he asked. “Where will you go?”

“I hope to find another job in town.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Why can’t you stay and work here?”

Anna strengthened her resolve. “I just can’t.”

“Yes you can. You just don’t want to.” His tone was sharp. Defensive.

“Ronny, I—”

“It’s okay. I understand.” He backed out of the lean-to and into the rain. “Good-bye, Miss Ivey.”

She pressed a hand to her throat. “Good-bye, Ronny.”

He turned, and she realized that the moisture she’d seen on his cheeks hadn’t been solely from the rain.

Joe had attached the black isinglass curtains to the wagon’s canopy. Still, it didn’t keep the rain from angling onto them. Anna shivered. Snatching a blanket from behind the seat, he settled it over her shoulders.

“Thank you.” She draped it over her hair, then wrapped it round and round her body in mummylike fashion until only her eyes showed.

The ride to town had been torturous so far. Not so much because of the weather, but because of the tension between the two of them. He’d not been fit company all week and had therefore steered clear of her. To now sit side by side in strained silence for half a day was making him a candidate for Bedlam.

Still, he didn’t feel like talking. Not when he was about to lose her and his land all in one fell swoop.

They’d reach Seattle within the hour, though, and he’d take her straight to the Occidental. He’d get her a room, then leave her to her own devices while he headed to the dining area. Maybe their cook, Owen Nausley, would have some idea who Joe could hire to replace her. Because there’d be no going back to the simple fare he and the boys had survived on for the last eleven years. Even if the boys could stomach it, he couldn’t.

All of Mercer’s women were long gone, of course, so it would have to be a man. A couple of months ago, that wouldn’t have bothered Joe in the least. But now, it would be quite an adjustment.

No man would keep the place as clean as Anna. No man would cause the boys to wash up before supper. No man would brighten the house with calico dresses. No man would smell like twinflowers.

Of course, the house had smelled like glue for the past two days. He’d caught glimpses of her shell collage drying on the table but hadn’t lingered long enough to study it. He’d wanted to, though. But if he’d stayed too long in the kitchen, her artwork wouldn’t be the only thing he’d study.

So he’d quarantined himself to the barn. If he thought that had been lonely, he knew the house would be unbearable once the new cook started. No need for a male cook to sleep in the main house. He’d bunk up with everyone else.

The rain turned to mist, and Anna pushed the blanket back from her head.

“You cold?” he asked.

“No. I’m fine, thank you.”

The wagon hit a rut, flinging them together before settling back into a rhythm. Even through all the layers that separated them, the single point of contact sent longing shooting through him. What would she do if he yanked the horse to a stop, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her like he had the other day?

Would she think he was making a last-ditch effort to manipulate her into marriage? Or would she respond? Respond the way she had last time?

Just thinking about it made his heart hammer. And what did he have to lose? The worst he could get was a slap in the face. The most he could get was . . . he swallowed. The most he could get wasn’t anywhere close to what he wanted. Not unless they were wed. And what he wanted had more and more to do with Anna and less and less to do with his land.

He slowed the horse. His hands began to sweat. It was now or never.

Shakespeare shook his head, then came to a stop.

Anna looked around. “What’s wrong? Why are we stopping?”

Joe said nothing. Just stared straight ahead, wrestling with his conscience. His desires. His feelings for this woman.

“Joe?”

He wrapped the reins around the dash rail.

“Is something wrong?”

Then he turned and looked at her, holding none of his thoughts back. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted.

He wiped his hands on his thighs, then reached out, cradling her face. “I’d like a kiss good-bye.”

“What?”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

“Joe, I—”

Digging his fingers into her hair, he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers, increasing the intensity of the kiss. He’d barely gotten started when she began to struggle. Disappointment assailed him at her protest, but he pulled back.

“The blanket,” she gasped, wrestling with it. “My hands, I can’t, they’re . . .”

He quickly freed her from the blanket’s confines and she launched herself into his arms. He dragged her across his lap and kissed her as if there were no tomorrow, because in fact, there would be no tomorrow for him.

Every part of them was involved in the kiss. On and on it went until he thought he’d scatter like debris after the felling of a tree.

He wrenched back and held her head tight between his hands. “Marry me.”

Her chest heaved in an effort to capture her breath. And with each upward motion, she pressed herself more closely against him.

He gave her a quick, hard kiss. “Marry me.”

“Oh, Joe.” Her eyes searched his.

He kissed her again. “All you have to do is say ‘yes.’ We’ll do it today. Now. As soon as we get to town.”

Something changed then. She calmed. She slowed her breathing. She collected herself. “Do you love me, Joe?”

“I . . .”

Did he love her? Well, he certainly felt more for her than he had for Lorraine.

“If we waited until next week,” she continued, “would you still want to marry me?”

He frowned. “Next week? Why would we wait until next week when we’re practically in town already?”

“No.” Anna brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I mean, if we waited until you lost your land. Would you still want to marry me?”

He reared back. “Why would I do that? If we’re going to get married, it is of utmost importance that we do it before I lose the land, not after. You’re not making any sense.”

Sighing, she stroked his lips with her fingers.

He nipped her little finger with his teeth.

She extracted herself from his embrace, then moved back to her side of the seat. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. The whole thing is hypothetical.”

“What do you mean it’s hypothetical?”

“The question.”

“There was absolutely nothing hypothetical about my proposal.”

She pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. “No. I don’t suppose there was.”

“Then what the blazes are you talking about? Are you going to marry me or not?”

“Not.” She flipped the blanket over her knees. “I’m afraid I’m not.”

He closed his eyes, trying to figure out exactly what had happened. “How can you kiss me like that, then tell me no?”

“I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression. I’m sorry.”

“Give me the wrong impression?
Give me the wrong impression?
If you’d kissed me any more thoroughly, I’d have gone up in smoke. Just what impression was I supposed to have gotten?”

Her entire face flushed. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

He flung up his hands in a gesture of disbelief. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? Just what was that, then?”

“A good-bye kiss, I believe, is how you described it.”

He stared at her. Shocked. Confused. Angry. And frustrated as the devil. Jerking the reins from the dash rail, he slapped Shakespeare with a bit more intensity than he should have. The horse jumped, then trotted, making the wagon jostle so much Anna flew clear up off the seat.

But he didn’t slow their pace, nor did he help her stay anchored. She could fall off the stupid wagon for all he cared. And when she did, he’d be hanged before he even looked back.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT

Hound Dog, Anna’s private nickname for the clerk at the Occidental, handed Anna a missive and a purse of coins. “Mr. Denton said this was yours.”

“Thank you, Mr. Collins.”

The pouch’s weight and jingling indicated it held quite a bit of money. Frowning, she looked around. “Is Mr. Denton here?”

“No, miss. He’s headed back to his place.”

She blinked. “But we just arrived an hour ago.”

Hound Dog shrugged. “He went over to Yesler’s Cookhouse and hired Ollie Rendorff right out from under Mr. Yesler. They left not fifteen minutes ago.”

She glanced at her watch pin. “Why didn’t you come and get me?”

“He said not to bother you.”

But he’d not even said good-bye, she thought. Well, unless she counted that kiss, but that had only been an act of desperation on his part.

“Did he leave my carpetbag with you?”

“No, miss. Only that pouch and the missive I just gave you.”

“I see. Well, thank you.”

Moving to the porch, she broke open the letter.

Anna
,

                    I forgot to put your bag in the wagon. It is still in the house. Please accept my apologies. I will bring it to town next week when I come for other business.

                    I have told the Occidental to forward your bills to me until you have found a new job or made other arrangements. I have enclosed a modest remittance to help you launch whatever pursuits you decide to follow.

                                                                                                                                  Sincerely yours,

                                                                                                                                  Joe

She looked inside the pouch. He’d left her enough money to live on for several months, longer if she was careful. And if she didn’t have her bag, she’d have to wear the clothes on her back for another week and finger-comb her hair.

Leaning back in the chair, she watched the rain pummel the ground in an unrelenting gush. Lightning seared the sky with a flash of light so bright it took her a moment before she could see again. The crash of thunder followed several seconds later.

Joe was driving home in this mess. Just like the last time he’d taken a new cook to his place. Sighing, she pulled the drawstrings of the money bag closed.

She’d keep the coins. She had no delusions about what it meant to be destitute. Once she secured a job, though, she would return the balance and pay back any she’d used. The sooner the better. She probably ought to repay the fifty-dollar fare she’d agreed to, also.

Anna read the note again. His “other business” must be the transfer of his land to Mr. Tillney. Joe’s twelve days would be up a week from tomorrow.

Propping her elbow on the arm of the chair, she buried her face in her hand. When he brought her belongings next week, it would be her last opportunity. If she didn’t marry him then, the land would be lost and so would her chances of marrying him.

People married for convenience all the time. She already loved Joe and he certainly wasn’t immune to her. But did she really want to live in a loveless marriage until Jesus took her home?

No. She did not. But that didn’t make her feelings for him lessen. Nor did it make her guilt go away, for her decision would affect Red, Ronny, Fish, Thirsty . . . all of them. But especially Joe.

Gathering up the money purse, she stood, then returned to her room. The room Joseph Denton was paying for.