The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (11 page)

THIRTEEN

A
fter Jem disposed of the rags and washed up, he went directly to check on Annie. He stopped outside her door and hesitated, listening for any sounds from within. He could have sworn he heard a soft rustling on the other side. She was up and moving around.

“Annie?” he called, rapping one knuckle against the wood panel. “Are you awake?”

He didn’t hear anything so much as felt an expectant pause from the other side, a sensation of having been heard. He caught the sound of steps swishing toward him and again a pause. Then came a slap—one flat-handed strike against the other side of the door.

He withdrew a bit, taken aback. He tried to recall her hand signals from the train, but the answer was clear enough without him recalling if one meant yes or two—she was obviously awake on the other side of the door. So one had to mean yes.

“Will you come out?”

Two slaps.
No
. Why?

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asked, puzzled.

A hesitation, then one small tap, as if she’d lifted one finger and brought it down with just enough force to make a sound.

“Why don’t you come down? Ray’s got breakfast—”

Two smart slaps.

All right then, he thought.
No.

Jem considered the dark wood panels of the door for a moment, picturing her standing on the other side—perhaps listening intently with her head cocked to one side. Or even with her ear pressed to the door. It would be easier, he thought, if he could see her—see the expression on her face, read any hand motions she might make...

For one bad instant, he imagined a life of asking this woman yes or no questions, having to live this way. It was work—like laying a wall of bricks. Or maybe more like building a bridge... Whichever, it was still work.

It wasn’t natural. People didn’t talk this way.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Can you at least open the door?” He waited and had to strain to hear two soft taps. He sighed. Yes and no questions it would be then. He couldn’t very well ask her, “Why not?” She couldn’t answer him even if he did.

Why didn’t she want to come down?

If it were Lorelei and she couldn’t speak—or wouldn’t for some reason—what would the reason be...?

He thought it over.

Annie had come down last night and eaten in the kitchen with them. So she’d already done it once. Why not now?

He pondered that.

“Is it Ben?” He guessed. “’Cause Ben’s not here.”

One tap, then another. Sort of yes, sort of no? He could understand that well enough. Ben hadn’t exactly been pleasant to her.

Surely it wasn’t any problem with Mae or with the puppy. Annie obviously adored them both.

“Ray?”

Two quick taps. No again, but more sure this time.

He scratched thoughtfully through his beard. An uncomfortable thought struck him.

“Is it me?” he asked quietly, leaning his forehead against the door. He didn’t have time for this. Didn’t want there to be any trouble at all. Had he offended her somehow? Scared her?

No answer.

“Is it me?” he repeated more firmly.

Two smart slaps and what sounded suspiciously like a girlish giggle. He raised his brows, interested despite himself. Who was this woman? What was she doing? And why wouldn’t she come out?

She’d certainly looked a sight last night in Ben’s old clothes. It had been quite a getup.

Lorelei wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing anything but a proper dress and ladies’ house slippers to dinner—

Ahhh.

Last night in the shadows of the house must’ve been bad enough, but now it was bright out. There was no place to hide.

“Is it the—the clothes?” he asked cautiously. “The ones Ben laid out for you?”

An indrawn breath. One tap.
Yes
.

“It doesn’t bother me none,” Jem said. “Ray won’t mind neither. Why don’t you come down and eat? You know Mae won’t mind,” he injected a bit of humor into his voice, hoping to make her laugh again. It really was a delightful sound.

There was only silence in response to his words. He waited. It was a thoughtful sort of silence, and he was beginning to think she might give in and open the door. Then he heard two firm slaps.

“No?” he asked, more to affirm than to really ask.

Two more taps.
No
.

“How about I check with Ray to see if your dress is dry? He washed it. It’s been out all night and the sun’s high. Could be dry.”

One tap.
Yes
.

“All right. I’ll go check with Ray then. I’ll be right back. All right?”

Yes
. And what may have been a grunt. Thank you, maybe?

Taking that as a positive, Jem strode purposefully down the hall, then plunged down the stairs two at a time.

FOURTEEN

O
nce Jem got back down to the kitchen, he felt his whole day slipping away from him. He was about to open his mouth to ask Ray about the dress, when the puppy darted past him at full speed and ran straight at the screen door. The door popped open, and the pup scampered outside, claws scrabbling against the wood porch.

“Sugar!” Mae cried, running over, fully intent on following the puppy outside.

Jem put an arm out to stop her short.

“Easy, Mae,” he said. “She won’t go far.” He hoped that was true. “Probably just needs to visit the grass.”

Ray grunted skeptically. “You better go out and get her.”

Jem pictured the pup getting into one of the paddocks, startling the horses, getting kicked.

“I will,” he promised, setting his daughter back on her chair. “But first—is Annie’s dress dry? She wants it.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. I wrung it out pretty good last night, but that’s a heavy fabric. I’ll go check.”

Jem grabbed his hat and opened the screen door. He hesitated as Mae scrambled down from her seat again. “You stay right here, Little Miss. I’ll go get your puppy—”

“Sugar!” she cried, correcting him.

“Sugar,” he amended, with what he thought was admirable patience. Ray left, brushing past him with a choked chuckle. “
I’ll
get Sugar,” Jem added, “and you wait here...in case Annie comes down.”

Mae’s eyes lit.

“That’s right. If she comes down, she’ll need someone to—to show her where the plates and bowls are.”

She climbed back onto her chair and folded her hands on the tabletop. She looked a little too angelic to Jem’s mind, but he didn’t want the pup to get into any trouble. And he certainly didn’t want Mae tagging along and getting underfoot. If anything happened to her...

He gripped the edge of the screen door until it hurt his hand.

“Stay put,” he repeated, pointing his finger meaningfully at her.

She blinked at him, not unlike a cat might.

Undependable creatures, cats. They had their own minds.

Pups too, for that matter. Likely to go running off when your eye wasn’t on them.

Jem combed a hand through his hair. It was getting too long, he thought, setting his hat back on his head and stepping outside. It was one of those clear Colorado summer days when the sky was so blue it almost hurt the eyes to look at it. It wasn’t the full heat of the day yet, but this was just the beginning. It was going to get up there.

No sooner had he stepped off the porch than a barrage of noise slammed into him: an excited yelp, Ray yelling, “Hey! Drop it. Come back here.”

Jem took in a blur of black coming around the side of the house. The pup darted across the expanse of packed dirt and stones. It zigzagged toward the tall grass, dragging what looked to be a sheet out behind it.

“Hey! Drop it.” Ray came along as a slower blur, favoring one leg. He already looked winded.

A scene of pure chaos snapped into Jem’s view: the puppy dragging not a sheet but a dress.
Annie’s dress
. Ray chasing after it, unable to keep up, red in the face, frustrated.

Jem jogged over and stepped on one end of the dress. The pup pulled up short, and he heard the rather disconcerting sound of rending fabric. A horrible smell smacked into his nose. He managed to grab ahold of the pup by the scruff of its neck and scooped it up, wriggling like mad in his arms. Sugar lapped and nipped at his beard—an ecstatic ball of black fur, muddy paws, and needle-sharp canine teeth.

“What’s that
smell
?” Jem gasped, but even as he said it he knew. Skunk. It was a smell like no other. Overpowering. His eyes smarted.

“Skunk must’ve got it last night,” Ray said. “That pup must’ve gone straight for it too. Probably smelled it from the house.”

“I didn’t smell it coming in,” Jem said, puzzled.

“The clothesline’s around the corner.” Ray shrugged. “Plus you had the smells of the barn on you.”

“Can you get the stink out?”

Ray rubbed the back of his neck, in that way of all men hating the thought of telling a woman bad news. The woman in this case being Annie. Annie who had already suffered a great many indignities since Jem had met her.

“Well,” Ray said, “I could try soaking it in lye... Maybe some tomato juice...”

He’d barely finished saying it when Annie rushed out with Mae in her arms. Jem noticed her wearing all of Ben’s awful clothes.

She’ll get too hot in all that.

But she didn’t have anything to change into, not until he found Lorelei’s trunks.

Only...he didn’t want to find Lorelei’s things. He didn’t want to look through them. To open up the lids and rifle through all her old things. Beautiful things that likely still smelled faintly of her rose-scented perfume. To give them to Annie...

How could he?

Sugar was oblivious to his thoughts. She wriggled free from his hold and tore across to Annie’s dress, dragging it first one way then another, spinning madly, as if under the control of some outside force. She writhed about in the fabric, covering herself in the stench, and then chewed on one edge. Somehow she got hold of a loose thread and shook her head with such a terrific force he was surprised she didn’t knock herself over.

“There’s no saving that now,” Ray muttered, crossing his arms over his chest, much like Jem imagined a judge giving a sentence. “Pup’s just going to keep after that, even if we did manage to get the stink off it.” He shook his head. “May as well get rid of it. Wasn’t much to start with.” He coughed and glanced guiltily at Annie.

For her part, Annie let Mae slide down to the ground.

His daughter immediately squealed and ran toward the puppy, giggling the whole way.

Something snapped within Jem. He had to force down a laugh. It was all so...ridiculous.

Then he saw Annie. Her face a pale papery white. One hand pressed over her mouth. The way women did when they were trying to hold themselves together.

Was she going to cry? He didn’t think he could manage if she started weeping. He’d never been good with Lorelei’s tears either. He always felt bad, awkward, and sure as not would say just the wrong thing. It never failed. There was some quirk about a woman’s emotions that he’d never been able to grasp. Seems like they’d want you to explain their trouble away, or find a quick and easy solution—something clearly productive to get busy with—but no. It puzzled him to this day.

Then it hit him.
That was all she had
.

One dress, her boots, whatever underthings hadn’t been ruined by the pup.

He supposed she could be excused for feeling a little upended.

He braced himself for the tears.

Then he heard a sound—something quite different from tears—coming from Annie. Laughter? Her hand fell from her face, and he could see. She was definitely laughing. Not crying.

“Should we burn it then?” he asked, relieved.

She stared back at him, seemingly stunned.

In the next instant, a smile spread slowly across her face. She nodded. One finger to her chin:
Yes, burn it
. Then she was apparently overcome by mirth, hiding her laughter behind her cupped hands as if to muffle the sound.

Jem couldn’t stop looking at her. What kind of woman could laugh at her only dress being sprayed by a skunk—and then ripped and dragged around and chewed on by a puppy, so badly it needed to be burned?

Would Lorelei have laughed? She might have, he admitted. She just might have.

He stroked his beard, contemplating that. Contemplating how much his life had changed in two short days. Just a few days ago, he hadn’t even known there was an Annie. Now she was here. They were married. But that didn’t change the fact that Lorelei was still gone. As if he could ever forget.

The smell of skunk wafted over to him.

“Well”—he grimaced and looked over at Ray—“let’s do this then. Ray?”