The Bartered Bride (The Brides Book 3) (17 page)

TWENTY-TWO

I
n her bed, Annie tried to return to sleep, but she heard the strangest sound in the darkness. The storm had passed, and the house had turned quiet, seemingly in an instant. At first she didn’t hear anything at all, then her ear caught the faintest of taps, or more like a small
clickity-clackety
kind of noise.

What on earth?

It couldn’t be a mouse. The noise was more like something mechanical. Like something you might hear from a cash register at the grocer’s, but not quite.

Unable to bear the mystery any longer, she crept out of bed. Sugar stretched and let out a loud groan. Annie froze, knowing any moment Mae would pop upright, worried about the storm.

Mae snuggled deeper into her pillow.

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Annie padded around the outer edge of her room. She kept her arms outstretched, feeling for the dresser and the washstand, so she didn’t bump into them in the dark.

She eased into the darkened hallway, leaving her door ajar. She looked up and down the hall but sensed no movements. There it was again.
Tap-tap-tap.

She pressed her ear against Jem’s door. Was he awake? He must be. What was he doing?

Only the sound didn’t seem to be coming from behind his door. It was a bit further down. With no lamp to light her way, Annie trailed one hand along the slightly roughened wood paneling.

There
. It was much louder here, where the small room off Jem’s bedroom was. He had a room inside his room, she knew, a secret place she hadn’t been invited to explore. The door had been locked when she’d once tried the knob, curiosity catching hold of her. Another mystery. He kept a key on his dresser. She’d seen it one day when she’d brought up his clean laundry, but she’d never tried it in the lock. There’d been no reason for her to go in.

She thought of it as his sanctuary, when in all honesty she didn’t know what was inside. It could’ve been a dressing room. Or perhaps a private office.

Tap-tap-tap.

What
was
that? She needed to know, wanted to know everything.

She wanted to know
him
.

She recalled that moment they’d shared a glance. How she’d touched his hand. She thought about that often.

She watched him a lot. Even when he seemed to be trying his hardest to ignore her.

It was just his way. She often reminded herself to be patient. That things weren’t that bad. They’d found a rhythm as a household. She might wish Jem was a bit more...open, but that wasn’t likely to happen soon. Expecting more than he could give right now—when he’d already given so much—would’ve been an act of ingratitude.

Someday, someday perhaps he would open up. If she didn’t tire of waiting. Or lose heart.

The tapping sound seemed muffled now. Was it slower? Annie had to press her ear closer against the wall to hear.

Then it stopped.

She heard the click of a door from within and the creak of footsteps. Not wanting Jem to catch her spying in her nightgown and bare toes, Annie fled to her room.

The mystery of the tapping noise kept her awake most of the night. Did she dare attempt to ask him in the morning?

TWENTY-THREE

J
em stepped out into the hall the next morning and found himself face to face with Annie. The door behind her was open but there was no sign of Mae or Sugar. They were likely downstairs in the kitchen already, the pup getting underfoot, sniffing around the cook stove. Sugar hadn’t been out since last night before the worst of the storm, so she probably needed a morning walk before she had an accident.

Ray wouldn’t be...appreciative of that. Best get down and take Sugar out.

Annie’s gaze fell on the boots dangling from Jem’s fingers and her somewhat confused expression cleared. Just as quickly her eyes clouded with questions and she raised them to his.

She’d obviously been looking for her boots, mystified at their disappearance.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably. Holding a pair of ladies’ shoes that he’d taken without permission wasn’t a position he normally found himself in.

“I cleaned them,” he said, perhaps a trifle defensively. He held them out to her, eager to divest himself of them. A whiff of shoe polish wafted off of them.

Annie took her boots and cradled them to her chest.

Thank you
, her eyes said.

“You’re welcome,” he muttered, scratching through his beard.

She lifted her brows, evidently aware he had more to say that he was reluctant to spit out. Smart girl.

“The thing is...” he began, then stumbled to a halt, unreasonably embarrassed. Why was it so difficult to bring up the subject of new shoes? he wondered in exasperation. They were just shoes, not in the least intimate—not like frilly underthings, for instance.

She tapped her foot on the floor once and lifted her brows again, urging him to continue.

Jem swallowed and forged on, resisting the urge to run his forefinger underneath his collar, which suddenly felt tight.

“I’m heading into town today, for—uh—some supplies. You’ll come with me?” he asked.

Her eyes widened in what appeared to him to be pleased surprise, and she nodded.

“Right then,” he said, backing up a pace, feeling not unlike a schoolboy. “We’ll look at some boots for you while we’re there, shall we? Shoes without holes,” he added, trailing off lamely as he saw color tinting her cheeks. She thought he was judging her for her shoes. Must be thinking he looked down on her.

She simply held her boots tighter to her chest.

“After breakfast and chores, that’s when we’ll leave. I’ll hitch the ox wagon. Ray can watch Mae, perhaps. Or we could bring her along... We’ll see.” He nodded and strode purposefully forward to pass her, but she stopped him with a hand on his upper arm. Her fingers splayed around his muscle in an interesting way, then she released him, blushing in an even more interesting way.

She must’ve wanted something, for her brow creased. She set the boots down on the floor before her and straightened. For a moment, she stared full at him, her expression intense.

“You don’t have to thank me again,” he said hastily.

Her frown melted into a faintly amused smile, and she waved her hand to clear the air between them.

“Not that?”

She pointed to her ear, of all things, then behind him—not at his door, but at the wall beyond it. He looked, but there wasn’t even a sconce there. Curious. What did she want to say or ask of him?

An ear. A wall. Was it some sort of code?

“Something about the wall?” he asked, trying to be helpful.

She pointed at it harder, then to her ear. Her face was alight with questions he couldn’t answer.

If only she could at least write. She could carry around a slate. She could scratch out her questions with a bit of chalk, wipe them away in between. As it was, she looked about as frustrated as he felt.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and her shoulders fell. “I wish I knew what you wanted. Is there something wrong with your ear? A noise?”

Her eyes brightened at that.

“Did the lightning frighten you last night?”

No
. She struck two fingers against her palm.

“A mouse?” he guessed.

This she wiped away as well. She rapped her knuckle into the palm of her hand, once then twice.

“Yes, no?” he asked, perplexed. One was yes, two was no, but what did that mean? What did it have to do with the wall? Or her ear, for that matter?

She rapped again, now against her ear:
one, two, one, two, three, three, three
. She repeated the motion on the wall.
Rap, rap, rap.

What in the world?

Jem raised his hands helplessly, repeating the count aloud.

She breathed in, perhaps to settle her frustration, then she smiled faintly, pushing imaginary words away from her mouth with a resigned air.
Forget I asked
, she seemed to be saying. Or
it doesn’t matter
.

But it did matter, and he wished he knew what she wanted to say.

She bent to pick up her old boots.

“We’ll get your shoes today,” he said, returning to their earlier conversation, such as it was.

She nodded, then trailed after him silently as he climbed down the stairs and entered the kitchen. Whatever she’d wanted to say nagged at him though.

Forget I asked
. How often had she expressed that sentiment as a girl?

Everything in him suddenly wanted to fix that for her. But he couldn’t. He’d have to resign himself with simply buying her a new pair of shoes. Perhaps two. One for outside—a pair of sturdy walking boots. And another pair for...whatever else she wished. Going-to-church shoes maybe. Whenever they’d go to church. He frowned, realizing they hadn’t gone into town since that first day they arrived. She must be lonely for female companionship. She had Mae, of course, but that was hardly the sort of womanly companionship she was likely used to.

One thing at a time, he told himself. Today, shoes. It was Friday, wasn’t it? The stores would be open. Then maybe Sunday morning he could rouse Ray into going to church with them. Whether Ray wanted to go or not, Jem realized he wanted to go. He liked the idea very much. It had been a while since he’d attended with the Jessups back in Seattle, and he found he missed it quite a bit. He’d always liked the singing. The sermons too.

Tom Booker’s wedding was also coming up. Ray had mentioned it that morning. Jem had lost track of date in all the shuffle of packing and traveling. And Annie. He hadn’t much been looking forward to a social event, but he’d always liked Tom, the Bookers’ youngest son. The family were longtime friends of the Castles. Tom and Ben had gone to school together, so Ben would be going to the wedding, of course.

And Jem would bring Annie, naturally. There’d be women there that she could talk to—

Jem caught himself up short. Annie couldn’t talk. What on earth would she do at a wedding around a bunch of strangers? Would the women of Colorado Springs welcome her? She was different, after all...

They better
, he thought as he tucked into the breakfast Ray set before him.

TWENTY-FOUR

A
ll the day after their surprise visit to church on Sunday, Annie would stop occasionally to admire her pretty new going-to-church shoes, as Jem called them. They fit like a dream. Soft and supple, with no holes. She practically floated about as she did her afternoon chores, marveling at her new silk stockings too. Marveling at the fact that no one had ever worn these perfect beautiful shoes except her. No one.

They weren’t work shoes, and she probably should’ve taken them off when they returned back to the ranch. But she was simply enjoying them too much.

Just this once
.

She couldn’t seem to stop looking at them, turning her foot this way and that, nearly making herself fall over any number of times. Ray’s teasing admonitions to “watch your step” and “mind you don’t fall” didn’t vex her in the least. She simply smiled and kept working. She thought about how much she’d loved going to church. It had been like a homecoming: listening to the singing, reading the Bible over Jem’s shoulder. Folks had swiveled around to look at them, but no one had seemed unwelcoming. Just curious.

One young man in particular, Tom Booker, had made a point to greet Jem. After insisting on meeting Jem’s “new wife,” as he’d called her, he’d asked after Ben, seemingly concerned. Before they’d parted ways, he’d told Jem to bring Annie along to his upcoming wedding. Jem hadn’t appeared surprised in the least by the invitation. In fact, he’d assured young Mr. Booker that they were planning on attending.

Jem was planning to bring her along to a wedding.
As his wife.

He’d taken her to church, and she’d sat right next to him. With Mae sitting there and Ray too. Like a family.

And she’d worn her new shoes.

Annie sighed in pure pleasure and peeked down at them again. They were just as lovely today.

Jem was leaving soon with Ray to help find a stray mare who’d slipped out of her paddock. From the bits of conversation Annie had caught, it was the mare that was expecting. Although the horse wasn’t close to her time—a detail Annie had also gathered—Ben was understandably worried. All the men were chipping in to search for her.

“You don’t mind watching Mae?” Jem asked Annie before he left.

She simply waved him on with a confident air. She was used to watching Mae. They had their little routine set by now.

Mae and Sugar trailed after her the rest of the afternoon, making messes in their wake. It seemed she spent as much time cleaning up after their spills as she did with her regular chores around the house. Mae in particular seemed excitable after their trip into town for church. Sugar seemed overjoyed to see them. Though Ben had stayed home this morning, Annie suspected he hadn’t kept the puppy company the entire time. The two—Mae and Sugar—now had the combined excitability of a whole litter of puppies. A volatile mix.

As the day wore on, Mae whined, becoming cantankerous and weepy. Annie encouraged her to sleep, but she refused to take a nap. When she finally started to slow and her chin drooped nearly to her chest, Annie was relieved.

For what seemed the tenth time, Annie repeated the gesture of sleeping hands against her cheek.
Time for your nap
. She led Mae up protesting to her room, but in less than a minute the little girl was curled up on her mattress asleep. Sugar plopped down on the rug beside her bed, as always eager for an opportunity to either play or rest. Or eat some food.

Annie left them so she could continue her chores. She worked with a lightness of step and heart that she couldn’t have imagined a handful of weeks ago.

Jem had bought her shoes. He’d seen her worn boots and decided she needed another, better pair. A new pair that fit properly, just for her. She could hardly believe it. And, on top of that, he’d insisted she get these beauties.
Going-to-church boots
. Who’d ever heard of such a thing?

After she finished folding an enormous stack of linens—humming as she worked—she brought the basket up to her room and checked on Mae. Mae must’ve crawled out of bed, for she was lying on the rug, with Sugar curled up snug against her side, nearly matching Mae for length, head to toe. Amazing. Annie could’ve sworn Sugar had doubled in size over the past few weeks. Although, perhaps it had been a month by now? The pup certainly ate her weight in food.

They looked such a sweet pair—so comfortable and peaceful—the puppy snoring inelegantly and twitching one paw as if chasing that skunk in a dream. Silly dog.

Jem was still out with the other men. Even Ray had stayed with them past his normal time to prepare the evening meal, all banding together to search the property for the mare who’d wandered off.

But Ray had mentioned a cold ham in the icebox before he left, and they had a good dozen eggs left from gathering early this morning. Annie supposed they could all share that for supper. She could make biscuits too. Ray had shown her where the flour, soda powder, and milk were. But that could wait. There was no sign of the men returning any time soon, and she was nowhere near hungry herself yet. Mae could sleep upwards of three hours for her nap, tired as she was.

Should I move her back up to the bed?
Annie wondered.

She’d have to lift Mae and risk waking both her and the puppy. It seemed a shame to disturb them. Doing so could easily spell the end of the nap altogether, and Annie had no wish for that. Mae needed her sleep.

The
tap-tap-tap
sound Annie had heard through the walls a couple of nights ago crept into her mind.

She’d lain awake staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep with that mysterious noise tapping at the edge of her mind. She’d even tried to ask Jem about it, but that had failed miserably. Although, perhaps that was for the best, for he would’ve realized she’d been listening through his wall that night. Listening to that strange sound.

What
was
it?

She remembered tracking the sound to Jem’s room. How she’d fled back to her room when she heard him moving around.

She very nearly giggled at the memory. What had she expected would happen if Jem
had
found her in the hall? What would he have done? Possibly just told her to go back to sleep, that’s what.

And now Jem was gone, and everyone else. Mae was asleep.

There was no one to know or care if she went looking in there on her own. Who would know? Who would it hurt? No one. She just wanted one little peek to find out what had been making the noise.

So she did it.

With a tiny shiver of guilt, she slipped into Jem’s room and fetched the brass door key off his dresser. Her hands trembled. There was the slightest creak, and she jumped, heart pounding, before she realized it was simply the sound of the house settling.

Just one peek. That’s all.

Before she lost her courage, she hurried to the door and slid the key in. It fit perfectly and turned with ease, opening to her touch.

She closed the door softly behind her, then changed her mind and cracked it open, so she could hear Mae if she made any sound, or if the puppy whined to go outside.

What she found was a small room with a desk. There was one small window set up high—barely big enough to get a view of the stables when she stood on her toes. Inside, the walls were paneled with polished timbers, showing the knots in the golden pine and heavy wood grain. It looked to be a study of sorts, which didn’t surprise her. Back home, Mr. Ruskin had been a man of modest means—still was—and even he had a small private study in the house and a larger one in the church. Here, Jem had a desk crafted from wood with beautifully turned legs—graceful and perhaps even a bit womanly. It had a single long drawer with brass drawer pulls that looked like twin smiles.

None of that captured her attention so much as the contraption sitting on top, a glossy black machine, beautifully decorated with roses and gold leaf. It had neat rows buttons and exposed levers that reminded her of metal spider’s legs. Or maybe the inner workings of the church organ. There were metal pads attached to the ends of each leg that look like they were meant to strike something and leave an impression. Like an engraving machine of sorts, for each button was inset with a letter of the alphabet, A through Z, though seemingly not in any logical order.

Annie ran a fingertip over the A and the N, finding them cool and smooth to the touch. She pressed harder, testing the striking motion, and it became instantly clear what its purpose was. It was a writing machine. A
typewriter
. She’d heard of them, of course, but never seen one. There was a neat stack of white paper beside it too, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure how to introduce the paper into the device.

Her fingers trembled ever so slightly as she tested the keys again. A
tap-tap-tap
sound came from it.

It was
that
sound—the one that had mystified her so. He’d been using this writing machine. For what, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps he used it for business correspondence of some sort? Whatever the purpose, it seemed a magical thing to her. Annie wanted to touch it endlessly—to play with the keys and make the words in her head. She knew how to read and spell. It was only handwriting that gave her such terrible trouble. No matter how hard she tried, the words ran away laughing whenever she tried to use a pencil or pen.

But
this
she could do.
With this she could say something. With this she could almost—
almost
—speak.

A thrill shot through her. Tears stung her eyes.

An amazing machine.

She wanted it.

And yet it wasn’t hers to have or to use.

She pressed the A, then tapped out N-N-I-E. Not that she could see the word—
her name
. There had to be a way to thread the paper onto the roller, but she couldn’t see how. She tried this way and that, but the magical right way to do it eluded her, perhaps because her pulse was racing and she was very much aware that she hadn’t been invited into this space.

Although, it wasn’t as if she were stealing anything. She was simply
looking
.

She set aside the single sheet of white paper that she’d lifted up and continued to tap out the keys, making imaginary words. Oh, how she’d love to see her words appearing on the page.

There
must
be some way to put the paper in. There must be some sort of mechanism to get ink onto the keys, and from the keys onto the page. There must be.

Dare she ask Jem about it?

Annie jumped at a sound—a swift
thwap
from a distance—her heart lurching. She held her breath. Was it Jem? Had he come back to check on Mae?

Mae
.

Annie blinked.

How long had she been standing there picking out letters on the typewriting machine? Longer than a minute surely... Ten? Twenty?

Time had stolen away from her. How long had it been?

Even as the thought swam around her head, she fled from Jem’s private room, pausing just long enough to press the door silently closed behind her, the key still in the keyhole. She flew like a breeze down the hall, treading lightly in her new stockings.

She couldn’t let Jem find her there. The embarrassment.

She had to check on Mae.

Was she awake?

Had the puppy made a mess on the floor again?

Ray wouldn’t be happy about that. He’d blame her. And he’d be right to, Annie scolded herself. The puppy was her responsibility when the men were out. Mae was too little to take Sugar out. It would be too dangerous. She could so easily wander out of sight. This wasn’t a quiet small town—it was a ranch. A wild and big land.

Annie sucked in a harsh breath.

It was silly to panic. Mae would be right where she left her. She’d be asleep on the rug, with Sugar curled like a comma against her side.

That’s what she told herself, anyway.

Annie forced herself to ease Mae’s door open as quietly as possible and crept inside. At first all she could see was the bed, its quilt spilling onto the floor. And then the window. The wispy white curtain moving gently in the summer breeze. She edged closer and peered around the bed.