Lonesome Bride Read online

  "He ain't stupid, your Pa,” Shorty replied calmly. “And if you keep looking at her the way you done today, nobody's gonna have to tell him anything."

  "She told me she's going to honor her marriage contract,” Jed stated grimly, pulling Zeus away from the water and Pinta. “That's marriage to my father, Shorty. I reckon that means keeping my mouth shut. I owe her that much anyway."

  Shorty shrugged, gathering his mare's reins and swinging himself up on her back. “I reckon you might owe it to your Pa, too."

  Jed watched silently as Shorty rode down the hill toward the house. He did owe his father. Buck couldn't marry a woman who'd slept with his son. The old man had contacted the Baptist program because he wanted companionship, someone to sit with on long winter nights. Jed supposed that meant keeping him warm on those winter nights, too. His throat closed jealously at the thought of Caite lying in his father's bed, submitting to his caresses.

  Well, blast it, his father had waited a long time for his bride to arrive. He deserved someone who would make him happy. But why did it have to be Caitleen?

  Jed swung back up on Zeus, determined to ride until all thoughts of a certain flame-haired woman were banished from his mind. Zeus pranced and shifted beneath him, seemingly just as eager to go. As the big stallion began to run, Jed could tell he was going to be in for a mighty long ride.

  * * * *

  Caitleen knew she was not going to accomplish anything by staying in bed all afternoon. The lengthening shadows meant several hours had passed while she hid in this room. After Jed had gone, she had remained undisturbed. Plenty of time for her to think.

  She had come here to marry Jed Peters, and marry him she would. Even if it was a different man than the one she had thought. Living with Jed, the one who had met her in Lonesome, would be difficult. She could manage difficult. After all, she had spent the first twenty years of her life living with Desmond O'Neal. She supposed living with Jed Peters, Jr. could hardly be worse.

  "I do not have much of a choice,” she spoke aloud. The option of returning to Pennsylvania to become Drake Hammond's wife was certainly unacceptable. Even if the thought of seeing his face when he discovered he had not bought a virgin was enough to bring a smile to her lips.

  She was no longer a virgin. The sobering thought quickly quashed her grin. Her future husband would be certain to discover that as well. She shivered suddenly. The thought of a stranger's hands on her body made her cringe.

  "You did not mind Jed's hands on you,” she whispered, angry with herself for remembering. She had to find something else to take her mind away from such thoughts.

  Caite swung her legs over the edge of the bed and began looking for her shoes. The first thing she needed to do was seek out the kitchen and get to know the household. Lorna had been so kind already ... Caite flushed. She hoped the older woman had believed her story about catching a chill.

  "Welcome, Miss Caite,” Lorna greeted her warmly when Caite at last entered the dining area.

  Caite smoothed her dress self-consciously. Despite having washed her face and brushed her hair, she was still a little grimy from the trip. She allowed Lorna to draw her to one of the chairs at the long, scarred wood table.

  "Please do not mind my appearance,” Caite said. “I could not find my trunk..."

  Lorna tutted kindly. “I will not to be hearing a word of it, Miss Caite. We will be having Shorty or Jed carry your trunk in for you. We did not wish to disturb your rest."

  "Thank you,” Caite replied simply. She took the cup of tea the older woman offered. It felt deliciously warm against her cold hands.

  "I'm glad to see you're up and about,” Cooky called from the kitchen. A low half-wall doubling as counter space separated the room was from the dining area. The spare, kind-faced man leaned companionably against the partition and nodded toward her and Lorna. “Tea's the best thing for a chill. The biscuits'll be right up."

  Lorna patted Caite's hand. “We'll be taking good care of you until Buck gets back."

  "Buck?"

  Lorna smiled and threw her hands in the air. “I am forgetting! All of this must to be so confusing for you, my dear. Buck is Jed's father."

  "But I thought...” Caite broke off. She certainly was confused.

  "We were always calling them Big Jed and Little Jed,” Lorna explained. “But Little Jed did to grow up, and he was not so small anymore. He did not be liking to be called Little Jed. His father, the hands had always called him Buck anyway. So the rest of us called him Buck. But, so! I am forgetting sometimes and still calling the young master Little Jed. And he does get so angry!"

  Caite smiled. “I have witnessed Jed's temper."

  Lorna looked at her shrewdly. “Was he rude to you, Miss Caite? Buck would not stand for it."

  Quickly, Caite shook her head. The last thing she wanted was to give any indication the relationship between her and Jed had been anything but proper. “No, as I said before, Lorna, Jed was a perfect gentleman."

  Lorna snorted again, joined by Cooky. “If Jed was a gentleman, it will have been the first time."

  Caite relaxed in her chair. Surely this deception would grow easier with time. Besides, it would soon seem as though nothing had happened. The years would probably soften the memories until she would not even be sure they were real.

  I'll have other memories to replace them, she thought uneasily. The memories of another man's hands upon her. Perhaps another man's babes to hold in her arms.

  "...to greet you."

  Lorna had been speaking. Caite blinked. “Pardon?"

  "I said it was sorry I am Buck was not here to greet you,” Lorna repeated. “He had been waiting so long to hear from the bride program."

  "Where has he gone?” Caite asked, curious to know more about the man she was going to marry.

  "To Staghorn,” Cooky mentioned. He winked, sliding a plate of gorgeous brown biscuits across the divider for Lorna to grab. “I reckon if he'd known how pretty his bride was gonna be, he'd a stuck around!"

  Lorna tutted, handing Caite one of the savory treats. “Be paying him no mind, my dear. Albert is to be fancying himself quite the Casanova."

  By the fond look the housekeeper cast at the cook, Caite guessed the pair had more than a working relationship. “When do you expect him back? Buck, I mean."

  "We could be waiting several days, or even weeks. When Buck goes to town, he likes to stay for a while."

  "I see.” Caite waited to feel disappointment. Instead, she felt relieved.

  Lorna again patted her hand. “Do not to be offended, Miss Caite. If Buck had known you were coming, he surely would have been waiting. Shorty came from Lonesome and told us about the telegram only the day after Buck left. Shorty was to tell Buck the good news, but his favorite mare took lame. He had nurse her, and oh, la!” Lorna threw up her hands. “The troubles that can pile up! So we decided to wait for Buck's return."

  "I suppose it is my good fortune Jed and Shorty were in Lonesome, then,” said Caite.

  Lorna looked at her conspiratorially. “Those two were up to no good, I am certain of it. Women, gaming ... If it is good fortune for anyone, it is you did to arrive before they could to be getting into troubles!"

  Caite nodded, but inside her stomach twisted. There were plenty of saloons in Lonesome. She had seen just a few from the station. Saloons and saloon girls, she would hasten a bet. Girls just willing to give a handsome man like Jed Peters a tumble.

  "That is none of my business,” Caite said to admonish herself as much as to reply to Lorna.

  For an uncomfortable moment, the other woman stared at her. In that instant, Caitleen was certain Lorna had guessed some, if not all, of the events that had taken place during the trip to Heatherfield. Then Lorna smiled and sipped from her cup of tea, and the moment passed.

  "Come,” Lorna declared after they had polished off the last of Cooky's delicious biscuits and homemade jam. “Let me show you the rest of the house."

  Heatherfield was lov