Flint Hills Bride
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She sat down on the bed, her mind in too much turmoil to try to rest. She eyed the trunk that she knew she should unpack, but even thinking about it seemed to take too much energy. She let her eyes roam the room. The holidays she had spent here the past few years seemed to blend together in her memory, but the summers when she was a child were as distinct as separate photographs.
She sat and recalled when the quilt, the picture on the wall, the little writing desk had each been bought and added to the room. Her eyes fell on a doll propped beside a row of books on the shelf above the desk. She had been six when her father had bought it. She had taken it back and forth between the ranch and Topeka for several years. Then when she was twelve, she had left it here.
She lifted the doll from the shelf, unconscious of having moved toward it. She smoothed aside the mangled hair and smiled down at the painted face. This had been her baby. In a display of vanity she had named it Emily.
She felt tears forming in her eyes and tried to blink them away. It was too early to know, too early yet to worry. And besides, Anson loved her. It would all work out. They would convince their families somehow and be married before the baby came.
She put the doll back on the shelf, determined not to think about it, and resolutely turned her attention to her trunk. She was nearly unpacked when she heard a knock on the door.
“Can I come in, muffin?”
She slid the drawer closed as she answered, turned and waited for her brother to enter. He closed the door behind him and opened his arms to her.
She ran to him, accepting his offer of comfort. He stroked her hair and rocked her gently. “I’ve been worried since I got Pa’s letter.” She heard the rumble of his voice in his chest under her ear. “I guess I wish you’d stay a little girl forever.”
She drew away so she could see his face. “I can’t,” she stated. “I’m grown, and I’m in love. Why make things hard for me?”
“The man’s in jail.” He cut off her protest with a finger on her lips. “We don’t want to see anyone break your heart.”
“Let me go back to him.”
He shook his head. “It’s hard for me to deny you anything, but our parents have forbidden you to contact him, and I have to say I agree with them.”
She pulled out of his arms and crossed the room, moving aside the curtain that hung in front of the glass balcony door and looked down on the brown valley below.
“Emily, they’ll be here in two weeks. We can talk it all out then. If you still feel the same, I’ll take your side.”
“I don’t want to wait,” she said.
“If it’s love, it’ll survive two weeks.”
She swung around to face him. “But he needs me now!”
Christian seemed only saddened by her outburst. “I’m sorry, Emily,” he said.
She scowled at him as he left her room. Two weeks wouldn’t make any difference to her parents. Christian’s arguments probably wouldn’t, either. Even her pregnancy—if there was a pregnancy—might not make them see reason. One of her friends from school had confided in her parents and had been sent to a maternity sanitarium. She had come home after the baby was born—a baby she was never even given a chance to see.
No, she couldn’t count on her parents. Or Christian. If she was going to be with Anson, she would have to do something herself.
Emily had hoped to spend the rest of the afternoon alone, but only minutes after Christian left, there was another knock followed by a loud whisper. “Are you sleeping?”
Emily opened the door and Willa flounced in. “Mama put Trevor down for a nap, and now she’s writing.”
Emily smiled at the girl’s sour face. Lynnette wrote love stories under the name Silver Nightingale. It had created quite a sensation when the family had first heard about it, though they were used to it now.
“I know!” Willa declared, trying to snap her fingers. “I’ll go make cookies.”
“You will?” Emily was always surprised at the girl’s self-confidence. “Have you made them by yourself before?”
“No, but I can. I’ll show you how, if you want.”
Emily laughed and took the child’s hand. While they went down the stairs, one step at a time, Willa related all the times she had helped make cookies, cakes and pies. By the time they rounded the bottom of the stairs and went through the dining room, Emily was almost convinced that the girl could make the treat herself.
She pushed through the kitchen door with a chattering Willa behind her and came face-to-face with Jake. The little girl skipped around her and headed toward Martha at the other end of the room. Emily stood staring at Jake.
After a moment she realized that he was actually several feet away and the plank table separated them. Somehow their eyes had locked in such a way as to minimize the distance. It was disconcerting, and she made an effort to shake it off.
She tore her eyes from his face and only then did she realize what he was doing. On the table were several piles of Martha’s dried flowers and a half-filled vase.
She grinned at him. “Here’s a talent I wasn’t aware of. Is this how you keep yourself busy between chasing desperados?”
He looked down at the flowers as if surprised to find them there. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me,” he said. “I’m arranging flowers without the first idea of what I’m doing.”
She laughed and joined him on his side of the table. “Are these for the dining table?”
He nodded.
“And what are these for?” She slid a pair of scissors out from under a few dry stems.
“Trimming my nails?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. It wouldn’t do for him to think he had actually made her laugh. She was still mad at him. “Dear little Jake,” she said, looking up into his face a good eight inches above hers. “Flowers on the table can’t be so tall as to block people’s view of one another. These must be trimmed.”
She lifted the flowers out of the vase and prepared to start over. “You can run along now,” she said, uncertain whether she really wanted him to go or not.
“Oh, no. If I leave this to you, Ma’ll find me another job, and you might not come help.”
Had she imagined his emphasis on you? She was suddenly warm. Did he really have to stand so close? She was starting to feel slightly light-headed. It was the faint scent of the flowers, surely. She trimmed two of the brittle stems to the appropriate length and handed him the scissors, forcing him with her elbow to move a step away. “Trim all of those,” she said, indicating a pile of flowers, “the same length as these.”
She watched him take four of the flowers, line their heads up and carefully measure them against one of her trimmed flowers. Snap. He handed her the newly trimmed bouquet, giving her a courtly bow.
The pleased look on his face made her want to laugh. He was acting more inept than he actually was. She dropped the flowers into the vase and waited for his next offering. It came quickly. He was having fun now, trying five and six at a time. Soon the vase was full, and she called a halt to his trimming.
He snapped the scissors in the air twice, as if unsatisfied. “Now what?” he asked.
“Now, nothing. We put it on the table.”
“We’re done? That wasn’t so hard.”
Emily lifted the bowl as Martha stopped beside the table. “That’s lovely, children. I think the two of you should make the Christmas wreaths, you work so well together. Why don’t you go set the table while I clean up here?”
Emily nodded and headed for the door. Jake went around her quickly and held it open. “See what you did,” he whispered as she passed. He followed her into the dining room adding, “Now we have to make the wreaths. You should have let me do it wrong, and we’d never be asked again.”
She laughed as she set the vase on the sideboard and bent to find a tablecloth inside. “What kind of attitude is that for a lawman?”
She rose and turned before he answered. She thought for an instant that the gleam in his eye was something other than teasing, but it was gone before she could determine what it was.
“Lawman,” he said. “There’s the key. One wrong move, and I was ready to arrest those flowers.” He took an end of the cloth as she unfolded it and helped her spread it smoothly over the table. “But gussy up a wreath with pine cones and ribbons? I don’t know.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Emily retrieved the vase of flowers and set it in the middle of the table. She realized she was looking forward to working on decorations with Jake. For the past few minutes, while they had made up the bouquet, she had been able to forget her worries.
She looked up to find him watching her again, that strange light back in his eyes. He turned quickly and headed for the sideboard. In a moment he was back with a handful of silverware. He didn’t look at her, and she didn’t speak, afraid of what she would see if she forced him to turn in her direction.
She went to gather the plates and napkins, aware of Jake in a way totally different from a few moments before. She felt almost an attraction. But that was absurd. She was merely missing Anson. Or responding to Jake’s attraction to her.
How could this have happened, this sudden change in perspective? And she knew she wasn’t imagining it.
Chapter Two
That night Jake lay on his bed in his parents’ frame house not far from the Prescotts’ stone mansion and studied the window-shaped moonlight on the ceiling. Why was he in love with Emily? Of course he had asked himself the same question many times over the years. There had never been a satisfactory answer.
Why shouldn’t he be in love with her? Now there was a question with plenty of answers. His family worked for hers, for one. Her family was rich, and he was a two-dollars-a-day deputy. She was a city girl who played at being a rancher in the summer and on holidays. He was a country boy who would be lost in the city and make a fool of himself at any fancy social event.
And it wasn’t as if she were perfect. She was more than a little spoiled, moderately lazy and very mouthy. Of course her sharp tongue had always been witty enough to be entertaining. He had usually felt he held his own in their verbal sparring.
Maybe she wasn’t really lazy. He only saw her when she was on vacation. Her family had bragged about her high marks in school, and he assumed she worked for the grades. She was actually quite an accomplished horsewoman, and, according to his mother, wonderful with Christian’s lively children.
Jake groaned and rolled to his side. Soon he would be convincing himself that she wasn’t really spoiled, that she simply deserved all the attention and advantages she had gotten all her life.
The whys and why-nots of his feelings didn’t change them. He wanted her. She made his pulse race simply by entering the room. She made him feel like a king when she smiled up at him. She filled his dreams.
God knows he had tried to feel the same way about other, more accessible, women. It never worked. He had compared them all to Emily, and they had all fallen short.
And now she was in love with someone else, someone totally unacceptable. God forgive him, but he had been thrilled to learn her family didn’t approve. He could feel less guilty for hating the bastard.
It was going to be hell being with her every day, knowing she was thinking about Berkeley, but it was something he had to do. He had to protect her. He told himself he wasn’t going to try to win her. He wasn’t acceptable, either. Someday he would have to watch her marry someone else.
But not now. And not Berkeley.
Emily woke early the next morning. It was Sunday, and both families would be attending a little country church. Martha would have been up early preparing a box dinner to eat at the church. She wasn’t sure if she was looking forward to seeing all her old neighbors or not.
She lay in bed listening to the soft voices coming from the other room. Lynnette was trying to keep Willa quiet, but it was impossible. The girl chattered nearly every waking moment.
Emily smiled as a few of the child’s words reached her. “But Aunt Emily…” and “…almost Christmas!” Not the kind of things to encourage an excitable little girl to additional sleep.
She heard doors open and close and guessed Lynnette had gone into the nursery to get Trevor. After a few minutes of Willa’s hushed chatter the little group went downstairs.
Emily considered getting up and joining them for breakfast, but she hated breakfast. In fact, just thinking about it made her feel queazy. And sharing the table with the two little ones last night didn’t make her eager to repeat the experience. Oh, they were lovely children; in fact, they were adorable. But they were more than she could handle this early in the morning.
“What I have to look forward to,” she muttered, then wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t sure yet.
She sat up in bed and fought back a wave of dizziness. “It’s too early to get up,” she muttered, holding her head. But the spell passed quickly.
After slipping into her robe, she crossed the room in her bare feet. She would write to Anson. She would address it in care of his family; they would see that he got it. Somehow she would figure out how to get the letter to the post office.
With pen and paper she told him how much she loved him and missed him. She tried to relate how much she wanted them to be together, how she would be there with him if it were possible.
She didn’t tell him about the baby. She needed to be sure then tell him in person. She didn’t know how he would react. He had never mentioned marriage, though it had seemed to be understood between them. Still, it wasn’t something she should tell him in a letter.
She did tell him, however, that she was confident he would soon be released, and, if not for her family’s obstinacy, they would be together.
She wrote that she was staying with her brother, where the ranch was located, and how, from a certain direction, it was almost hidden by a hill. She described a spot where a trail behind the barn curved around the hillside. She promised to walk there every morning and think of him.
An hour later the carefully worded letter was finished. She left it on the desk and dressed and fixed her hair. When she was ready to go downstairs, she reread the letter, hoping it said what she needed it to, and folded and sealed it.
How was she to get it to town? Christian had said she was forbidden to contact Anson. Lynnette wasn’t likely to defy her husband. Besides, she was so burdened with children she was next to no help. Martha or her husband, Perry? Too loyal to Christian.
Jake. His connection with her family was certainly less than his parents’. Would he sneak it into town for her? Did she dare ask him? He had made it clear, in spite of his apology, what he thought of Anson. Still he was her best hope.
She slipped the letter into the bodice of her dress, checking herself in the mirror to make sure it didn’t show. Before she turned away she caught a glimpse of her face and stopped. Her eyes looked almost haunted. She forced a smile to her lips and blinked away the fear. If not for the constant worry, she could believe that being in love was good for her complexion. She almost glowed.
She started to turn toward the door, laughing off the silly thought when something else occurred to her. She hadn’t imagined the look on Jake’s face last night. He had feelings for her. Could she use them? She stared at her reflection. It seemed so dishonest, so…cruel. Yet.
She pictured herself on her wedding day, walking down the aisle while the guests snickered at her rounded belly. She couldn’t wait until her family came to their senses. With a seductive wink at her reflection, she turned away.
The open stairway was situated in the center of the house, and Emily could look down on both the living room and dining room as she descended. Lynnette was in the living room retying a bow at the back of Willa’s dress while the girl chattered an explanation of how it had come undone. Trevor sat on Martha’s lap watching his sister with devoted attention.
Lynnette had just turned the little girl around and kissed her on the cheek when Emily entered the room. “Emily, dear,” she said, moving to greet her. “We were going to let you sleep. Of course, we’d love to have you join us.”
“Thanks,” she said as Willa came to take her hand. “I’ll go along and keep my niece occupied. I’ll see if I can make her giggle aloud in church.”
“No. Not me. I’ll make you giggle.”
Their tickling match was interrupted by Christian’s announcement that the buggy was ready. Wrapped in coats and hats, the women and children crowded into the seat while the men mounted horses to ride alongside.
Emily caught a glimpse of Jake as she settled Trevor on her lap, but he rode enough behind that she didn’t see him again until they arrived. He helped his mother out of the buggy and, with his father, escorted her into the little stone church.
Through the service and the lunch that followed, she was never successful at catching his eye. She was conscious always of the stiff letter tucked inside her bodice.
Finally the families began to repack their dishes, gather up their children and start for home. Both Willa and Trevor were asleep by the time they reached the ranch. Lynnette carried Trevor up to his bed while Christian carried Willa inside. She awoke as soon as the warm air hit her. Christian left her in Emily’s care and went out to take care of the horses.
“Let’s play checkers,” Willa suggested.
Emily agreed. There was little else she could do. Jake was no doubt helping with the horses, but if she went out to find him now, she would also find Christian. Jake would probably spend the rest of the day close to his family. Her chances of delivering the letter were almost nonexistent.
By the time Willa had the game board set up, Lynnette joined them in the living room. She offered to play the winner, giving Emily an excuse to beg off. Willa didn’t seem to mind, and Emily, pleading a headache, escaped to her room.
Upstairs Emily pulled the letter from the bodice of her dress. How was she going to get it to Jake? Of course, even if she found a way, there was no guarantee he would agree to take it to the post office.
Feeling depressed, she dropped the letter onto her desk and removed her dress and shoes. She hadn’t intended to sleep, but now that she was alone she found herself feeling increasingly tired. In a very short time she was asleep and didn’t awaken until nearly supper time.
Martha was given the afternoon off on Sundays, and Emily found Lynnette in the kitchen preparing the evening meal. Both children were there offering their own brands of help. Emily gathered Trevor into her arms, but he decided to be shy and cried for his mother. Emily handed him to Lynnette and took over the cooking instead.
In short order the simple meal was ready, and they moved into the dining room to set the table and wait for Christian.
“I’m glad you came with us this morning, Emily,” Lynnette said as they laid out plates and forks. “It went a long way to relieving Christian’s mind.”
“Was he afraid I’d run away while you were gone?”
Lynnette laughed, startling her. “No, I don’t know as that occurred to him. He just imagined you moping around here all day. He doesn’t think that would be good for you.”
Emily straightened the place setting in front of her, avoiding Lynnette’s eyes. “I decided that time would pass more quickly if I was busy. Anson and I may not be together any sooner, but it’ll seem like it.”
Lynnette didn’t respond and in a few minutes Christian joined them. The children required considerable attention during the meal, and Emily was left in peace. Later, she volunteered to do the dishes, shooing the family into the other room. Once the dining room and the kitchen were put back in order, she returned to her room, using an exciting novel as an excuse.
In her room, she found herself too keyed up to read. Instead she paced until she was tired enough to sleep.
The children woke Emily again the next morning. She listened to them go down the stairs and fought off a queazy feeling she was beginning to associate with the thought of breakfast People weren’t intended to get up this early, she decided. She lay in bed for a long time, plotting how she was going to talk to Jake alone. She would do it today if she had to help with chores herself, she decided.
Then she went over just what she might say to him, and what his response might be. She hoped to prepare herself with a convincing plea against any possible argument.
Finally she realized her planning had become an excuse to put off the doing and rose. Still she found herself taking her time getting dressed, wishing for some sudden flash of insight that would lead her to just the right words to convince Jake.
Before she left her room, she slipped the letter into the bodice of her dress as she had the day before. She had a brief picture of her doing that every morning from now till Christmas. No. She would get the letter to Jake today.
As she descended the stairs she noticed that both rooms below her were empty. She walked through the dining room to the kitchen, expecting to find Lynnette and the children there. Martha was alone.
“Where is everyone?” she asked, peering over Martha’s shoulder at the bread she was kneading. She watched for a chance to grab a pinch of the yeasty dough. It was now late morning, and she was hungry.
“They’re downstairs.”
“Downstairs? You mean down-downstairs?” She brought her prize to her mouth and sucked her fingers. “You mean in the ballroom?”
“It’s more like a playroom, now,” Martha said.
Emily wanted to groan. The house had been built on a hillside with the middle floor at ground level in back. That and the top floor were the only parts of the house that were used regularly. The lowest level, with its bay windows overlooking the valley had been intended for entertaining. It had been built to please her mother, who hadn’t stayed very long.
She considered going down but knew she had a much better chance of seeing Jake right here in the kitchen, since this was where he would come when his chores were done. Martha gratefully accepted her offer of help. Besides dinner preparations, Martha was starting the stew for supper. Emily spent the next hour cleaning and cutting vegetables saved from the fall garden.
She had discovered a few years back that she enjoyed cooking. The warmth of the kitchen and the pleasant smells were very relaxing. She found herself humming as she chopped.
She stopped midphrase when the door opened to admit Christian, Jake and Perry. A cold breeze came in with them, and she shivered. After she and Martha had greeted them all, she discovered Jake’s eyes on her and felt herself warm too quickly. No, it was just the heat from the stove dispelling the chill.
Jake, his eyes still on her, grabbed Christian’s arm. “What’s she doing in the kitchen?” he whispered in awe.
Christian chuckled. “Strange sight, I know.”
“I’m cutting up vegetables for tonight’s stew.” She managed to sound irritated even though they made her want to laugh. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
He removed his hat and came slowly toward her. “You’re in the kitchen, Emily. Working.”
She glared at him, aware of an audience. “And?”
He stopped near her, bringing cool air with him. Emily felt it caress her warm cheeks. She hadn’t realized how much heat the stove was putting out until the past few moments.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asked.
She wondered if her face was flushed then realized he was still teasing her about working. “I’ll have you know,” she began, pointing at him with the tip of her knife, “I’ve become quite handy in the kitchen.”
“I’m impressed.” He grinned at her as he shed his coat. Instead of taking it and his hat to the hooks in the back hall, he leaned against the counter beside her. “You even kind of enjoy it, don’t you?”