Rafe rubbed his smooth chin and patted the old wagon he’d worked on till late in the night. A fresh paint job and it’d be good as new. He flicked his glance toward the cabin. No use trying to waste any more time. Horse stomped his indignation at being harnessed, bringing a grin to Rafe’s stiff face.
“Sorry, old buddy.” He thumped his flank. “This is your job till I get my hands on a good harness horse. Trust me, we’re all making adjustments.”
She appeared and rounded the corner of the house to the front porch. He shut the barn door, then leaped to the buckboard seat and slapped the reins. Horse took off with a jolt. Humph. They’d have to work on that. He pulled Horse to a halt as he neared.
“Mornin’.” He greeted and touched his hat.
She bobbed her head.
“Am I loading your stuff, or are we driving in to meet the preacher?”
“I don’t have anything.”
So, she was leaving. Rafe took a deep breath and rubbed his neck. Hard to understand why that didn’t set well.
The woman’s face appeared white and strained. “I have a question.”
He nodded, climbed down from the wagon, and approached the rickety porch. “All right.”
She cleared her throat. “If I stay…would you…?”
His gaze dropped to her hand working circles in the soft ragged material of her dress. She kept her gaze on the wagon but didn’t finish.
Finally he spoke. “Mrs. Stallings, I…”
“Don’t call me that. Please,” she begged, her soft, brown eyes round as she pressed a hand to her breast.
He leaned against the porch support. “Fine, how should I address you?”
She shrugged one thin shoulder.
He sighed and shook his head to clear it. “You had a question?”
“Yes. If we married and had a…‘business arrangement,’ would you agree not to…” she swallowed and stepped back, “…beat me?”
Her dark eyes fastened on him again. Their neediness mesmerized him. Anger at Colvin seared the pit of his stomach.
With exaggerated slowness, he removed his hat and ran the brim around in his hand. He kept his eyes on the dirt to keep the anger toward his cousin from showing in his face. Finally, he looked up and waited until her gaze latched to his.
“Ma’am, as a gentleman. I would never strike a woman.” He spoke with deep conviction. “Never.”
She studied him for a long moment. “Then, I will agree to the…‘business arrangement,’ as you explained last night.”
* * *
Refusing to let fear choke her, she stepped from the porch, leaving a wide berth around the huge man who’d soon be her husband. A sob rose, and she forced it down. Scurrying to the other side of the wagon before she changed her mind, she set her foot on the base of the bed to swing herself aboard.
“Here, let me…”
She screamed and leaped away from the wagon. The man moved so silently, and he loomed terribly close. She pinned him with her eyes. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his face puckered. Surely he wouldn’t break his promise already.
“Ma’am, a man usually helps a woman up to her seat in the wagon.”
She shook her head swiftly. “I can ride here in the back, and I’ll board myself.”
He placed his hat back on, and Jubilee glanced at his golden-blond hair lit by the rays of the sun.
“Ma’am, it’s polite manners for me to help you up, and I’d much rather you ride up front where it’s more comfortable. I’ve already promised I won’t hurt you. You’ve got to trust me if this is going to work.”
She raised her chilly fingers to her face. To be that close to him. To let him touch her. Jubilee inhaled a trembling breath and stepped forward. It took all her courage to allow his big hands to encircle her waist and lift her. Her throat went dry, fearing he wouldn’t let go. But he did, and he circled the wagon to the driver’s side.
As he boarded, his big body juggled the seat and she, panicking, grabbed hold of the seat.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to jostle you.”
He settled in and grasped the reins. Jubilee struggled to keep her leg from touching his, but he required a lot of room.
“I’ve got a coat if you’re cold,” he mentioned, pulling the long garment from the back.
Jubilee gratefully slid her bare arms into the huge sleeves. The outerwear was nearly big enough to wrap around her twice. She kept her head turned as she pondered the man. His physical stature intimidated her. He was a hulk of a man, a great deal larger than Colvin. As a matter of fact, they seemed opposites in many ways. Colvin had been small and wiry, with dark hair and close-set eyes, much like a mouse with his narrow face.
Rafe stood well over six foot, with broad shoulders, blond hair, and striking hazel eyes. Brown one minute, green the next. His nose stood out a bit strong and he wasn’t overly handsome, yet, he was appealing. Nothing Jubilee could remember had been appealing about Colvin. She took a deep breath and tried to calm the trembling in her middle. Perhaps they’d be opposites in personality, too. Jubilee certainly hoped so.
* * *
Rafe’s stomach clenched in pity for the woman next to him. Why, she’d trembled when he’d lifted her to the wagon. She weighed less than a newborn calf. And he couldn’t deny he admired her pluck to have survived the struggles she’d seen in her young life. He pulled himself up short. Hmmm, how old was she?
“May I ask you a question?” He rephrased her words, emphasizing, ‘you.’
She nodded and gave a one-shoulder shrug.
“How old are you?” He glanced at her. She shrank from him.
“Eighteen.”
They rode in silence for a while.
“What about you?”
“Twenty.”
The creaks of the old wagon and the soft plodding sound of Horse’s feet were the only sounds for a long spell. Finally Rafe spoke.
“I’ll drop you at the mercantile while I go make arrangements with the pastor.” He gripped the reins as the faces of his family flitted through his brain. They’d miss the wedding. “Then I’ll stop back and pick you up. Make sure you purchase several yards of fabric. You’ll need a couple of dresses, and I’m sure you’ll want curtains for the cabin. A new quilt for winter will come in handy, and I figure you’ll need one too. So get plenty, and any other necessities. We’ll load up the wagon with food and head home.”
She gaped at him. “I can get fabric?”
“Yes, for all the items I mentioned. Get plenty. We’re set pretty far from town.”
She stared for such a long time that he finally turned. “Problem?”
With a quick shake of her head, she turned her gaze from his.
All right now. This was going to work. Rafe whistled a made-up tune as the wagon plodded to town. It was better than he could’ve planned. She’d cook for him, so he could concentrate on farming. She’d take care of the laundry needs, so he had no worry with that. The garden would be tended to, the cow milked.
Yep. Almost like hiring a servant. Better even, because she had a vested interest. He leaned back in the seat and relaxed. The woman next to him recoiled. He cleared his throat. Except for that. Uneasiness needled him and he shifted again. He had to remember that, without him, she’d be homeless. Yep. This was for her own good.
* * *
New dresses? Curtains? Quilts? He could afford all this? A shot of dread rippled through her. What would he want in return? Selecting fabrics, yard after yard, then multiple threads, was like a dizzy dream. Jubilee could barely believe the volume after so much want. That, with the rest of the supplies Rafe had ordered, came to a very large amount.
On a bench outside of the mercantile, she shivered and laid her hand upon the brown package containing the precious material. Could it be true? Was she really going to take all of this fabric home? She glanced up and searched the street. Fear raced through her. Perhaps this was the way it’d be. He wouldn’t show up and she’d be abandoned here in town. Just as the treacherous thought leaped to her mind, she saw the wagon appear from the direction of the sawmill.
He waved, vaulted from the high seat, and loaded the stuff in the back of the wagon. When he reached for the brown package in her hand, she hugged it to herself and shook her head. He gave a half-grin and encircled her waist to heft her to the seat. She sat for a moment, trying to still her frightened heart. Would she ever get used to that?
He strode into the building to pay for their purchases and reappeared. “We’re supposed to be at the church at one.” He climbed aboard. “So I figure we ought to eat before we head over.”
Eat? Were they going home? She didn’t question him as the wagon set in motion. But he didn’t turn around to head back to the cabin. He went a block up the street and drew to a stop. Jubilee studied her surroundings.
“Pastor told me this place had good food.”
Jubilee waited for him to reappear at the side of the wagon. After he set her on the ground, she stepped back with a puzzled look on her face.
“We’re eating here?” She motioned to Millie’s restaurant, with the red-checked curtains at the windows. Her hand grabbed the side of her skirt.
“Yep.”
He started for the door, but she froze. When he shuffled back to her, he rubbed the back of his neck and raised his brows. “This not a good place?”
“I don’t know, I…” They were eating in a restaurant? She licked her lips and stepped hesitantly toward the door.
He hurried to open it, and she halted, eying him. A gentlemanly gesture. Perhaps he’d been telling the truth, though it did seem strange for someone to hold the door for her. He motioned with his hand to precede him. Once inside, Rafe selected a table and waited for her to sit, then helped her to slide her chair forward. Jubilee gave a gasp and grabbed the table edge. He sat opposite her, his eyes probing hers.
“Do all men open doors and push in chairs?” She scrutinized him.
“Yes. Gentlemen do.”
This would explain Colvin’s lack of manners. He’d been no gentleman. She continued to analyze Rafe a moment as she fingered the flatware. “Oh. They have a lot of silverware. Why are there so many forks?”
Rafe removed his hat and set it in an extra chair.
“Well, the small fork is the salad fork. The large fork is for the main course.”
Her brows drew together. Realizing her mouth hung open, she snapped it shut. The place setting resembled the table at Mrs. Galston’s house. “Can’t you eat your salad with the same fork?”
He chuckled softly. “I suppose you could.”
The waitress appeared, rattled off the specials of the day, then took Rafe’s order. Jubilee paused and dread filled her chest.
She leaned forward and whispered,
“I don’t have any money.”
He smiled. “I do. Get what you want.”
She swallowed and glanced at the waitress again.
“I…” Oh my. She turned pleading eyes to Rafe.
“You like roast beef?” At her nod he told the waitress to bring another plate of roast beef.
Jubilee scanned the interior uneasily, feeling totally out of her element.
“Have you ever eaten in a restaurant before?” He gentled his voice.
She shook her head and saw the pity in his eyes. She glanced away.
“Pastor Barnett said they have good food.”
Her tense muscles wouldn’t relax. She was to be married in a little less than an hour. Again. Her nerves quaked, and she took short breaths. Her hands knotted in her lap.
“I don’t remember thanking you for the fabric. I’ve never had so much.” Her voice came out as a whisper. Oh dear, that made her seem even more stupid, if that were possible. Any moment now he’d stand and announce she was too much of a dunce to marry. But he just nodded and leaned back in his chair. He smiled good-naturedly.
“Reckon it just means work for you.”
He probably thought her a simpleton. She glanced away. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke. “Oh, no, I’ll be glad to get started. I haven’t done sewing in a while.”
It grew quiet at their table, and Jubilee scanned the room. The people seated seemed like regular folk. It must not be uncommon for most people to eat at these establishments. A fancy-dressed couple sat at the corner table, he with his long black coat and vest, complete with his top hat resting in the chair beside him, and she with an enormous amount of ruffles and a large, strange-looking gathering of fabric at the backside of her dress.
The lady wore a crazy-tall feathered hat covered with ribbons, and tied beneath her chin, that looked plain uncomfortable. Surrounding another table, a group of older men in casual clothes told yarns to each other and slapped their legs with glee. Three ladies dressed for tea, pinkies up, sat nearby, deep in conversation.
Rafe shifted in his seat and she flinched. She’d almost forgotten him. It could’ve been enjoyable to sit and study the people as they came in and out, if it weren’t for the fact she accompanied a virtual stranger whom she’d agreed to marry. She lifted her eyes. He stared out the window, watching a horse and buggy. She patted the brown paper package of fabric in her lap. He’d been very kind to purchase the fabric. Was it a ruse to get her to marry him? Her stomach clenched. Jubilee wasn’t sure if it was from hunger or from wedding anxiety.
The waitress arrived and plopped the plates onto the table and scurried away. Jubilee eyed the huge portions covering her plate. This was enough food for two days.
“Do you mind if I pray?” Rafe asked quietly.
Her eyes flew to his. Was he a preacher?