Once Upon a Mail Order Bride - Linda Broday Page 0,4
to his innocence.
No ears to hear the truth.
The late August sun beat down, but the sweat wasn’t entirely the summer’s blame. He raised a trembling hand and shook away the images. It did no good to dig up old bones. His bride would arrive at some point today, and he had too much to do that didn’t include combating old nerves. New nerves took priority. He knew even less about how to be a husband than he now knew about giving sermons.
What kind of woman was Adeline Jancy? Would she, too, be quick to judge, quick to anger, quick to believe the worst? Her letters seemed sweet and caring, but he hadn’t spoken of his past and didn’t intend to ever talk about it. He’d only told her he was an outlaw, a wanted man. Maybe she was hiding things as well. What did he know about her? Only that she’d been released from prison two weeks ago and that Luke Legend, the bride procurer, had picked her up and would bring her to Hope’s Crossing.
What crime had she committed? He couldn’t imagine anything that would have been bad enough to land her behind bars for three years, but she’d only said they’d talk about it when she arrived.
Ridge batted a pesky fly away from his face and stared toward the town’s entrance between the high cliffs.
“She’ll be here.” The quiet statement came from Clay Colby, his best friend and the founder of Hope’s Crossing. Clay’s dream had brought an outlaw hideout up from ashes to a thriving community, complete with a telegraph office, hotel, and stage line service—among most anything else you could want.
“I suppose. Just nervous, I guess.” He pounded a nail into a board on the new bank they were building.
“Ridge, unless you want to tell her, she doesn’t need to know. I certainly won’t breathe a word, and no one else is aware of what happened five years ago.”
“You know, I still dream about that night and wake up in a cold sweat.” Ridge glanced at his friend. “If you hadn’t come along when you did and freed me of that lynch mob, I wouldn’t be here. I can’t remember if I ever thanked you.”
Clay grinned. “Sure you did—many times over. I couldn’t have built this town without you. We’ve fought bad-to-the-bone seeds and trouble together for a long time.”
“Yep, we have.” Ridge squinted at the town’s opening again beneath his dusty Stetson. “What did you and Tally talk about in the early days of your marriage?” Tally Shannon had also been a mail-order bride, and he remembered how rocky those first months had been. Clay had moved out for a while to give her time to adjust.
Somehow, he’d make this work with Adeline. He only hoped it wouldn’t require moving out of his own house.
“Who said we talked?” Clay grinned then grew serious. “Just relax and don’t bark at her. Be gentle and listen to what she says—and what she doesn’t. You’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” Ridge pounded the board extra hard. “I haven’t been with too many women, none that I didn’t have to pay. They scare me. I’m afraid I’ll accidentally say something wrong and she’ll run off in tears.”
Clay chuckled. “They’re not as delicate as you think. In fact, women are pretty damn tough.”
“I can’t help but wonder what her crime was.”
“Her situation might be similar to yours.”
“Maybe.” True, she could’ve been accused of something she hadn’t done. It seemed to happen often enough.
A wagon came through the entrance into town, drawing Ridge’s attention. For a moment, his heart thudded hard against his ribs and his mouth turned to cotton. But it was only Sid and Martha Truman. If he made it through this day, it would be a miracle.
But then he’d have the night to sweat over. What did a man say to a stranger who expected conversation—and certain other things? How did a man sleep beside someone he’d never laid eyes on before today? He groaned. Why in the hell had he ever let Luke Legend talk him into this?
Or rather, Luke’s pretty wife. Lord, Josie could wear down an iron steam engine.
Ridge let out a worried breath and picked up another board. One answer that he couldn’t argue with was the deep loneliness that gnawed at him until he felt like screaming. There came a day in most men’s lives, he supposed, when a fellow got tired of listening to his own heartbeat in the dead of night and