Pony Express Christmas Bride. Rhonda Gibson
Thomas rode home. Philip’s horse snorted and pranced toward the barn. Thomas let the horse gallop as he thought about the past few hours.
Thanks to Philip, Thomas would be marrying a girl he hardly knew. Thomas had to admit the prospect didn’t rankle as much as it had at first. He didn’t know when he’d seen a prettier girl. Her red hair looked soft enough to touch, but he hadn’t dared. Her pretty brown eyes revealed every emotion that flowed through her. Was she aware of how expressive her eyes were?
Josephine had said that all she wanted was his name and the right to claim she was married. Would that be enough? She’d also said she was almost twenty-one, two years older than him. But she was still young enough to want someone she could love. Still young enough to want a house full of children someday.
He’d never be someone she could love. His scarred face had caused girls to giggle and laugh at him. While living in the orphanage, he’d been tormented because of the scar. At the age of eleven, he’d had a crush on one of the girls, only to have her scorn him with cruel words. You’re so ugly, no one will ever want to adopt you. Those words had stuck with him and they could still do damage if he dwelled on them.
If Philip, who’d been his best friend at the orphanage, hadn’t said that Rebecca and John Young couldn’t adopt him unless they took Thomas, too, then he would never have been adopted.
He dismounted in front of the lean-to, where his own horse waited to be fed. Philip’s gelding hurried into the warmth of the small shed. Thomas fed both horses and unsaddled Philip’s.
Besides the fact that he bore a hideous scar on his face, Thomas also dealt with the fact that he’d never know who his real parents were or where they had come from. He had no idea who he really was. Would any of that matter to Josephine someday?
His fingers moved to the scar. The caregivers at the orphanage had said he’d been dropped off on the doorstep with no identification and the wound on his small face. How was it that a baby of a few months could get such a gash?
Rebecca Young said that the scar was hardly visible, but Thomas knew it was there. He could feel the light groove with his fingertips. Earlier, Thomas had sensed Josephine’s gaze on it and he figured that she thought the scar was revolting. She’d shivered just looking at him.
Thomas knew he’d marry Josephine and stay married to her for as long as she wanted. But he vowed he’d never allow himself to believe that she’d care for him. With that thought in mind, Thomas headed for the house.
The snow continued its slow, mesmerizing drift to the ground. In a couple of months Christmas would arrive, and from the looks of the weather right now, it might be a white Christmas. It was hard to believe that he’d spend the holidays as a married man.
Thomas shook the snow off his collar. He stomped his feet on the porch to remove the packed slush from his boots. The question tore through him again. Was he out of his mind agreeing to marry a total stranger?
What would it be like to spend every day with someone other than Philip, especially a female? Would she expect him to be at her beck and call?
He opened the door and entered the warmth of the cabin. It really was more of a shack, but he and Philip had gladly called the place home. Now he wondered if it would be good enough for Josephine. Would she hate it? Think it ugly? Would she soon be demanding they get a place of their own?
Philip turned from the stove. His eyes danced. “Sorry I sprung her on you like that. I meant to talk to you about her before she arrived,” he said, dishing up a plate of Hazel’s stew and fresh bread.
Thomas took his gloves off and stuffed them into his pocket. He calmly hung his coat on the nail by the door. His hat was last to come off. “Philip, you have done some stupid things, but this takes the cake.” He turned to face his brother. “What were you thinking?”
Philip placed a second plate of food on the table. “Well, at the time I simply thought you needed someone to be here with you when I’m off riding the trail.”
“Why? Do I seem like the sort who needs constant companionship?” Thomas pulled a chair out and sat down.
Philip added a plate of sliced bread to the table, then turned for the coffeepot and two cups. “Hey, between the two of us, you are more sensitive. I get lonesome, so figured you did, too.” He sat down.
Thomas bowed his head, said a quick prayer before speaking again to Philip. “Then why didn’t you get a bride for yourself instead of one for me?”
“I’m not the marrying kind,” Philip said, then tucked into his dinner.
Thomas laughed bitterly. “And I am?” Didn’t his brother realize that of the two of them, he, Thomas, was the less likely to have a woman fall in love with him? After all, he was scarred both inside and out.
The next day, after taking care of the morning chores, Thomas made his way through the falling snow across the back pasture to Hazel’s farm and knocked on her door.
The whole way over he’d prayed Josephine had changed her mind about getting married. Maybe Hazel had talked some sense into her. After all, would marrying him really keep her uncle at bay?
“Good morning, Tom. What brings you out in this weather?” Hazel asked, stepping to the side to let him in.
He took his hat off. “I just wanted to make sure you two were all right.”
She shut the door. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
Thomas shrugged, then followed her to the warm kitchen. Josephine sat at the table cradling a coffee cup in her hands. Red curls framed her face; they looked damp, as if she’d just washed her hair. Wide brown eyes met his and he saw weariness in their depths. Or maybe it was just acceptance of the situation she found herself in.
“Sit down. I’ll make you a cup of coffee,” Hazel said. She walked to the stove. “Would you like a warm biscuit with butter and honey?”
He grinned in her direction. “I’d love one. You make the best biscuits around.” Thomas pulled out a chair and sat.
In a soft voice Josephine asked, “Did you come to tell me you’ve changed your mind?” She stared into the cup instead of looking at him.
This was his chance. He could say yes and she’d probably understand, but something in the way she sat and looked into the coffee stopped him. It was as if she expected him to back out. She tucked a curl behind her ear.
If nothing else, Thomas Young was a man of his word. He straightened his shoulders and answered, “No, I just wanted to come by and see if Hazel would like for me to milk the cow this morning. It’s pretty cold out there.” He took the plate Hazel handed him.
Hazel pulled on her work boots and grabbed her coat off the hook by the kitchen door. “Thanks, Tom, but I think I’ll run out and milk her. You kids probably have stuff to talk about.” Hazel hurried out the door, not giving him time to protest.
Silence hung in the air between them. Thomas wasn’t sure what to say. He breathed a silent prayer for the right words. After he’d finished his biscuit, he asked, “What did Philip write to you about me?”
Josephine rocked the cup back and forth in her hands. “Not much. Just that you lived in an isolated place, but that we could meet in Dove Creek and we’d get married there.”
He picked up his own cup. “Well, before we get married, we should get to know one another.” Thomas set the cup down. “I’ll start. I was raised in an orphanage not far from here. My parents or someone dropped me off on the doorstep as an infant. I have no idea who my parents were or why they abandoned me like an old, torn-up shoe.” He heard the bitterness in his voice and pressed on. “When I was twelve, Rebecca and John Young came to adopt a boy. Philip and I had grown very close. They picked Philip, but he refused to go with them unless they