Frontier Want Ad Bride. Lyn Cote
“Won’t be long and I’ll have you by the fire. Warm enough under the lap rug?”
Judith nodded. “It all happened so fast.”
“Soon as I talked to Noah Whitmore, the women just took over. I tried to rein them in but got nowhere. I decided just to stand back, sure they’d do a better job of planning a wedding than I would.” He couldn’t believe how he was babbling. He shut his mouth. What might come out if he kept this up? He needed to guard his tongue. He couldn’t let her connect him to her brother. Doing so might bring up matters he didn’t want to discuss, didn’t want known here.
“After meeting Mrs. Ashford, I understand. And it was really a lovely wedding.”
Asa nodded but concentrated on navigating the narrow trail through the snow. He felt a shiver shudder through her. “You’re cold,” Asa said. “Move closer.”
She scooted over the few inches separating them, shutting out an avenue of the cold wind. “That’s better,” she murmured.
He tried not to stiffen. Having her this close awoke his senses in an unexpected way. Why couldn’t she have been a plain, unexciting woman? In the scant light left by the fading sun, Asa held himself back. “Not far now,” he said.
* * *
Judith found she couldn’t speak, her throat frozen. Grateful for the low light, she nodded against his shoulder. Then, up the trail in a clearing, she saw the roof of a large log cabin and barn facing it. Asa drove up to the door of the cabin. Within minutes he had her inside. “Stand by the fireplace.” He knelt and stirred up the banked fire. “I need to get your things and put the horses away.”
A little disappointed he hadn’t carried her over the threshold, she quelled any complaint. He’d wanted her in by the fire. That showed concern. Men didn’t often feel the same way about customs as women did. “Can I help?”
“Just keep warm.” He hurried outside. Soon he carried in her trunk and then her hatbox and valise. “Won’t be long.” He went outside again, shutting out the chill of early March. She stood in place like one of the surrounding forest trees, unable to speak for fear she’d burst into tears. This was hard.
The fire began to throw out some heat, and she fed it more kindling and wood. Before long, she began to feel the warmth, though inside she still felt chilled.
The door opened again and Asa walked in. She turned to him, her pulse thrumming in her ears. In the low light, she gazed at this man, now her husband. She wasn’t afraid of him, but what would be expected of her tonight? She’d had no mother to explain the workings of marriage to her. She’d never been allowed alone with a man in his home before. And now she stood here with a stranger. Her throat tightened and she felt a bit faint. What would happen next?
Asa went to the table opposite the hearth. She heard him strike a match. Even this tiny sound caused her to flinch. She watched him light an oil lamp.
He straightened and turned to her. “Warmer?”
She nodded, frozen in place.
He passed her and held his ungloved hands toward the fire. “Winter can linger this far north.”
Once again she was struck by his rich voice, and her stomach was doing little hops and skips now.
He faced her and rested his hands on her shoulders. “We’re strangers, and here we are, married.” His voice curled around her nape, making her shiver with awareness. “Don’t worry.”
She didn’t really know how to take what he was saying.
“You’ll sleep there.” He pointed to a curtained doorway. “I’ll sleep in the loft till we get...more acquainted.”
His words finally made sense to her jumbled mind. “Thank...you. This all happened so fast.”
“For me, too.” He looked uncertain. “I have something for you,” he said, motioning toward the other side of the cabin.
Judith turned and gasped. The lamplight glinted off the gold paint on what looked like a brand-new Singer sewing machine. Unable to stop herself, she moved toward it. When she reached it, she almost feared to touch it. “For me?”
“Don’t do much sewing myself,” he said, again sounding uneasy.
Then she did touch its smooth metal and wood. “I can see you’re going to be an indulgent husband.”
“No,” he replied with something like a grin in his tone. “Arbitrary and overbearing to the end.”
His unexpected but almost teasing reply eased her tension. “No one has ever given me such a lovely gift.” Impulsively she whirled to him and, standing on tiptoe, kissed his cheek. Shocking herself.
He looked abashed. “I wanted to give you something special but useful.”
“I love it. So thoughtful.” She felt herself blushing.
He stepped away from her, acting uncomfortable. “I’m going to feed the fire, bank it down for the night.”
She watched him, not knowing what else to do.
Then he escorted her to the bedroom curtain. “Night... Judith,” he said formally.
“Good night, Asa,” she replied, her throat thick with gratitude for his understanding. It felt strange to call a stranger by his given name and to hear him address her in the same way.
She entered the room and sat down on the bed, suddenly spent. For a moment she just sat there, gazing around in the scant light, listening to Asa moving about the cabin, barring the door and then extinguishing the lamp. She heard the ladder rungs creak as he mounted them to sleep in the loft.
Finally she let out a sigh. Sights, sounds jumbled in her mind. She swept them away by rising and preparing herself for sleep. Light from the fire around the curtain provided just enough for her to do what she needed, and soon she snuggled into the chilly bed, shivering slightly.
Her deep fatigue and rampant confusion fought it out, but fatigue won and her eyes closed just as she finished her nightly prayer. It included concern for her sister, whose day had not gone as expected, either.
At the last moment, she recalled that upon meeting Asa, she’d thought she’d seen him somewhere before. But that was ridiculous, probably just nerves. She’d given her promises to Asa, and even if she wasn’t the pretty sister, the one men always paid attention to, she would do her best to be a good wife.
* * *
Asa soon wrapped himself in his quilts on the pallet he’d made up in the loft. The knowledge that someone else was sleeping here leaked through him, easing a tightness in his chest. A woman was here, and he wouldn’t face another long winter alone in his cabin.
Yet after the war, he’d come to the cabin wanting to be alone.
Army camps had been crowded, teeming with thousands of men. He’d never been able to get away, by himself. And when he’d returned home, people had sought him out and brought up the war every time they met him. He’d finally left home to come here to homestead, find peace. Put the past behind him...if he ever could. But he found that silence only caused him to remember sights he longed to forget.
He tried to relax and stretch out, forcing himself not to dwell on how pretty his bride was and how sweet. He began to tell himself that everything was going to turn out right. He had a place of his own and now a wife.
After they got used to each other, life would smooth out. His past, his secret guilt, would remain secret. She had not said a word about recognizing him. After all, she would have seen him only at a distance, and he’d been in uniform and bearded both times. He would be able to keep the past and the present separate.
He continued to reassure himself. He’d made a wise decision to go along with Mason Chandler and put that ad in the Dubuque paper. Everything was going to turn out fine. He’d survived a war. He could survive adjusting to marriage.