The Unexpected Bride

She darted her gaze up at him and her face beamed, even though he had seen her fatigue just moments before.

She started gathering more and stopped only to dab the sweat off her forehead.

Haydon couldn’t bear to watch her suffer, so he jumped in and helped her. When they had a nice bouquet, they headed back to the wagon.

He grabbed his canteen and opened it, then retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket and saturated it with water. “Hand me the flowers.”

She gave them to him, and he wrapped the soaked cloth around the stems. “That will help keep them until we get to the ranch.”

“Thank you.” Her smile lit up her face. She really was sweet.

Not liking that train of thought, he quickly helped her into the wagon, climbed up himself and down the road they went. A road that now seemed longer than it ever had been before. Having her sitting next to him had him squirming like a worm. The sooner he got them to the ranch, the better.

Rainee glanced at the flowers in her lap. It was very thoughtful of him to help her gather them and then help preserve them until she could give them to his mother. Her own mother never tired of getting fresh bouquets of flowers, and Rainee loved seeing her smile. How delightful it was to be able to do something nice for Mr. Bowen’s mother, too.

Soon she would be her mother also.

Her heart smiled with joy.

Rainee cut a sideways glance at him. Whatever it took, no matter how uncomfortable or how hard things became, she would make this situation work. Fear would not dissuade her from doing anything less. Besides, she had no other choice.

When the beatings became more severe, life-threatening even, after months of praying, she and Jenetta had concocted this plan of escape. Good thing their strategy had worked. Because the night she had fled she overheard her brother’s scheme to sell her to their fifty-eight-year-old neighbor—the repulsive Mr. Alexander, or Mr. Gruff as she called him. They were to wed that next day. Just thinking about it made her tremble. That man was cruel to his very soul. Just like her brother, Ferrin.

Thank You, Lord, for guiding my steps and for delivering me from Ferrin’s wicked plans. Help me to be a good wife to Mr. Bowen. And if You would be so kind, would You please delay the wedding ceremony to give us a little time to get to know each other before we wed? Thank You.

Rainee hoped God would especially answer her prayer about getting to know each other first because her intended was obviously a man of few words. And even fewer smiles. What if he was cruel like her brother? That thought frightened her. God have mercy on her if she had left one boiling pot for another. Or, she gulped, something worse.

She blocked out the distressing thoughts from her mind and took in the view around her. Several head of magnificent spotted horses grazed in a grassy meadow, which seemed to go on for miles. A frolicking black foal with a white spotted rump bucked and kicked and nuzzled its matching mother. A deep longing to spend time with her mother and to be a carefree child again bled deep into her soul, but self-pity would not change the past. She dragged her slumped shoulders into an upright position, determined to make the best of her new situation.

Farther up the road, she noticed a herd of pigs. She closed her eyes and cringed against the thousands of fingernails scraping their way up her spine. A deathly fear of the four-legged beasts had always plagued her, and she loathed the stench that accompanied them. Her nose wrinkled, and her mouth twitched just thinking about the offensive odor.

To get her mind off of the wretched creatures, she turned her attention onto an amazing cluster of lavender blooms covering the wide-open field. Curiosity got the best of her. “Mr. Bowen?”

He glanced at her, then back at the crusted road. “Yes?”

“Those purple flowers over there…” She pointed toward the field overrun with the fragile flowers. “What are they, please?”

“They’re Camas plants.”

“Camas?” Rainee tilted her head and shifted her parasol so she could look at him.

“Yes.”

“Are the pigs eating them?”

“Yes. They love them.” He looked out over the fields. “In fact, the hogs love the Camas bulbs so much the people around here actually call this place Hog Heaven.” He glanced at her. “Informally, that is.” His masculine lips curved into a smile.

And what a beautiful smile it was. She wished she could see more of them. If only she knew how to make that happen. But at present, that seemed improbable.

“What a dreadful waste of such lovely flowers.”

“It’s not a waste. The Camas bulbs are the only thing that helps the hogs survive the rough winters here in Paradise Haven. They’re about the only animal that can survive the winters here. For now anyway.” He glanced at her, then back at the herd of swine. “But, I’ve heard tell the railroad will be coming through here sometime soon. That’ll make it easier to get supplies to feed cattle through the winter so they won’t starve.”

Just how bad did the winters get here anyway? Although she wanted to ask, she also wanted to know more about the fascinating Camas plant. “Are they only edible to hogs?”

“No, humans can eat them, too.”

“Are they native to this area?”

“No. Farmers from back East brought them with them when they moved here.” The reins jiggled in his hands as he twisted his head toward her. “I’m sure glad they did.”

She wondered why he was glad, but nothing more was said. She also wondered how much farther it would be before they would arrive at his place. Her arms ached from holding her parasol upright, but every time she lowered it, the hot sun burned through the fabric of her jacket.

Minutes later, at the base of a mountain, they rounded a clearing in the trees. A very well-kept, large, two-story clapboard house flanked by long windows with white shutters came into view.

Rocking chairs, small tables and a porch swing sat under a covered porch, making it look quite welcoming. Off to the left of the house, a makeshift scarecrow on a stick watched over a large garden.

Nestled up against the trees set two smaller but generous-size clapboard homes. They, too, had covered porches, a swing, rocking chairs and small tables—and were equally adorable as the larger house.

A young girl with blond braids skipped around the corner of the house. As soon as she spotted them, she hastened their direction. “Haydon! You’re back,” she hollered and slowed her pace when she neared the horses. “Did you brung me anything?”

Haydon laughed.

Rainee liked the deep rumbling sound.

“You’re too spoiled for your own good, Squirt. I hate to disappoint you, but I didn’t bring you anything. I didn’t go to town for supplies.”

The little girl scrunched her brows and looked up at Rainee. “Who’re you?”

“Abigail. Mind your manners.” Mr. Bowen stepped on the brake and tied off the reins before jumping down.

“Sorry.” She lowered her head, her long braided pigtails reaching down her green cotton dress.

He ruffled the little girl’s hair, then turned and extended his arms toward Rainee. Situating her belongings out of the way, she laid her hands on his shoulders and allowed him to help her down.

The instant her feet touched the ground he removed his hands from her waist and stepped back as if she had bitten him.

“Miss Devonwood.” Haydon looked at her, then at the small child. “This is my sister Abby. Abby, this is Miss Rainelle Devonwood.”

Rainee smiled down at the girl with the blond hair and sapphire eyes so like her brother’s. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Abby.” She gave a quick curtsy as was customary back home when greeting someone. “But please, call me Rainee.”

“Nice ta meet ya, too, Rainee. I like the way you talk.”

“I like the way you talk, too. You have a lovely accent.”

“I dun’t got no assent.”

“Accent,” Mr. Bowen corrected her again.