His Substitute Mail-Order Bride

He barely managed to hide his shock at her request. What catastrophe had forced her on this path? Her family had been quite well off. Had she fallen on hard times before or after her marriage? Why did that even matter? She was here now. Here and in need. Plenty of men had gained and lost fortunes while the country rebuilt. Following the war, more than one man had made imprudent investments.

“You’re exhausted,” he said. She was in no shape to clean hotel rooms. “We’ll settle everything after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have imposed.”

Russ flipped back the edge of his coat and planted one hand on his hip. The throbbing in his head intensified. He wasn’t putting her off. He was truly concerned about her current state. Why did she insist on reading the worst into his innocent words?

The deep creases around Anna’s eyes spoke of too little sleep and too much worry. She was fatigued beyond a lengthy train journey.

Russ looked at her for the first time. Really looked at her. A thousand tiny clues added together. Anna was widowed. She was riding the train on a borrowed ticket. She was too thin. She was desperate for a job but hadn’t gone to her sister for help.

Something had gone terribly wrong in her young life.

She was evading the real question, and though it pained him to push her, he craved answers. “I could better help you if you told me the truth.”

Chapter Three (#u04282e42-ccac-50d9-87ff-b4e1f18f9086)

Why did Russ have to be so perceptive?

Pursing her lips, Anna pointed at the distant horizon. “Is that Cowboy Creek?”

“Yes.”

“It’s larger than I expected.”

“The train route helps. We have a thriving depot.”

“That’s nice.”

“I promise I only have your best interests in mind,” Russ said. “If you reconsider, and you’d like a friend, I’m here for you.”

She was desperately trying to evade his questions. Most men enjoyed talking about themselves. Why must he keep turning the conversation back to her?

“You know the truth.” She twisted a bonnet ribbon around her finger. “I’m a widow. I borrowed Susannah’s ticket. I need work. You know everything there is to know about me.”

Her pulse thrummed in her ears. Though she longed to confide in someone, she caught the words before they escaped. If he knew what they were saying about her in Philadelphia, he’d never agree to help. At best, he’d treat her with pity, at worst, derision. This was her one chance to start over. She didn’t have any other choice but to remain silent.

“Anna,” he began, “I don’t feel I know you at all. Not anymore.”

“All I need is a job reference,” she said. “Finding work benefits both of us. I’ll be able to repay the cost of the ticket sooner. Unless you’re uncomfortable. We haven’t seen each other in years, after all.”

“I’m happy to give you a reference. I’ll do whatever I can. You have to know that you can count on me for help.”

Anna narrowed her gaze. What if she was making a terrible mistake? Trusting the wrong man had led her down the path of destruction once before. What if he wanted something in repayment for helping her? She didn’t have much to give. Perhaps he was being charitable, or perhaps not. These past few years had her questioning everyone’s motives. Though he must know she had nothing to offer, she’d best be on her guard.

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn’t mean to sound surly.”

She’d take him at his word that he’d help her find a job. Nothing more. Cowboy Creek was her best chance at living free of the scandal, and she most certainly wasn’t confiding in anyone about her recent troubles. Especially Russ. With his past connections in Philadelphia, he could rip open the story before she had a chance to escape again.

“I understand pride, Anna.” He glanced at her askance. “Just remember that pride often comes before a fall.”

“Pride is not the problem.”

She had more important things to consider. Things like surviving to the next week, the next month, the next year. Pride was the least of her worries. The news in Philadelphia had shredded whatever vanity she might have possessed.

“Then I won’t press you,” Russ said.

Her heartbeat slowed to a normal rhythm once again. “Thank you.”

“We’re almost there. I’m sure you’ll want to rest after we’ve visited the doctor.”

For now, she’d be grateful for the things that had turned out well. At least she wasn’t stranded in the next town over. At least she’d made it this far. At least he didn’t know about the scandal. Yet.

He was suspicious of her. Sooner or later that skepticism was going to get the better of him, and he was going to make inquiries. He’d sent to Philadelphia for a bride, after all, which meant he kept in touch with people he knew there. How long could she hide? Once he mentioned their renewed acquaintance to his friends back east, someone was bound to share the salacious gossip. After all, it had only been three months since Edward’s death had made her a widow.

At least letters traveled slowly in this part of the country. Perhaps by the time he discovered her secret, she’d have enough money to relocate to another town.

“I don’t need a doctor,” she grumbled. “I just need a little rest.” She stifled a yawn. Lately, it felt as though no matter how much she slept, she still needed another hour or two.

Russ touched the gash on his forehead. “The doctor is for me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

“Relax, Anna. I’m teasing you. I’m trying to put you at ease. You used to enjoy my jokes.”

She tugged at a loose button on the wrist of her glove. “That was a long time ago. A lot has happened since then.”

He rested his hand over hers, dwarfing her fingers in a brief embrace before pulling away. “You have my condolences on your father.”

His touch stirred up long-dormant feelings. The statement was a diplomatic concession considering the treatment he’d received from her father following the jilting.

“His death was painless.” Her stomach dropped. Russ knew her father had passed away, therefore he must keep in touch with people back home. People who might share the circumstances of her husband’s untimely death. “He didn’t suffer.”

“Losing a loved one is never easy.”

Her heart pounded against her ribs once more. He was going to discover the truth, and then what? Would he keep her secret?

“He always seemed invincible.” She tugged on the loose thread. If she lost the button on her glove, she’d never find a match. She’d have to replace them all. “He was always such a powerful presence, I somehow thought he’d live forever.”

“I suppose we all think our parents are invincible when we’re young.”

A memory tugged at the edges of her recollections. There was a hint of scandal surrounding Russ’s father, though she couldn’t recall the exact circumstances. She’d been too young at the time, and whispered conversations had come to a halt when she entered the room.

She yanked the button free. What did buttons matter? What did any of this matter anyway? There was no use delving into either of their pasts. After today, she doubted she’d see Russ again. He probably wanted to be rid of her just as quickly as she wanted to escape his company.

Disappointment warred with relief. The less he saw of her, the less likely he was to consider her past.

If only he was the ogre she’d invented over the past five years instead of this handsome, solicitous savior. Then again, nothing else had gone as planned; why should her experience with Russ be any different? She’d missed the train, she’d been accosted by outlaws, and Russ wasn’t the cruel villain she’d invented after he’d jilted her sister. The more she knew about him, the more he challenged the assumptions she’d brought forward from all those years ago.