His Substitute Mail-Order Bride

She was tired. She was out of sorts. Perhaps she simply wasn’t reading beneath the surface of his actions. The facts were firmly embedded in her memory: Charlotte had eloped weeks after the jilting to avoid the scandal, and their father had disowned her. Anna hadn’t spoken to her sister since.

If Charlotte and Russ had married, then Anna would still be in touch with her sister. If she’d had Charlotte to lean on after their father’s death, she might not have entered such a hasty and unfortunate marriage. If Russ had greeted her announcement about Susannah with anger and recriminations instead of pushing his feelings aside, then she’d feel better about deceiving him.

If. If. If.

The disparity in the villain she’d created and the man before her made her all the more determined to repay her debt quickly. Yet more questions balanced on the tip of her tongue. Considering the outsize role Russ had played in her life, she didn’t know much about him. He’d been in the war. His father was gone. He had siblings. That’s all Anna could recall.

Against her better judgment, she was hungry for information about the life Russ led outside of his law practice. Perhaps the information might even be useful as she settled, albeit temporarily, in the town.

“You lost your father, too, didn’t you?” she asked.

“He’s not part of our family any longer.”

Shock rippled through her. She’d always assumed the hint of scandal was linked to his father’s death, but the evasive answer pointed to something else. “What was he like?”

She didn’t know why she’d asked such a personal question beyond a nagging sense of puzzlement about his father. Even if Charlotte had known the truth, she was hardly likely to confide in her younger sister.

“He was a good man,” Russ said, his voice flat. “Proud. Honorable. Loyal to his family. Too proud, sometimes.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stirred. Though his words were glowing with praise, the tone didn’t match his sentiment. There was a slight edge in Russ’s voice, a pursing of his lips when he spoke. As someone familiar with keeping secrets, she recognized the signs. There was more to Russ’s father than what he was saying.

“You have a brother, as well, don’t you?” she prodded.

“Two of them, to be precise. Seth lives just outside of Cowboy Creek with his new wife. They recently adopted three boys and his wife’s niece.”

“Oh my, that’s quite a household.”

“I haven’t seen my younger brother, Adam, in years.” This time the sorrow in Russ’s voice was obvious. “I used to receive letters, but I haven’t gotten one in months. I don’t even know if he’s alive. I have to believe he’s still out there somewhere. I don’t know why, but I feel as though I’d know if he was gone.” Russ scoffed. “That probably sounds stupid.”

“Not at all.”

Anna’s eyes burned. Charlotte had always been a distant, ethereal creature. The years between them had been a chasm. Charlotte had been older and elegant, with little patience for a younger sister with dirt beneath her fingernails and muddy circles over her knees from digging in the garden.

Even during the war, Charlotte had been sought after by the young bachelors in the community. She’d had pale blond hair, soft blue eyes and a delicate figure. She spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. Everything about her seemed to attract men like honeybees to nectar.

How many times had Anna knelt on the balcony above the parlor, peeking through the railings, when Charlotte was holding court? Charlotte had been a fragile porcelain figurine. She was to be looked upon and admired but never touched or bothered. Most of her beaus had ignored Anna. Not Russ. He’d always brought her a sweet or an extra flower. He’d wink at her, as though they shared a special secret.

For someone who was largely ignored in the household, she’d found his attention heady. Anna had adored his visits. Then he’d betrayed Charlotte. He’d betrayed their family. He’d betrayed her.

Yet despite her better judgment, Anna was still drawn to the man before her. Did she trust her feelings or the facts? Did she trust the man who’d been kind to a lonely young girl, or did she accept that he’d callously thrown aside her sister and tossed their family into disarray? How did those two men exist in the same person?

A wagon passed them, and the driver tipped his hat.

“We’re almost home,” Russ said. “The traffic will be heavy soon.”

Home. For now. The future remained uncertain.

A skyline of boxy structures appeared above the horizon. The town was larger than she’d expected. Buildings sprawled into the distance, undulating over the rolling hills. Additional frame structures in various stages of completion surrounded the outskirts. A few of the buildings rose three stories into the sky. A train whistle blew, and she caught sight of a steam engine leaving a trail of smoke.

Another rider passed them at a gallop, the horse’s tail whipping in the wind.

The nearer they moved toward the town, the more wagons and riders appeared. Everyone seemed to know Russ. He made introductions and soon all the faces blurred together. After meeting countless new people, she gave up even trying to remember their names.

As though sensing she was overwhelmed, Russ caught her gaze. “New visitors are always a curiosity. Especially when a bride train comes in.”

She touched the side of her bonnet. “Will there be any awkwardness for you, because of Susannah?”

“No.” He bent his head. “I kept the news to a select few. I’ll tell them all soon enough. After I’ve read Susannah’s letter.”

Anna recalled the letter with a jolt. Had Susannah mentioned the scandal? The thought hadn’t even occurred to her before now. Pressing a hand against her pounding heart, Anna took a deep breath. There was no reason for Susannah to reveal anything about her. Anna was merely the messenger. Her role hardly warranted a mention.

Russ pointed toward a shopfront. “Marlys Mason is the town doctor. She’s got some newfangled ideas about how to treat illness, but she has an excellent rate of success, so people mostly take her advice. It’s too bad that some of the old timers won’t see a woman no matter what the circumstances.”

“A lady doctor?” Anna had never considered such a thing but immediately liked the idea. “Why shouldn’t a woman be a doctor?”

“Folks get stuck in their ways, but times change. Sometimes it just takes a little longer than we’d like.”

“Women should get to be whatever they want to be.”

Anna had wanted to write articles about gardening for the local newspaper, but her husband had disapproved. He didn’t want his colleagues to think his wife had to work for a living. Especially at something as coarse and common as the women’s pages.

Russ made a sound of frustration. “Looks like the doc is out. She often assists the town midwife, Leah Gardner, when there’s a challenging case. It’s difficult to keep regular hours.”

A large chalkboard had been set up beside the etched glass window of the doctor’s office. Russ climbed from the wagon, retrieved the whittled piece of chalk dangling from a length of twine, then wrote Anna’s name along with The Cattleman as her place of residence.

Anna made a note of the street. She’d return later and erase her name. A doctor’s visit was an added expense she could ill afford.

“Put down your name, too,” Anna insisted. “You should have that cut stitched.”

“I’m fine. It’s too late for stitching anyway.”

“If I must see the doctor, then so must you.”

Russ dutifully wrote his name and her gaze narrowed. She had a suspicion he’d come back and erase it too as soon as he ensured she was settled. She stifled a giggle. They’d run into each other if she wasn’t careful.

“I’m going to ask Dr. Mason tomorrow if you’ve come for a visit,” she said.

Chagrin flickered over his features, and she grinned.

“All right,” he said. “But this works both ways. I’ll know if you’ve skipped your appointment, too.”

Heat crept up her neck. “Except I wasn’t hit over the head.” She couldn’t very well ask the doctor if he’d visited if she wasn’t planning on doing the same. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve been ill, and someone should look at that cut on your arm.” He climbed into the wagon once more. “Don’t worry, the visit will be charged to the town.”

Her cheeks burned. The only thing more humiliating than being destitute was having everyone else know her circumstances. One needn’t be a Pinkerton detective to ascertain the situation. She hadn’t exactly concealed the fact. She’d begged Russ for a job before, and she was traveling on a borrowed train ticket she couldn’t repay. As demeaning as her circumstances may be, she didn’t suppose there was any harm if Russ knew the truth of her finances. He’d be more likely to assist her if he knew the dire nature of her situation.

“I’m not one of the brides,” she said. “And I can’t accept any preferential treatment on false pretenses.” She might as well set her circumstances straight from the beginning.