The Substitute Bride. Janet Dean

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СКАЧАТЬ eyes filling with tenderness. “But I want you to know, I’ll be kind to you. Work hard to provide for you. I don’t have much, but all I have is yours.”

      Elizabeth didn’t want to marry, but what choice did she have? She didn’t know a soul in this town. Didn’t have a penny to her name. Didn’t have a single idea what to do. That made her—a desperate woman.

      A desperate woman with a proposal on the table.

      A proposal that would solve all her problems.

      Except this proposal was permanent—and offered to another woman. What would Ted say once he knew her true identity?

      “My farm isn’t much,” he continued, his voice steady, calm. “But with God providing the sunshine and rain, the earth gives back what I put into it.”

      Such a simple yet profound statement. This man gave instead of took. He relied on hard labor, not luck. Ted Logan had planted his feet, appeared as solid as the earth he worked, the exact opposite of her father.

      “I have cows, pigs, chickens, horses.” He paused, then chuckled. “A dog.”

      Elizabeth’s heart skittered. “What does your dog look like?” She held her breath, every muscle tense as she waited for his answer.

      “Black and white. Shaggy.” Ted shrugged. “Lovable.”

      Goose bumps rose on her arms. The exact description of the puppy Papa had given Robby, then taken away.

      Martha always said there was no such thing as coincidence, not for a praying believer. Could Ted Logan be God’s answer for Robby? Without a doubt her brother would adore this hulk of a man. Yes, Robby’s dream stood before her with the promise of a wedding band.

      Ted held out an arm. “Are you ready?”

      A business arrangement he’d said. Maybe if she dealt with the marriage that way, she could go through with the wedding.

      For Robby’s sake she would.

      She slipped her hand into the crook of his waiting arm. They strolled along the street. The occasional passerby gave them a speculative look, but by now most people had left the station.

      Ted stopped at a weathered wagon with nary a speck of gild, nor springs or leather on the wooden seat to soften bumps in the road. Two enormous dark brown horses wearing blinders swung their heads to get a better look at her, their harnesses jingling a greeting. Her carriage waited. The matched pair were built for hard work not pretension, like Ted.

      “That’s King and his missus, Queen. They’re Percherons,” Ted said, a hint of pride in his voice.

      Elizabeth didn’t know much about breeds to work the farm, but Ted obviously cared for his animals, another point in his favor. She ran her hand along a velvety nose. “They’re beautiful.”

      “And mighty curious about you.”

      Clearly she’d traded a fancy carriage for a rickety wagon, but a far more suitable groom. Her fingers toyed with the lily of the valley pinned to her dress. Could she go through with it? Could she marry a stranger?

      Before she knew what happened, Ted handed her up onto the seat with ease, as if she weighed no more than dandelion fluff, then swung up beside her. Elizabeth shifted her skirts to give him room, while the memory of those large hands, warm and solid through the fabric of her dress, spun through her, landing in her stomach with a disturbing flutter.

      She glanced at Ted’s square profile, at this strong, no-nonsense man. The eyes he turned on her spoke of kindness. Even excluding Reginald Parks, she could do far worse. No doubt Ted Logan was a good man. He’d be kind to Robby. To her. That is if he didn’t retract his offer of marriage once she revealed her true identity.

      He clicked to the horses. “I left my children at the neighbor’s. I’ll pick them up tomorrow after breakfast.”

      Elizabeth swayed on the seat. “Children?”

      “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten Anna and Henry?”

      Sally hadn’t mentioned children. “I’m just…tired.”

      How old were they? Since Mama died, Robby’s care had been left to Martha. Sure, Elizabeth had read to her brother, taught him to tie his laces, but she had no experience caring for children.

      What did she know about husbands for that matter?

      And the tomorrow-morning part—did he intend a wedding night?

      Well, if he had that expectation, she’d call on her touchy stomach. No bridegroom would want a nauseous bride.

      Though if she didn’t get something to eat—and soon—there wouldn’t be a wedding. For surely the bride would be fainting on the groom.

      Chapter Three

      On the drive through town, Ted’s bride glanced from side to side, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. From the dismay plain on her face, the town disappointed her. Ordinarily he wasn’t the edgy type, but this woman had him feeling tighter than a rain-soaked peg.

      Not that Ted thought the town paradise on earth, but he hoped she didn’t look down her aristocratic nose on the good people of New Harmony.

      Silence fell between them while she plucked at her skirts. “I’m…I’m sorry about my clothes.”

      “No use crying over spilt milk.”

      Though money was always a problem. Because of her carelessness he’d have to spend more. Would he rue the day he’d advertised for a wife?

      No, if Sally was kind to Anna and Henry, he could forgive her most anything. From what she’d said in her letters, she liked children and would be good to his.

      If not, he’d send her packing.

      His stomach knotted. He hoped it didn’t come to that. Since Rose’s death, his well-planned life had spun out of control.

      Every day he got further behind with the work. Every day his children got less of his attention. Every day he tried to do it all and failed.

      To add to his turmoil, he’d felt the call to another life.

      A life he didn’t seek. Yet, the unnerving summons to preach was as real, as vivid, as if God Himself had tapped him on the shoulder.

      Him.

      He couldn’t think of a man less qualified. Yet the command seared his mind with the clarity of God speaking to Moses through the burning bush.

      As if that wasn’t enough to leave a man quaking in his boots, his bride, the answer to his prayers, now harbored second thoughts.

      Lord, if this is Your plan for our lives, show us the way.

      Up ahead, Lucille Sorenson swept the entrance of the Sorenson Mercantile. The broom in her hand stilled as she craned her neck to get a look at the woman sitting at his side. He tipped his hat as they rolled past, biting back a grin at the bewildered СКАЧАТЬ