His Brother's Bride

Copyright

ISBN 1-58660-845-2

Copyright © 2003 by Denise Hunter. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of the publisher, Truly Yours, PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

All Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

One

Emily Wagner untied the handkerchief from around her nose and mouth, breathing the undiluted dust for the first time of the day. The stage rocked over a rut, and she jostled the woman beside her. She thought to excuse herself, but after six days together and hundreds of such bumps, they were beyond the niceties.

Emily resituated herself as best she could in the fifteen inches space—less than that when she accounted for the heavy man on one side whose body overlapped onto her. She tried to wipe away the dirt she knew covered her face. When she'd dreamed of seeing Thomas for the first time, never had she envisioned her face streaked with dust and her hair a powdered gray.

She felt a trickle of sweat slip down her temple and wiped it away with the dirty handkerchief. To think she'd spent the last of her money on this ride.

It is money well spent, though,
for it will bring me to Thomas.
She smiled, her thoughts on her betrothed, then realized she was grinning stupidly at the scoundrel seated across from her. His knees, dovetailing with hers in the tight space, knocked softly against hers in a movement she suspected was not altogether necessary.

She wiped the smile from her face and looked down at her white fingers clutching her reticule. Thankfully, she was almost to Cedar Springs and her new life. She vowed she could not endure another day on this stage.

That was not entirely true, she reluctantly admitted to herself. In truth, she would endure anything to save her grandmother from her uncle Stewart's clutches. And this wasn't such a sacrifice at all.

She was eager to meet Thomas and have a real family at last. Thomas would be a wonderful father; she didn't have to see him in person to know that. They would have many children, and at last, she would have a real family, all her own. She cared not that the land Thomas farmed with his brother was not prosperous. She'd had little enough in Denver under Uncle Stewart's negligent care. She would make sure her new home was filled with laughter and warmth—and one day, the pitter-patter of tiny feet.
But first, though, I must find the gold. And soon, for Nana's sake.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think of what was at stake. She would not think of sad things today—when she was about to meet Thomas.

It couldn't be long now until they reached the town. She opened her reticule and withdrew the letter she'd saved for last. She'd reread one each day of her journey as a small reward to mark the time and lift her spirits.

She unfolded the paper, her insides churning at just the thought of Thomas's words. His bold, slanted script brought her familiar comfort. She held the page close to her, an effort to hide the private note from the woman seated beside her. Miss Donahue was quite beautiful but had a propensity to be somewhat nosy.

Focusing her thoughts on her intended, Emily read the words she'd nearly memorized.

Dear Emily,

I am so pleased and honored that you have agreed to join me in marriage. I know you will make a fine wife and, Lord willing, a loving mother to any children we bear. I hope I will not be a disappointment to you, Emily, for you are deserving of the finest things in life.

Cade is happy for me, and we both look forward to your arrival. It was generous of you to offer to look after Adam during the daytime. It has been hard on my brother, both losing his wife, and caring for a child and a farm all at once.

Every day I thank God that your uncle found my grandfather's letter. It is astounding that but for that one missive, we would never have begun our correspondence.

I so look forward to meeting you in person. You have been a great encouragement to me these two years.

I will expect you on in Cedar Springs, then, on the eighteenth of May. I will be the man wearing a proud smile.

Fondly,

Thomas

Emily sighed happily and folded the letter. How many women got to marry their dearest friend? She closed her eyes and pressed the paper to her chest.
Thank You, Jesus. Thank You for this man, for his willingness to marry me. Forgive me for my role in this deceit. Help me to find success for Nana's sake.

Bless my union with Thomas, and Lord, bless us with children. My heart fills to overflowing with thoughts of our babe in my arms!

The stage hit a rut and lurched. Emily grabbed the hanging leather strap, her only means of support in the center seat.

“Well, I'll be plumb tickled when this misery is over, I can tell you that,” Miss Donahue said.

“Shan't be long now, if your destination is Cedar Springs, Kansas,” said a gentleman behind her.

Emily's heart thudded heavily in her chest at the words. Her limbs felt weightless and jittery with anticipation. She turned, a difficult task with the heavy man at her side. “How long do you think?”

The man looked beyond her out the front of the stage. “We're coming up on the town even now, Miss. And 'tis glad I am to see it.”

Emily turned quickly and looked just over the crest of a hill. A small town of mostly one-story structures loomed ahead. A few tall buildings and a church sat perched on a grassy hill at the far end of town.

Her mouth grew dry as her eyes scanned the approaching town. There were folks here and there, and numerous wagons, some parked, some moving. Where would the stage stop? Was Thomas waiting even now as he'd promised?

She glanced down at her watch pin. They were nearly forty-five minutes late, but that was to be expected. They entered town, passing over a bridge, the horses' hooves clopping loudly. The heat was forgotten. The dust was a dull memory as she looked ahead.

They approached a tall, white structure—Cooper's
Restaurant and Boardinghouse, according to the sign—and the horses slowed to a walk. A few folk lingered on the porch, and her stomach fluttered at the sight of a tall, dark-haired man among the others.

It was him, it must be. He was the only man except for an elderly gentleman. His skin was darkened like a farmer's, though she would not have described him as gangly
,
as he had in one of his letters.

The stage drew to a sudden halt, and Emily was forced to take her eyes off Thomas long enough to steady herself with the hanging strap. Her torso pitched forward then back as the carriage settled in place. The woman next to her stood, eager to exit the stage, and Emily could see Thomas no longer.

She withdrew her hanky one last time and tried to wipe the dust from her face. When she brushed at her skirt, dust billowed from it. Oh, how she wished she were wearing clean clothes! And her face and hair must be a sight.

The driver opened the door, and the passengers began filing out, though most would be staying only long enough for the noon meal. Emily stood when there was room, then inched along the aisle, stooped over like an old woman because of the low ceiling.

Her stomach stirred with anxiety. What if Thomas thought her plain or homely? What if he changed his mind when he saw her? The thoughts tumbled through her mind and settled heavily upon her heart.

When she reached the stage door, the driver assisted her down, and Emily immediately sought Thomas's gaze. His own eyes, though, had settled on Miss Donahue, who was in front of her. The woman wore a hat over her dark hair, and Emily realized Thomas had mistaken the comely woman for her.

A cold, hard lump formed in her stomach. Of course he'd be hoping the beautiful Miss Donahue were his wife-to-be.

When the other woman rushed past Thomas and embraced the elderly man and woman, her betrothed's gaze left and scattered around the remaining travelers. His gaze settled upon hers when she stopped a few feet shy of him.

He was handsome; there was no getting around that. His dark hair reached just below his jawline on either side of his face, and his eyes, just below the rim of his hat, were a curious mix of blue and green.

A smile tilted her lips; she was unable to suppress her delight at meeting him at last. Everything in her wanted to embrace him. She knew him so well, and he her. She'd bared her heart to him on many occasions.

“Miss Wagner,” he said loudly, speaking over the crowd of people. He removed his hat, and Emily noticed for the first time that he was not smiling. His lips were drawn instead in a tight line.

Her smile faltered. Why was he being so formal? Surely they had progressed beyond the formalities. “Emily,” she corrected. They were to be married, after all.

He nodded once. “Emily. I hope your trip was uneventful. I'm afraid I. . .” He cleared his throat, his gaze breaking contact with hers. He twisted the brim of his hat between strong fingers.

His awkwardness was beyond endearing. She found herself smiling once again. Of course, he was simply nervous, just as she. Emily cupped his arm with her hand. “Oh, Thomas, I am so glad to be here.” She tilted her head and affected an impish grin. “And not just because the ride was most dreadful
.”

“Emily, I have to tell you—”

“These your bags, Ma'am?” The driver set two satchels at her feet.

“Why, yes, thank you.”

The stage crowd bustled into the restaurant leaving her alone with Thomas. The sudden quiet pressed in around them. Something was wrong; she could see it in his eyes. Perhaps he was disappointed; she was no Miss Donahue, after all. The thought stung, but she could imagine what the heat and dust had done to her average appearance.

“I must look a mess.” She tucked a stray hair behind her ear
.

“You're fine, it's not. . . I'm afraid I. . .”

He stopped abruptly and, for the first time, a fire of dread burned within her. His hollow eyes spoke of more than uneasiness or disappointment. Liquid heat surged through her limbs and up her spine. “What is it, Thomas?”

His eyes were shrouded with emotion. She tried to read them, tried desperately to determine what had him so upset.

“I'm not Thomas.” He cleared the raspiness from his throat.

“Not Thomas?” Was that all? Did Thomas have to stay behind at the farm? Perhaps he was afraid she'd be offended. Suddenly she realized who he must be. “Cade?” A hesitant smile formed. Relief began flowing through her, cooling the raging fire of dread.

“Yes, Ma'am, Cade Manning.” He held out his hand, and she clasped it with her own.

His hand felt big and strong, his grasp firm, yet gentle. “Was Thomas unable to get away? I understand completely, please don't think I'm upset.” Her reassuring smile was not returned.

“Miss Wagner—Emily.” He met her gaze directly, and she realized he had not let go of her hand. “Two days ago Thomas's wagon tipped over into a deep ravine. He was thrown off. Apparently his head struck a stone or tree. . . .”

Emily's thoughts slurred. She tried to focus on what he was saying, but panic reverberated in her mind.
Wagon tipped. . .struck a stone. . . No. No, it can't be.
She shook her head and forced herself to speak. “What are you saying?”

His eyes were laced with sadness and something else. Pity, she realized through a fog of fear.

“I'm sorry, Emily, but there will be no wedding.” His Adam's apple bobbed once, and shadows danced in the hollows of his cheeks as he clenched his jaw. “Thomas is dead.”