No One's Bride (Escape to the West Book 1) (24 page)

Amy didn’t know how long she rode for, but by the time she returned Clementine to the livery the sun was setting. She checked her hooves, left her eating from the hay rack in her stall, and trudged home.

When she got back to the house the sky was dark. Adam was sitting at the table when she walked in.

He leaped to his feet and rushed over to her. “Thank goodness. I was so worried. George said you left work at the usual time and Marshal Cade said you’d been in to see Courtney, but that was hours ago. Where have you been?”

She kept her face turned away, hiding her eyes which she knew had to be red from crying. “I took Clementine and went for a ride. I just felt like I needed to be alone, to get some fresh air.”

He touched her shoulder. “Amy, are you all right? Did Courtney say anything to upset you?”

She shook her head. “It’s just been a long few days. I’m sorry I worried you. I didn’t mean to.”

He dropped his arm to his side. “I’m just glad you’re OK. Would you like something to eat? I could warm up something.”

“No, thank you. I’m tired. I’d just like to go to bed.” She felt his eyes on her as she walked to the door at the foot of the stairs, but she didn’t look back. She knew that if she looked at him, if she looked into those blue eyes, she would start crying again.

“Oh,” he said. “All right. If you need anything at all, I’m right here.”

Her heart twisted in her chest and she almost gasped at the pain. She had to swallow before speaking. “Thank you. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Amy.”

Her feet felt like lead as she climbed the stairs to her room. Once inside, she closed the door and collapsed onto her bed, her face buried in the pillow.

Just a few hours ago she had been filled with hope and joy. How could everything have changed in so short a time? Surely one’s life being ripped apart should take longer?

Clamping one hand over her mouth to muffle the sobs, she started to cry again.

Adam sat on his bed and stared into the darkness of the room.

He had no idea what he was doing.

He hadn’t been completely honest with Amy when she finally came home. He hadn’t just been worried, he’d been frantic, gone everywhere he could think of to search for her, and finally come home when all he could do was wait and pray. When she walked through the door he had almost cried with relief.

He’d longed to wrap her in his arms and never let her go, but he could see she’d been crying. He’d wanted to ask her what was wrong, but the words had caught in his throat. Surely if she wanted him to know she’d tell him. Wouldn’t she?

Maybe it was just the whole thing with Courtney catching up with her. Adam hoped and prayed that was it and that she would be all right soon. But right now he didn’t know what to do.

She had money now. There was nothing keeping her here. Maybe what happened tonight was her preparing to go. He was terrified she was going to leave and he wouldn’t be able to stop her.

What if she didn’t feel the same about him? What if telling her he loved her wasn’t enough? Or if it even drove her away?

He rubbed one hand across the day’s growth of stubble on his jaw. He was desperate. He needed help. And there was only one place he could think of to get it.

Without turning on the lamp he rose from the bed, dressed quietly and slipped from his room. He listened at Amy’s door for a few seconds, but could hear nothing.

Downstairs he wrote a quick note to her in case she woke up before he returned, telling her he would be back in the morning and begging her to wait for him, and left it on the table. Half an hour later he was riding Stride north through the countryside.

There were places he wouldn’t have dared travel at night like this, but he knew the route well and that it would be safe, and the moon was almost full, lighting up the landscape. The cool air in his lungs as he rode felt good, clearing his mind. After an hour he slowed Stride to a walk as they neared the familiar group of barns surrounding the whitewashed, two-storey house. Adam guided him to the water trough inside the gate, dismounting while he drank, then led him to the stable.

He opened one of the large doors and walked into the dark interior. The strong smell of horses wafted over him, the sound of movement rustling in the gloom. A soft whinny drifted from the darkness and Stride responded.

Adam found the lamp in its usual place and lit it, creating a soft glow that chased the shadows from the large space. Lining the back wall was a row of stalls from which six horses watched him. Stride pulled away and walked up to a sleek black mare at one end. They nuzzled their faces against each other in greeting.

“Hi, Ebony,” Adam said, stroking her neck.

He led Stride into a vacant stall next to Ebony’s, removed his saddle and bridle, and set about cleaning out his hooves as he munched on a rack full of fresh hay. Adam didn’t hurry. Now he’d arrived, his decision to come here didn’t seem so foolproof.

He’d just finished the fourth hoof when the barn door burst open.

“Whoever’s there, come out with your hands in the air!”

Adam sighed at the sound of the voice. He put the hoof pick down and walked from the stall to face the tall man with greying dark hair and piercing blue eyes staring at him down the length of an old shotgun barrel.

The barrel lowered. “Adam?”

“Hey, Pa.”

John Emerson huffed a breath. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the might? Scared your mother half to death when she saw the light in here. We thought it was horse thieves or something.”

“Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”

A tall figure burst into the building, rifle raised. “Pa! Are you all right? Ma said...” The dishevelled young man stopped. “Adam?”

“Hi, Pete.”

Pete lowered the rifle and ran one hand over his close cropped dark hair. “What are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

Adam grinned at his youngest brother. “Nice to see you too.”

“Are you OK?”

“Yes, I’m OK.”

“Then I’m going back to bed.” He turned around to shuffle back out the door. “A growing boy needs his sleep.”

“You’re eighteen, you’re not going to grow anymore. And your head’s practically in the clouds as it is.”

Pete waved a hand without looking back. Adam chuckled softly.

“I suppose you’d better come inside,” John said, following his youngest son.

“I’ll be right in, Pa.”

Left alone with the horses, Adam stroked Stride’s mane. The horse hadn’t looked up from his hay during the entire exchange with Adam’s father and brother. Standing in the familiar stall next to his mother, he obviously felt secure enough to keep his concentration on the important job of eating.

“Wish me luck, boy,” Adam whispered.

He left Stride to his food, patted Ebony’s shoulder on the way past, and headed for the house.

He’d taken two steps through the back door into the kitchen when he was engulfed, from the chest down at least, in his mother’s arms. He hugged her close, a smile spreading over his face. There was nothing like his mother’s embrace to make him feel better.

Florence drew back and looked up at him, placing her hand onto his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

His smile faded and he looked down at the stone flagged floor. She took his hands and led him to the large wooden table in the centre of the room.

“Sit,” she said, pushing him down onto a chair.

Pete was sitting across from him.

“I thought you were going back to bed,” Adam said.

“I was, but then I thought I’d stick around.” His gaze flicked to a selection of bread, butter, tomato, and slices of beef laid out on the table where their mother was taking a seat.

“I get the feeling that has more to do with the food than me,” Adam said.

Pete smiled. “As I mentioned, I’m a growing boy.”

“Only outwards.”

Pete grabbed a spoon and threw it. Reflexes honed from a lifetime with two younger brothers, Adam ducked out of the way. The spoon hit the wall behind him.

He came up grinning. “You couldn’t hit the side of a barn with a cow.”

Pete seized another spoon and Adam tensed to move.

“Were you two wanting a sandwich?” Florence said, her voice deceptively calm as she layered slices of beef and tomato onto the bread.

Pete’s arm, in the process of drawing back to throw, froze before slowly lowering back onto the table. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Yes, Ma,” Adam said, smirking at his brother.

Pete stuck out his tongue and Adam had to bite back laughter.

Florence slid plates piled high with thick sandwiches in front of each of them. Despite it being somewhere around three in the morning, Adam felt a pang of hunger.

“Take yours up to your bedroom to eat,” she said to Pete.

He was clutching his sandwich in both hands, halfway to his mouth. “Why?”

“Because I need to talk to your brother alone. Now get.”

He sighed. “Yes, Ma.” He placed his sandwich back onto the plate and stood, looking at Adam. “You gonna be here long?”

He shook his head. “I have to get back by morning.”

Disappointment passed across Pete’s face. “Oh. Well, see you next time then.”

Adam suddenly wished he could stay. “I’ll come and say goodbye before I leave.”

With a nod, Pete disappeared into the hallway. Adam picked up his sandwich, needing both hands to keep it together, and took a bite. He closed his eyes in bliss.

Florence waited for him to finish the mouthful before saying, “So what’s wrong?”

Adam glanced through the open door to the parlour where his father was sitting in a rocking chair, his back to them. He couldn’t tell if he was listening, or even if he was awake.

“You know those mail order brides?”

He started at the beginning, when he’d placed the advert with the agency. He told her about the replies that came, the way he’d felt the only one he should answer was Amy, the letters he’d received from her that both confused and intrigued him, the letter he’d finally written asking her to be his wife, the anxious wait for the train.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Ma, but I didn’t want you to worry.” He stared at the sandwich he’d lost interest in eating. “I didn’t want you to know how lonely I’ve been.”

At a touch on his hair, he looked into his mother’s tear-filled eyes.

“You’re my son, Adam. I knew.”

Blinking back his own tears, he took her hand and kissed it.

“So what happened with Amy?”

Keeping hold of her hand, he continued his story with Amy’s arrival, her deception, his desire to help her, falling in love, the drama with Courtney, his decision to tell her how he felt, then her disappearance and strange, distant behaviour the previous evening.

“I don’t know what to do, Ma. I don’t know what changed last night. I feel like I don’t know anything anymore. I’m so scared I’ll do the wrong thing and she’ll leave. Please tell me what to do.”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a loud sigh from the parlour. The rocker creaked and his father got to his feet and walked through into the kitchen where he stood, hands on hips, staring at Adam.

“Well that’s always been your trouble, hasn’t it?”

Adam stared up at him in confusion. “I... what has?”

John shook his head, puffed out a breath, and began pacing back and forth across the kitchen. “You’ve always been afraid to stand up for what you want. You think about everyone else and what you think you
ought
to do, but you don’t consider what you
want
to do. When I brought the family here, you could have stayed in Green Hill Creek. You wanted to stay, but you didn’t.”

Adam frowned. “You said you needed me here. You did need me here. I came for you and Ma and Grandma.”

“Yes, we needed you, but we would have survived without you. You were old enough to make your own decision, but you didn’t. You followed mine.” He stopped pacing to face Adam. “The day you left to take over Ezra’s post office was the proudest I’ve ever been of you, son.”

Adam’s jaw dropped. “But... but we had that argument! You said you didn’t want me to go!”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to go, I said I was proud that you did what you wanted, not what I wanted you to do.”

Adam sat back in his chair. “Well you could have told me that at the time.”

Florence was chuckling. “Don’t you know after all this time that’s not how your pa does things?”

John flashed her a look and she grinned at him.

“So what are you saying I should do now?” Adam said.

His father threw his hands into the air, exasperated. “He still doesn’t get it. Do what you want to do! You want this girl to stay, tell her! Do everything you can to convince her to stay. And if she can’t see what a good man my son is and how lucky she’d be to have you, then she’s just not the right woman for you. That’s all.”

Adam’s head was reeling. He opened his mouth, couldn’t think of a thing to say, and closed it again. His father stuffed his hands into his pockets and stared at the range for no apparent reason. Adam looked at Florence. She was wiping at her eyes, a big smile on her face.

“Thanks, Pa.”

John nodded without looking at him. “You gonna eat that sandwich?”

“I’ll make you your own,” Florence said, waving him over. “Eat up, Adam. You’ll need your strength for the ride back to tell Amy you love her so we can all come down there for your wedding. Doesn’t he, John?”

John sat opposite him and Adam could swear he was almost smiling. “If you say so, woman.”