The Shepherd's Daughter (Dry Bayou Brides Book 1) (3 page)

What or who was here? After his mother’s outburst, he didn’t know what to expect.

Ma rushed out onto the porch and he took his time following. By the time he joined her, his pa was assisting a very lovely woman from the wagon.

She had a light blue bonnet that crowned a head of golden blonde hair. She had a fair complexion and her nose was as pert as a pixie’s. Slight in build, the girl stood even with his pa’s shoulder. Pleasing to the eye, but what was she doing there? Who was she?

Pa stepped forward, the newcomer on his arm, and smiled. “Billy, this here is Miss Rebecca DuCastille from New York City. She’s come to marry you.”

Billy’s breath caught.

Marry?

His manners, long drilled into him by his ma, dictated that, despite the sudden numbness in his limbs, he should greet her properly. He bowed before her and nodded. “Miss DuCastille, it’s my pleasure to meet you, though the circumstances are surprising, to say the least.”

Her coffee-brown eyes met his with an appraising glint. She offered him a tentative smile. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Mr. Ducharme. I do hope our meeting like this doesn’t affect our future companionship.”

Her voice was soft but confident, and he detected the hint of a foreign accent.

French.

Pa had gone and ordered him a French bride from a catalog. Like he’d done when he’d met and married Ma; though she was born and raised in Albany, New York.

Billy never really believed the tale that his pa picked her out of a catalog, but now he knew better. Because he was standing face-to-face with the woman his pa had picked out for
him
.

Over my dead body.

Anger rose into his chest. How dare they overstep their bounds so forcefully? They’d basically put the ring on Miss DuCastille’s finger. Thankfully, he checked his next words before they left his mouth.

“I am sorry you travelled all this way for nothing. I’m not getting married.”
At least not to a woman I’ve only just met.

Rebecca DuCastille’s gaze met his. Not a trace of embarrassment or confusion on her face. For some reason, the shape of her eyes reminded him of the leaves of the old ash trees down by Clipper’s Creek.

Clipper’s Creek… Ray. Shoot. We’re not going to make it to the fishing derby.

His thoughts must’ve shown on his face because his mother stepped closer. “You’re thinking about that girl again, aren’t you?”

“Ray?” Why wouldn’t he? She was his best friend. He thought of her often, more frequently, as of late.

“That girl is why we had to go behind your back and advertise for a wife for you.” His pa dropped Miss DuCastille’s arm and came to stand beside him, resting a hand on Billy’s shoulder. “We love Ray. She’s been part of the family for years, but you’re not getting any younger. You spend far too much time with the shepherd’s daughter.”

Billy felt as though the porch had opened up to swallow him. “Ray? What does she have to do with anything?”

How did his friendship with Ray keep him from getting married? If he wanted to get married, he would. Ray would be the last person to begrudge him the happiness of wedded bliss—matter of fact, she’d be the first person he’d run and tell if he ever got himself engaged.

Because she was
that
important to him. Sure, he had other friends, other town kids he’d grown up with. But none of them were Ray.

Ray was…well,
Ray
. There was no one like her and there never would be—though Rebecca DuCastille was something all her own. He studied her again, taking in her straight stature, the demure placement of her hands in front of her, and the genteel tilt of her head.

She was…
interesting
, at least. She was someone, if he were looking for a wife, he’d probably court and marry.

Billy didn’t take the time to dwell on that because his father let out an exasperated snort.

His pa looked down at his mother, a distressed and flustered look in his frank, brown eyes. “I’ll leave this to you, dear. You’ve always been better at…err…gentler persuasion.” His father turned to Miss DuCastille. “May I escort you into the house? Billy will follow soon. In the meantime, we can leave these two to scuffle it out here where they can’t break the china.”

Ma glared at her husband but didn’t say a word as he led Miss DuCastille into the house.

Then Ma turned the full force of her attention on him. “We had to, dear, because you’re so caught up in hunting frogs, shooting cans, and breeding horses that you never seem to have time to go into town and meet any of the respectable ladies coming through.”

He took a breath to speak, but she held up a hand to silence him.

“Darling…” she murmured, coaxingly. “You need to marry a woman who can see to your needs, care for you, care for your home, care for your children. You’re twenty-one years old. It’s time that you settle down. Your father and I agree that Miss DuCastille is a wonderful choice.” His mother’s face glowed with hope that he would, once again, be the dutiful son and just say “yes”.

He hated hurting her—but he couldn’t just give in to this.

Not on something so important.

He heaved a sigh and took her hands in his. “Ma, I appreciate what you and Pa have done for me, truly I do. But I can’t marry a woman I don’t know.”

“So, get to know her. No one says you have to get married tomorrow.” The hope shone ever brighter in her blue eyes. “Why not take the next few weeks, court her, get to know her. And after you’re done, you’ll see that your father and I are right, and she’s the woman for you.”

“Ma, I—”

“Promise me, Willem, just give it a chance.” Her pleading nearly undid him.

She loved him, he knew that. He knew that she only wanted what was best. Sadly, he didn’t agree that marrying a stranger was what was best. He stared at the woman who’d raised him, sacrificed for him, taught him right from wrong. All she wanted right then was for him to promise to court the pretty mail order bride.

How difficult would it be, really?

“Yes, Ma, I promise.” He tried to keep the sound of defeat from his voice.

Another rustle sounded, this time from the bushes beside the porch, but he ignored it.

His mother clapped her hands together and cried out in triumph, which was quite out of the ordinary, then kissed both of his cheeks.

“Thank you, Willem, you have made your momma so happy. I’ll go tell your father and get your new bride settled in.” She waltzed away from him, humming gleefully.

He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t plan on marrying Miss Rebecca DuCastille, no matter what happened.

Once Ma was gone, he looked toward the barn where he’d left Ray after promising he’d return for her.

For the first time ever, he’d broken a promise to her.

He groaned at the hollow ache spreading through his chest.

R
ay braced herself
against the tack room door and tried to catch her breath.

Aw-dingit! I almost got caught snoopin’,
she chided herself, knowing full well that her pa, God rest his soul, would’ve been angrier than a hornet with twisted wings if he knew his only child had been seduced into spying on good people. But she just
had
to.

She’d been waiting for Billy by the barn, hoping he’d come back like he’d promised, but then she’d heard the wagon coming up the road. Since she hadn’t been invited to the house, as would’ve been polite, she decided to take a quick peek.

Just the thought of leaving Billy behind crushed her. So, she’d thrown down her fishing gear and headed toward the back of the house. Once she arrived, she hid behind the lilac bushes to hear what was happening inside the open window.

Billy’s ma told him that she’d found him a wife. Then, once on the porch, said Ray was
bad
for him…

She nearly busted up their conversation to tell that woman to—but what could she say? It wasn’t as if Mrs. Ducharme had lied. Ray and Billy
did
spend a lot of time together, which didn’t leave Billy much time to go into town and chat up those silly women that came through Dry Bayou, looking to settle down with wealthy Texas ranchers.

Like there were many of
those
around.

Billy didn’t need a wife, he had
her
, right? Wasn’t she enough for him? Sure, he’d reached marrying age and, as handsome as he was, he could have any girl dangling after him like a fish on a hook. He didn’t
want
to get married—at least that’s what he told his ma.

She’d also snooped on Billy and his new
bride
.

She’d almost been caught, too. Fortunately, she was as good at running as she was at pretty much everything else she tried. It was a gift. Or a curse. It depended on how you looked at it.

She sank to the ground and pulled her knees into her chest, hugging her legs. Inhaling the scents of horses, hay, leather, manure, and oats, she heard a horse respond with a nicker. There were ten in all, the ones nearest her had their heads out of their stalls, peering at her with curious or bored expressions.

The barn, which was really a stable, was Billy’s domain. It had been since he’d finally begun the horse breeding program he’d dreamt about for 14 years. Back when they’d first met, seven-year-old Billy told five-year-old Ray that one day he’d have the finest, fastest horses in the west.

Ten years later, Billy bought his first Arabian stud and his breeding program began in earnest. He was passionate about it. So much so, that he spent hours a day just looking through catalogs and corresponding with breeders all over the world.

Apparently, he worked too hard and didn’t have time to go courting silly town girls.

Ray sneered.

So his parents went and got him a bride.

The weight of the word “bride”, settled over her.

Billy was getting married? She knew what the words meant, but she couldn’t wrap her mind around what it truly meant for her. For him. For them. Their friendship…

She let out a sigh, confused about why she wasn’t happy for him. He was her best friend; she
should
be happy for him—but wasn’t. The tightness in her chest wasn’t from joy or even annoyance, it was…
jealousy
? She was jealous of that pretty, uppity-looking lady Mr. Ducharme had brought in from town, like a parcel he’d picked up at the post office.

Who was she? How come she wanted to marry Billy? From what Ray had seen, that lady was all wrong for Billy. She was too pretty, too sweet, too dainty, and too…well, she was too much like Ray wasn’t.

Ray swore, knowing full well her pa, God rest his soul, was listening, and disapproved of her choice of words.

It was necessary, though. No kind, Christian words quite fit her current mood.

It wasn’t as though Billy wasn’t good enough to marry—shoot, he was the best man she knew. He was kind, loyal, smart, hardworking, and the most handsome man in Dry Bayou—heck, all of Texas. There wasn’t a man in the whole state who could hold a candle to Willem Ducharme.

Ray had known it for years; was proud of the fact that she called Billy friend, and he did the same. But now, that didn’t seem like enough.

Ray pictured Billy as he’d walked toward her from the barn earlier that evening; his crooked, heart-stopping smile, confident stride, tan complexion, bright, devilish blue eyes…she swallowed back the urge to moan.

Any woman would be glad—honored—
dang lucky
—to have Billy as her husband. To have and to hold, to build a life with, to have children with, to curl up beside every night, and kiss, touch—

She slapped her knee to pull her mind from its dangerous course.

Yep, any woman would be glad to call that man husband.

So why did the thought of “any woman” with Billy make her heart hurt?

*

Billy sipped the
tepid tea, then placed the near full cup back down on the dainty saucer—one of his ma’s favorite china sets. Only the best for her son’s
courtship
.

He cleared his throat, wondering where to begin—knowing full well that, though his ma had left the room to give him and Miss DuCastille time to “get to know one another”, she was someplace close, listening in.