The word bride stuck in his throat like a chicken bone.
For years, Michael had prayed for God to send him someone like Rainee, his first real crush, but Selina was nothing like Rainee. His sister-in-law was a woman he admired and respected. She was the epitome of femininity, a Southern belle who was educated and smart, beautiful inside and out, genteel yet strong, feisty but sweet, able to hold her own when need be and a real survivor. Everything he wanted in a wife.
Tired of living alone at the age of twenty-seven, with women still scarce in the Idaho Territory, he had decided to take out an advertisement. After all, it had worked for Rainee and Haydon.
If only it would have worked for him.
If only he would have taken the time to get on that train and head out to Kentucky to meet Selina before actually marrying her by proxy. But he couldn’t be spared.
The coming of the railroad had made getting feed and supplies much easier. Because of that, he and his family had purchased more property and livestock.
Even with the extra hired help, Michael was needed to tend the cattle and hogs, the apple, plum and pear orchards, the hay, wheat, oat and barley fields. His absence would have put too much burden on his family, and he had refused to let that happen.
He thought his heart had been in the right place at the time, but now he was stuck with the consequences of that decision and had no one to blame but himself. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved the letters from behind the seat of the wagon and headed back to Selina.
Her cowboy hat now rested against her back. Sunshine glistened down on her head, exposing rivers of copper and blond streaks flowing throughout her molasses-colored hair.
Her skin was flawless.
Her teeth were even and white and her striking, rich, coffee-colored eyes held a million questions. Questions he didn’t know the answers to.
No denying the woman was beautiful, but none of that mattered. She wasn’t what he had wanted or prayed for. Of that he was certain.
He lowered himself at the opposite end of the log from Selina. Without looking at her, he tugged at the string around the parcel and opened the first letter he’d received from her. He practically had it memorized. Neat penmanship and feminine curves looked back at him, mocking him with their precise, dainty script. Script filled with lies and deception.
“This is the first letter I got from you. ‘Dear Mr. Bowen. My name is Selina Farleigh. I’m twenty-five years old, five-foot-three inches tall with brown hair and brown eyes. I am responding to your advertisement because my father has taken ill. You see, the man my father works for provides our lodging. Once my father passes on, I will have to leave as I will no longer have a home.’”
“That’s not true,” Selina interrupted him.
He glanced at her.
“It’s true about my pa taking ill but not that other stuff. No wonder you said you didn’t want someone to marry you because they needed a home. Well, I didn’t need a home, and Aimee knew that. My pa owned a place in the hills. Wasn’t much, but my brothers own it now. I could’ve stayed there with my brother and his wife.”
“Why did you answer my advertisement?”
“I let Aimee talk me into it. My pa’s dying wish was to see me hitched to a good man. Pa said he could die in peace knowin’ I was happily married and far away from Bart.”
“Who’s Bart?”
“A fella back home who wanted me to marry him.” She scrunched her face. “No way would I have married Bart even iffen he was the last man on earth. Somethin’ about him gave me the willies. Pa didn’t much care for him none either. Said he drank too much moonshine. So when Pa found out about the ad and how Aimee was encouragin’ me to write to you and all, he agreed. Said he wanted me to have a better life.”
She looked away. “’Course, when he found out you were a pig farmer, he said it wouldn’t be much of a better life but at least I’d be far away from the likes of Bart and would always have food to eat. That made Pa feel a whole heap better. Plus, he knew I never wanted to marry a rich man.”
Michael’s attention snagged on that last comment. Why didn’t she want to marry someone rich? What was she going to say when she found out she already had? Did he even care?
“Then again, Aimee was supposed to tell you all a that.”
Well, she hadn’t. And Michael couldn’t help but wonder who the real villainess was here and if all of this was some elaborate scheme to snag a husband. He had no way of knowing the truth. What he did know was, he felt the deception through every inch of his body and the largest portion of that deception settled into his heart.
From the way she was looking at him, he knew she was waiting for his response, but instead of responding, he raised the letter and continued to read.
“‘Your advertisement states that you cannot travel as the work on your ranch needs your attention. I am willing to travel, but my father will not let me leave without first being married.’” Michael glanced over at her. “Is that true? Your father would not allow you to leave until you were married first?”
“Yes, sir. And neither would my brothers.”
He nodded, then continued to read. From the corner of his eye, he could see Selina pulling the bead up and down on her stampede string.
The more he read, the faster she raised and lowered the bead. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a shiny wet spot covered her cheek.
As he read one letter after another and Selina refuted one thing after another, anger replaced any love he felt toward the person who penned them.
“I’ve heard enough. Please stop.”
She’d heard enough? He’d heard plenty. Plenty enough to know he’d been lied to and tricked.
His gaze fell to the stack of letters in his lap that at one time had brought him more love and joy than he’d ever known before. He had loved the sense of humor in them, the wit, the charm, the way the person saw beauty in the smallest things, the feistiness and confidence the person in them possessed. Only that woman no longer existed.
Or did she?
He didn’t know anymore.
Didn’t know what to believe or who to believe.
This whole thing was making him crazy.
Who could do such a wicked thing? And why? What could their motive be? He folded the letter he’d been reading, stacked it on top of the rest and tied the string around them. What he really wanted to do was burn them and his marriage certificate.
“I’m so sorry, Michael.” Selina’s voice cracked. “Everything I told her to say, she twisted or made it bigger than it was. She even wrote things I never did say.” She shook her head, looking lost, alone, terrified even.
He couldn’t help but wonder if it was all an act. He hated thinking like that, but he didn’t know the truth or how to find it.
“Can’t believe Aimee did that. I don’t understand why she did this to me. To us.” Her gaze dropped, along with her voice. “I—I don’t rightly know what to say except…” Her chest rose and fell. “What do we do now?”
Her whisper, broken by tears, tugged at his heart. He hated seeing a woman cry, no matter how angry he was.
What did they do now?
Vows had been spoken, and the Bible made it clear about the wrongness of breaking vows. Like it or not, he and Selina were legally married. There was only one answer to that question. “I guess we head home.”
Her gaze flew up to his and the color in her face fled.
Michael understood exactly how she felt. But they had no other choice. He hoisted his body off the log and offered Selina a helping hand up.