Short-Straw Bride Read online

  When he made it to the border of his property, Travis halted and inhaled a deep breath as his gaze tilted up toward heaven.

  Sorry, Pa. I gotta do it.

  Then, with a prayer for his brothers’ safety resounding in his mind, he leaned forward and stepped off Archer land.

  1

  Palestine, Texas—1882

  I don’t think I can do it, Cass.” Meredith peered up at her cousin through the reflection in the vanity mirror.

  Cassandra pulled the hairpin from her mouth and secured another section of Meredith’s braided chignon. “Do what?”

  “Marry a man who wants me only for the land I can bring him.”

  “How do you know that’s all he wants?” Cassandra leaned down until her face was level with Meredith’s and winked at her in the mirror. “If you ask me, the man seems rather smitten, paying calls on you every Saturday night for the last month.”

  Calls where he spent more time discussing the lumber industry with her uncle than conversing with her. Wouldn’t a man who was smitten spend his time talking to the woman he hoped to marry rather than her guardian?

  Meredith sighed and turned to face her younger cousin. “I know I should be thrilled. Uncle Everett has told me again and again that Roy Mitchell is an excellent catch, and your mama nearly swooned when she found out he’d proposed. But something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Maybe that’s because saying yes would mean letting go of a girlhood dream.”

  Meredith squirmed under her cousin’s knowing look. Cassandra was the only person Meredith had ever told about her infatuation with Travis Archer. An infatuation based on a single encounter. It was silly, really. What girl would dream about a young man whose hunting trap had nearly taken off her leg? Yet something about Travis Archer had left a permanent impression upon her heart.

  Cassandra understood that.

  During holidays and family visits, the two cousins used to huddle together beneath the covers of Cassandra’s bed and spin romantic tales of the heroes who would valiantly rescue them from rockslides and stampeding cattle and even a polar bear or two when they were feeling particularly inventive. Meredith’s hero always wore Travis Archer’s face. Even now, she couldn’t stop herself from imagining what he must look like twelve years later. He’d been handsome as a youth. What would he look like as a man?

  Standing abruptly and moving to the open wardrobe where she could riffle through her dresses instead of looking at her cousin, Meredith mentally crammed Travis back into the past, where he belonged.

  “Goodness, Cass. I’m far too sensible to hold on to a bunch of silly daydreams. I put those thoughts from my mind years ago.”

  Cassandra reached around her and took down the rose-colored dress Meredith only wore for special occasions. “You might have put Travis from your mind, but I think he still claims a piece of your heart.”

  Meredith reluctantly accepted the polonaise and matching skirt and laid them on the bed. But instead of removing her wrapper to dress, she hugged her arms around her waist and flopped onto the mattress. “You’re right.”

  And where did that leave her? She hadn’t seen the man once since that day. It was doubtful he even remembered her. If he did, the memory was probably a vague recollection of some scrawny kid who’d gotten caught trespassing. Not exactly a vision to inspire romantic feelings. Besides, none of the Archers ever stepped foot off their land. Waiting for Travis would be about as fruitful as waiting for a snowstorm in July.

  “Give Mr. Mitchell a chance, Meri. Maybe he’s the kind of man who doesn’t know how to express his feelings.” Cassandra sat beside her on the bed and patted her knee. “It’ll be just the two of you today at lunch. Papa won’t be around to distract him with business talk. Get to know him. You might be surprised by what he can offer you.”

  Meredith glanced sideways at her cousin, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You know . . . I’m supposed to be the wise one here, not you.”

  “I may be three years younger,” Cassandra said with a wink, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two about men.”

  “I can’t argue with that. You’ve probably collected more courting experience in the past two years than I’ve had in the last five.” Meredith smiled and nudged her cousin with her shoulder. “Look at the way Freddie Garrett follows you around.”

  “Freddie Garrett’s barely fifteen, you goose. He doesn’t count.” Cassandra grabbed a pillow and swatted Meredith on the chin. Meredith, of course, had to retaliate. The two dodged and giggled until their sides ached so much they had to stop.

  “I think you’re going to have to fix my hair,” Meredith said as she blew a loose strand off her forehead. The ornery thing fell right back across the bridge of her nose, which set the two girls to laughing again.

  Cassandra gained her feet first. “Come on,” she said between chuckles. “Let’s get you dressed, and I’ll see what I can do about your hair.”

  Twenty minutes later, dressed in her best polonaise with her hair artfully rearranged, Meredith stood by the window looking out over the street. Her cousin had kissed her cheek and wished her well a few minutes ago and left her to gather her thoughts before her suitor arrived. The only problem was, her thoughts were so scattered, Meredith was sure she’d never pull them together in time.

  Roy Mitchell had many admirable traits. He was ambitious and prosperous, and would certainly support a wife in fine style. His dark hair and eyes were handsome to look upon, and his manners were impeccable. Yet he stirred no strong feelings in her. And as far as she could tell, she stirred none in him.

  What am I to do, Lord? Do I marry Roy and hope that affection comes, or do you have someone else in mind for me? Please make your will clear to me.

  A brisk knock sounded on the door, but before Meredith could answer, her aunt swept into the room, her brows lifted in a scrutinizing arch. “I’m glad to see you had the good sense to dress for the occasion.”

  Meredith bit her tongue. After living with the disapproving woman for several years, she’d learned to speak as little as possible during their private . . . discussions.

  “Come here, child, and turn around so I can see you.”

  Trying to ignore the child remark, Meredith did as instructed while her aunt clicked her tongue and sighed like a martyr who had been given a heavy cross to bear.

  “Can you do nothing more to disguise that awful limp? We can’t have Mr. Mitchell second-guessing his offer before the engagement is official. I’ve already done all I can to ensure you every advantage. Cassandra has strict instructions not to enter the parlor while he’s here. Don’t want the man drawing unfavorable comparisons, do we?”

  Aunt Noreen narrowed her gaze, as if she could sense Meredith’s inner doubt. “You’d best not do anything to sabotage this proposal,” she said, shaking her finger under Meredith’s nose. “Everett and I have too much riding on this for you to dillydally around. The man expects an answer today. And that answer had better be yes.”

  When Meredith had asked God for guidance, she’d never expected him to shove it down her throat with a dose of her aunt’s less-than-flattering opinions. Was this really the answer she sought? Was God speaking through Aunt Noreen, or was Aunt Noreen just spouting her own agenda? Meredith didn’t mind rebelling against her aunt, but rebelling against God was another matter entirely.

  Needing to get away from the waving finger in order to think straight, Meredith stepped over to the wardrobe to collect her shawl, exaggerating her limp as she went. When Aunt Noreen moaned, Meredith smiled. She knew it was petty of her, but she refused to let the woman browbeat her without striking back at least a little.

  In reality, the hitch in her gait was barely noticeable except on those days when she overexerted herself. Years ago, the doctor had explained that the bone damage she’d sustained from the steel trap had hindered the completion of normal growth in her right leg, eventually causing it to be slightly shorter than her left. With custom-made shoe
s that added half an inch of height to the right heel, she got along without much trouble. Unfortunately, Aunt Noreen tended to see mountains where the rest of the world saw only molehills, especially when it came to Meredith’s shortcomings.

  Wrapping her ivory shawl around her shoulders, Meredith stared at the silky fringe instead of her aunt as she cautiously ventured into the conversation. “Papa always encouraged me to choose a husband with utmost care since the bond would last for life. I aim to follow his advice. Roy Mitchell has many fine qualities, but I need more time to get to know him before I can make this decision with confidence.” She glanced up and found scowl lines furrowing Aunt Noreen’s brow. “Today’s luncheon will certainly help me achieve those ends,” Meredith hurried to add.

  “More time?” The woman sounded as if the words were choking her.

  Aunt Noreen eyed the open doorway and prowled three steps closer to Meredith. “Did I ask for more time when your father requested lodgings for you in my home so that you could attend the Palestine Female Institute five years ago?” she hissed. “No. And two years after that, when your father’s dealings with those . . . those Negros finally resulted in the end I predicted, did not Everett and I give you a permanent home?”

  Meredith swallowed hard, trying to fight the memories of the fever that had taken first her papa and then her mother. They hadn’t allowed her to come home, too afraid she’d catch the sickness. She’d tried to go to them anyway, but when her father refused to unbar the door and gazed at her through the front window, palm pressed to the glass, sunken eyes silently pleading with her to leave, she’d had no choice. She returned to her aunt and uncle’s house and wept in Cassie’s arms.

  “My food has fed you,” Aunt Noreen muttered, bringing Meredith back to the present. “Your uncle’s income has provided a roof over your head. You’ve been given more than enough time.”

  Noreen sniffed and crossed her arms, looking uncomfortable as her focus jumped to the doorway before returning to Meredith. “You might not be aware, but your uncle’s business has experienced some setbacks in the last few years. We need the stability that a connection with Roy Mitchell would provide. He’s promised to partner with Everett once his land deal goes through. All his lumber will be cut exclusively by the Hayes mill. But the deal hinges on your marriage. No marriage, no partnership.”

  Because Roy Mitchell needed her land—the land her father had left in her uncle’s care, intending that he restore it to Meredith when she married or turned twenty-five.

  “Would you jeopardize Cassandra’s future simply because you’re unsure of your feelings?”

  Meredith blinked. If she refused Roy Mitchell’s proposal, would she be hurting Cassandra?

  Footsteps echoed in the hall outside the room for a moment before Cassandra’s smiling face appeared in the doorway.

  “Papa sent me to fetch you, Meri. Your suitor’s here.”

  Aunt Noreen gave her a pointed look and nudged her toward the door. “Go on, now. Let’s not keep Mr. Mitchell waiting.”

  As Meredith stepped into the hall, Cassie’s eager smile, so full of innocence and romantic dreams, lit up her face. Guilt pricked at Meredith like a row of sewing pins protruding through her corset seam.

  Cassandra deserved the best, and if marrying Roy would provide her cousin that opportunity, perhaps Meredith should make the sacrifice.

  Yet when she entered the parlor and Roy walked toward her, she couldn’t quite stem the quivers of panic that convulsed in her stomach.

  Lord, I asked for guidance, and so far everything seems to point me toward marrying Roy. But if you have another plan, any other plan, I’d gladly consider it.

  Roy extended his arm to her, and Meredith fought for a polite smile as she slid her hand into its expected place.

  2

  By the time Meredith finished her slice of chocolate cake, she’d given up on finding common ground with Roy Mitchell. After the soup, she’d asked him what he enjoyed doing in his free time, and he’d answered that he was fond of traveling. This perked her up initially, until his description of a recent trip to Houston turned into a quarter hour of rambling about the area’s booming lumber industry.

  Then, when the waiter arrived with their entrées, blessedly interrupting the Ode to the Big Thicket’s Virgin Pine, Meredith slipped in a question about what he liked to read. Roy smiled and confidently assured her that he much preferred to experience things firsthand rather than read someone else’s view on the subject.

  “For example,” he said as he leaned across the table in obvious enthusiasm, “I’ve made careful study of the lands here on the edge of the Piney Woods. Acres of forest stand virtually untouched, just waiting for the right man with the right vision to capitalize on the opportunity. Reading books only teaches a person about the past. I’m a man who looks to the future.”

  He went on to describe how his forward thinking led him to line up a handful of investors to supply capital for the manpower and equipment he’d need to expand his small logging operation. All he lacked were a few parcels of land that would allow him direct access to the railroad. And those he would soon have in his possession.

  Desperate by the dessert course, Meredith broke all the etiquette rules her mother had taught her and asked about religion, questioning Roy about the role he expected God to play in his expansion plans. The man chuckled and offered some sort of platitude about God helping those who helped themselves before he tucked into his apple pie.

  The meal could not have left her more disheartened. She supposed Roy was simply attempting to convince her of his ability to provide for a wife, but what he’d succeeded in doing instead was paint a dreary picture of the two of them sitting on a porch, staring at a field of tree stumps with no fodder for conversation because all the virgin pines were gone.

  “Are you ready to go, my dear?”

  Meredith blinked. “Oh . . . yes.” She dabbed her lips with her napkin and smiled up at Roy as he hurried around the table to assist her with her chair. “Thank you for a lovely meal. I don’t often get to eat in such elegant surroundings.”

  “That will change once we’re married. As my wife, you’ll dine in the finest establishments in the state. Houston, San Antonio, even the capital.”

  “Mmmm.” Meredith couldn’t seem to vocalize anything more committal as Roy helped her on with her shawl and escorted her from the hotel dining room.

  The two strolled down the boardwalk in front of the International Hotel in silence, and for the first time since leaving her uncle’s house, Meredith relaxed. Maybe being with Roy wasn’t so bad after all. His firm grip steadied her uneven gait, and the people they passed didn’t look through her as they usually did. Men tipped their hats and women gazed at her with new respect. Being on Roy Mitchell’s arm apparently made her a person worth noticing.

  But did it make her the person she wanted to be?

  A hat in the milliner’s window caught Meredith’s eye, and she slowed. Ever the gentleman, Roy steered her closer to the shop, but she found it nearly impossible to concentrate on the bonnet, for she could feel him scrutinizing her face.

  “Have you given much thought to my proposal, Miss Hayes?”

  Meredith’s stomach lurched. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.

  He released her arm and placed his palm in the small of her back. “I confess, I have thought of little else,” he murmured.

  The warmth of his hand penetrated her clothing, but the intimate touch left her chilled.

  Lord, I need a sign here. A hint. Anything.

  “Mr. Mitchell?”

  Roy’s hand fell away from her back as he turned to face the burly man approaching him from the street. “Now’s not a good time, Barkley.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but it’s important.”

  Roy held his hand out to Meredith, and she took it, letting him drag her to his side. “Nothing could be more important than what I’m doing right now.”

  What he was doing right now was pre
ssing her for an answer she was unprepared to give. Mr. Barkley’s interruption could not have pleased her more.

  “I don’t mind, Roy,” she said. “Truly.”

  Roy patted her hand. “Nonsense. I’m sure whatever Barkley has to say can wait until after I see you home.”

  “But he says it’s important,” she insisted, praying he’d do the unchivalrous thing for once. “I’d hate to be the cause of a delay that ended up hurting your business ventures.”

  Roy hesitated. He glanced back to where Mr. Barkley stood shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Can it wait an hour?”

  “You . . . ah . . . you said you wanted to be informed the minute Wheeler returned with an answer, boss.” The man finally looked Roy directly in the eye, and a silent message seemed to pass between them. “He’s back.”

  Meredith held her breath as Roy battled with himself over which course to choose. Then he squeezed her hand, and she knew she’d been granted a reprieve.

  “I’m sorry, my dear, but this really is an urgent matter. I promise not to be long.”

  “Take as much time as you need.” Meredith slipped her hand from his loose hold and wandered back toward the shop window. “I wanted to examine the new bonnets more closely anyway.”

  Roy favored her with an appreciative grin and gestured for Mr. Barkley to meet him at the end of the boardwalk. The two met at the edge of the milliner’s shop and ducked into the alley that stretched alongside.

  Meredith had just set her mind to figuring out a way to postpone responding to Roy’s proposal when the man’s voice echoed back to her from around the corner.