Conveniently Wed

Chapter 7

7

W ell-wishes, hoots, and hollers followed the couple as they slipped into the awaiting carriage. Mr. Richardson spoke kindly to his driver, and they were off.

Katie lifted the curtain to sneak one more peek at her family. She waved with the last bit of happy pasted on her face.

The minute she dropped the curtain, she dropped the smile. Curiosity got the best of her, and she did a quick appraisal of the inside.

“Like it?” he asked.

“Fancy rig,” was all she would give him. The padded seats were softer than anything she had ever sat on before. The frilly lace curtains that covered the small window filtered the afternoon sunshine. She longed for the day to end so she could fall into a deep sleep and shut off this nightmare. And then she thought about what the night ahead included. Her hands shook, so she stitched them together in a firm clasp on her lap.

The delicate wisp of the lacy curtains fluttering in the breeze annoyed her. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sunshine, the simple beauty of lace, and him. The trickle of fear became a torrent. She was glad for the bumpy road, hoping he would not pick up on the shudder that worked its way from tip to toe.

“I do believe you’ll be happy with your new home, Katherine.”

She refused to look at him, but he kept talking.

“The only reason it still stands is that the Yankees used it for their headquarters. For that mercy, I’m thankful. At least I didn’t have to come back and rebuild as so many did. It’s not yet restored to its former beauty, but nevertheless, I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

Katie turned toward the window and away from him. “Hmmm.”

“There’s a lot of work to be done, but it’s hard to find good help with so many of the young men gone.” There was a choke in his voice. “I’m looking forward to working with your pa. It’ll be nice to have another experienced man around the property.”

Katie’s emotions vacillated from fear of this stranger to red hot anger at her forced circumstances. She fought to gain control, but a taste of bitterness worked its way up from the pit of her stomach and into her throat. Words blurted out.

“It looks like the Yankees did you more than one small mercy, now didn’t they, Mr. Richardson?” She flashed him an angry scowl on purpose.

His eyes widened, but held a spark of humor. “Well, well she speaks. I was beginning to think I’d married a mute.”

“A mute, Mr. Richardson? You have no idea who you married.”

“Please call me Josiah, then you may explain that remark.” He let out a soft chuckle. “I must admit that my interest is more than a little piqued.”

She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to laugh. Her hands balled into fists, and her voice turned edgy.

“I’m just another one of those small mercies the Yankees afforded you, Mr. Richardson.” She purposely used his last name. “Without that blasted war and their burning rampage, you wouldn’t have had the leverage needed to force my hand in marriage.”

The smile that had been pulling at the side of his mouth vanished. Hurt flashed in his eyes, turning them gunmetal gray.

She’d said too much. However, had he taken the time to get to know her, he would’ve known that her temper got away from her on many an occasion, and she was never short on opinions.

“I was not aware how you felt. The least you could have done was to be honest before the wedding. Hmm?”

She dared not look at him. He was right, but her family’s need had silenced her.

“After all, I did visit, did I not?” His voice no longer held laughter. “Katherine, please look at me.”

She shifted in her seat and raised her chin before meeting his stare head on.

“I’m not some young buck wet behind the ears. I anticipated that we would need to take time to get to know each other before this would grow into a loving relationship.”

His eyes pierced right through her, but she was determined to not turn away like a coward.

“However, when your father told me that he wouldn’t agree to the match without your permission, I assumed that we were both in agreement. Was I wrong?”

Katie melted under his burning gaze. She shrank into the padded seat and looked down at her hands. Best to be honest.

She lifted her head. “I shoot with a straight arrow, Mr. Richardson. I agreed to the arrangement to help my family, and I intend to fulfill my end of the bargain.” Her face flushed with heat at the thought of what that agreement would include. “I’ll be your wife, bear your children, and help out in any way I can, but I will not promise love. I cannot promise love.” Her gaze dropped to the ring on her finger. She fidgeted under his stare and circled the ring around and around. “Love was never part of this deal.”

Silence filled the carriage after his bride’s harsh words. Thick. Oppressive. Josiah could not believe the pickle he’d gotten himself into.

That incident in the woods had started this insanity. His overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward her had kicked in way back. Then, to find her working in a saloon in the presence of such unsavory characters… That sent his mind on a trip from which he had never returned.

The pluck of that girl was something special, something that bridged the gap between boredom and interest, so different from what the other women had to offer. She was someone he could see himself wanting to spend time with at the end of the day. The fact that her beauty was unparalleled could not be denied, but that brought out his need to protect, to provide, to propose. From honor to need, his motivation and thoughts tossed back and forth like a rowboat on a stormy sea.

He could not explain why his feelings had intensified and somehow had become as permanent as the skin on his bones. He hated the power his emotions had over him, and yet loved them, for he once again felt alive.

He’d chalked up her shy demeanor when he’d visited to inexperience. His ego had convinced him that she would react the same with any suitor. Little did he realize the resentment that flowed beneath the surface and the bitterness that brewed. After weathering years of loneliness, here he was wanting a life with someone who may never want a life with him.

Half of her wished he would start chatting again, but the other half surmised it was better they’d had this discussion from the start rather than somewhere down the line. She comforted herself with the fact that, in their agreement, she didn’t owe him anything more than she was prepared to give. The truth remained the truth. If he had wanted to marry for love, he should have picked someone in love with him.

“Look outside, Katherine.” All humor had leached from his deep voice. His words sounded like a command. “I want you to see your new home. Because, if you thought your snappish words were a way out for you, you can think again. When I make a commitment, I keep it. I made one not only to you, but to your family as well.”

A dart of guilt pierced her heart at the reminder about her family, the sole reason she had agreed to the arrangement. In her anger, she had forgotten, and yet he had remembered. One hand bunched the silk of her dress into a knot while the other pulled the curtain aside.

The carriage stopped as the driver hopped from his seat and opened the gate supported by two brick pillars. Richardson was engraved in a brass plate imbedded in one of the pillars. Richardson. The name of the richest man in town. Now, her name. The carriage lurched forward through the gate and stopped. This time, Mr. Richardson was out before the driver could dismount.

“I’ve got it, Abe.”

This humble act of closing the gate both confused her and softened her heart. He jumped back in as if it was a normal occurrence. The rich and haughty did not treat their black hired help like equals, and yet Mr. Richardson did. He was not one of the many angry Southerners who resented having to pay their colored help or set them free.

The long road bedded with fine gravel curved up to a large stone mansion perched on a knoll. A row of sturdy evenly spaced maples lined both sides, their leaves burnished a brilliant red. Captivated by the enormity of the house, she could not stop her mouth from dropping open. The stately two-story building made of gray brick was accented with smooth river rock at its base. The white colonnaded portico that skirted the base was like welcoming outstretched arms—to the rich, and the very rich.

“This is your home?”

“This is our home.”

“You should’ve brought me here before we married.” She shot him an accusing look.

“Why? That would have made a difference?”

“It would have made me realize that I will never, never be suitable.” Her head swooned, and a wash of weakness flooded her. “This will not do. I should never have agreed. Take me home at once.”

“You are home, Katherine.”

“Take me back to my aunt’s cabin.” Her chest constricted, and tight bands of tension pressed in. “I…I don’t feel well.” She pressed both hands to her temples. Her stomach lurched and growled.

“What have you eaten today? You ate nothing after the service.”

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the fuzziness. “I’ve had…” She couldn’t think of anything. Had she really gone all day without food?

“Just as I thought.” He exited his side of the carriage and hurried around to open her door.

“Come now, you’ll feel much better after we get some food into you.” He held out his hand to steady her as she climbed from the carriage, and he kept an arm tightly around her waist when she got her feet on the ground.

With a sweep of her eyes, she took in the slate roof and five chimneys, smoke curling from three. A quick look to the east assured her that the Massanutten Mountain range still loomed there, rugged and unchanging. Everything else around her felt surreal and disjointed. The lengthening shadows warned that the sun was about to slip behind the distant ridge, and darkness would soon hide that only familiar landmark. She was entering a world completely foreign to her. A chill climbed the ladder of her spine. Against her will, she sagged into his shoulder.

He pulled her close and, with no more fight than a kitten, she allowed the strength of his body to steady her. His warmth permeated the cold that seeped clear through to the bone.

“Abe, tell Delilah I’ll look after supper, and introductions will be made in the morning.” He nodded in Katie’s direction. “This lady needs food now.”

Abe came around to their side of the carriage and smiled at them both. A kindness rested there. “You just get your missus whatever she be needing.”

Mr. Richardson propelled Katie up the steps and through the grand doorway. The entrance, cast in the dim late afternoon light, opened to a sweeping staircase and balconied upper floor. Without giving her time for further inspection, he drew her down a hall into the kitchen.

“Sit, my dear. Sit.” He gently pressed her into a chair beside a scarred wooden table and busied himself at the stove.

Katie gazed around in awe. This one room was almost as big as her aunt and uncle’s whole cabin, but the warmth from the crackling fireplace and the old beaten up table somehow brought comfort.

She stood. “I should help.” The sudden movement made her head spin, and she swayed against the table.

He was at her side in seconds. “I have it under control. I’ll get you some fruit. It seems to pick me up when I’ve been in the fields too long and not made time to eat.”

She settled back down, and he shrugged out of his formal jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The stark white shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders and tapered to a lean waist. She averted her eyes to the long row of cooking utensils hanging from a shelf. She shivered at the thought of what that large body would feel like up close.

Distracted by her own weighty thoughts, she jumped when he placed a plate before her.

“Eat.”

Slices of apple and a clump of grapes sat beside a thick wedge of cheese and a hunk of ham on a hearty slice of fresh bread. Her stomach growled and made her realize how hungry she was.

“Thank you,” she said. “I guess I should’ve taken better care. I haven’t felt that hungry as of late.”

He arched one eyebrow before walking to the wood stove. He lifted the lid off a bubbling pot, and a heavenly waft of meat and vegetables filled the room. “Ah, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried Delilah’s stew.”

Katie nibbled on the fruit and took bites of bread and cheese. She was mesmerized by the fact that Mr. Richardson seemed as comfortable in the kitchen as he did on his horse. He swallowed up the room with his presence. Her eyes followed him as he stirred the stew, gathered the bowls, and ladled out two steaming servings.

While he was preoccupied, she took the opportunity to stare. His skin, well-bronzed from the summer sun, indicated that he worked out of doors. Gray hair speckled his temples, giving him a distinguished, mature look. He did not have the facial creases and weathered look her pa had, which left her wondering how old he was.

“Do I pass inspection?” he asked.

Heat flushed from her neck up to her hairline as he turned toward her with two generous bowls of stew. “How old are you, Mr. Richardson?”

He set one of the bowls before her. “Call me by my name and I’ll answer.”

With some food now in her stomach, Katie had a renewed sense of spunk. “I do believe your name is Mr. Richardson, is it not?”

“To you, Katherine, as my wife”—he drew out the last word and pulled up a chair across from her and sat—“I’m Josiah, and I will not respond to anything else. You can decide if this is going to be easy or hard.” He winked and picked up his spoon.

Katie thought for a moment, then smirked at a most ingenious idea. “Fine. Josiah it is. However, I prefer Katie to Katherine. I’ve been called Katie by those close to me all my life.” She counted on the formal, socially proper Mr. Richardson not approving of such informality. Maybe this would make him as uncomfortable as she was.

He studied her before lowering his spoon back into the bowl. A smile split across his face. “Now, that’s encouraging.”

“What?”

He leaned back in his chair. “You said everyone who is close to you calls you that. That opens up a world of possibilities. I think I’ll take it a step further and have a nickname for you—Kat.”

Knots tightened in her shoulders as she forced herself to sit up straight and pretend his banter did not irritate her.

“I quite think Kat suits you,” he said. “Much like the mountain lion. Beautiful, yet ever so dangerous.”

She dropped her head and shoveled her stew in as if it did not bother her in the least that he had outsmarted her.

“Now, back to your original question, because I’m sure I heard a Josiah in there somewhere. I expected this question on that day you said you would marry me and wanted to ask three questions, but you were more interested in whether I liked cats. Today, my love for Kats grew exponentially.” He chuckled.

She could not resist shooting him a glare.

“I’m thirty-five, almost thirty-six. That makes me fourteen years your senior. What do you think of that?”

She ignored him and finished every bit of her stew, the fruit, bread, and cheese. For the first time in over a month, she ate slowly, savoring every bite. How, on the day when she should have been the most nervous, had she found her appetite? Most likely, it was the fact that she was in no hurry to sample what lay beyond the kitchen door.

“What, has the Kat got your tongue?”

She tried to hold back a grin, then a giggle slipped out and she was laughing. “You win, Josiah. Enough of the cat jokes.”

His laughter filled the room. “And?”

“And you don’t want to know what I think about you being only seven years younger than my pa.”

The laughter left his eyes, and his jaw muscles tightened.

Once again, she’d said too much. “Ma always told me to swallow my thoughts before they reach my lips, but I never quite mastered that one.”

An awkward silent moment followed as he stared past her and ran his fingers over his mustache and through his neatly trimmed beard. “And my ma said, ‘Don’t ask if you don’t want to know.’ I’ll have to keep that in mind around you.” He stretched and sat up straight. “I guess it’s about time to retire?—"

“What, no dessert?”

His smoky-gray eyes held an emotion she could not quite figure. He pushed the chair back from the table and spread his long legs out in front of him. His huge frame dwarfed the chair he leaned back on, making her regret her hasty words about his old age. He looked anything but old and far from the father figure she had just likened him to.

“You have room for more food? Or are you trying to stall from your end of our bargain?”

Her heart hammered inside her chest, but she lifted her chin with determination. “Of course, I would like dessert.”

He rose and sauntered to the sideboard, lifted a towel, and pulled out a freshly baked pie. He returned with a generous piece and slid it in her direction.

“Won’t you join me?”

He cracked a smile. “Dessert for you, then dessert for me.”

She gasped and shoved a piece of pie into her mouth.

“Just joking, Kat, relax.” He eased back onto the kitchen chair and watched her finish every bite. By the time she was done, her corset cut into her flesh, and her stomach turned. She picked up the cloth napkin, dabbed at her mouth, and lowered it to her lap where she twisted it tighter and tighter in her hands.

“All done? Or would you like another piece?”

She shook her head, and he rose, lit the candle in the portable dish, and picked it up. The day was gone and the night upon them.

With an outstretched hand, he beckoned her. “Come, my little Kat. You’re well fed, so let’s get you settled. I won’t bother showing you the house tonight. There will be ample time in the morning.”

He waited for her to stand.

She was too proud to back down, remembering her earlier words and how she intended to live up to her end of the bargain. She stood with her spine straight and her chin up and placed her hand into his. A quiver took to her fingers as his large hand engulfed hers.

She wished with all that was within her that her ma had told her more of what to expect than just that he would know what to do . Such little comfort considering he couldn’t even get her name right.