The Substitute Bride
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Linda S. Glaz
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16.3K
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18
Jared Callahan's mysterious bride Rancher Jared Callahan eagerly awaited the arrival of his mail-order bride. But instead of the kindhearted woman who wrote about escaping her constrained city life, the beauty who arrived in his remote frontier town couldn't remember anything. Not him, not their long-distance courtship, not even her own name. What is he going to do with this petite spitfire? Dazed and confused from a railway accident, Rebecca Layne finds herself saying "I do" to the handsome stranger who claims to be her betrothed. But as feelings for Jared blossom, the mysteries of her past threaten to unravel her life at the seams. Only when the truth is finally revealed can this marriage of convenience ever become a true union of love.
Chapter 1
There was no sound but that of crickets and whooshing horse tails. Tired of standing in the hot September sun battling swarms of flies, the horses swished their tails to the rhythm of the insects’ chirps and stomped their feet to signal let’s go.
Jared Callahan massaged the back of his neck as he strained to hear the train whistle. He, too, had waited in the sweltering heat longer than expected, and the flies irritated him nearly as much. He brushed one from the perfume-scented paper he’d just finished reading once again.
I’ll be arriving at eleven in the morning on the tenth. I hope you’ll be anxiously awaiting my train.
Yours lovingly, Rebecca Layne.
Yours lovingly.
Swiping sweat from his eyes, he slid off the wooden bench and returned to the building where Bobby Reed, the stationmaster in too-long sleeves and a canvas vest, apologized one more time. “Not sure why the train’s late. But I’ll let you know soon as I have word.”
Jared shoved past the other anxious folks and moved back to the bench. Opening the letter again, he allowed the words to sink into his heart. Gently sloping script filled the page as well as the sides. He reread the last sentence for the fourth time since arriving in town, thinking he might have misunderstood the day or hour. No matter how many times he scanned the words, they said the same thing.
Uh-uh. No misunderstanding. She said lovingly and she meant it. His mail-order bride would arrive, throw her arms around him and they would be married. Just like that.
The noon sun bore down on him, sweat mingling with the dust from the ride into town. He slipped off his hat, ran a hand through damp hair that he recognized as long overdue for cutting and stared over the open prairie toward the lure of his homestead. The hot, miserable Minnesota summer choked him with the sun’s last chance to make him almost wish for winter. But he couldn’t think about that now. All he thought about was his beautiful Rebecca.
“Young fella?” Reed’s nasally voice penetrated Jared’s daydreams. “I hate to be the one to break it to ya, but I just got word. The train you’re waiting for derailed some distance this side of Rochester. A lot of folks injured.”
Jared jumped from the seat. “They what?”
“Calm down. That’s all I know for now. Hopefully, I’ll have more information in a bit. Why don’t you stroll across the street to Millie’s and get yourself a sarsaparilla? I’ll come find you when I get more particulars.”
Jared glanced across the narrow street toward Millie’s. Uh-uh. He’d wait right here. With a quick crease, he refolded the wrinkled paper and slid the letter into his pocket. She might be dead. After all their plans, she could have been killed in a train accident. He slapped his hat against the bench.
Not acceptable. Surely God wouldn’t allow his future bride to die.
* * *
The wagon bounced over the rutted road until she longed to rub her backside for relief. Empty prairie for miles and an occasional scrub of trees that dotted the land here and there. Looking across the wagon, she recognized the man who’d offered her his coat following the accident. He was sitting directly across from her. She grew uneasy under his scrutiny. He eyed her as if he could read the doubts in her mind, and she quickly diverted her gaze.
Over the side of the wagon, ash swirled around the horses’ hooves. This far away and still the burning followed them.
She leaned toward an older woman at her side. “Where do you suppose they will take us?”
A grunt and a dazed expression emanated from her riding companion.
Another scan of the wagon box provided nothing more than that man’s glare closing in on her once again. Only this time, it made her more than a bit uncomfortable. Why didn’t he look elsewhere?
They hit a bump and she slid forward, slamming her knee into Mr. Fletcher. He cocked a grin in her direction and she scrambled back to her post next to the gray-haired lady. For some reason, her skin crawled.
If only she could remember who she was and where she’d come from.
Even more important...where she was going.
* * *
Tired as all get out, Jared leaned his head against the side of the false building front and pulled his hat over his face. The stationmaster said wagons should start arriving soon. What was taking them so long? He’d been in town all afternoon. At home there would be one very angry cow if it weren’t for a nearly weaned calf no doubt helping herself to the extra milk.
Would Rebecca be among those living or among the dead? He closed his eyes and prayed for sleep to release him from worry. She had to be alive. He’d pinned all his hopes on her.
The sound of teams of horses awakened him. He leaped up, scanning the muddled scene unfolding before him. A hundred feet or so of wagons filled with folks seemingly in a daze, lined the town front to back and then some.
One by one the folks climbed out of the wagons with the help of townspeople. A handful of womenfolk cried; others groaned. What had happened out there? The stationmaster shouted out names. A stout man nursing a slight limp moved toward the second-to-last wagon and helped a young woman from the back.
Jared’s back stiffened. Curly blond hair, wide blue eyes and a rather curvy figure caught his attention at once. Alone, the lady stepped around the wagon wheel and gazed toward the crowd of people, no doubt scanning the group for him.
Jared pushed through the throng of people and edged forward, touching her arm. “Miss Layne?”
She turned toward his voice. Dirt smudged her cheek and a goose egg bulged from her temple—she was injured! He should have been there to protect her.
“Rebecca Layne? I’m Jared Callahan. I believe you’re looking for me.” He put his hand out but she pulled away.
“Layne?” She hesitated to offer her hand, indecision lining her face with worry. “You are waiting for me? I’m afraid I don’t know anyone here.”
He glanced at the beautiful face again, streaked with sooty smudges. He hadn’t noticed any other young ladies alight from the wagons. This had to be Rebecca. She fit her description perfectly, right down to the dark blue skirt and white blouse she said she’d be wearing.
“Can I help you with your things?”
“I don’t have any things.” She drew back, the blue eyes sparkling with what? Frustration or fear? “I’m sorry, Mr. Callahan, was it? You must be mistaken. I don’t know any Rebecca Layne.”
* * *
Why did he keep staring at her as if she were a piece of molasses pie? And who was he, anyway? Did he know her? She blinked back tears. “You have me at a disadvantage, sir.” He acted as if he knew her. She must have come by train to enlist the services of this man. But for what? What would have made her travel to Minnesota from...wherever she’d come from?
He edged closer, encircling her elbow and leaning in. “Why don’t we sit down and talk?”
She needed a bath, warm and soapy, to ease away the frustrations and confusion filling her head—her heart. If she could relax, she might remember who she was. This man, good-looking though he was, merely presented another obstacle.
She drew her arm away. “Mr. Callahan, talking will do me no good. I am tired and dirty.”
His face showed obvious compassion. His eyes targeted hers as surely as a dart. Did she play darts? Did her father, a man friend, a brother? The crooked smile on Mr. Callahan’s lips offered its own kind of sympathy. She stood to his chin. He wasn’t tall, wasn’t short. His wide shoulders and slim waist caused her to stare a minute longer than proper before determining he appeared just right. Like the muscular build on one of the bulls in neighbor Spencer’s field.
Neighbor Spencer? She had a neighbor named Spencer? Surely, if she could remember a neighbor, she’d soon recall her own name.
His hand nudged her arm. Not to be manhandled again, she jerked back.
“Mr. Callahan, the railroad is putting us up in the hotel across the street. Tomorrow, I intend to speak with a doctor.” She’d speak with anyone at all to discover who she was. “If you’ll excuse me.” She took a shaky step but stopped soon enough.
“Rebecca. I’m here because we’re supposed to be married tomorrow.”
Her hand covered her heart. “Married?” Head whirling, her eyes fluttered and her legs turned to jelly as he grabbed her to him.
