Emma: Bride of Kentucky (American Mail-Order Bride 15) Page 12

  They passed endless fields dotted with horses, and farms of various sizes. Emma marveled again at the beauty of the countryside. Sam guided the buggy through town when they reached Richmond, and stopped in front of the courthouse. He pulled her into his arms after helping her down from the buggy.

  “Ready?” he asked, glancing at the imposing building.

  “I’ve never been more ready,” she whispered.

  The simple ceremony was over in the blink of an eye. After they said their vows, the justice of the peace made short order of pronouncing them man and wife. Then they signed the certificate, and it was done. She was now Mrs. Sam Hawley.

  Sam took her to a small restaurant near the courthouse for a bite to eat, then they were on their way to Ansel Warner’s farm. Emma hid her nervousness from her new husband. What if the farm owner didn’t have a job for Sam? What if Lizette Benton tried to meddle, and was able to make good on her threat that Sam wouldn’t find work in the area?

  Her worries were short-lived. Emma stood by while Sam shook hands with Mr. Warner.

  “Gus has always spoken highly of you, Hawley. I’ve mentioned to him that if you were ever looking for a job, to send you to me. Glad he finally did.”

  “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. Warner.”

  The farm owner glanced toward the buggy, where Emma waited. “We can talk formalities tomorrow. I’m sure you and your missus will want to get settled. My former trainer wasn’t married, so he lived in a bunk above one of the barns. I do have an empty cottage available. It’s furnished, but might need a woman’s touch to get it up to snuff.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Sam assured the eager man.

  Ansel Warner seemed genuinely pleased to have Sam as his new trainer. This property wasn’t nearly as large or grand as the Three Elms, but in all its modesty, the Warner Farm looked well-kept.

  Sam drove the buggy to the cottage that would be their new home. It looked smaller than the one he’d lived in with Gus. A groom ran up behind them, breathing hard.

  “Mr. Warner told me to come and take your horse and buggy, so you can get settled,” the youth said.

  Sam hopped down from the seat and handed him the reins. “Make sure you rub him down good before you put him up,” he instructed, then walked to the other side of the buggy.

  “I hope this will be good enough for you.” Sam held up his hands to lift Emma from the seat.

  She gazed into his worried eyes. “Sam, I lived in a tiny, two-bedroom apartment with three other women for a year. This place will be wonderful, especially because it’s ours.”

  His grin produced the familiar indents in his cheeks that always melted her heart. He reached for their bags and together they walked to the front door of their new home. Sam set the luggage on the ground, and opened the door. Emma peered inside and took a step forward, but Sam’s hand on her arm stopped her. Her brows raised in a silent question. Before she had a chance to ask why he wouldn’t allow her to enter the cottage, he bent forward and scooped her into his arms. Emma squealed and wrapped her arms around his neck for support.

  “Someday, I’ll carry you over the threshold to our very own place,” he whispered against her neck. “For now, this will have to do.” He leaned forward and kissed her. Emma sighed in his arms, gripping tightly to his neck.

  Sam set her down in the middle of the small room. She glanced around. It looked to be a sitting area and kitchen combined, with a narrow corridor that led to another room. A couple of chairs surrounded a small, round table, and a rocking chair stood in the corner next to a hearth. The kitchen area contained a wood stove next to a sink with a water pump. Although the two windows in the room let in plenty of light, they were dirty and would need a good washing.

  Sam brought in their bags and took them through the other door. He was back a moment later and lit the lantern on the table. Their eyes met.

  “I’m afraid my cooking skills might be lacking a bit,” Emma said with a quiet smile. “Millie taught me a few things, and I managed to produce a passable meal or two back in Lawrence, but—”

  Sam stopped her with a gentle kiss. “Mrs. Hawley, you could serve me saddle leather and I don’t think I’d care.”

  Emma gazed into her husband’s sincere eyes. Although she should be furious with Lizette and David Benton, she needed to thank them for all the wealth they’d enabled her to find.

  “I love you, Sam Hawley,” she whispered. His grin widened.

  “I think you’ll like the bedroom. It’s a bit bigger than the one you slept in last night.”

  Emma swallowed. Her mouth suddenly went dry. She’d slept in Sam’s bed last night, but tonight, they would be sleeping in their own bed, together as husband and wife. He stepped closer until their bodies touched. One hand wound around her waist, drawing her fully up against him, while his other hand caressed her cheek. Emma met his lips when he kissed her again, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  The momentary apprehension eased, replaced by ripples of desire and longing for more. Sam’s gentle kisses and his hands caressing the fabric of her dress no longer seemed enough.

  He deepened the kiss, then swept her up in his arms, his mouth still on hers. Emma’s world spun dizzily as he carried her into the other room. Her heart came alive just like the rest of her, eagerly anticipating what was to come in her husband’s arms tonight.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emma stirred the vegetables that simmered in her pot for soup stock. She wiped her hands on her apron and inhaled the delicious vapors rising from the stove. It would be many hours yet before the soup would be ready, but Millie had told her to start the stock early in the morning and let it cook all day, so that the flavors would be rich beyond compare by suppertime.

  She glanced out the window when a gust of wind rattled the panes. Rain pelted against the freshly polished glass. The clock sitting on the mantle above the hearth chimed ten times. It would be another wet day today.

  It had been three weeks since she’d become Sam’s wife. A smile passed over her lips. Three of the most wonderful weeks she’d ever spent in her entire life had gone by, and each day promised to be better than the next.

  While Sam threw himself into his work and got to know the stable staff and the horses he was in charge of training, Emma had immersed herself in the domestic duties of a common wife. She’d given the cottage a thorough cleaning, washed curtains, tablecloths, and linens, and had experimented with cooking. She’d even sewn a new dress for herself with material Millie had brought to her. The skills she’d learned at the textile mill hadn’t been forgotten.

  Millie and Gus had visited several times already, and Millie had tutored her as much as she could in culinary skills. News from the Three Elms hadn’t been pleasant. David Benton had been nastier than ever with the staff, and his demands with the horses had bordered on unreasonable.

  “Dusty came up sore the other day,” Gus had grumbled, eliciting a murderous look from Sam. Emma had reached out to him. Sam loved that horse, and it hurt her to see her husband helpless to do anything for the animal.

  “I’m keeping my eye on Lonnie, and I’ve already told him what a coward he is for putting that colt at risk just because Benton’s an ass.”

  Millie had cuffed Gus across the ears, giving him a stern look for his choice of words. “Even if I agree with you, Gus Ferguson, that’s no way to talk in front of us women.”

  Emma had exchanged a quick glance with Sam, and they’d both held back a smile at the antics of their friends.

  Evenings were spent in her husband’s arms, either sitting in front of the fire, or even out on the porch as the weather allowed, enjoying each other’s company. Their time together usually extended into the bedroom once they both decided it was time for bed. Lying in his arms at night, listening to the wind against the window and the rain on the roof over the last few days, she’d never felt safer or more loved.

  “I’m telling you, Gus, the way those two look at each other and carr
y on when they think I can’t see, I know there’s going to be a little one for you to bounce on your lap by next spring,” Millie had predicted. Emma’s face had flamed at the time, but the thought brought a rush of warmth to her belly.

  Emma stirred the vegetables a final time, making sure they were all submersed in the water, then sat at the kitchen table. She unfolded several sheets of paper, then began to write.

  Dearest friends,

  It has been weeks since I last wrote to you, and so much has happened. I’m so happy to hear that you, Gillian and Willow, are both in the family way. I surely hope that all is well with you, Rose, and that you are settling into your new home in Colorado.

  As you’ve advised, Gillian, I followed my heart and am the richest woman in all of Kentucky for it. While I had my doubts when I first came here, it was the best choice I could have made. My life has changed for the better in so many ways, and I am more in love with my husband each and every day. I don’t need a large house, a staff of servants, or fine dresses to be happy. I’ve come to discover that it’s the little things that make for true happiness, and Sam is more that I will ever deserve.

  All the best to you all, and I look forward to your next correspondence.

  Eternally yours,

  Emma Hawley

  She copied the letter twice more, then folded and sealed each one. She’d just addressed the letter to Gillian, when the door opened and Sam strode in, bringing with him a blast of cold air. He shook the water from his rain slicker, and peeled it off his shoulders.

  “Don’t take another step, Sam Hawley, unless you remove your boots,” Emma warned sternly as she stood. She moved around the table.

  Sam favored her with a wide grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he said contritely. He hung up his slicker and stepped out of his boots. He dragged his soaked cap from his head, then pulled her into his arms.

  “You’re not usually back from the barns this early. It’s not even mid-morning,” Emma muttered against his lips.

  “I had a crazy idea to spend the morning with my lovely bride while we wait for this rain to let up.” He winked, grinning at her while holding her flush against him.

  Emma’s forehead scrunched. “Should you be neglecting your horses like that?”

  Sam kissed her again. “The track’s too muddy to do any effective training. I don’t want to risk a lameness, or worse. I’ve got the grooms walking some of the flightier colts along the shedrows to get them moving a little, but for today, I can’t gallop anyone.”

  “I love how you’re always looking out for the horses, Sam.” Emma hugged her husband. “And for me,” she added, eliciting a love-filled smile from him. “Is the rain ever going to let up?”

  “Rain makes for good grass, which makes for good horses.” Sam pulled away from her. “But speaking of you, I have something for you.”

  He reached into his shirt pocket and produced an envelope. Emma’s heart sped up.

  “A letter from one of my friends?” she asked eagerly.

  “Doesn’t look like it. The address is from Boston. Mr. Warner brought it to me. Looks like it’s been forwarded a few times.”

  Emma frowned and reached for the letter. She opened it carefully and unfolded the paper. The familiar handwriting sent her heart racing. She glanced at Sam, then stepped away from him.

  “It’s from my father,” she whispered.

  Sam met her gaze. He moved toward the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee from the pot she had warming. No doubt he was simply giving her some space.

  Emma scanned the letter and her hand flew to her mouth. She must have gasped, for Sam was beside her in the next instant. He took the paper from her trembling hand, but looked at her rather than reading the letter.

  “Everything all right?” he asked, and ran his hand down her arm.

  Emma stared up at him. “Sam,” she murmured and swallowed. “He’s wired twenty-thousand dollars to a bank in Lexington in my name.”

  “What?” Sam frowned.

  “He says one of his business ventures finally paid off, and he’s sorry for all the hurt he’s caused me and Mother. Apparently he’s been trying to find me to give me this money.”

  Sam’s face hardened. “What do you intend to do?”

  Emma shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  He looked angry.

  “What do you plan to do with that kind of money? It’s a small fortune.”

  She stepped up to him and touched her hand to his chest. “It’s our money,” she said. “We do whatever you and I decide. If you’d rather I didn’t accept it, then that’s what I’ll do.”

  Sam ran a hand through his hair. He provided for her, but it had occurred to her already that he might be thinking he didn’t do enough to keep her happy.

  “Sam.” She stood on her toes and touched her lips to his. “This changes nothing. I love you. I don’t need this money. I need you.”

  Sam pulled her into an embrace. “I hope I make you happy, Emma, and that you have no regrets about marrying me.”

  She shook her head and held his face between her hands. “Never,” she whispered. “You’re all I want. I’ve never been happier in my life. Maybe I shouldn’t accept anything from him, and send it back. If you don’t want it, then I don’t want it, either.”

  He shook his head. “No, Emma. You deserve this, and it looks like your father is trying to make amends for what he did to you.”

  “It can stay in the bank for now,” she said quickly. “We can decide later what to do with it.”

  “I’ve never accepted money from anyone that I didn’t earn myself, Emma. Forgive me for being hesitant.” He offered a smile.

  “I know,” she whispered. “It’s for us, though, for our future. I know you’ve dreamed of your own farm, and breeding your own horses. Here is your chance.”

  Sam pulled her tightly to him, when someone knocked. Emma moved away from him, letting Sam open the door. Ansel Warner stood outside, water streaming down his hat.

  “Hawley, I think you need to come,” he said, panting heavily. “I just got word that a tornado touched down a couple miles away. If what I was told is true, it was making a straight line for the Three Elms.”

  Emma’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “I’ll be right out,” Sam said, turning back to her. Ansel nodded and headed back out into the rain.

  “What does that mean?” Emma grabbed for his arm, staring at Sam with wide eyes.

  “I don’t know.” The worry on his face was unmistakable.

  “I’ve heard of tornados and the kind of destruction they can cause. You’re not planning to go there, are you?”

  “I have to make sure Gus is all right.” The worried look in his eyes brought a rush of dread racing down her spine.

  “Let me come with you,” she pleaded. He turned away from her and slipped into his boots.

  “Out of the question,” he said more forcefully than he’d ever spoken to her. He slipped into his wet rain slicker.

  “Sam, be careful.”

  Emma grabbed for his arms. She stared up at him. He leaned down and kissed her gently.

  “I will be. I won’t do anything foolish, I promise, but I have to find out about Gus and Millie.”

  She nodded. What else could she do? She loved Gus, too, and prayed that he was safe.

  “When will you be back?”

  “Hopefully by nightfall.” He set his cap on his head, then opened the door.

  Emma hugged her shawl around her shoulders, and shivered. Sam splashed through the mud toward the barns. She stood in the doorway and didn’t close the door until the horse he rode off on disappeared in the rain.

  Inside the warmth and security of the cottage, she leaned heavily against the door. Her hands were numb from the cold, but so was her heart. What if something happened to him?

  “You’re my world, Sam. Please be safe,” she whispered.

  The hours dragged on. Morning turned to afternoon, then to evening. The rain had
let up sometime around suppertime, but the soup sat cold and forgotten on the stove. Emma lit a lamp and sat in the rocking chair by the hearth. Her eyes burned from crying all day, and fell on the discarded letter from her father. It must have fallen to the ground at some point.

  Emma didn’t bother picking it up. She didn’t care about the money. Sam’s near-angry face haunted her as the conversation replayed in her mind of when she’d told him what her father had gifted her. Would the issue of money always hang between them? Hopefully she’d proven to Sam that he was more important to her than all the riches in the world.

  A loud bang, followed by a gust of wind, startled her from a restless sleep in the rocking chair. She opened her eyes and winced at the pain in her stiff neck. When had she dozed off? The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lantern. One look toward the door and she bolted to her feet.

  “Sam?”

  Emma threw herself at her husband. He was drenched, cold, and muddy. It didn’t matter. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a fierce embrace.

  “Are you all right?” she cried against his damp neck, water dripping onto her cheeks from his hair.

  “I’m fine,” he murmured against her face. “Everything is fine.”

  “I was so worried about you,” she cried.

  Sam set her away from him, then slipped out of his wet clothes. Emma hurried to stoke the fire in the hearth.

  “It’ll take me a minute to get the fire going in the stove so I can heat up some soup and get some coffee brewing. You’re frozen to the bone.”

  The clock on the mantle chimed twice. It was two o’clock in the morning?

  Sam looked tired and haggard. Wordlessly, he slipped into their bedroom and changed into dry clothes. When he returned, Emma held out a mug with coffee.