Tempting Prudence: The Bride Train Read online

  In hindsight, she could see that she really hadn’t been in love with Peter. She’d been in love with the idea of marriage. This, this wretched longing, dashed hopes and soul splintering pain, this was love—and she wanted no part of it.

  The creaking stopped. Mrs. Childers set her teacup on the table. “If your wife don’t mind, I’d consider it a privilege to make biscuits and gravy to go along with that bacon.”

  Prudence caught Arch’s furtive glance. He might’ve worried that she had let the cat out of the bag and now he knew. She hadn’t disabused his mother of her mistaken notion. He could explain when she was gone.

  “That’s real nice of you to offer, Ma. You don’t mind, do you Pru?”

  His hopeful tone and obvious eagerness at the prospect of being well fed intensified Prudence’s misery. She also pretended to be someone she wasn’t, and resenting him for doing the same smacked of hypocrisy. They had both lied.

  “No, of course I don’t mind. I’d be glad for your mother to make biscuits. I’m sure they’ll be wonderful.” Prudence pasted on a smile. She found a bowl below the counter. No need to let on she could make mouthwatering biscuits blindfolded. She would assist his mother and make the job easier on her.

  As they worked, Arch whistled that blasted tune, Dixie.

  Prudence hummed The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

  This foolishness had gone on long enough. His choices, from songs to careers, proved that Arch was the wrong man for her. She had to get away, as far as possible. Forget about his kisses. Forget how good it felt to be in his arms. Forget that he made her feel beautiful and desirable.

  With or without his help, she would get back to town and immediately wire her brother for money to cover her expenses and a one-way train ticket. She’d go to California to live with his family and take care of his children. Be content with the solitary life God had chosen to give her. The Lord couldn’t have intended for her to marry a conniving bootlegger.

  * * *

  Arch squatted by the fireplace, adding more hardwood to a low-burning fire. He kept whistling, acting like everything was normal even though he knew it wasn’t.

  He found Pru’s loud humming amusing, but nothing else. The deep flush coloring her face, her tight-lipped expression and stiff posture, it all pointed to her being upset about something. Even her voice had an odd quality, like an eerie calm before the clouds hurled down a blast of rain and hail.

  His brothers were missing. Daylight would soon fade, so he would set out in the morning. He had to go look for them, as any responsible brother would, but he hesitated leaving Pru in this predicament. His ma had apologized for disturbing him and his new bride. He hadn’t corrected her, and it didn’t appear Pru had given away the truth, either. Although she’d certainly heard by now the tale his brothers had told. Maybe that’s why she was upset.

  She appeared content working alongside his ma, following directions without hesitation, being polite and acting interested. With a little training, she’d pick up cooking. She had a quick mind, and he could tell she had more book learning than him. Pru impressed him with her intelligence and educated ways. He knew full well she was better than what he deserved, and he would be proud to have her as his wife.

  He rearranged the stack of hardwood then stood and brushed his hands, almost wiping them on his trousers before he recalled the handkerchief in his pocket. He didn’t fear her scolding. That’s not why he showed good manners. He wanted to make a good impression, so she’d overlook other things about him that didn’t quite meet her standards.

  She ignored him.

  Now wasn’t a good time to ask what he’d done. He’d get her alone later and take a walk, find out what bee had crawled up underneath her bonnet and get it out. Kissing her seemed to work before. He’d try it again.

  His mind turned to the other problem. The one he’d rather avoid. His brothers must’ve gotten into trouble, which would come as no surprise. Most times, when they went into town, they found trouble. They drank too much, said the wrong things, picked fights. The last time, he’d bailed them out of jail and promised the authorities that he would keep them out of Centralia. He’d made them swear not to return.

  Dang fools.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Pru watching him. The hurt in her gaze caught him off guard, like an unexpected punch to the gut. He shook his head, questioning her with his eyes.

  Her expression closed up and she turned her back.

  That did it. He could handle her being fractious, but he wouldn’t let her snub him.

  He stalked over and took her by the arm with a firm grip to get her attention. “Come outside with me.”

  She twisted to look at him and surprise registered on her face. Then her brows slashed down and she planted her feet. “Not now. I’m helping your mother.”

  “Oh, I’ll be fine, honey. You go on with Arch.” His Ma barely flicked a look in their direction as she flattened the dough with her hands.

  Prudence jerked out of his grasp, snatching up a cloth and wiping flour off her fingers before she marched out the door. He had to clamp his jaw to keep from yelling out. By God, he’d get to the bottom of whatever had her nose twisted out of joint.

  She stormed into the clearing, not stopping until she’d reached the edge of the freshly plowed field.

  That soil hadn’t come up easy, not even with Sophie’s help and a freshly sharpened plow blade. He’d never worked so hard in his life. Carving out a farm and building a dream would take every ounce of strength and determination. He could do it with a wife by his side. But not any wife. Prudence Walker. Who cared if she didn’t know how to cook? Anyone could learn that skill. Not every woman had what it took to survive in a land where nature fought against being civilized. Pru would fight back. If he could get her to stop fighting him.

  The sun had set the western sky ablaze, turning the tall grass into a red-gold sea that the wind whipped into waves. With every sunset, different colors splashed across the horizon. So much grass would be dreary and uninteresting if not for the breathtaking skies.

  Did Pru see the beauty? Did it touch her heart like it touched his? Only the brave—or the foolish—would attempt to tame this land. That was one reason he’d come to Kansas. He loved challenges. Maybe that’s why he had his heart set on winning this hardheaded woman who didn’t appreciate her own unique beauty.

  He approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

  She stiffened. “Don’t…”

  Retreating wasn’t an option. He laced his fingers together to let her know he wasn’t one to let go easily. “Whatever’s bothering you, we can get past it…if we do this together. We can’t keep fighting each other.”

  She placed her hands over his, trying to pry open his interlocked fingers. When she failed, she rested her hands over his. Her rib cage expanded and she released a sigh. “You must let me go, Arch. I cannot marry you. If you’re worried about what I’ll say to the authorities, you needn’t be. I’m leaving. I’ll be taking the train to California as soon as I can arrange a ticket.”

  What she said sank in and triggered a rush of anger. He spun her around to face him, grabbing her shoulders. “What the dickens are you talking about? You can’t go to California. I need you here.”

  The words were out before he could stop to consider how pathetic the plea made him sound. He needed her…and she wanted to go all the way to California to get away from him.

  Her eyes grew bright and her nostrils flared like she might start bawling. She turned her face away and blinked fast, regained her composure, which was more than he could say for himself. He’d gotten deluged and couldn’t grab ahold of anything to save him from going under.

  When had he started needing this woman? He couldn’t put his finger on one moment. Desire set in first, and then it grew into something more over lots of little moments. Slipped up on him like a stealthy Indian.

  His throat tightened. No way in hell would he lose control in front of her.
He spoke low, with an urgent tone to hide the uneven roughness. “When I kissed you, you kissed me back, and it sure didn’t feel like a California-here-I-come kiss.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  Her cold dismissal of their shared passion drove a knife through his chest. He opened his mouth to demand she take back the lie, and then closed it before he started shouting at her. Losing his temper wouldn’t help matters. He’d learned that much by watching his temperamental brothers leave wreckage in their wake.

  He took a deep breath to clear his head; couldn’t think straight when he got upset or scared, and he was both. Setting his emotions aside, he analyzed the stark misery stamped on her profile. Her lips were pressed into a tight line, her throat worked as she swallowed. She wasn’t in control as much as she put on, hadn’t turned into a stone statue yet.

  Relaxing his grip on her shoulders, he let his hands drift down the back of her arms. Her body swayed toward him, a tiny bit, but enough to convince him she wanted him, no matter if she denied it.

  “That kiss wasn’t a mistake,” he stated, without a shred of doubt. “Something happened to cause you to turn away from me. Tell me what it is. I can fix it.”

  She backed off, hugging herself. Too unsure or afraid to accept any comfort he might try to give. “You can’t fix something that isn’t broken. You and your family engage in a business making and selling something I can’t abide. I wish you’d told me before.”

  Arch released a pent-up breath. Although he’d known better than to keep silent, he expected the problem to be something worse. This, he could handle. “You’re right, Pru, I should’ve told you earlier. But it’s not a problem like you think. I don’t intend to sell whiskey forever, only until I make enough money to get the farm going. That’s my plan, like I told you.”

  She didn’t look directly at him or drop her defensive stance, which wasn’t a good sign. “If you need more money, you’ll sell whiskey again. Or if your family asks for help with the business, you’ll give it to them. I don’t expect you to change, and you shouldn’t for me. You must be yourself, as I must be who I am. We’re not alike, Arch. We don’t belong together.”

  Everything inside him denied it. “You’re wrong. We got a lot in common.”

  “Such as?” She turned her head and met his eyes with a challenge. Her boldness fired his blood. He wasn’t giving up this strong woman.

  “We’re both stubborn, and we don’t back down from a fight.”

  “How is that a good thing?”

  “If we stop fighting each other and face the world together, nothing can stop us.”

  Surprise flickered across her face, as if she’d never thought of it that way. But then she went back to hugging herself and hunching her shoulders. “Being hardheaded isn’t a reason to get married.”

  “No? Who else is gonna put up with us?”

  They could argue all night or he could do something more effective…and far more enjoyable. Taking ahold of her wrists, he drew her to him, put his arms around her stiff body and held her close. He bent his head and whispered in her ear. “And there’s this…”

  Her eyes widened with alarm. Without hesitation, without preliminaries, without giving her a chance to come up with an objection, he took her mouth.

  For a heartbeat, her lips remained sealed. Then they parted in surrender.

  He swept in, desperate to taste her, savoring the unique tang and flavor that was hers alone, inhaling her womanly scent, which mingled with the smell of flour and biscuit dough. His hunger intensified. Not for food. He wanted to feast on Prudence.

  She placed her hands on his chest and pressed, a slight resistance, easy to overcome. He deepened the kiss. Teasing. Challenging. Forcing her to duel with him. Submit or engage, she must do one or the other; he wouldn’t let her run away.

  Her hands fisted and she hammered his chest, tearing her mouth away. “Stop!”

  Unwilling to force her, he let her go.

  She scrambled backwards, wild-eyed and fearful and breathing heavily. “Stay away from me.” She held out her hand like she was warding off the devil.

  His heart ached. So did other parts of him. He ached for what she could give him. Even so, he wouldn’t use desire to bust down her defenses. That would destroy her spirit.

  “Rest easy. I’m not out to steal your soul.”

  The wind whipped strands of hair across her face. She dragged it out of her eyes and with shaking hands, tried to tuck it behind her ear. “That’s not funny, Arch.”

  “Didn’t mean for it to be.” He released a heavy sigh. Her objections were a smokescreen to hide the real reason she wanted to turn tail and run. She could be so brave, except for when it came to facing herself.

  When she took another step backwards, he stopped advancing. If they kept this up, he would end up backing her into the house. She could retreat, run, or go to California, if she thought it would do her any good. But he refused to let her lie to either of them.

  “This thing between us, it’s not a mistake, and it won’t go away just ’cause you and me don’t see eye-to-eye on everything. The problem isn’t whiskey, or whatever else you want to put between us. You’re running from yourself, Pru.”

  She smoothed her hair and continued to fight the wind, which seemed as futile as fighting the passion that raged between them. “I’m not running from anything…though I will admit to having a weakness for you.”

  “A weakness?” He released a humorless laugh. “Is that what you call it?”

  She straightened and assumed a prim expression. “That’s all it is. That’s all it will ever be.”

  This wasn’t the real Pru. He longed to grab her and kiss her until her lips softened and she returned his kisses with equal passion and admitted she burned for him and nothing else mattered. If he did, she’d accuse him of being a scoundrel. Until she accepted herself, she wouldn’t accept him.

  He lifted his hand in surrender. “All right. You won’t have to put up with this weakness any longer if you don’t want to. I’ll take you to town with me when I go to check on my brothers. If you get on a train and go to California, so be it. I don’t want you to leave, but I won’t stop you. I’ll respect your wishes, whatever you decide.”

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Prudence was up before dawn. She hadn’t slept a wink, having to share the bed with his mother and being so aware of Arch sleeping on the floor beyond the curtain. If she didn’t get away soon, she’d lose the last shred of common sense and marry the scoundrel—and regret it for the rest of her life.

  She set off down to the creek with two buckets to get enough water for washing and cooking, while Arch saw to the other chores. The wind had shifted and ominous clouds gathered overhead. Possibly, it would rain about the time they set out. One more thing to dampen her mood further, as if her spirits hadn’t fallen low enough.

  When it came time to leave, Mrs. Childers hugged her neck and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. “Looks like it might rain. You ought not go off without a cover. I’ll loan you my shawl because you said you didn’t have one.”

  With a stern expression, she addressed her son. “Arch, you go by the mercantile and let Prudence buy some nice fabric, so I can sew pretty things for her. Shame on you for not taking her shopping before now.”

  That was the harshest thing Prudence had heard his mother say, and Arch didn’t even deserve the scolding. Though he acknowledged it with a silent nod.

  Prudence didn’t look forward to a long ride ahead.

  Arch remained quiet and distant. His somber mood gave her the jitters and added to her doubts about her decision. This morning, she’d half expected him to try to talk her out of leaving. She shouldn’t be hurt, or disappointed, having gotten what she wanted. Her freedom.

  “You aren’t coming along?” she asked his mother.

  “Someone needs to stay here and watch over the animals, make sure they’ll be here when you get back. Arch can take care of things in town.”
r />   Rebel trotted over to the wagon, his tail waving.

  Arch shook his head. “Not today, boy. You stay here with Ma.”

  The dog’s head lowered and his tail drooped.

  Prudence knelt down and let the dog put his paws on her lap. She rubbed his soft coat, picking out burrs clinging to his fur. She bent her head so Arch wouldn’t see her tears. The hound licked her cheeks. “I’ll miss you, you old Rebel,” she whispered. “Take care of things while I’m gone.”

  Arch assisted her into the wagon. He didn’t say a word until he picked up the reins and called out to Sophie. “Git up!”

  After they’d left the farm behind, he guided the wagon onto an unfamiliar path. Worn ruts indicated others used the road, to go where was hard to say. Prudence could see no sign of civilization, not even smoke from a chimney. Hardy grasses grew as high as the side of the wagon and intruded on the road, as if nature intended to obliterate the mark of mankind on its domain. Those intending to tame this wild, remote land would find it difficult, although the effort would be worth it. Maybe that’s why Arch had staked out a claim here. He seemed to relish impossible challenges.

  Prudence peered at the cloudless sky. Endless blue, like Arch’s eyes. Would she ever be able to look up again without thinking about him? She must keep her mind focused on something else. As best she could tell by the position of the sun, they were headed northeast.

  Arch hadn’t struck up a conversation, not even idle chatter. They had never before lacked for things to talk about. However, she couldn’t bear another emotional rehash and suspected he felt the same way, which would account for his silence.

  Eventually, they left the grassland and turned onto a road that meandered along next to a line of timber. After some time, the wagon lumbered over a wooden bridge that crossed a creek.