His Brother's Bride Read online

  “Peter’s waiting for me by the end of the lane. He forgot his bait pail where we stopped for lunch. If he doesn’t take it back there’ll be no lunch for him tomorrow.” George hesitated, glancing from the brush in his hand to the horse beside him. Shaking his head, he put the brush on the edge of a stall, gathered a head collar and lead shank from the front of another and disappeared out a man door on the side of the building.

  Annie picked up the brush and finished grooming the stocky mare. Benny was already clean and had his head buried in a mound of hay. “C’mon, boy.” She pulled his head up and led the two horses out to the west pasture where she slipped their head collars and turned them loose. Slinging the leather halters over her shoulder Annie returned to the barn and hung the tack where it belonged. The work harness was already in its place, but one of her brothers would have to clean it after supper. She’d bet her bottom dollar on that, if she had one.

  “Come along then, miss.” George led Molly into the barn and gave her a quick brush, before backing her between the shafts of the buggy.

  “I must run up to the house and see if Mother needs anything at Arlo’s,” Annie called before hurrying toward the house. If she went to town without checking to see if anything was needed for the household she’d never hear the end of it.

  List clutched in hand, Annie lifted her skirts and ran across the yard. Ivan followed at her heels, Mother declaring her daughter was not about to go driving off unchaperoned with two field hands. George was just leading Molly into the barn yard when she arrived, slightly out of breath. “Just in time,” she greeted him. Shoving the list into her pocket she hitched her skirts and climbed into the buggy before George could come around to help her. He joined her on the narrow seat, careful not to let his thigh touch her skirts. Ivan hopped in the back, hanging his legs off the tailgate.

  “I could ride in the back if you wish, Miss Baldwin,” he offered, avoiding meeting her eye.

  “Don’t be silly, Mister Richardson. You’re fine where you are.”

  “Your father…I don’t want to appear over familiar with a daughter of the house, like,” he insisted.

  Annie glanced toward the house, but Father must have already gone to wash up. “If it makes you more comfortable then by all means ride in the back. It seems so ridiculous for you not to just stay where you are.”

  “It’s a class thing, miss. Surely you see that? The Millers, and your father, are kind to me, but I know me place and take care to stay in it.”

  Annie clucked to the mare and set off down the lane to the Eganville road. In the distance the Bonnechere River glistened between its green banks. She sighed in regret, wishing she’d managed to slip away for a swim earlier. Class, knowing your place. It all seems so horribly unfair. A person’s birth surely shouldn’t dictate and limit their opportunities to better themselves.

  “Do you miss England?” She glanced at the silent boy beside her. His work roughened hands were clasped in his lap.

  “In some ways. Not in others,” he replied.

  Annie glanced at him with a frown. He didn’t seem inclined to enlarge on his brief reply. “Ho, Molly.” She pulled the mare to a halt beside the stocky youth leaning on the gatepost. “You can ride in the back, Mister Richardson. Father has asked me to give you a ride as far as the end of the Monroe’s lane.”

  Peter touched a finger to the brim of his sweat-stained cap. Swinging the bait pail by its strap he tossed it into the wagon bed and hitched himself up onto the rough boards of the buggy bed. “Thankee, miss. It’s a sigh better’n walkin’.” He settled beside Ivan and the two put their heads together, whispering and giggling over something.

  “Will you boys be coming to the Dominion Day celebrations?” Annie was careful not to look directly at the silent youth beside her. From the corner of her eye she caught the flush of red that darkened his already sunburned face.

  “Miz Munroe says we’re all goin’,” Peter Richardson answered her from his perch on the tailgate. “You’re comin’, aren’t you Georgie?”

  “Don’t know. And don’t call me Georgie.” George shifted on the hard bench, his fingers clenched on the rough fabric of his trousers.

  “Surely, the Millers will allow you to attend?” Annie dared to look directly at him. “I heard Mother telling Father she’d spoken to Mrs. Miller and they were planning to attend.”

  “Don’t rightly know, miss,” George mumbled.

  “You still in hot water over that Amelia girl?” Peter chirped from behind.

  “Go on with you,” George snarled. “That ain’t none of your business, Pete. Leave it alone.”

  Annie regarded him thoughtfully. “The oldest Miller girl giving you trouble?”

  He shrugged and turned to glare at his younger brother. He was saved from further inquiries by their arrival at the foot of the Munroe’s lane. Annie pulled the buggy to halt and waited for her passenger to jump off the tailgate.

  “Did Father say if he needed you tomorrow?” She looked down on the curly head of the boy who loitered by the side of the buggy.

  Peter nodded. “Mister Baldwin wants the corn crib cleared out, and the chicken house needs cleaning. Said he’d arrange it with old man Munroe.” He glanced toward the sun disappearing quickly behind the treetops. “Gotta get a move on, still got me chores to do to home. See ya in the mornin’, George?” Peter scuffed a bare foot in the sandy dust of the road.

  “Reckon so. ’Less the Millers have other plans for me. You go on ahead if I don’t show in the mornin’. Don’t wait on me.”

  “Sure. Night then, George. Miss.” Peter pulled on the bill of his cap and nodded at Annie.

  “Good night, Mister Richardson. Do be careful in the morning, Father mentioned he’d seen wolf tracks by the sheep fold yesterday.”

  “Ain’t no wolf gonna bother me, miss.” Peter laughed and headed up the sandy lane with a careless wave.

  “Giddup, Molly.” Annie slapped the lines lightly on the mare’s rump. With a sigh the horse leaned into the harness and the buggy lurched forward.

  “Do you really think the Millers won’t let you come to the Dominion Day do?”

  The boy at her side shrugged again and avoided her gaze.

  “What did Amelia say that got you in heck with Mister Miller? I promise I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone. I’m always getting in trouble for things that aren’t my fault, but Father won’t hear a word against Hetty, and if she says I did or didn’t do something…Well, Father uses his belt first and doesn’t want to hear any excuses…” She was getting breathless from blethering on, but somehow couldn’t seem to stop the torrent of words vomiting out of her mouth.

  “Do you always talk so much? And so fast?” George shifted on the seat to actually look at her.

  Heat flashed up her neck and her ears burned. “I…no…not usually…I mean…nobody ever listens to me… I’m sorry.” She broke off and blinked to keep the embarrassed tears from escaping her lashes.

  “No, it’s me that’s sorry. That was unforgivably rude of me. Please don’t tell your Father or I’ll not get any work from him and old man Miller will take it out of my hide.” His grey eyes held her captive for a moment before he dropped his gaze.

  “Oh no! I won’t say anything to Father. I promise.” She paused and then pressed on. “Does Mister Miller really beat you?”

  George nodded wordlessly.

  “How awful! I mean Father takes a belt to me when I anger him, but he’s my father and it’s his right to mete out discipline. But…”

  “But the Millers own me, lock, stock and barrel. Until I’m of age and there’s nothing I can do about it.” His face twisted bitterly.

  “How did you end up at Doctor Barnardo’s? Did you have no family in Liverpool who would take you in?” Annie swatted at the mosquitoes that swarmed as they passed into the part of the low part of the road over shadowed with tall trees.

  “There were family all right, just none who wanted us. Peter and me, I mean.”
r />   “Was it a small family then?” Annie’s interest was piqued, his English accent seemed exotic and somehow exciting and she wanted to keep him talking.

  “My da was the youngest of thirteen. Not one of them took any interest in us a’tall after he popped his cogs. Just Uncle James, he’s the one what got us into the Liverpool Sheltering Home and Barnardo’s. Done the best by us he could, I guess.” George glanced at her as if defying her to pity him.

  “What was it like? At the home, I mean.” Annie kept her eyes on the mare’s rump moving rhythmically before her.

  “It were all right, I guess. Fed us and put clothes on our backs. Made us go to school some.” He chewed on the side of his thumb nail.

  “Were they mean to you?”

  “Not on purpose like, no. There were so many of us no one paid any mind to us unless we was bad or turned up missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “The home is in London’s east end, lots of street kids trying to stay alive by selling matches and flowers, sweeping the street for the toffs to cross. If ye was lucky ye could get on with a gang who had a territory to collect dog shit…beggin’ yer pardon fer m’language, miss.”

  “Dog poop? Why would you collect that?” Annie shifted to look directly at him. “You pulling my leg?”

  “On my word, I’m not. The tanners use it to cure the hides. Pures they call it.”

  “Ewww.” Annie wrinkled her nose. “It’s bad enough turning the cow patties and horse manure into the garden in the spring and fall, and using it to help chink logs, but dog…Ewww.”

  “It’s not so bad when you know it’ll get you a few pennies and food in yer belly.” George shrugged.

  “How did—Whoa, mare! Ho!” Annie sawed on the lines as the little mare shied violently to the right and attempted to bolt.

  “Let her go! Let her go! Look!” George pointed to the bushes at the side of the road. His work-roughened hands closed over hers and wrested the lines from her.

  Annie gripped the side of the buggy seat, her heart in her throat. The black bear surged out of the thick raspberry brambles lining this part of the road, her two cubs close behind her. “Dear Lord.” She clung to the seat while George sent the buggy careening down the dirt road. She glanced behind after a moment once she’d had a chance to gather her thoughts and slow her racing heart. “She’s not chasing us, I think it’s safe now.” She laid a hand on his forearm, the muscles like steel bands beneath her fingers.

  George slowed the still flighty mare to a prancing walk. “There, my pet. ‘Tis, all right now. Easy now, pet.” He soothed the mare and Molly settled to a walk shaking her head hard enough to set the bridle chiming.

  Annie took the lines back and pulled the mare to a halt at the foot of the Miller’s lane. “Here you are.” She glanced the way they had come with a nervous twitch. What if the she bear is still there when I drive home?

  “You worried about that old bear?” George made no move to get off the seat.

  She nodded, ashamed of herself for being such a coward. Father would tell her to keep a stiff upper lip and get on with it. Fear and bear be-damned.

  “You want I should ride into Eganville with you and back this far? There’s enough daylight left so the Millers won’t be expectin’ me home just yet. They’ll be expecting me to walk from your place.”

  “Would you?” Relief made her light-headed and a bit ashamed of her fear. “Are you sure you won’t catch heck because of it? I don’t want to get you in trouble, or me either, if Mister Miller tells Father I made you late getting back.”

  “What the mind doesn’t know, the heart can’t grieve over.” He grinned at her, grey eyes warming to silver in the dim light under the trees.

  “I think I would like that very much.” Annie turned to fix her brother with a stern stare. “Mind you don’t say anything to Father about this, you hear? It’s just to make sure we don’t run into any trouble with that momma bear on the way home.”

  Ivan met her gaze solemnly. “Cross my heart.” He suited action to words. “Promise.”

  “All right, then. Git up, Molly.” She shook the lines at the patient mare who broke into a sprightly trot which made Ivan squeal with laughter and clutch the side of the buggy box.

  The road took a turn just before the town came into sight. George shifted uneasily and cleared his throat. Annie glanced at him and pulled the mare to halt. “Is something wrong?”

  “It might be best if I wait for you here. Word travels…” He let his words trail off.

  “I suppose you are probably right about that. Those gossip Gerties would love to have something to fill Hetty or Mother’s ears with about me. Are you sure you’ll be all right waiting here?” She glanced at the thick brush bordering the road. “The flies will eat you alive, I’m afraid.”

  George jumped down into the dust and grinned up at her. “I’ll be just fine, miss. You just stop somewheres nearby on your way back. I’ll be waiting.”

  “If you’re quite sure…”

  “Time’s a’wasting. You best get a move on.” George slapped the mare lightly on the rump and disappeared into the raspberry brambles and choke cherry bushes.

  Leaving Ivan to watch the buggy, Annie made short work of collecting the mail. There was a big box of something heavy for Father from Ireland along with a batch of papers and letters. She stashed them under the seat of the buggy before going to Arlo’s to purchase the items on Mother’s list. She returned shortly after with a bag of flour balanced on one shoulder and the rest of the items weighing down the basket in her other hand.

  “There, all done.” She heaved the basket into the back of the buggy and flipped the flour down beside it. A fine dusting of white powder puffed out of the canvas bag. “Mind you don’t get that all over you, Ivan,” she cautioned her brother. “Come ride up here with me.” She patted the wooden seat beside her.

  “Can I drive?” Ivan clambered over the back of the bench and plopped down at her side.

  “No. Not in town, for sure.” Annie shook her head. “You know Father says you’re still too young to drive the buggy.”

  Ivan stuck his lower lip out in belligerence before glancing at her sideways. Annie’s stomach clenched at the sly expression on her brother’s young face. It was like looking at smaller male version of Hetty at her worst. “Of course I understand, you wouldn’t want to cross Father, would you?” He studiously picked at some lint on his trouser leg. “I’m sure Father will understand why the English boy rode into town with you. Don’t you think?” Ivan turned innocent guileless eyes on her.

  She hesitated for a moment, weighing her options. By rights, she should tell the little fiend to go chase himself. However, he was a Baldwin through and through with the tenacious stubbornness and willfulness to stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Damn. He’ll run right to Father before I can get the buggy unhitched.

  “Well?”

  “Fine.” Annie heaved a sigh. “Once we get clear of town you can drive for a bit. Mind you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone or we’ll both get our arses tanned.”

  “I thought you’d see it my way.” Ivan regarded her with a smug smile.

  “Don’t push your luck,” she warned him. “Git up with you, Molly.”

  The buggy rolled down the road following the river. As soon as they cleared the outskirts Ivan began bouncing on the seat. “Now? Now? Can I now?”

  “Hush, Ivan. You can take the lines after we find George.”

  “Oh all right.” The boy crossed his arms over his chest and huffed with impatience.

  Scanning the brush crowding the edges of the road, Annie stopped at the point where she thought they’d left the English boy. “Hush, Ivan,” she commanded before he had a chance to whine again. “George? It’s us, come out!”

  The bushes crackled and trembled behind her. The mare threw up her head and bunched her hindquarters. Annie swallowed against the tightness in her throat. What if it’s another bear? Or … Fingers tight on the lines,
she held the mare in check, ready to urge her forward if the shaker in the bushes wasn’t who she hoped it was.

  George pushed free of the brambles and jogged to the buggy. “I thought you’d missed me.” His voice was a little breathless.

  “It took longer than I anticipated at Arlo’s. Climb up, I want to be home before full dark. Shove over, Ivan.”

  George put a foot on the wheel hub and levered himself onto the buggy. He started to sling a leg over the sideboard of the wagon bed.

  “Sit up here with us,” Annie invited. “Stop that!” She hissed at her brother who stuck his sharp bony elbow in her ribs. Sometimes the old-fashioned stiff corset Mother insisted she wear had its advantages. Not often though, she sighed again.

  “Not ‘til you let me drive,” Ivan insisted.

  “Fine, here.” She handed him the lines. “Be careful now, and keep your mind on what you’re doing.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” he declared. “Haven’t I driven the work team when we’re picking up stooks?” Ivan clucked to the mare, who moved forward at a slow pace, but not before turning her head to glance at Annie as if to question her sanity.

  George squeezed in between her and the far edge of the narrow seat. He unconsciously scratched at the back of his neck.

  “Were the bugs bad in the bush?” Annie waved a hand to chase away a swarm of mosquitoes that rose from the wet land the road dipped down into.

  “Feel like a pin cushion, the beggars got a good meal out of me.” He offered a rueful grin.

  Molly plodded along, ignoring Ivan slapping the lines on her rump. Annie twisted her hands in the folds of her skirts, at a loss for words. The uneasy silence continued, wearing on her nerves until she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Do try and come to the Dominion Day celebrations,” she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, immediately mentally kicking herself for being over eager. Heavens above, what will he think of me? Mother would claim I’m leading him on by showing such interest. She bit her lower lip, hating the heat that rose in her face.