The Unexpected Bride (The Brides Book 1) Read online

  Even as he thought it, an image of a sweet, angelic baby girl made him catch a ragged breath. And that’s when he realized the truth:

  He wanted a family for himself, not just to please Pop.

  In fact, he acknowledged that he desperately wanted a family now. He’d been attracted to Rebecca early on and come to care for her fairly quickly, but he’d stuffed his feelings down out of pride. She’d told him up front she didn’t expect a love match. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now he’d have to find a way to make her love him or resign himself to being second best in her affections—no matter how much it stuck in his craw. Either way, she was the mate God had given him, and he loved her. From what he’d seen at Dally’s camp that night, he already knew she’d make a wonderful mother.

  Stopping for a drink from the stream, Isaac dismounted and crouched by the bank. He drank deeply of the cold, clear water, his thoughts turning to his plans for the new house. He had the perfect site in mind...

  ***

  Becky rode to the felling site, searching through the trees for Isaac. She heard a logger cry out, “Hold up!” and then another. Soon all the men had halted their work and watched as she rode through the site, their saws in hand, axe heads laid to rest on the ground, all eyes on her.

  She recognized big red-haired Brody on a raised footboard of some sort wedged into a tree and called up to him. “Have you seen Isaac?”

  He looked at her dumbly for a moment. “Miz Jessup?” he finally said, recognition dawning on his face.

  “Isaac?” she called up again. “I’m looking for Isaac.”

  “Haven’t seen him. You might want to ask Sam.” He gestured downhill, and she continued on, stopping when she came to Sam. Her skin prickled, feeling the eyes of the men still on her, watching her, gawking. She tugged her skirts down more, worried she was showing too much petticoat.

  “Well, what do we have here?” Sam asked, beaming at her in clear appreciation, not in any way that would have made her blush, but with a sort of fatherly pride.

  “I’m looking for Isaac.”

  “In that get-up?” He squinted at her.

  “I need to talk to him,” she said bravely, ignoring the fact that her hair had loosened itself from her bun and was spilling around her shoulders. No doubt that was one reason all the men were gaping at her. That, and she had clear orders to stay away from the logging site. Or it could have been the rifle strapped to her back. Or the fact that she was riding bareback.

  Or all of that put together, most likely.

  Sam nodded. “Well, it’s about time, I’d say.”

  “Have you seen him?”

  “That I have. He passed by here not that long ago—stopped to tell me he was on his way into town.”

  “Oh,” Becky said, disappointed. She’d so hoped to get this over with. If she had to wait for Isaac to go into town and return back up the mountain...well, she was afraid she’d lose her courage altogether.

  “Not that long ago,” Sam repeated, angling his head as if waiting for her to catch his meaning. “He’d be following the stream.”

  “Thanks, Pop.” Becky gathered her reins—gathered herself. Yes, she’d follow Isaac down the mountain. She’d come this far. Why not?

  She gave Siren a nudge with her knee and continued on, working her way through the trees, more than ever aware of so many gazes trailing after her, tracing her every move. Even if she lost her nerve along the way, Isaac was sure to hear about her appearance here today from his men.

  ***

  It couldn’t have been more than half an hour later when Becky caught sight of a horse through the trees ahead and pulled Siren to a halt. There was Isaac by the stream. His hat lay on the ground beside him, and he was splashing water over his face. She felt a rush of tenderness at the sight of his dark hair brushing the collar of his shirt.

  And then a blur of movement upstream caught her eye.

  A grizzly on the run.

  Becky blinked to clear her vision, sure she was seeing things, but it still was there. Headed straight for Isaac. And he was still bent over the stream, oblivious to the danger.

  Oh, dear Lord.

  Isaac.

  She drew her rifle and aimed.

  “Isaac! Look out!” she screamed as she and Siren surged forward.

  At her shout, Isaac jumped up and turned toward her. He just stood there gaping at her.

  And the bear—the bear was coming right at him.

  “Oh, Lord,” Becky whispered, horrified, “he doesn’t see it.”

  Isaac must have sensed the movement then or heard the crack of branches breaking, or the beast grunting, for he looked briefly to the side and tried to stumble out of the bear’s reach. A huge paw swiped him down to the ground before he’d moved more than a couple of steps.

  Becky brought Siren to a stop. With a racing heart, she tried to calm her breathing and aim.

  Please don’t let me shoot Isaac. Please don’t let me shoot Isaac.

  She fired into the bear’s thick hide. It didn’t budge, didn’t even flinch. She had to reload, dropping bullets to the ground in her haste. Fighting the urge to cry out, she bit her lip hard and fired again. Her breath came in short sobs as the beast kept mauling Isaac.

  Gripping her last bullet, she loaded as quickly as she could and aimed for the bear’s open mouth. The beast seemed to pause mid-roar.

  She made her shot.

  Oh, dear God, she prayed, let it die. It’s got Isaac. It’s got him.

  The bear crumpled in a heap across Isaac’s legs.

  He lay there unmoving, his head thrown back against the rocks.

  “Isaac!”

  Please don’t let him be dead. Please don’t let him be dead.

  Becky jumped down from Siren’s back, landing with a jarring thump. She raced to Isaac, nearly falling over an exposed root, dropping her rifle at some point. She didn’t care. Her blood pulsed through her body. She grabbed Isaac under the arms and hauled him away from the bear, freeing his legs. How she did it, she didn’t know. It seemed she had the strength of ten men. His face was so pale and streaked with blood. A gasp caught in her throat.

  “Don’t you dare die on me, Isaac Jessup,” she ordered him, tears running down her cheeks.

  Cupping her hands in the stream, she gathered up some cool water and washed his face, then cradled his head in her lap.

  “I love you, you hear? You can’t die.” She repeated the words over and over as she wiped his face and stroked his hair.

  ***

  Isaac tried to move, but his leg was on fire with pain, and his head hurt something awful too. He must be dreaming, he decided, for he thought he heard Rebecca saying she loved him, but that couldn’t be. Rebecca loved Jack.

  Yes, it had it be a dream. Only moments ago, he thought he’d seen her barreling toward him. She’d been riding bareback astride her mare, with her rifle aimed high, looking every inch a wild frontier woman. He’d been standing there questioning his vision, when that bear had swiped him to the ground. A bear?

  Some crazed grizzly, out of control.

  There’s a mean bear on the loose.

  It sounded like Harper’s voice in his head.

  A mean bear.

  Coming right at him.

  Pain.

  Gunshots.

  Rebecca.

  Surely his thinking was all confused. Perhaps the pain was causing him to have delusions, though the pain itself was real enough.

  Forcing a breath, he shifted to get more air in his lungs. In his dream, he felt soft lips pressing against his cheek. She was kissing him over and over. His arms wouldn’t move. He wanted so much to hold her back, but his limbs seemed nailed to the ground.

  “Oh, Isaac, your leg.” Rebecca tugged at the leg of his trousers. “The bear got you good. It’s badly gouged, I’m afraid.”

  He forced his eyes open a crack and looked down to find his perfectly ladylike wife ripping some sort of white fabric to shreds and yanking a long strip of
it around his thigh, tugging it into a tight knot that made him wince.

  “Becky,” he whispered. Looking at her now, the name just seemed to fit. She didn’t look like a Rebecca anymore at all.

  “Shhh. That’s right. It’s me—Becky. Don’t move. Save your strength. I still have to get you on that horse somehow, and I’m going to need as much help as you can give me.” She was taking charge of him, bossing him around with a confident air of command that made him want to raise his brows. That is, if he could’ve moved them.

  “I need to get you to the doctor in town.” Her panic came to the surface then in the quaver in her voice.

  She was really worried about him. The thought sort of pleased him a little. She cared if he lived or died. Not much to go on, but it was a start.

  “Okay, now, can you grab my shoulder?” She leaned close.

  He wanted to help her so badly. From out of the very depths of him, he managed to lift his arm across her shoulders. The world tilted and faded in and out of black, as she shifted and pulled him and all his great length toward a big boulder. How she expected to get him up on his bay was a mystery. She weighed next to nothing.

  ***

  Becky held tight to Isaac. He alternately sagged against her with all his weight, threatening to topple her over, and other times, he’d catch himself and surge forward toward the boulder. Her muscles had almost given out by the time she got him up on top of the biggest rock she could find. She urged the bay over to Isaac’s side.

  Isaac collapsed over the gelding’s back with a groan, his eyes closed, his body limp. Once Becky made certain he was secure, she pulled herself astride Siren. Praying she’d get him down the trail in time to get help, she led the big bay down the mountain path. Minutes blurred into hours. It seemed like years passed by until they finally arrived at the doctor’s house.

  Becky paced around the doctor’s office, a small square room with a desk, chairs, and shelves lining the walls. Although she was in his office surrounded by medical books, her heart was just as surely in the examination room with Isaac, where Dr. Sawyer was tending to his injuries. She shivered. Why was she so cold? She stomped her feet and paced around, trying to warm herself up, which helped a little and kept her mind somewhat occupied. At the sound of footsteps approaching, she braced herself for bad news.

  Dr. Sawyer entered the room and immediately strode to her side. “Mrs. Jessup.”

  She blinked at him, confused at first by the name.

  He gently rested a hand on her shoulder. “Your husband will be fine. He’s lost some blood and will have a knot on his head that’s going to give him a little trouble. You need to know though, with a head injury like this, he may drift in and out for a few days.”

  “His leg?” That was her real worry. The images of him lying there so still and the way his leg had looked kept spinning through her mind.

  “Stitched up tight. Infection is the biggest worry, but it will mend in time. He’s a healthy young man, and I suspect he’ll be on his feet soon enough. I’ve given him something for the pain.”

  Becky wilted in relief. She felt as if she might float away or fall to the floor, so she gripped the edge of his desk to ground herself.

  “Sam,” she said, realizing Pop would be worried when Isaac didn’t return to the site.

  “Sam Jessup? Right. I’ll send a messenger up. He’ll need to know. I’ll inform him of his son’s injuries and assure him he’s doing fine, and that I’ll need to keep him here a few days until he’s back on his feet.”

  “Can I see him?” she asked hoarsely. Her voice sounded odd and her throat was sore. Probably from yelling out to Isaac at the stream. Maybe from the weakness gathering in her limbs. Shock. That’s what it was.

  “He’s in my guestroom—a recovery room, if you will—and you’re more than welcome to stay here with him. I’m sure you’re going to want to keep a close watch over him.”

  Before she could answer, he spotted her rifle propped against the wall and bent to pick it up. “What an extraordinary weapon.”

  “Thank you.”

  “This is yours?” One dark brow lifted in surprise.

  She nodded and felt her lips tremble into a smile. The relief of hearing Isaac would be all right, coupled with this sudden turn in conversation made her want to giggle uncontrollably. Maybe that was the shock too.

  “Remarkable. You wouldn’t be willing to part with it, would you? No, no. Probably not. It’s just I’m a collector of sorts, and this gun looks quite special.”

  Her prized possession. The gun Jack had given her so many years ago. What did it mean anymore? It was just a gun. Wood and metal. That was all and nothing more. She thought about how she’d considered becoming a trapper. That was a laugh. She would’ve been dead within a week from some wild animal. She shuddered to think about what it would’ve been like, being all alone. That was no kind of life. Especially if she couldn’t be with Isaac. She wanted to be with him, make a life together. Have a family.

  She wanted a place to belong, and she wanted that place to be with Isaac, for the rest of her days. She thought about her rush from the cabin to tell him she loved him, to confess who she really was. It seemed so long ago now, and not nearly as important. But it was still important. As soon as he got better, she’d tell him the truth, no matter what.

  Lord, I love him. I want him to love me too, she prayed silently. And, no matter what, I want to know you and be near you always. I know I don’t deserve Isaac, not after all I’ve done—how I came here loving Jack, pretending to be something I’m not—but if there’s any way...

  She realized the doctor was waiting for her reply. As she looked at the gun in his hands, a feeling of peace came over her. She could get another gun someday, one that didn’t have memories of Jack all over it. With the money, she could help Isaac pay for his doctor’s bill. He’d still have other bills. And there was that expensive order he’d been on his way to place, whatever that was for. There would always be something. But at least by paying this one bill, she’d know she’d helped him a little.

  “Will it cover your fees?” she asked the doctor.

  He smiled wide. “That it will, Mrs. Jessup. That it will.”

  ***

  Isaac woke in a strange room. Shifting his head to the side, he found Rebecca sleeping next to him. No. Becky. It had been a Becky who’d flown toward him on her horse. Bareback? Had his eyes seen right? And she’d brought down a bear. On horseback. A crack shot. And it would’ve taken more than one good shot, most likely, to do the job. Bringing down a bear wasn’t an easy task, especially one charging mid-attack. A bear like that could take bullet after bullet before it went down. Some men died that way: bear and hunter falling dead in a pile.

  But he was alive.

  Where had she learned to shoot like that? Definitely not from him. There was no way on earth she’d learned to shoot from those few short lessons. Which meant she’d already known how. She’d let him try to teach her, and all along she could shoot like that. And the way she’d ridden that horse. She’d been a blur of motion: her hair free, her skirts flapping around her, clearly riding astride. Like she was born to it.

  Who was she?

  And why had she hidden herself away from him from the start?

  It made no sense.

  His head must have gotten a pretty good whack when he fell, because his temple started to throb something fierce from the effort to think about it.

  Besides, it didn’t much seem to matter at the moment, not with her looking so warm and soft from sleep.

  She’d saved him.

  Isaac gently touched her cheek and whispered, “Becky...”

  “Ummm.” She snuggled into his hand. “Love you. Don’t you dare die on me.”

  He froze, not daring to move and wake her.

  She was sleep-talking again.

  “Don’t you dare die, you hear me?” she repeated rather fiercely. Her voice held that same tone of command he’d heard her use next to the strea
m. “Love you.”

  She loved him, Isaac? If that was true—and just thinking it made his blood surge—that must mean, surely, that she no longer loved Jack. Didn’t it? He couldn’t wait another minute to find out. He shook her awake.

  “Becky, wake up.” He mustered his strength and hugged her close. Thankfully his arms weren’t nearly as heavy as they’d felt earlier next to the stream. “I love you,” he said clearly, without the least hesitation.

  ***

  Becky opened her eyes one at a time. She stared at Isaac, slowly registering that he was awake and looking right at her. He was also breathing in and out with comforting regularity and...

  Wait.

  “What—what did you say?” she asked, resisting the insistent pull of sleep, but her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. Too much effort. She’d never been so tired. Was it the shock? Why couldn’t she wake up?

  “I. Love. You,” he repeated slowly. He stroked her cheek, and it was the warmest sensation Becky had ever felt. His fingers came to rest under her chin. His gaze drifted down to her lips.

  He loves me.

  “That’s nice.” She smiled drowsily at him.

  A glow spread slowly through her even as sleep tugged her back into its grasp. She snuggled closer—close enough for him to kiss her. His lips on hers felt like a dream, a wonderful dream that curled her toes in the most delightful way.

  ***

  After a few days of strict rest, the doctor pronounced Isaac well enough to come to the table for a meal. Dr. Sawyer’s wife had served up a hearty breakfast for them, and Becky voiced her appreciation, but her eyes were for Isaac alone. Watching him walk unassisted across the room and sit upright in the chair beside her simply thrilled her. After the meal, Dr. Sawyer whisked Isaac off to the examination room and then returned smiling.