Last Chance Bride

He hadn’t sent her away outright. Libby’s breath caught. “If I’m not...will you still wish to marry me?”

“I don’t know.” Jacob Stone pinned her with the full weight of his cool gaze. “I counted on this match working. Emma needs a mother. We’ve spent time exchanging letters, and you’ve traveled all this way. I don’t want to go through that again.”

In those eyes Libby didn’t see hatred or condemnation, and it surprised her. Standing before him, aware of his height and his breadth and his strength, she saw not his handsomeness but the sadness in his eyes. And an understanding that touched her inside, in her heart where nothing had touched her for years.

“Then there’s hope?” she asked.

“I have no promises to give you.” Jacob shook his head. “You put me in an awkward situation. I don’t know how Emma will take this if you have to leave.”

He didn’t want her now. Libby closed her eyes, tears hot beneath her lids. It was over.

She heard the sounds of the door opening, of Jacob Stone’s boots striding out into the hall, of the door closing and latching. But when she opened her eyes, Libby still hoped to see him standing there at the window, a man with honesty and compassion ringing in his voice.

Who was she fooling, Libby asked herself. Anyone could see she’d ruined her chances of marrying Jacob Stone. She brought up her unvirtuous situation. She caused him to be angry and forced him to walk out on her.

Anyone could see he wasn’t coming back.

Jacob pounded down the stairs and through the lobby, out into the glaring summer heat, inwardly cussing himself for what he’d done. But any way he looked at it—whether Elizabeth Hodges was pregnant or not—she was not the woman he wanted to raise his daughter.

He marched down the long boardwalk, dodging Mrs. Holt carrying packages out of the mercantile, hardly aware of the traffic on the street and the ever present buzz of the sawmill at the end of town.

He didn’t know her well enough to expect her to show up pregnant. No, possibly pregnant. She didn’t even know for sure.

Then why the hell did she have to tell him?

Because she was an honest woman.

“Pa!” Emma hopped out onto the boardwalk in a swirl of red calico. “Where’s Miss Hodges?”

Jacob’s heart wrenched at the sight of hope so bright in his daughter’s blue eyes. “She’s in her hotel room.”

Better Emma know nothing of the type of woman who stepped off that stage.

“Doing what?”

“Unpacking. Resting from her long trip.”

Emma sighed, sounding disappointed. “She’s still comin’ to supper, right?”

Jacob felt the weight of the little girl’s hope settle on his shoulders. His heart wrenched. “I’m not sure, Emma.”

“But you promised.” Her quietly spoken words struck him like an ax.

“Yes, I guess I did.” He had so little to give her. How could he go back on his promise?

Emma’s sweet smile stretched across her small face. “Pa, I want just one more thing.”

“One more thing?” He rolled his eyes, teasing. “I’m afraid to ask. What is it?”

She giggled. “I just want some new hair ribbons for tonight.”

“Whew. I think we can do that. Have Jane help you.”

“Oh, Pa. Thank you. I have to look my best for Miss Hodges.” Her entire heart shone in those words. She spun away, dashing back into the store, braids flying.

He couldn’t disappoint Emma. Yet he couldn’t allow her to be hurt, either.

Jacob stepped out into the street and gazed back at the hotel. How could Elizabeth go and ruin everything?

Libby sank onto the soft mattress. She did the right thing, she knew it. Whatever lay ahead, she had faced her greatest fear. Now she could face herself. A lightness settled across her shoulders, and she felt calm for the first time in weeks. She’d done the right thing.

When Jacob had written, asking her to marry him, she sat and cried over what she’d done. She feared she could never face him, nor tell him the truth about what happened. But as the long hours passed and the night deepened, Libby began to hope. Maybe it could still be. Maybe Jacob need never know. Perhaps she wasn’t pregnant.

Libby had clung to that belief during the trying journey west, but as the nausea hit, she feared it was more than travel sickness. And she told herself it would be all right.

Except now he didn’t want a wife in the real sense.

Libby closed her eyes. She never meant to deceive him. She just wanted to love this man, the Jacob she’d created in her mind. She so wanted him to love her. Even now, she could not let go of hope.

She could not bear to think she had lost him.

Late that afternoon, washed and changed and nervous, Jacob took a step closer to the door and hesitated, standing like a fool in the middle of the narrow hotel corridor. Emma was home with Jane. A meal would be waiting.

What would he say? He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to face the pretty and fragile woman he’d come to know through her letters. The woman he’d made up in his mind, so gentle and quietly humorous, would not have slept with another man.

Anger thudded in his chest and he almost turned away. But he’d promised Emma. The remembered hope in her blue eyes kept him from running out of the hotel. He lifted his fist and knocked.

“Who is it?” asked a quiet voice through the wood door. Elizabeth’s voice.

“It’s Jacob.”

The door swung open to reveal her thin, pale face. Kind blue eyes met his and he felt the impact straight to his gut. He caught a whiff of rose water, sweet and light, saw the careful coronet of tightly plaited braids crowning her head, heard the gasp of her breath telling him he’d surprised her.

Hell, he surprised himself.

“Can I come in? I want to talk with you.”

“Yes.” Slim, graceful fingers gripped the edge of the door, pulling it open, allowing him room.

He wanted to hate her for her duplicity. It would be easier if he could. Jacob slipped past her and stood in the middle of the room, the bed between them.

Elizabeth carefully pushed the door to, but not shut. Silence settled between them. He fingered the hat he gripped in both hands.

“Jacob,” she began. She looked breakable. “I’m sorry about this. I need you to believe that.”

Sincerity burned in her eyes. He looked away. “I gave you a surprise, too. I’m sorry about that. I should have told you, I should have prepared you. You came all this way with expectations about a marriage and a family I can’t meet.”

She blinked, embarrassment pinkening her pleasant face. “I’m the one who is wrong.”

He couldn’t answer her. It took all his will to hold back the burning edge of rage—rage at her for being less than he had hoped, less than the mother Emma needed.

“I received over fifty letters.” Hell, he shouldn’t have told her that.

Surprise flickered in her eyes. “Fifty women wrote you?”

“Emma and I read through every letter.”

“I never imagined so many women would write you.”

“Neither did I.” His breath caught. “Yours was the one she liked the most. So I wrote you.”

She smiled, a softness crept across her plain oval face, changing her from pretty to beautiful.

“I can’t tell you what your letters meant to me,” she said. “I was so alone, and suddenly I had someone to talk to, even if it was in writing.”

His throat constricted. “Your letters meant a lot to Emma, too.”

“I’m so glad.”

Their gazes met. He saw sadness large enough to touch him.

“Yours was the only advertisement I have ever answered,” she confessed. “Or that I ever wanted to.”

She seemed so innocent, a touch shy. Beneath it all, she had to be a good woman. Jacob’s anger and disappointment tangled inside his chest, twisting painfully. He wanted to vent the rending confusion of his emotions. Hell if he knew what to say, and how to say it without hurting her. He’d never felt so helpless in his life.

Maybe he should call this whole thing off. He could walk out the door and never look back.

But he didn’t want to start looking for another woman. Elizabeth met every one of his requirements. She was kind, honest and gentle. And Emma wanted her. It was too late to go back, too soon to go forward.

She ambled away from him with a swishing of her simple skirts. She wore a blue calico, he noticed now, nothing fancy or pretty, just a serviceable dress. This was the woman he’d imagined during those long months of correspondence.

“I’ve brought a gift for Emma. May I give it to you? I want her to have it.”

Jacob said nothing.

Libby took that as an agreement as she crossed to the small bureau near the door. “I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Now that things between us have changed...” Her throat closed. “I know I won’t be seeing her again, but this still belongs to her.”

“You shouldn’t have gone to any trouble.”

“Oh, it was no trouble, only pleasure.” She tugged out the drawer, risking a glance at him.

He stood with hat in hand, his black hair neatly combed. He wore a crisp red flannel shirt and dark trousers and his boots shone, despite the thin light in the room.

If only. Libby held back her heart as she extracted a wrapped bundle from the top bureau drawer and folded back the paper. She wanted Jacob’s friendship and his respect. How could she earn it now?

Her hands trembled as she laid the doll on the dresser.

“That is a lovely gift,” Jacob said, stepping forward to join her.

Libby glanced up into the mirror’s reflection. With his head bent, she could see the cowlick at the back of his scalp. He seemed vulnerable somehow, despite his obvious strength and height and breadth. He lifted one thick-knuckled hand and brushed a finger across the doll’s happy cloth face and brown yarn braids.

“You wrote me and said Emma had brown hair.”

“Yes, I did.” He towered above her with emotion shining in his eyes. “This is an expensive doll.”

“I purchased the fabric, but I made the doll,” Libby explained, pleased with her work. “I wanted something special to give Emma, something a mother might make for her daughter.”

Jacob’s throat worked, and he turned away.

She’d said the wrong thing. “I know I can’t expect anything from you, anything we agreed to months ago, but I made this doll for Emma, from my heart. It would mean everything to me if she could have it, no strings attached.”

“Why?”

Because losing dreams hurt. Libby carefully covered the doll with the brown paper. “I put my heart into making this for Emma. It belongs to her.”

His jaw firmed, and he looked away without speaking. He wouldn’t accept the gift. Libby stared hard at her hands. She was alone now. Without Jacob, without a home. Perhaps she’d been foolish to tell him the truth when she wasn’t even certain. But in her heart Libby knew, she could never hurt Jacob.

“I have dinner waiting for us at home,” he said quietly.

Did he mean...? Hope beat in her heart. Home. It had been a lifetime since that word meant anything to her. She had been a small girl. Libby remembered the little trundle bed tucked in the corner of the shanty where she slept at night, safe from the rain and the wind and the harshness of the world. Now she caressed the word over and over in her mind, as if home could mean that again.

“Do you mean—” she didn’t dare hope “—you haven’t changed your mind?”

“You have come only to meet us, nothing more.” Jacob turned toward the door. His boots rang on the floorboards. “You and I may decide not to marry for many reasons. I’m willing to see what happens.”

He was such a fair man. Libby’s chest ached. Please, let it work out.

“I just don’t want Emma hurt.” His cool gaze trapped hers with the weight of his heart.

“Then we are in agreement. I don’t want her hurt, either.”

Jacob smiled. Truly smiled. Libby watched his face soften and the tension in his shoulders ease. This man, with his gentle smile warming the stark gray of his eyes, was the man she’d dreamed of.

“Emma can talk the ears off a mule, if she sets her mind to it,” he said, leading the way out into the hall. “I thought I’d better warn you.”

A lightness burst in Libby’s chest. “She’s a lively child.”

“And too much for me to raise all alone.” He waited while she closed and locked her door. “I’m outnumbered.”

“And I suspect Emma knows it.”

“Yes, she uses it to her advantage constantly.” Jacob’s smile sparkled.

Libby felt dazzled all the way to her toes. Somehow she managed to walk down the stairs and through the hotel’s busy lobby without tripping. He was willing to see what happens. She wanted him so much. She’d never met a man like him before.

The sun threw long-fingered rays across the sky and slanted into her eyes when she stepped out onto the boardwalk. She blinked against the light as Jacob halted beside a small, well-kept buckboard.

“Are you ready?” His gray eyes swept hers.

“I think so.”

He offered his hand.

Big fingers closed over hers and, palm to palm, he helped her up into the wagon. Her heart did crazy flipflops. She settled on the buckboard’s comfortable seat, waiting for Jacob to circle around the vehicle and join her.

It was going to work out. It had to. She had never wanted anything so much.

“Emma named the horses.” He hopped up and settled into the seat beside her. The buckboard swayed slightly, adjusting to his weight. “She insisted.”

“Life must be like sunshine sharing it with her.”

Jacob gripped the thick leather reins. “Yes. That little girl is everything to me.”

“I can see why.” Libby looked at the package she clutched safely in her lap. Would Emma like the doll? It was homemade, not bought at a fancy store. The sleek, perfectly matched bays drawing this handsome buckboard told her something new about Jacob: He wasn’t poor the way she was.

“The near one is Pete,” he said with an easy grin. “The other is Repeat.”

Libby laughed.

Smile lines crinkled around Jacob’s sparkling eyes.

He didn’t need to tell her which house was his. She knew without words when it came into view, tucked between the thick boughs of cedar and pine. Neat and tidy, with precisely cut logs and thick stripes of chinking, the log cabin sat in a small clearing. Two large windows watched them from either side of a solid wood door. The house looked sturdy and cozy and built to withstand an eternity of winters.

Home. The one word buzzed through her mind, rendering her incapable of speech. She felt warm down to her toes.

Jacob reined in the horses with the jangle of the harness, and Libby stared at the house, trying not to let her hopes grow.

The door flew open and Emma’s red-dressed figure hurled into view, braids flying, black-shoed feet pounding the hard-packed earth. “You’re here! I’ve been waiting forever.”

Libby laughed. Happiness welled in her heart, spilling over with joy. With the sun slanting through the thickboughed pines and the sight of the little girl bouncing to a stop before her, Libby’s throat filled with happy tears. She knew every hardship in her life had brought her here, to this shining, singular moment.

She’d come home.

Chapter Three

Nothing in Libby’s life had ever prepared her for this heart-aching hope smoldering inside her chest. Like embers, she could feel that hope burn.

“We’re having a treat for dessert.” Emma’s voice rang like a merry bell in the hot air. “I’m not supposed to tell what it is because it’s a secret.”

“A secret dessert?” Libby repeated, enchanted.

Emma nodded. Excitement pinkened her cheeks. “We worked on it this morning to pass the time. Your stage didn’t come in until noon, and I couldn’t wait.”

“Neither could I.”

Emma clasped her hands together. “Jane and me made pie...ah, the dessert and then it was time to go meet you.”

Libby’s throat felt too full to speak.

“It’s even a secret from Pa,” the little girl confessed.

“That’s enough now, Emma,” Jacob circled around the wagon, his voice gently amused. “Don’t wear out Miss Hodges’ ear before we even get her inside the house.”

“Ah, Pa. How can I wear out her ear? Ears don’t wear out.”

“Yes they do. You know Grandpa can’t hear well.”

Emma laughed wholeheartedly. “That’s because he’s old.”

“It’s because you talked too much.”

They could be a family. Libby’s chest hurt just thinking of it.

“May I help you down?” Jacob offered his hand.

She slipped her bare fingers into his broad palm. Male-hot skin scorched hers. Libby swallowed at the sensation. He overwhelmed her like a dream, a hero, a fairy-tale prince come true. Her stomach twisted with a knot of need. She hadn’t been sick all day. Maybe it was all right. Maybe she could have her own happy ending.

Libby hopped to the ground, skirts swishing. She kicked up a small puff of dust with the impact of her worn shoes against the solid earth.

“I like your doll.”

At the sight of Emma’s shy, wistful face, Libby had no doubts. She had chosen her gift to the girl well. “This isn’t my doll.”

“She isn’t?” Hope shivered in those words.

“No. I made her.”

“You made her?” Her mouth opened into a round O.

“Yes. I chose everything carefully. The big blue button eyes. The brown yarn braids. The calico dress.”

“It’s red too. We match.”

“Yes. It’s a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Emma nodded solemnly, the puff of wind teasing her skirt. “Did you make her for me?”

“Yes.”

Emma didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe.

“She doesn’t have a name yet. I thought you might have a few ideas.” Libby stepped closer and pressed the gift against the girl’s chest. Immediately those reed thin arms embraced the rag doll, hugging her hard.

“Oh, thank you!” Now that Emma had found her voice, it vibrated with the deepest joy. “Pa, look! I have a real doll! Not just a wooden carving, but a real doll!”

“I see that, Emma.” Jacob’s eyes twinkled.

Emma squeezed her doll tightly. “Oh, I do hope you can stay with us.”

Silence.

Libby stared hard at the ruffle hemming her skirts. She could feel Jacob’s gaze on her, feel his silence.

“Well, now, Emma, you know we’ll just have to wait and see how things work out.” His words came gently, like a loving touch.

Libby’s eyes smarted. Maybe she wasn’t pregnant.

“Pa, Miss Hodges has to stay. Everything is going to be perfect. I just know it.”

Libby glanced up. Jacob pinned her with his hard, assessing gaze. Her heart kicked in her chest. If only he could understand.

“Dinner’s ready!” a woman’s voice called from the door, fracturing the tension strung as tight as a clothesline.

“Thanks, Jane.” Jacob snagged hold of the harness, turning his back to Libby. “I’ve got to take care of these horses. Emma, take Miss Hodges into the cabin.”

“Can I show her my room?”

Libby closed her eyes. She could feel dreams slipping between her fingers, impossible to grasp.

“Just don’t keep Jane waiting.” Jacob led the horses off, the buckboard rattling over the rocks and ruts in the yard.

“Jane made chicken pie.” Emma slipped her small hand inside Libby’s. “I helped her. I got to make the dough and everything.”

Libby stared down at the hand within hers, so small and trusting. “I bet it will be the best chicken pie I’ve ever had.”

“Jane put carrots and peas in it.” Emma led the way across the dusty front yard toward the snug cabin.

Heavens. Libby paused in the threshold, glancing about the pleasant room with its puncheon floors and log walls and simple furnishings. Emma bounced through the front room as if there were nothing special about the solid walls so carefully made and sealed tight against the winds. But to her...this cabin came right out of her dreams.

Libby belonged here. She could feel it. A tremble of joy shivered through her.

“It isn’t much.” Jacob’s voice startled her, and she spun around.

He could read the surprise on her face. She hadn’t heard him approach.

“Oh.” She placed a slender hand to her chest. “This is the most beautiful home. Did you build it yourself?”

“Yes. Felled the trees. Chinked the walls. It’s snug and it’s sturdy.” Pride simmered in his chest. No matter what she was, Elizabeth Hodges was a woman of simple tastes. He liked that.

“It’s so roomy and bright.” Her eyes shone not with greed or want, but with something deeper. “Why, with curtains at the windows and a rug on the floor, this would look like a picture in a book.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

She confused him. He didn’t know if he wanted to marry a woman with a questionable reputation. Yet he liked her. She was soft and pretty. He suspected life had not been easy for her, a woman alone in the world.

“Pa, come on.” Emma crowded next to Elizabeth, grabbing hold of the woman’s capable hands. “Jane’s puttin’ supper on the table. I want to show Miss Hodges where to sit.”

Alone on the front step, Jacob watched his little girl drag Elizabeth away. It was best not to think of the future.

But as he glanced about his simple, adequate home, he noticed the polished furniture and the glistening windowpanes. Jane and Emma must have scrubbed the room from floor to ceiling hoping to make a good impression.

Now she stood at the table, patiently listening while Emma set her doll down in the chair by the window, as if to make the rag doll a part of the family. Elizabeth leaned down and meant to brush a strand of hair from Emma’s eyes but snatched back her hand, uncertain.

Jacob’s stomach tightened. He could see the goodness in her. He didn’t want to like her.

“Come sit down while it’s still hot,” Jane said, barreling around the corner with the potatoes steaming in a glass bowl.

He clomped across the room and pulled back his chair. Elizabeth looked so uncertain. She certainly wasn’t a bad woman. He had to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Go ahead and sit down. I’m wagering Emma has a chair all picked out for you.”

“She’s sittin’ beside me.” The girl beamed.

“I could have guessed that.” Jacob sat down in his chair.

Emma grabbed Elizabeth’s hand and showed her to the chair between them. The woman looked overwhelmed. She lifted her chin and happiness filled her eyes.

“This is all so wonderful,” she said in a voice as gentle as morning. “I’m just so grateful to be here.”

“I’m glad, too,” Emma chimed.

Guilt kicked Jacob like an ill-tempered mule. He’d not been fair to Elizabeth Hodges from the start. Promising her marriage when he never intended to love her. He’d dreaded her arrival, and if it hadn’t been for Emma, Elizabeth wouldn’t be sitting at his table right now, pregnant or not.

“I picked the beans fresh today.” Emma clutched the cut-glass bowl in both small hands. “You like beans, don’t you Miss Hodges?”

“I love them.” Delight shimmered in her eyes like sunlight playing in the creek.

He’d harbored so many worries. Would she be a decent woman? Would she be a loyal wife? A loving mother? They evaporated now like fog before sun.

“Pa bought these hair ribbons just for tonight,” Emma chattered. “They’re velvet. For a special occasion, Jane said.”

“Very fancy. The color makes you look very pretty.”

Emma beamed. “Tell me about the Indians. They ride their ponies bareback.”

“Yes, they do.”

Jacob could hardly swallow, and he stared down at his empty plate. He hadn’t dished up. Now, he wasn’t hungry. He reached for the bowl of beans Elizabeth passed to him. His fingers brushed hers, and in that instant of contact he raised his gaze. Their eyes met and held.

He had to start risking again, for Emma’s sake. His gut clenched. If only it wasn’t so hard. If only...

“I want to ride a pony wild in the meadows,” Emma’s voice broke between them. “Would you let me, Pa?”