Red Snow Bride Page 3

  Decidedly, I scribbled across the last piece of fine paper in my possession before I could change my mind.

  Dearest Mr. Dawson,

  I write to inform you of my interest in an advertisement you placed in a paper some months ago. For reasons I can’t quite sort through right now, I have a mind to consider your offer. You have written of your want for a proper wife, and I assure you my high bred pedigree stretches for generations. As I’ve fallen on misfortune, I don’t have any dowry to offer or material possessions to give if that is what you are looking for, but I’ll be easily companionable and diligent in my wifely duties. I have to admit, as I would feel terrible for pursuing you under false pretense, that I have been a victim of a serious scandal here in Boston recently and won’t bring any prestige to your lineage. However, if you are willing to overlook all of that and still would consider me a candidate for your arrangement, please contact me in Boston.

  Yours,

  Lorelei McGregor

  I scurried to the post office as fast as I could dodge the rank mud puddles in hopes of making it before the post man flipped the handwritten sign to ‘closed.’ Just in time, I swished in through the door, smearing muddy water over the wooden planks beneath my feet. “I need this mailed to Jeremiah Dawson of Colorado Springs, Colorado,” I said breathlessly.

  He took the letter from my outstretched hand and with a grumpy frown said, “It’ll go out with tomorrow’s post.”

  A sense of relief I didn’t quite understand flooded me as I left my letter there in the care of the post man. Maybe it was because it was out there in the world now and out of my hands, or maybe because the stranger, Jeremiah’s, answer would be a chance to feel something other than rejection. Whatever it was, I sat in my tiny room and read his advertisement over again, and this time I felt a sense hopeful fear.

  My path in life had been altered by the cruelty of my husband, and now Mr. Dawson’s answer would be my destiny.

  ****

  Jeremiah

  The sting in my cheeks attested to how bitterly cold it was. The snow had finally stopped falling last month, but the wind remained to remind a man winter wasn’t done with him yet. The black horse under me snorted, and steam blew out of his nostrils in front of us like the Denver train as we picked our way through the woods. In the next month, my brother and I would have to prepare the land, as we did every year, to plant the crops but for now, the weather was too volatile to do anything other than survive. I wasn’t even to the clearing our cabin had been housed in before it was burned by Hell Hunters a couple of months ago but still, my sensitive ears picked up the sound of my brother and his wife talking. Arguing was maybe a better word.

  Shrugging through the last tree line defense that separated our home from the wilderness, my horse snickered out a greeting to the winter coated mare in the corral. The view of the clearing after a long day always stirred a feeling of sadness. Hell Hunters intent on burning my brother’s wife, Kristina, and hanging Luke and I from the big tree out front had tainted this place. The old house stood in a pile of burned rubble, dilapidated and abandoned. With it, the fire had taken everything we owned and now we were forced to live in the barn or in a rough camp in the woods.

  Usually the clearing made me sad, but today it stopped me short. Piles and piles of fresh cut lumber cluttered the ground and Luke stood in the middle of the chaos with a letter clenched in his white knuckled grip.

  “What’s all this?” I asked as I steered my horse through the maze of different sized wooden planks.

  Kristina stood with her fists clenched at her sides and her cheeks so red they could rival the tomatoes in our summer garden. “Apparently,” she snarled, “your brother became great friends with the man who ruined me!”

  A wise man stayed out of marital affairs but this bait was too tempting. “You met with Barron French while you were in Chicago?”

  Luke threw his hands up in the air. “You too? Look, I had to do something in order to get close to his mother, and meeting him was my move. I wasn’t drinking buddies with the guy or anything. The man was a cockchafer and I threatened him within an inch of his life until he gave me the information I needed!”

  I narrowed my eyes at his use of curses in front of a woman, but his foul language only managed to inch a tiny smile from Kristina. Luke often forgot the manners Ma had instilled in us. Luckily, he’d found him a woman as crass as him. “What does Kristina’s ex-lover have to do with the wagon loads of lumber on our land?”

  Luke handed the letter to me.

  Mr. Dawson,

  I heard of the misfortune that befell you as a direct result of the unfortunate situation born between Ms. Yeaton and myself. In thanks for fixing the little problem I was having while you were in Chicago, I’ve delivered enough lumber to rebuild your home. Give my regards to Kristina. Tell her I’m sorry—for everything.

  Barron French

  What the devil? “The bastard thanked you for killing his mother?”

  Luke’s green eyes held steady on the distant horizon. “City folks are a different breed. That’s for sure and for certain,” he muttered.

  Kristina crossed her arms and from what I remembered with my late wife Anna, that little gesture told a wise man to run. “When were you planning on telling me?”

  “Never,” he said remorselessly.

  The sound of her smacking his arm echoed through the clearing and I did the smart thing—walk away. That much lumber wasn’t just enough to rebuild our small home. It would provide enough cut lumber to build two small houses and if I was going to bring a wife out here, a house separate from those two rutting newlyweds would probably be a good idea.

  In the barn, I pulled my horse into a stall and slid the saddle from his back. The faintest brush of air and a slight movement of straw gave her away. If that didn’t, her smell would’ve done the trick. I liked to let Kristina think she was getting closer to sneaking up on me though.

  “What do you want?” I asked, pulling the saddle blanket from the back of the horse.

  A frustrated groan came from the vicinity of the barn door and she moped toward the stall I was shutting. “I come here to say my piece and then I won’t bother you no more.”

  Uh oh. I eyed an escape route to the door but thought better of it. If she was determined, and the steel in her voice said she was, she’d track me down to the ends of the Colorado territory to talk at me. Stubborn as a boar, that woman was. “Go on,” I said gruffly.

  “I know for a fact you haven’t responded to that woman in Boston and it ain’t right. She might be waiting on that answer, Jeremiah Dawson. She might be hard up and needing an escape and you’re keeping her waiting. For all your fancy manners, you’d think you at least would have the decency to tell her yes or no.”

  Damn her insight, she was actually right. She fiddled with her sandy blond braid and set her blue-eyed gaze on me. It wouldn’t work as well as on my brother, but we’d been through enough that it’d work just fine on me too. Her whoring days had taught her many a thing, including getting what she wanted.

  “You been waiting a mighty long time for a response to that advertisement to just sit on it. What’s going through that head of yours?”

  “For one, where am I gonna put a city slickin’ lady? You and Luke live in the barn and I live in a tent out in the wilderness. I have no house to give her.”

  “Not yet,” she piped up.

  “It still takes time to build a house, Kristina. And what if she reacts to what I am like you did with Luke when he changed in front of you that first time? What if she goes running for the hills?”

  “There was always the risk of that. That’s nothing new, now what is the real problem?”

  I narrowed my eyes and clenched my teeth. “I don’t want to bring no woman up here to marry and share the secret if she ain’t the right woman.”

  Kristina’s eyes flashed with anger. “Are you talking about me? You’re scared because you mail ordered me and I ain’t what you tho
ught you were getting?”

  “I advertised for a lady, which you wrote you were, and you showed up in the dress you were whorin’ in not the week before. My concerns are valid.”

  “I ain’t a whore no more, Jeremiah! And you’re never going to know if Lorelei McGregor is right for you or not if you never respond. Coward,” she spat before she threw the barn door open to leave.

  It was obnoxious that she was right the majority of the time. Educated or no, she had a good head on her. “Wait,” I drawled.

  She turned with a furious swish of skirts, but what I’d say next would warm her up to me again fast enough. “I said I didn’t want to bring her out here until I was sure, not that I wasn’t going to respond. We don’t have to put the seeds in the ground for a while yet, and if you and Luke are okay with holding off on building the houses, I was thinking of paying Ma and Da a visit.”

  “We’re going to Boston?” she breathed with a look of such hope I couldn’t help the smile that cracked my face.

  “We’ll leave tomorrow for Denver and take the train and everything.”

  I hunched in on myself and covered my sensitive ears at the shrill shriek of excitement that burst out of my sister-in-law. She was off running and yelling for Luke before I even got a ‘thank you kindly for the invite.’

  Chapter Four

  Jeremiah

  The looks we received in town as we waited for the carriage would be downright humorous if my sensitive ears didn’t pick up all of the despicable things the town’s people were saying about Kristina.

  “It’s scandalous, her living up there with those two men. Look how they hover around her! You can’t even tell which one she’s married to,” Martha Pricket said as she gossiped with the old ladies in front of the cabinetry shop.

  I sighed and hefted Kristina’s baggage for her anyway. No matter what any of them said, Kristina was a lady and shouldn’t be carryin’ her own bag. And Luke was too busy talking to the driver of the coach to do it himself. With a subtle glance to make sure the women were watching, I pressed my hand on Kristina’s back and helped her into the carriage. They puffed up like angered hens, and I hid my satisfied smile.

  Kristina wouldn’t ever think anything of it. She and I had bonded over the winter Luke had left her alone in my care. There’d never been any physical attraction between us, but she was special to me. I’d die along with Luke to keep my sister-in-law safe. It was my wolf that loathed her for reasons I couldn’t fathom other than the assumption that the animal side of me had snapped the day Anna had died.

  Plain and simple, my wolf was insane. The human side of me, however, cared for Kristina like she was my own flesh and blood sister. Actual flesh and blood sisters didn’t exist for werewolves because they withered and died straight after birth, but I wasn’t taking Kristina for granted on a technicality.

  “Kristina! Wait!” Trudy called from the stairs in front of Cotton’s. She was a freedwoman, making her home in Colorado Springs after the Emancipation, and though she was frowned upon by many for the caramel color of her skin and choice in a white husband, she was the best damned cook in town and everybody came to eat her recipes at Cotton’s. She was also Kristina’s friend. Her swollen belly led the way, and I jogged over to help her across the bustling street. In her hand was clutched a white cloth with a weight in it that smelled suspiciously and deliciously like cornmeal and butter.

  “Thank you kindly, Mr. Dawson,” she said behind a brilliant white smile. “I thought for sure I’d miss my farewell.”

  “No ma’am, we’re just loading up.”

  She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the window of the carriage. “I packed you some of your favorite cornbread, and I put a few extra pieces in there for you Dawson boys.”

  Kristina leaned out the window, flashing her cleavage for the whole town to see and Trudy laughed as she kissed her lightly on the cheek and took the sack.

  “Trudy, I’m going to miss you somethin’ fierce! Don’t you have that baby without me, you hear?”

  “We have a few months still. So long as these boys bring you back soon, we’ll be all right.”

  “We’ll get her back long before you’re due,” Luke promised. “This’ll be a short trip.” He hopped into the carriage with Kristina. “You tell Elias he better brush up on his poker face while we’re gone. We’re playing when we get back.”

  Trudy groaned as I scaled the carriage to take the seat next to the driver. “That man doesn’t need to learn a poker face. I like bein’ able to tell when he’s fibbing to me.”

  “Fine,” Luke called. “Tell him our animals need to be fed every two days then.”

  “Don’t worry about your livestock. They’re in capable hands. Bye!” She waved until we turned the corner and couldn’t see her anymore.

  I settled into the rickety seat and lowered my hat to keep the tips of my ears protected from the whipping cold wind. It was going to be a long trip to Boston with a lot of down time to imagine everything that could go right and wrong with Lorelei McGregor.

  Hopefully she liked surprises.

  ****

  After five days on the jouncing carriage I was about ready to explode like a short-fused stick of dynamite. I hadn’t had the chance to change in way too long, and that much time spent in one form left me edgy and sore to my very bones. From Luke’s foul mood, I could only assume he was feeling the same. Normally we changed every two to three days. We could go longer if we had to, but to keep a good balance, we had to let the wolf out pretty often.

  I would’ve felt sorry for Kristina being trapped in a small carriage with a testy werewolf, but that clever woman had somehow figured out a way to tame Luke’s darker side with minimal effort. These days, just a touch of her hand soothed the ice in his eyes.

  I wasn’t so lucky and there wasn’t anywhere safe to change. Oh, we were surrounded by wild woods that would suit my needs just fine. The problem lay with Kristina. Every time I changed, my wolf tried his very best to get to her and what he had in mind were some unsavory deeds. I’d seen the horrors of his dark imagination. He’d kill her given half a chance. I’d kill her, and her death would be forever on my conscience. My brother’s happiness depended on me not changing until his wife was safe in a hotel somewhere.

  Denver was a sight for sore eyes by the time the first buildings showed over the horizon of the tree lined dirt road. From where I sat, the sounds of the city bustle, bellowing cattle, and the whistle and chug-chug of the train were as easy to hear as the birds chirping in the trees we passed.

  Tonight would be my only chance for a while and the urgency to transform hummed through my blood at the nearness of it. A second, but less serious problem was that I didn’t trust my wolf to run with Luke’s. He needed to change just as bad as me and because his animal was in control and still harbored human logic even when completely furred and fanged, he was the one to jump first. He’d hopped out of the carriage, announcing to the driver he wanted to walk the rest of the way miles ago. With a little luck, we’d stagger our changes enough that his monster would stay clear of mine.

  Kristina’s breathing was deep and rhythmic and I tapped on the hood gently. “Wake up. We’re here.”

  Her head popped out the window and she rubbed bleary eyes. “Where’s Luke?”

  “Said he wanted to walk a while,” I said with a wink.

  A knowing look washed over her face. “Will you see me to a hotel?”

  “Of course. I already have one in mind.”

  The Railhead Saloon was one of the finer establishments our modest pocketbooks could afford, and though it housed working saloon girls, Kristina had once been one and had, on multiple occasions, enlightened my brother and I she was fine around them. Of course the first time we’d listened to her, she’d pulled the wig off of the best whore in Colorado Springs for putting her claws a little too deep into my ramblin’ brother, but that was then, and she’d probably grown from the experience.

  Really, as much as I hated
to admit it, she was downright entertaining when pieces of her old life shined through the polish of her new dresses and monogamous ways. I’d never tell her that in a hundred years because I had a reputation in our pack for being the mannerly sort and I aimed to keep it, but that was the secret truth.

  With the carriage paid for and the luggage sitting in a neat pile in front of the Railhead, the shocked look on Kristina’s face was priceless when she realized I meant to put her up there.

  “I never thought you’d be taking me to a saloon after the tantrum you threw last time,” she said through a wicked grin.

  “This is where we usually stay when we drive the cattle into Denver, so some of the girls may know Luke, if you catch my meaning.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in a whore house,” she said primly and tried to heft her bag. It stayed right where it was.

  “I don’t know what you put in here,” I said, lifting it and the two smaller bags easily, “because you only own two dresses and everything else burned in the fire.”

  Kristina lifted her chin. “A lady has to keep some of her secrets.”

  I cocked my head to the side and squinted at her. “You usually say that about weaponry. Did you bring your guns?”

  She shoved the swinging saloon doors open and took a noisy draw of whiskey soaked air like she was sniffing at a rose garden. “A lady can never be too careful.”

  “That’s a yes,” I mumbled.

  After our bags were dropped in the room, I offered an arm and escorted my sister-in-law to the dining area below. She was the only lady in the room besides the whores but she managed to look right at home. There really was no point in wasting good money on a meal for me since I’d be ripping into a bunny in a matter of hours, so patiently, I waited for her to finish her shepard’s pie while I sipped a shot glass of whiskey. The amber liquid scorched my throat the entire way down and reminded me of how long it had been since I’d had a drink.