The Russian Billionaire’s Secret(132)

Belle giggled despite how bad she felt. “I guess not.”

“There’s a smile.” The woman held out a hand and Belle took it. The palm was hard and calloused from years of hard labor, nothing at all like her own soft and dainty hands. “My name’s Emily Patrick, but folks ‘round her just call me Em. What do you say we get you on your feet and in the kitchen so I can get some food in your belly?”

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food and Belle nodded. “I think that would be divine.”

“Divine she says.” Em chuckled. “You don’t need to use that big language around here, honey. We’re simple folks in Vicksburg and we speak simple.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Belle wasn’t sure why she said ma’am. She thought for a moment that maybe it was because Em reminded her of her mother, but she knew that wasn’t right. Her mother had been a heartless woman only interested in power and money. Em was nothing like that. She might sound harsh, but Belle could tell that she was only trying in her own way to help her out and make life easier. That was when she realized why she said ma’am. She respected the woman.

“Sit down at the table and I’ll fix you something to eat.”

A while later Em and Belle sat at the table and drank coffee as they swapped stories. Most of Belle’s were only about how things were back east and not about life experiences, but Em listened with full attention. With her stomach full of hot beans and beef and biscuits she felt much better. Not to mention the coffee. She hadn’t been able to eat much because her stomach had shrunk in her weeks of near starvation, but she did her best to put away as much as she could.

“I think I hear boots on the road. That’ll be the Sheriff and Tom.”

Tom was Em’s husband. At sixty, he still ran the blacksmith shop by himself and filled all the orders on time. Belle was curious to see him for Em had told her that he was still a brute of a man. The thought of Matt made her stomach lurch. She knew that he had ordered her out of the paper, but she still didn’t know him. Her host seemed to think highly of him, so she tried to calm down. She took another sip of her coffee and set it back down. The cup clattered against the saucer.

“Are you nervous, girl?”

“I’m not going to lie. I’m scared to death. I don’t know this man. I’ve never seen him in my life and now I have to go live with him and sleep in the same bed as him. Just like that. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Em placed her hand over Belle’s and looked her in the eyes. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable with. Matt is a good man and he’ll understand. If you’d like I could talk to him and explain that you’re a little shook up still and nervous about the arrangements.”

“Would you?”

She felt bad for asking, but Em nodded and got up. She opened the door and stepped out into the dying light of the sun as it set on the horizon. Belle could hear their voices as they spoke. She couldn’t quite make out the words and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to. Her cup sat forgotten on the table as the front door opened once more and Em came through. A huge man filled the doorway behind her, his shoulders almost as wide as the frame. She could see that his hands were stained black from working with metal and his face was covered in soot from the fire of the forge. His shirt and beard were caked with sweat and dust, but his smile was nice. He swept off his cap and nodded to her. Em pointed at him and introduced them to each other.

“This is my husband Tom. Tom, this is Belle Trotter. She’s the Sheriff’s mail order bride.”

“Nice to meet you Ms. Trotter. I’d shake your hand, but I ain’t washed yet.”

“That is fine, Mr. Patrick.”

“Just Tom.”

“Then you must call me Belle.”

“It’s a deal.”

“That’s enough chatting you two.” Em interrupted. “Matt’s waiting outside for you, Belle. I explained to him that you’re still a little rocked from your ordeal. He said you could have his bed and he’d sleep in the sitting room. You best not keep him waiting now.”

Belle nodded and got up. As she started for the door, she realized that she didn’t have her valise with all her possessions in it, but Em was one step ahead of her. She picked it up from behind a chair near the door and held it out to her.

As Belle neared the door, she grew nervous. She didn’t want to look like a dolt once again in front of these people so she bolstered her resolve and stepped out into the night to meet her new husband.

Chapter 4

Sometimes You Need A Second Chance

Matt stood on the road just outside the fence that surrounded Em’s house with his hat in his hands. As Belle stepped of the porch, she looked him over for the first time. Earlier at the train station, she had been so preoccupied with her new surroundings that she had barely noticed him at all. She thought that he looked quite handsome in the dying light of the Arizona sun. The quintessential western type. Tall, with broad shoulders and narrow hips from riding horses. Eyes that had been closed by years of working in the sun, yet were sharp as those of an eagle and constantly alert for trouble. His walrus mustache was well-groomed and his hair was slicked back over his head despite the fact that he had worked all day.

He must have stopped somewhere and freshened up before he came here, she thought. She also noted the gun on his left hip. He wore it not as a gun, but as an extension of himself. His hand never strayed far from it as he waited for her at the end of the walk.