Wolf Bride by T. S. Joyce Read Free Book Online Page B

the wagon and off for the south side of town.
    “Mind if I run an errand real quick?” Jeremiah asked, offering his arm. “It won’t take but a second and we’re right here.”
    “Sure.” I slipped my hand into the curve of his elbow and he led me to the post office two shops down. My heeled, leather shoes made soft clomping sounds against the worn wood of the walkway and I nodded demurely to a couple of cowboys who tipped their hats to me. They burst out laughing as soon as we passed and for the first time in a long time, I wished I wasn’t dressed like a saloon girl. It certainly wasn’t making me any friends. A man whistled from across the street. Well, all right, it wasn’t making me the right sort of friends.
    Jeremiah opened the door to the post office and waited for me to enter before following behind. He leaned against the counter and pulled a linen paper envelope from his duster pocket. His hat was the same color of brown as the counter, and he set it down respectfully and rubbed a hand through his short hair. It must’ve been a family habit because Luke often did that too. No one came immediately to the front of the store, so Jeremiah pressed the bell on the end of the table.
    “What’re you mailing?” I asked.
    “Another advertisement for a wife.” He winked and said, “This time I was a bit more specific in my wants.”
    For reasons I couldn’t myself explain, my gut went cold. It could’ve been the realization that I really hadn’t been good enough for Jeremiah, or the worry over another woman coming into the fray out here in the wilderness, but likely it was the part of me that sang that Luke would like this new woman better. She’d be able to cook and sew and milk cows, and then he’d realize how completely useless I was to him.
    Jeremiah’s eyebrows turned down slightly and his coffee colored eyes searched my face. “I still want a wife, Kristina. You get along fine with Luke, don’t you?”
    “Oh, yes. And I know I’ll grow to care for him in time. It’s just…” How did one explain matters of the heart to a man? I didn’t even understand my worry. “What if she’s some highborn lady with good breeding and education and taste, and Luke realizes what he’s missing out on?”
    Jeremiah snorted. “Luke ain’t one to fall for proper ladies, Ms. Yeaton. He calls them uppity. You’re plenty safe if that’s what you’re really worried about.”
    I gripped onto the wrapped dress and the paper made a satisfying crinkling sound as his assurances washed over me. Jeremiah should put another ad out. Anyone with eyes could see he was wanting for a woman of his own. I couldn’t let my insecurities ruin his chance at happiness.
    “Well, I wish you the best of luck. Hopefully you don’t get another saloon girl. Could you point me in the direction of the dressmaker’s shop?”
    “You take a left out the front door and it’s on this side of the street. It says Marta’s Dress Shop on the sign out in front of the store.”
    Hesitating, I opened my mouth and closed it again. “Okay,” I said slowly. “What does the word Marta’s look like?” The heat in my cheeks was growing more uncomfortable by the moment.
    Jeremiah lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Do you not have any words?”
    “No, sir. I didn’t do much schooling in Chicago.” The admission tied my stomach in knots. Not the sort sailors used on their boats, but the kind of knots lawmen tied hangman’s nooses with.
    He grabbed the package out of my hands and I stifled a yelp. He was going to see what I’d done to the dress and hate me for it and something deep inside of me wanted Jeremiah to accept me for Luke. He didn’t open it though. Instead he pulled a pencil from a wooden cylinder on the other side of the counter and wrote a jumble of letters across the front of my package.
    “It looks like that. Look for this letter first because there aren’t any other stores that start with M.”
    Mortified, I took the