Libby and Ander Read online

  Libby

  and

  Ander

  Three Brides

  Texas Triad, Book 2

  ABAGAIL ELDAN

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  *Note: Previously published as Down to the River

  This ebook is not for resale.

  Texas Triad takes place in fictionalized towns, although several towns and cities that actually exist might be mentioned. The descriptions of the towns are flavored with artistic license. This is not a history or geography book, although I attempted to remain true to the times and places whenever possible. Instead, it is a work of fiction that tells a story.

  Copyright © 2017 Abagail Eldan

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author, Abagail Eldan

  Chapter One

  Libby glanced at Ander lying stretched out in the back of the wagon, taking up most of the room. His hat covered his face, preventing him from viewing her disdain. Why wasn’t he riding his horse like his brother Taron instead of hogging all the room?

  She allowed a loud sigh to escape her lips, and he raised one shoulder and lifted his hat a few inches. “Did you say something?”

  She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought, that he needed to act like a man and, more importantly, a gentleman, and give her some privacy. But not knowing how many more miles still remained and being stuck back here until they reached their destination, she feared she’d make a bad situation worse.

  When her only answer was a glare, he let his hat fall back over his face. If he didn’t have such a bad attitude, she would have found him attractive. He wasn’t as tall as his brother Taron, his shoulders not as broad, his eyes not blue — still, he was better looking than most of the men of her acquaintance — men like Walter. Walter was sweet on Libby, or at least on her cooking, but his unshaven face, his bowed legs, and his snaggled front tooth did nothing to attract her.

  If Walter hadn’t decided to come with them, she could have joined Robbie on the wagon seat. But Walter sat beside Robbie, not doing anything, for Robbie drove the wagon, not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

  Taron attentiveness and support amazed Libby. She grinned. Robbie, seven months pregnant, drove the wagon! And it didn’t faze Taron a bit.

  At first, Libby had her own doubts, but Robbie had assured her no harm would come to the baby. And that’s why Libby traveled with them, because she would soon become a full-time nanny to their child. Robbie planned to set up a medical practice as soon as they reached their destination. After the child’s birth, she’d go to work in a field she’d prepared for all of her life.

  And Libby would be the nanny to the baby. What Robbie and Taron didn’t know was that she had never even babysat. To tell the truth, unlike other women, babies did not enamor her. She preferred children who could communicate — babies plain bored her with their cooing and random waving of limbs. Of course, babies did not stay babies long. Once the baby arrived, the first couple of years would fly by. And how difficult could it be to take care of a baby? The baby would sleep most of the time, and she would have plenty of time to sketch.

  Libby marveled again at Taron who brought her along so Robbie could fulfill her dreams. He fully championed his wife in all her endeavors. Men like that were as rare as hen’s teeth. Phhtt ... it didn’t even run in Taron’s family. His lazy brother never gave Robbie the respect she deserved. And if it hadn’t been for Robbie, he’d still be rotting in jail — no, swinging from a rope!

  The wagon came to a halt, and Robbie twisted on her seat to speak to them. “Taron wants to stop and eat lunch before we begin the last leg of the journey.”

  “That would be wonderful,” Libby answered. She hopped from the wagon before Ander even managed to rise.

  Taron already scoured the site for firewood with Walter’s help.

  “Do we have time to cook?” Libby asked Robbie.

  “I don’t know. I suppose we could eat pemmican. We still have plenty of that.”

  Ander climbed from the wagon and came over to them, stretching. He didn’t speak and neither did he move to help Taron and Walter.

  “How much farther to the ranch?” Robbie asked him.

  He surveyed her coolly, his eyes gray. For a moment it seemed he was not going to answer and then he shrugged. “Ten miles or so.” He walked away, his gait stiff.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Libby whispered. “Looking at you like that! And he acts so uppity!”

  “Perhaps he’s tired.” Robbie’s face remained composed.

  They were all tired and eager to get to the ranch, but the others didn’t act like him.

  Taron deposited the wood. “Why don’t we make coffee and eat a bite? That way we can get back on the road sooner.”

  “That will suit me,” Robbie said.

  While Taron arranged the logs for the fire, Libby grabbed the coffee pot and filled it with water from the barrel

  Ander stood at the edge of a clump of trees, watching them. He called out, and Taron hurried over. The brothers walked farther away, their voices low.

  Libby strained to hear, but not a sound reached her. “Why did Ander call him away? He didn’t get the fire started.”

  “I’ll do it, Miss Libby,” Walter said. He grinned, showing his snaggled tooth.

  Libby thanked him and walked away, fanning her face with her hand. Summer hadn’t even arrived, and the heat increased daily. Of course, it didn’t help she wore a long dress, with her arms properly covered, and, to boot, itchy wool stockings on her legs. All because she had to sit in the back of a wagon with that man and remain modestly covered. If Ander had ridden his horse, she’d have taken a chance on rolling down her stockings. But as that never happened, her skin was irritated — not to mention her nerves.

  Libby sighed. Only ten more miles, and she would be rid of Ander and get some relief. Robbie made the coffee while Libby retrieved the jerky, since Taron preferred it over pemmican with his coffee.

  When preparations were complete, Taron and Ander still had not returned.

  “Where did Taron and Ander get off to?” Libby asked, scanning the area.

  Robbie lifted one shoulder and glanced up briefly from her medical book. She seldom seemed ruffled by events or behavior, perhaps due to her medical training. That plus keeping her nose in a book most of the time.

  However, Libby was not as cool headed. “Ten miles will take us hours even if the roads are in good condition,” she fumed.

  “Jus’ two or three hours. Still got plenty of daylight left, Miss Libby,” Walter assured her.

  Libby gave him a stern look, and when his cheeks reddened, felt ashamed. “You’re right, Walter. I’m just impatient to see our new home.” She had gentled her voice, and he responded with a grin.

  After that, she decided to pull a log closer and patiently wait. After another thirty minutes or so, the two men returned.

  “It’s about time,” Libby snapped, and immediately heat rose to her cheeks.

  “Eager to get to the ranch, Libby?” Ander’s eyes were now green and sparkling. His hazel eyes had a way of changing color depending on his mood.

  Libby raised her brows. “You’re not?”

  Ander didn’t answer but flipped the water bucket over and sat down. “Do you mind pouring me a cup of coffee, Libby?”

  She flashed him a look of annoyance but rose to do as he asked. “We have jerky if you want any.”

  “I’d like pemmican, if it’s not too much trouble. You’re very kind for asking.”

  Libby looked at him sharply, wondering if he mocked her. The greenness seemed even more vivid as he returned her gaze, and she hurried away to do his bidding.

  She retrieved the pemmican from the wagon, and his eyes had cooled to gray when she returned. He at least thanked her.

  They didn’t tarry long after that. They loaded up the few things they’d used and climbed back in the wagon. Libby sighed as she settled into place. If she had a pair of men’s britches, she’d ride behind, alongside Taron. If only she’d met him first ... Her heart constricted with a physical pang at her unkind thought.

  Father would be appalled — she was appalled. She was jealous of Robbie, and Robbie had been nothing but kind to her. If she did not tread carefully, her jealousy would gain an upper hand. Perhaps it already had. She should not have left Father and his guidance.

  Besides, she was such a help to Father. His focus was on his ministry, and she’d become his right-hand woman. He’d be lost without her! Why had she been so foolish, to leave him alone? She had not wanted to, but Father had insisted. As soon as they arrived, she’d write him a letter and let him know she’d made a mistake.

  The heat in her cheeks cooled. Had she made a mistake? Being together on the trail for so long with such a small group was bound to create closeness — and had with all except Ander who’d kept his distance. When they reached the ranch, she’d seldom see Taron. Her jealousy would be kept i
n check. She raised her chin. Just because she admired him didn’t mean ... anything.

  Ander had settled back into his usual position, his hat in place, looking perfectly content, probably already asleep. But no matter how she twisted and turned, comfort eluded her.

  Her thoughts returned to her father, considering the situation now more objectively. It wasn’t as if she left him alone. He had his faithful flock with two or three widows who had set their sights on him. There were plenty of people who cared for him — Mrs. Ratcliff for one. She’d lost her husband over a year ago and visited her father often. Actually, it was one of the reasons Libby decided to take Robbie up on her offer. Her father needed to make a new life for himself, without her interference.

  But it was doubtful either of them would make many of these long trips to visit. She’d never left her father before, and it made her heart ache to think how long it would be before she’d see him again.

  Chapter Two

  Libby stirred restlessly, the heat suffocating under the canvas of the covered wagon. It was hot enough to suck the very marrow out of the day.

  The phrase brought to mind the memory of her three older brothers when Mother fried chicken. One chicken for their family of six. Half the family consisted of growing boys who were always hungry. Mother satisfied herself with the backbone or sometimes one of the chicken feet. Mother, being half Cherokee, never let anything go to waste — even something as tough and unsavory as the claws of the chicken.

  Father usually contented himself with a wing, and usually managed to sneak Libby the wishbone. And then her brothers set upon the rest of the chicken. They stripped the meat off the bones and gnawed the gristle from the ends to suck out the marrow. Mother tried instilling manners into her brood of boys, but the manners never took.

  After Mother died, Father gave up on his sons. They all left home by the age of sixteen — Joseph had been only fifteen. They’d married and had children, but she and her father seldom saw them unless they needed something.

  Ander let out a loud snore. He was just as sorry as her brothers — never lifting a hand, wanting to be waited on hand and foot, and staying cooped up in the wagon with her when he should have been riding his horse. She scoffed at his laziness.

  The wagon pulled to a stop, and Ander woke. He raked back his hair and settled his hat on his head, grinning. “We’re here.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Her new life was about to begin.

  When Libby stepped down, it was Taron who grasped her elbow and guided her around the edge of the wagon. The house came into view and she gasped.

  The house rising in front of her was unlike any she’d ever seen. From the look of it, the house had begun modestly and grown as whole wings were added through the years. The middle was of river rock, with the two wings of adobe and the second floor of wood. Ten families could have lived here!

  Her gaze swept the area. The house stood on a small rise facing a river. The land flattened around them with gentle dips and rises. Weeping willows spread branches near the river, and pecan trees towered near the house. A few other trees dotted the fields that spread on each side and beyond. No barn was in sight — the large house probably hid it.

  Robbie, too, gazed about in wonderment, her lips slightly parted.

  Taron grinned down at his wife. “Like it?”

  Libby, excitement bubbling, spoke first. “It’s lovely! How many acres do you own, Taron?”

  Ander narrowed his now smoky eyes at her, and she blushed. In Texas, her question was probably considered rude, like asking folks how much money they had.

  A woman, her hair loose around her shoulders, ran from the house, an expression of irrepressible joy on her face. Libby shrank away when she threw her arms around Taron.

  “You’re finally here!” she cried.

  Taron loosened the woman’s arms from around his neck and swiveled her to face Robbie. “This is my wife whom I wrote to you about.” He straightened his hat.

  The dark-haired woman slapped him playfully on the arm. “Oh, how you like to tease!”

  Ander cleared his throat. “This is not a joke, Anita. My brother is married.”

  “I don’t believe it! After his agreement with Sylvia Lindsey? If her father finds out you have married this woman and broken your agreement, he will never forgive you! You will lose so much! And what of —”

  Taron cut her off with a wave of his arm and stepped away. “There was never an agreement. That was my brother’s idea, not mine.” Taron grasped his wife’s elbow. “I know you’re tired. Let’s get you inside.”

  But Robbie’s feet were planted firmly, surveying the housekeeper. Anita gasped when she finally made full eye contact with Robbie. “This woman is going to have a baby!”

  Robbie gently removed Taron’s hand from her arm and fully turned to face her. “How do you do? I’m Robbie, and I believe you’re Anita?” She smiled although her eyes remained narrowed, shooting daggers.

  “Yes, I’m Anita Brown. How do you do?” She said it stiffly, formally with her shoulders pulled back.

  Robbie held out a hand, and Anita lightly touched hers to Robbie’s, as if touching something revolting.

  “And this is Libby.” Taron, recovering his manners, indicated her with a flourish of his hand, and Anita turned, her gaze flicking over her.

  “Libby? I don’t recall Taron mentioning you.” Her voice was cool.

  Neither Libby nor Anita offered a hand. Libby was sure her own eyes shot daggers, too.

  Taron smiled with a visible effort. “I’m sure I mentioned Libby. She came with us to take care of the baby.”

  Anita frowned. “Why?”

  Taron sighed. “I explained this to you. Robbie is a doctor —”

  “Oh? I thought that was another of your jokes. Who has ever heard of a woman doctor?”

  Taron frowned, sending a look of apology to his wife. “Anita, please tell George to get some of the men to unpack the wagon. My wife needs to rest after her long journey.”

  Anita flounced off, but the tension she created remained.

  Robbie faced Taron, her eyes still narrowed. “George?”

  “He’s the foreman.”

  Robbie’s forehead furrowed even more. “Your housekeeper is incredibly rude. And who is Sylvia Lindsey and why is her father going to be angry?”

  “We’ll talk about it in private,” Taron said.

  Robbie breathed deeply, gazing around, and then nodded. She took his arm and allowed Taron to lead her to the house, her head bent toward his, and their whispers fast and furious.

  Libby searched for Ander, but he had disappeared. Now what? Should she follow Taron and Robbie, as upset as they were? Or wait for Anita to return?

  Walter came from around the side of the wagon as if he’d been hiding. She’d forgotten him and felt slightly guilty.

  He dug the toe of his boot into the ground. “What you reckon we should do?”

  She considered his question. “I’m hot and thirsty. I’m going into the house when I gather my things.”

  Walter’s eyes widened. “I ain’t agoing in there, not as mad as Missus Robbie is.”

  “The bunkhouse is somewhere around here if you’d rather bunk there.”

  He nodded. “That’ll suit me. Reckon I’ll mosey that way. D’ya need any help?”

  Libby pushed back a strand of hair. “No. I can manage. Anita went to fetch the foreman, and he’ll tell you what to do.” Her carpetbag was tucked just inside the wagon. She pulled it out and walked toward the house.

  The porch swept across the front with rockers facing the river. She almost stopped to sit, to enjoy the view of the countryside, but she was too hot and tired.

  She hesitated at the door, thinking it rude to enter someone’s house without being invited. She rapped on the doorframe and waited a moment before opening the door.

  Immediately, the coolness of the house beckoned her. All the windows were open. The house, built to catch the slightest breeze, gave her respite from the heat outside. Gauzy curtains fluttered at the large windows in the foyer area. Past the wide staircase, rooms with arched doorways created an impression of openness and airiness. The walls of the rooms were papered in subdued tones of reds, blues, and greens, with the foyer area a neutral beige. She could have stood here for hours, admiring the home, but her legs ached, and she longed to be rid of the stockings.