Chapter Eleven
Josie had never pictured herself as a bride at all. Surely not in any grand, white-gowned, lace-draped fantasy. She didn’t see quiet, candlelit vows whispered in devotion, or passionate confessions of love. She didn’t see any of that.
But even if she’d tried imagining it, she most certainly hadn’t pictured it like this—standing at the front of a small church, a borrowed yellow dress hanging a little too loosely on her frame, her hands twisted together in front of her.
She was nervous. So nervous she thought she might faint. She tried to swallow down the knot of anxiety in her throat, but she couldn’t.
It didn’t help that Cash Montgomery stood beside her, looking as though this was nothing more than another chore to complete before moving on to the next. He didn’t fidget. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t even blink. As far as she could tell, he didn’t care. Not one bit.
He stood there, broad shoulders squared, deep blue eyes unreadable, as if his face was carved in stone.
The preacher’s voice kept going, she was sure, but it faded out into the background as her thoughts whirled in restless circles. She was so nervous that she barely even heard the vows she was supposed to be repeating.
“… In sickness and in health…”
Josie clenched her hands.
Was this her sickness? The fear of staying in one place? Of tying herself to a man, even if only in name? Wouldn’t that make her just as vulnerable as Amelia had been?
Or was it something deeper?
The fear of men. Of their strength, their ability to take. To hurt. The fear of marriage itself, of becoming bound to someone in a way that could so easily turn from safety to a cage.
And worse than that, worse than any of it, was the knowledge that she was making a mockery of something sacred.
Her parents had been in love, truly in love. Their marriage had been something real, something whole. She’d watched them steal kisses on the porch, hold hands under the kitchen table, laugh over little things that no one else understood—not even her and Amelia.
They had been a team, partners in the truest sense of the word. She had taken care of him, and he had taken care of her.
What am I doing? Standing here, tying herself before God to a man, to whom she had no intention of being truly committed through sickness and in health.
Was this a dishonor to Mother and Father? To what they had? To God?
She stole a glance at Cash.
He was handsome. There was no denying that.
The kind of rough-hewn man the West carved out of dust and sweat and hard, gritty work.
All muscle and brawn. His dark brown hair was neatly combed for the occasion, but there were a few strands that rebelled, falling across his forehead.
Years in the sun had darkened his skin to a deep bronze color, and she could easily see that faint scar along his jawline—proof that this man was rough. And that his life was far from easy.
But that wasn’t what unsettled her.
What unsettled her was the way he made her feel. Safe, but also not safe. As though he could protect her from anything except himself.
The preacher cleared his throat, and she snapped back to the present moment.
“Do you, Josie Tate, take this man to be your lawful husband?”
She almost laughed—and then she almost ran. But she forced herself to stay put. She forced herself to nod.
“… I do.”
The words felt foreign on her tongue. But what seemed even more foreign was a deep, and measured voice following suit.
“I do.”
I’m really getting married.
The preacher smiled. “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
There was silence for a moment between the two of them. All Josie could hear was the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Hard and thunderous. Cash gave a single nod, as if he was sealing some sort of business deal.
He was, wasn’t he?
“You may kiss the bride,” the preacher added, and Josie stiffened.
Cash hesitated for a second, as though he’d forgotten—like her—that this was part and parcel of marriage. Then, slowly, he turned to her and leaned in.
But he didn’t really kiss her. Not in any way that meant anything. Just the barest brush of lips—rough and fleeting.
Then it was over, and she was Josie Montgomery.
***
The sky stretched out as if it was endless.
The deep blue of the afternoon melted into beautiful pinks and yellows as the sun began to set.
Josie sat stiffly in the wagon beside Clara, Samuel nestled against her chest, his tiny body warm and trusting.
The Montgomery brothers and Hank rode ahead, their horses kicking up dust, their voices carrying in easy banter—all except Cash.
Clara nudged her gently. “You did well.”
Josie let out a slow breath. “Did I?”
Clara smiled. “You didn’t run. That’s something.”
Josie huffed. She’d wanted to run. But where? She had no money. No safe place. No way to keep Samuel from Randall if he ever found her. So instead, she’d stayed.
Married. Bound to a man she barely knew.
“Cash is a good man.” Clara’s voice was soft.
Josie looked away. “Good men….” She trailed off. “Do they really exist?”
“Of course,” Clara said lightly, but to Josie it sounded more like she was playing make-believe.
The rest of the ride was quiet. Josie had nothing else to say. She liked Clara, but it was clear they didn’t have the same experiences. She had met a handful of men, but she wouldn’t have called most of them good.
Father was good. But of course she thought he was good. And she’d liked Mr. Guthrie well enough… and some of the husbands of the kinder women she’d met on her run with Amelia. But most other men?
The ones who’d called out crude, disgusting jokes anytime she walked past a saloon. The ones who’d ignored her or spurned her from shops or work because she didn’t have money or a husband. The ones who stared after her condemningly for carrying a baby around. Those men were not good men.
Clara’s horses snorted at the head of the wagon as their hooves struck heavily against the dirt, stirring Josie out of her memories.
Maybe Clara was right. Maybe Cash was a good man.
I suppose I should be happy. Happy to stay somewhere at all, let alone somewhere as friendly as the Montgomery ranch. It would have been a blessing to anyone; and it was heaven-sent to her, even if she was still terrified to let her guard down.
It reminded her of her family home, if she was being honest. The boys worked hard, just like Father had.
The ranch was large, sprawling across huge rolling plains.
There were fields of cattle, fence lines for what seemed like miles.
Horses filled every stall in the barn, and there were pigs and goats and chickens.
Plenty enough to keep a whole team of ranch hands busy.
And yet there were only the three brothers and Hank. At least, before they’d arranged for more ranchmen for security. Yet even after that, it seemed like a majority of the ranch work was done by the brothers and Hank.
That alone was proof of just how hard-working they were.
You should be happy that they’re letting you stay.
It was clear that they didn’t let just anyone stay. Otherwise, wouldn’t they have had many more ranch hands? There were plenty of men looking for work in exchange for a place to sleep and food to eat. The Montgomerys could doubtless afford to hire them.
But they didn’t. It was clear to Josie that this family didn’t let people in very easily. And yet, they were letting her in…
Clara is right. None of them would’ve agreed to a marriage if they weren’t good men.
***
The table was loud at supper that night. Too loud. As usual, there was a lot of grumbling, clinking plateware, and open-mouth chomping. Josie barely ate, picking at her food as the brothers talked over each other, laughing, teasing, telling old stories.
I don’t belong here. Samuel squirmed in her arms, as uncomfortable as she felt. It was like she was pretending to be part of this family.
Clara shot her a knowing—almost a warning—look, but Josie shrugged, indifferent.
That didn’t satisfy Clara. “Come get some air with me!” she chirped, perkily, pulling Josie outside onto the porch. Samuel squirmed harder. He was getting so big and feisty that he was becoming difficult for her to control at times.
As soon Clara shut the front door, the noise stopped.
Quiet settled over them as they stood on the porch.
Josie reveled in the heat of the day that still lingered as the sun descended toward the earth.
The scent of dry grass and horses were still moving through the breeze.
She loved the smell. It reminded her of her childhood, tending to cattle and horses.
Being here reminded her so much of Father.
“You’re thinking too much,” Clara said, breaking the stillness. “Can you try to breathe a little? Give yourself a break?”
Josie let out a weak laugh. “I just—” She swallowed, glancing down at Samuel, who was dozing in her arms. “I don’t know if I made the right choice.”
Clara sighed. “Then wait and see. But at least stop looking so… out of place…”
Josie laughed bitterly. “I am out of place.” She knew good and well that waiting and seeing had never been her strong suit.
“You’re not,” Clara reminded her firmly. “You’re the lady of the house now.”
Josie sighed. Maybe Clara was right. Cash had come to her with the deal, not the other way around. She was doing them a favor just as much as they were her.
“Thank you for supper,” Clara added, but Josie couldn’t take the credit. She hadn’t made supper. That was all Hank. He’d been kind enough to take care of everything in the kitchen, as a wedding present, or so he’d said.
“And thank you for the invitation to the wedding. It was lovely.”
Josie nodded. “Glad you enjoyed it,” she said with a faint smile.
The door opened suddenly, pulling her attention away from Clara. Cash was standing there, clearing his throat. “Josie, would you come inside for a minute?” he asked, almost nervously.
Josie blinked in surprise. She’d never expected him to be nervous… much less seen it.
She glanced back at Clara, who nodded, a teasing glint appearing in her eyes. “Enjoy your wedding night,” she laughed.
Immediately, Josie felt the color drain from her face. Wedding night?
Cash didn’t react, but his face looked a little redder.
As she followed him through the house toward the bedrooms, her forehead began to perspire, and her body grew cool and clammy.
They were headed toward her bedroom.
She gulped, nervous, feeling suddenly sick. Her stomach twisted in knots.
Cash cleared his throat as his hand lingered on the doorknob. “I figured you could stay in your room,” he said. His tone was rough, almost indifferent. Whatever nervousness he’d had before had clearly left him.
Josie blinked. It hadn’t even occurred to her that he might suggest that. In fact, she hadn’t thought about their sleeping arrangements at all until Clara’s comment. She opened her mouth, then closed it.
Cash continued, apparently not noticing her confusion. “Luke and Beau moved into the bunkhouse with the rest of the hands to give us the house. But I figured we’d keep separate. It’s a practical arrangement, after all. Nothing more.”
Josie hesitated, unsure whether his pragmatism stung. But if she was being honest… it was a relief. “Thank you,” she sighed.
Then she pushed open the door—and immediately froze.
There in the middle of the room was a beautiful wooden crib. It was big and tall and wide—a far cry from the dresser drawer that could barely hold Samuel.
Her throat tightened as a flood of emotions began to fill her.
Gratitude for her safety in a place this lovely, for this even more lovely crib—for the Montgomerys’ kindness.
Yet right along with the gratitude came fear of the uncertainty.
Sadness. She hadn’t married for love. She wasn’t even living for herself in any kind of way anymore.
It was conflicting, swirling inside her, making it hard to breathe.
And just as she was turning to Cash with a thank-you on her lips, he ruined it all. In just one sentence. One small, solitary comment.
“He seems tired,” he grumbled irritably as he gestured to the little boy in her arms.
That was all it took for the chaos of nerves, exhaustion, and tension to spill over.
Josie glared angrily at him. “Of course he’s tired! It’s been a long day! He’s a baby; what do you expect?”
Cash’s brows lifted. He looked stunned. “Didn’t mean nothing by it.”
But Josie wasn’t listening. Her hands shook as the whirl of emotions became a tornado, gripping at her, spinning out in an overwhelming anger she couldn’t control. “Oh, yes you did! I know what people like you think about babies crying. About mothers struggling.”
His jaw tightened. “People like me?”
Josie let out a bitter laugh. “You think I don’t know how men are? I’ve seen it before.”
His blue eyes burned. “I ain’t one of those men.”
Josie scoffed. “No? Then what kind of man are you?”
Cash stepped closer, eyes beginning to snap dangerously. “A man who offered you a home. A man who stood up in that church today and did what needed doing.” His jaw ticked. “You think this is easy for me?”
Josie’s breath hitched. She was torn between guilt and fury.
“Marriage ain’t something I planned on,” he went on angrily. “But I don’t take it lightly, neither.”
Her pulse pounded. “You didn’t marry me,” she said quietly. “You just wanted someone to help out with chores. You married convenience.”
“Maybe I did,” he shot back bitterly. “What difference does it make to you?”
His words stung like a slap across the face. Josie didn’t know why it hurt so bad. She knew what this was when she’d agreed to it. But that didn’t matter anymore.
She turned on her heel and stormed into her room, slamming the door with a jarring force before he could say anything else.
She didn’t want to hear another word from him—not even an apology.
Not that he’d ever offer one.