Second Chance Brides by Vickie Mcdonough Page B

looked at Rachel, who still watched her. “I suppose it mostly comes down to the fact that I couldn’t marry the man my father wanted me to.”
    Rachel’s eyes widened. “You were betrothed?”
    “No, not betrothed.” She pressed her lips together and cocked her mouth up on one side. What did it matter if Rachel knew? She wasn’t the kind of person to tell everyone. “There was an older man in town, one with a goodly amount of money, I’m told. He offered my father a sum of money to marry me, and my pa accepted.”
    Rachel’s mouth opened and closed, reminding Leah of a fish. “Your father sold you? I can’t imagine how awful that must have felt.”
    Leah shrugged, not wanting to reveal the depth of her pain and betrayal. After working herself half to death, not socializing as young girls her age did because of her responsibilities, nearly raising her siblings because her ma had taken to her bed so often, her pa showed his gratitude by selling her. It sounded so much worse when someone said it out loud. “I might have gone along with it if the man hadn’t been nearly as old as my pa and rather creepy. He gave me the shivers.”
    “I’m sure.” Rachel wiped her hand on a towel and crossed the room. She laid her hand on Leah’s shoulder. “I know it must be uncomfortable at times for you and Shannon to live here with Luke and me, but you’re welcome for as long as you need to stay.”
    Leah offered a weak smile, grateful for Rachel’s hospitality and compassion. “I’m much obliged for that. I’m not sure what I’ll do. I just know I don’t want to go back home.”
    Rachel nodded. “Would you like to sit down and have some tea?”
    Leah glanced past her to scan the kitchen. Rachel tended to keep things tidy as she worked, so it didn’t look as if there was much to do here to help her. Other than the area where she was making pies, the only thing out of place that Leah saw was a jar of what looked liked last night’s stew. “I was actually hoping you might have some work I could help you with. I’m sick to death of doing nothing.”
    Rachel turned and looked around the room. “Um…well…I feel odd asking a guest to help me.”
    “You didn’t ask; I volunteered.”
    Smiling, Rachel nodded. “I suppose that’s true. Well, I was going to take a basket to Mrs. Howard, but you could do that if you wouldn’t mind.”
    “Sure, I’d be happy to. It would give me a reason to go outside and take a walk.”
    “Clara’s been ailing for a while. Her son takes good care of her, but he works hard, and I like to help them out with a meal now and then.” Rachel opened her pantry door, rummaged around for a minute, and pulled out a basket and a bowl covered with a towel. “She’s Dan Howard’s mother. Do you know Dan? He runs the livery.”
    Leah felt her cheeks flush at the name of the man who’d rescued her from the ditch after the storm. She was grateful that Rachel didn’t look up and was busy packing the basket.
    “You’ll like Clara. She’s a real sweetheart, but she doesn’t get out much anymore. I know caring for her is a weight on Dan’s shoulders, but he’s a good son and does what he can. Don’t know that he’s much of a cook, though.” Rachel tossed a grin over her shoulder. “Clara is always so thankful when I bring food.”
    A few minutes later, with directions to the Howard home, Leah walked out the kitchen door and around the side of the boardinghouse. On her right was a house known around town as the Sunday house. It was a small structure with a roof that slanted down in the back like a lean-to. She’d gone there once to deliver a meal to the marshal and had seen the inside. One big room was used as a parlor, except it also had a table and chairs. In the back of the room where the roof slanted down was the bed. What would happen to the house now that the marshal was living at the boardinghouse with his new wife?
    It would be the perfect place for her to set up a home, if