Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You'd been sitting in the small, one-room chapel for an hour. It was much different from the tall, imposing cathedral that your family had attended while you were growing up in the center of Philadelphia, with sky-high arches and studded with stained glass. This small chapel on the edge of the Missouri territory was little more than wooden slats and nails. But the inconsequential nature made it perfect for a wedding your family wanted kept out of sight.

Your father stood at the front of the room with the paster, whispering harshly and checking his pocket watch in agitation. Your well-meaning grandmother placed her hand over yours as you sat on the bench in the middle of the room. You wore your mother's satin and lace wedding gown, a pitiful bouquet of posies clutched in your white knuckles.

This was not the wedding you had dreamed of. If your mother was alive, it would be a splendid affair, with all the well-to-do of Philadelphia's upper crust society being invited. If your mother was alive, she would have been able to talk your father out of marrying you off to some stranger just to keep the family's image intact.

"If your mother was alive," Your father had snapped, "We wouldn't have to marry you off in disgrace."

You placed your hand on your belly and tried to will away the heat and tears in your face. You hadn't meant to get pregnant. You knew you weren't supposed to be alone with a man, but you knew him. You loved him. You trusted him. And he had spoken such tender words to you, promises of love, of a life together. You didn't know he would be deployed a week later. You didn't know your courses would stop the month after that. You didn't know he would write to you that he was married. You didn't know your father would slap you when you broke the news to him.

You didn't know. You didn't know.

Your father tched and checked his watch again. "Where are they?" He snapped to the pastor, the words echoing through the wooden room.

"The train is often late," The paster shrugged.

Good. If your groom was late, that gave your lover and the father of your child a greater chance to march in and stop this farce of a wedding.

Still, the longer you waited, the more anxious you became.

The church bell outside rang twelve times to signal noon, but still they didn't come.

Your father stopped talking with the pastor altogether, pacing the length of the aisle down the church.

"He'll come around," Your grandmother insisted soothingly, "Once the baby comes."

But you knew your father. If he had his way, by the time you gave birth, your strange husband would have you secluded off in a remote corner of the Mexican desert, long forgotten as he threw himself back into his work.

All of you looked up at the sound of the train's horn, blaring in the distance. Your father's shoulders relaxed just a bit, muttering about punctuality. If he were at work, he would have thrown a dozen fines and fees at the conductor, the engineer, anyone who had anything to do with the train being delayed. Time did not wait for money at the bank.

Your throat went dry with every minute that passed, but before the bell rang for one, you heard voices on the steps of the church.

There was a woman's voice, hearty and joyful, and though it was unfamiliar, it did give you hope. But that hope quickly vanished when the door opened, and the woman walked in with two men.
Her skirt was looser and shorter than most of the women back east wore, and it was pinned up at the side to allow her more movement. She wore a broad-rimmed hat, just like the men, and her smile put you at ease, even though you felt anxious.

The man at her elbow removed his hat to tuck it under his arm. His hair was receding, echoing the circular shape of the spectacles balanced on his nose. His jacket and pants were tan, and though they had obviously been cleaned, they still sported a few stains at the hem.

"You must be Mr. Banks," He approached your father and held out his hand. Your father returned a strong handshake, and your grandmother nudged you to your feet.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Fett. Glad you could make it," Your father smiled cordially now that everything was going according to plan.

"This is my wife, Ephegenia," Mr. Fett nodded as you approached.

"Please, call me Phee," The dark-skinned woman reached past your father to extended her hand to you. You shook it, but you were confused. You assumed that when your father told you that you would be marrying Mr. Fett this afternoon, this would be him. Was he one of those Mormons?

"This is my daughter," Your father huffed dismissively

"Pleasure," Mr. Fett nodded. He didn't quite meet your eyes the way that Miss Phee did, turning to the man behind him. You had almost forgotten the third figure who had entered the chapel with Phee.

He was tall and imposing in his long, black duster coat, though Mr. Fett was perhaps slightly taller. He had neglected to remove his hat, but you could see long, dark locks brushing his shoulders.

"And this is my brother, Sheriff Hunter Fett," Mr. Fett said with a hand on the other's shoulder.

The Sheriff stepped forward. He held out his hand to you, then quickly remembered his hat. When he removed it, you gasped in shock at the purplish port wine birthmark splattered across the left-hand side of his face.

"Sorry, It's a bit of a surprise."

"No, no, it's fine," You stammered. What a terrible first impression to give your husband.

Your father didn't care, "Well, we should get this over with-"

Your grandmother placed a hand on your father's shoulder, "We should give them a moment," She nodded to you and Hunter.

You watched as your father and grandmother approached the pastor with Phee and Mr. Fett, leaving you alone with Sheriff Fett at the back of the chapel.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, which was dry and painful.

"You're...you're beautiful," Hunter said.

You turned to him, eyes wide.

"Thank you," You whispered.

He chuckled nervously.

"So...you're a sheriff?"

"Yes. For Pabu Creek."

Pabu Creek. The name of your new home. You'd heard your father mention it, but where you were going and the name of your husband were far less pressing details to share than the plain and simple fact that you were to be married, no ifs, ands, or buts.

"It's a beautiful place," He told you, "The mesas and buttes stretch as far as the eye can see, and most people say the desert's too harsh, but so long as you take care of the land, I've found it'll take care of you too."

Your heart thumped painfully in your chest, "It sounds lovely."

"It is," He nodded quickly.

Neither of you said anything for another minute, your family's whispers hissing around you.

"Well, is there anything else you'd like to know about me?" the Sheriff asked.

You chewed your bottom lip, but stopped before your grandmother could catch you and scold you.

"Why..." You weren't doing very well at speaking up for yourself, "Why are you here?"

He looked you up and down slowly, "Much the same reason as you, I imagine."

"But why me? Why someone all the way out here, instead of someone back at home?"

Sheriff Hunter bit his lip, "There isn't someone back home, not someone who isn't already married," He nodded over to Phee and his brother.

"I need a mother for my sister. She needs a Ma who can teach her and, a parent who can be there for her, and I..." He glanced down at the star-shaped badge on his coat, "I can't always be there for her."

You nodded. His situation was certainly more acceptable in society, but he was in much the same boat you were.

"I...I assume you know about my...situation, then?"

The Sheriff's eyes darted down to your hands, still resting in front of your belly.

"Your father mentioned you were in the family way."

You exhaled in relief. At least one of you knew what you were getting into.

You glanced over at his brother and sister-in-law. Miss Phee was attempting to strike up a conversation with your grandmother, but your father served to sour any attempts at small talk.

"Do they know?"

"No," The Sheriff said, and it both surprised and relieved you. "I figured it wasn't my place to tell."

"Thank you," You exhaled a heavy breath, and had a passing moment of concern that your breath smelled.

“Do you think you’ll be able to…to love the baby?” You asked.

The Sheriff fidgeted with the handkerchief between his fingers, “I figure if you can help me take care of my little girl, I can help you take care of your child.”

It was honest, and you truly appreciated it. There was no hint of malice in his voice, for you or the situation. If nothing else, it would be a safe and secure place for you to raise your child

You heard the footsteps as your father approached.

"It's time," He stated sharply.

The sheriff nodded and set his coat and his hat on a bench before walking up the aisle to where the pastor waited. Your father hardly waited for him to take three steps before he all but dragged you after him.

Phee, Mr. Fett, and your grandmother stood in front of the first row of benches in awkward silence. There was no organ music, as there would be in the cathedral back home, or even a makeshift choir. Your father stood at your side only to make sure that you wouldn't run away, and then moved to stand next to your grandmother.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of two souls."

The pastor droned on in what you were certain was a lovely speech about marriage, chastity, and fidelity, but you couldn't pay attention to him. You knew all the bible verses about marriage anyway, your mother had read with you nearly every day of her life. You glanced at Sheriff Hunter, trying to gauge his reaction. He didn't seem to be paying any more attention to the poor pastor than you were. His hand were folded behind his back, trying to keep his fingers from fidgeting, but he still rocked back and forth on his heels just so slightly.

In the natural light from the church's windows, he did look very handsome. The birthmark on his face didn't quite do the job of making him look ugly, it had just been startling. But his eyes looked gentle, even if they had seen too much violence. His suit was perhaps a size too big, a condition that a man like your father wouldn't be caught dead in, but it was pressed and clean, and he smelled like sun-kissed wood on a summer's day.

Then he turned to look at you, and the room went silent.

"I'm sorry?" You asked.

"Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The pastor repeated gently, much more patient than your father's insistant cough.

"Oh," You hesitated, but still didn't hear the church door burst open.

"Yes, I do."

You heard your father exhale a deep breath.

"And do you, Hunter, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife."

"I do."

"Do you have the rings?"

Hunter paused, "I...I don't have a ring-"

"I don't need a ring," You said quickly, hoping to save him the embarrassment. He gave you a look of gratitude, but his eyes carried a heavy weight behind them. You looked down at your flowers, wondering if you should have said anything at all.

"Very well," The pastor continued smoothly. Your father scoffed.

"Bound by these sacred bonds, I now pronounce you man and wife."

He didn't invite you to kiss each other, a small mercy. There was no organ or fanfare to celebrate. Your pitiful assembly didn't even clap. Mr. Fett approached his brother and shook his hand.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks, Tech," Hunter said softly.

Tech and his wife signed the line as witnesses on the marriage license provided by the pastor. Your father thanked him, and handed over a large stack of cash for his services. Then he went and waited by the door as Tech and Phee congratulated you.

Phee hugged you tightly, in a way you hadn't felt since you were a child.

"Welcome to the family," She beamed at you. Her joy wasn't naivete so much as it was optimism. She seemed to understand the position you were in.

Then your grandmother took your hands and kissed your cheek.

"Remember this day, my dear. This is the first day of your new life."

You tried not to break down into tears. Your mother, your grandmother, every woman you know talked about their wedding as if it was the happiest day in a woman's life.

You glanced at the door, hoping to see your lover, but you remained hopelessly and utterly alone.

---

The town didn't offer much in the way of a hotel, but the crowded saloon did have one room available. Your father insisted on taking the first train back east, dragging your grandmother with him, and leaving you alone with three strangers, one of which was now your husband.

Sheriff Hunter held the door open for you and Phee, and you stopped short to realize that there were only two beds.

Tech and Phee would share one, of course, and the other, obviously, would be shared with you and your husband.

"Oh, a bed!" Phee sighed with delight, "Those railway cars don't do anything for your beauty sleep."

She plopped herself down on the one closest to the door, dropping her and her husband's luggage on the floor.

Tech and Hunter lugged in your hope chest, setting it next to the door. Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder to try and move past you, and you jumped without realizing it.

"I'm sorry," He apologized quickly. He glimpsed your ashen face, and then glanced at the remaining bed. It was the same size as the one you slept in back home, but you had never shared it with anyone.

"I'll take the floor," He decided.

You blinked in surprise. Of course you weren't looking forward to sharing a bed with a husband you didn't even know, but you felt terrible that he knew you were uncomfortable with the idea, so much so that he would rather sleep on the floor.

"You don't have to-" You tried to say.

"I've slept on worse," He said, which was meant to reassure you but only made you feel worse, "You've had a long day. You should have the bed."

Tech and Phee were staring at you both.

"You are married now, aren't you?" Tech asked, "Wouldn't you share a bed?"

Generally, yes, but your parents had their own separate rooms after you were born. However, you were certain that homes on the western plains had far less space than your father's townhome. You wouldn't be able to escape sharing a bed once you reached Pabu Creek.

Phee whispered something to her husband. He made an "Ah," of understanding, but still looked confused.

"It's alright," You told Hunter, "I'm fine with sharing." You'd have to be. This was your life now.

He stared at you, and it was almost like he could see through you, looking for something, anything that would tell him to sleep on the floor. You straightened your shoulders and stood up tall. You weren't afraid of him. Not that he'd given you any reason to be afraid of him. Of all the men your father could have sold you off to, he was hardly the worst one.

"Alright," He said finally.

He set his one suitcase next to your hope chest, and waited for you to choose the side of the bed you wanted before he took the other.

Supper was brought to your room, a simple fare of bread and some kind of stew, but whisky was the only drink provided. Hunter drank your portion when Phee and Tech weren't looking. Tech carried much of the conversation, if it could even be called that. It was more of a lecture on the new combustion engines that were being developed, with Phee prodding her husband with questions here and there. Hunter listened attentively, but didn't ask any questions. You listened, but only half-heartedly, playing with your soup.

"Tech's an inventor."

You looked up. Hunter had leaned over, whispering to you as Tech continued his lecture.

"I see," You said slowly.

"We have two barns on our ranch. The newer one is for all the livestock. We had to build it because Tech's new projects kept taking up all the space in the old one."

You laughed a little bit, and he smiled. It wasn't anything as joyful as Phee's, but it was something.

It took hours for you to fall asleep. Tech snored softly, and Hunter didn't snore at all. He kept his back to you as you slowly climbed out of bed. You padded over to the ray of moonlight from the window, cold in nothing but your nightshift, but with nothing to wrap yourself in. You slipped a piece of paper from your dress pocket, unfolding it carefully to read the exquisite handwriting.

 

Miss Banks,
It was such a pleasure to recieve your latest letter, though it pains me to hear of your troubles. I regret I cannot be there for you, as duty calls me down another path. I have spent my days in Washington D.C. meeting with the admiralty and even President Grant to receive my promotion. I am now a Vice Admiral of the United States Navy, to sail with Admiral Tarkin on his tour of the Gulf of Mexico. With this appointment, I became acquainted with Tarkin's niece, Miss Theodosia Radcliff, and I proposed on the thirteenth of April. We were married the first Sunday of May.
I write to you from the helm of my new command, The U.S.S. Triumphant, a fitting name that I hope foretells of my continuing career in the American Navy. Ever since I was young, I have dreamed of days like this, sailing on the open sea, on a ship where all aboard respect and answer to me. I will do all I can to ensure my post, and making my country and family proud of me.
Yours,
Edmon Rampart.

Chapter Text

You awoke the same way you had awoken every day for the last month: with an intense wave of nausea.

There was no indoor plumbing, no privacy of a garderobe, just a chamber pot in the corner as your companions awoke to your hurling.

In a brief moment of calm, you felt a hand on your back.

“You- you don’t have to,” You tried to wave Hunter off in between mouthfuls of vomit, but he turned your focus back to the chamber pot and gathered your hair into his hands to keep it from getting any mess.

“Oh dear,” Tech adjusted his glasses, which just so happened to make his eyes look comically wider than usual, “Are you alright?”

You attempted a laugh, “I don’t think last night’s dinner agreed with me.”

Tech nodded, “I had my own suspicions as to the integrity of the food available here. I suppose the three of us became used to the food they served us on the train, but for you I assume it would be quite the shock to your system.”

Tech’s need for an answer to everything was proving to be a better cover for your condition than anything you could have come up with on your own, but Phee kept an eye on you. As a woman herself, she would certainly have her own suspicions as to what was going on with you.

Hunter managed to procure a glass of water for you, which was more than you could have hoped for. The saloon provided biscuits and gravy for breakfast, and you forced yourself to nibble on a single biscuit before the four of you left for the train station.

You kept reaching into the pocket of your travel dress, running your gloved fingertip over the handwriting on Edmon’s letter even as you watched Hunter buy the tickets with the money your father had given him as your dowry. Your father had cut your dowry in half after you told him of what happened with Edmon. You were damaged goods. Only worth half as much with another man’s child, but that half would seem like a small fortune in a town out west like Pabu Creek.

You wondered how the money would be spent. The Fetts had a farm, of course, with at least two barns and a house to upkeep. That didn’t even include all the animals that needed to be taken care of, and the sister Hunter had mentioned. A little sister, someone who needed a mother. She would need clothes, food, and proper schooling. The more you thought, the more certain you were that your dowry might not last until your child was born.

Hunter spent quite a bit talking with the station master over the tickets, and Tech left you and Phee sitting on the bench with your luggage as he hurried to help his brother.

“How far along are you?”

Phee waited until Tech was out of earshot before she pressed the question.

You felt the color drain from your face even as you tried to deny it.

“What do you mean?” You tried to gather the courage to meet her eyes, but ended up staring at the brim of her hat.

“You keep putting your hand on your stomach. That and the morning sickness…I made an educated guess.”

“I-You-”

Phee gently squeezed your arm, “It’s okay. I understand, so long as…” She meaningfully inclined her head towards Hunter.

“He knows,” you said quickly, “But…I’d appreciate it if others…didn’t.”

Phee nodded slowly and folded her arms. While she didn’t appreciate the idea of people trying to con her family, she was sensitive enough to understand your desperate situation.

“Well, married couples don’t keep secrets. But this isn’t my secret to share.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Phee smiled, “I’ve always liked kids. Megan will be thrilled to be a big sister.”

You paused, “Megan?”

“Hunter and Tech’s little sister,” Phee regarded you curiously, one eyebrow raised, “Didn’t he tell you?”

You straightened your shoulders, embarrassed at how little you actually knew about the man who was your husband– ‘Til Death Do You Part.

“The arrangements were made with my father. I knew he had a sister, but not her name.” You stared down at your hands.

Phee placed her hand over yours, “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.

“You're family now, sweetheart. We don't leave our own behind.”

The whistle blew, and you could feel the ground rumbling beneath you as the train came closer. First came the big black cloud of smoke, and then the equally dark engine emerged from the smog.

Hunter was at your side again, helping you to your feet. He carried your travel bag and his own in one hand, and Tech summoned one of the conductors, who had your trunk taken to the baggage car. You were only a month or two pregnant, you could still handle yourself, but it still made your breath stutter as Hunter stepped aboard the train first so that he could offer you his hand.

Phee and Tech were right behind you, following Hunter’s lead through the coach car. The aisle was too small to allow you to walk side-by-side, but you still held Hunter’s hand so that you wouldn’t lose him in the crowd. You passed by all the other passengers who were napping or tending their children, wrapped up in their own little worlds on their way out west. The whistle blew again, your only warning before the car lurched forward. As you were walking in the direction of the rear of the train, you stumbled forward, right into Hunter. He spun around and caught you, holding you steady as the train established its even pace, making the floor stable enough for you to walk without stumbling again.

You made it through the open seating to a car made up of private rooms. Hunter opened the door to the third room, in the middle of the car, and when he gestured for you to enter, there was only one bed.

“But what about-” You turned to find Phee and Tech, but they were gone. If you looked through the doors to the other cars, you could see Phee’s head of riotous curls, handing Tech her luggage as she made herself comfortable on one of the benches.

“I got this one just for you,” Hunter said, “I thought you could use an actual bed in your condition.”

“You didn’t have to,” You said, stepping inside. It wasn’t like the first-class suite your father had reserved for you and your grandmother for your ride from Philadelphia. There weren’t any other furnishings beside the bed, and a bench next to the window to watch the trees flit by.

“Well, that isn’t the only reason,” Hunter admitted. He closed the door behind him, setting your bags on the floor.

“Last night didn’t really give us the chance to…consummate our marriage.” He said, staring at his shoes.

Your throat went dry, and your morning sickness threatened to reappear.

“We don’t have to,” Hunter said quickly, “At least, not really. But I figured we need to give the impression we have, with…everything.”

Despite the fact that both of you were well aware that you were pregnant and that the man before you whom you’d taken as your husband was definitely not the father, you both seemed determined to dance around the subject for as long as you could.

What would you do when your child was born? While they both had dark hair, Edmon was starkly pale to Hunter’s warm, tanned complexion. Hunter’s nose was large and round, and though both he and Edmon had brown eyes, they were decidedly different shades. Edmon’s were dark and regal, like the ebony wood of your father’s dining table. Hunter’s eyes were warm and golden, like the sun-kissed desert. When your child was born, would you be able to pass it as Hunter’s?

“That’s…smart.” You said at last, sinking down onto the bed. Every time you spoke around Hunter, something made you feel incredibly lightweight and tongue-tied. You had no idea what you were doing, and your husband probably thought he had married a fool. A fool who let herself be sweet-talked into a tryst by a man who left her for the next shiny treasure.

“Thank you,” You swallowed your nerves, determined to keep Hunter from regretting this marriage.

“I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

“Hunter, no. Not for a week. The bed has plenty of space for the both of us. I can’t let you spend all that money to get us a private room and make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugged, “It came from your dowry, I’m supposed to use it to give you a good life.”

“What about Megan?” You asked. He froze in place.

You swallowed, a painful motion with your throat so dry, “I thought that you took me as your wife to give her a better life too.”

He licked his lips. They looked chapped and peeling from where you stood.

“I did,” He said at last, “And I’m doing that by setting an example.”

“What kind of example?” You tilted your head to the side in curiosity.

Hunter straightened his shoulders, walking over to sit by the window, “By showing her how a man should treat his wife. By showing her what she should expect from any pimply-faced boy who tries to court her.”

You almost laughed. This was how your father used to speak about you, before you went and disappointed him. Would Hunter be any different from your father?

“Tell me about Megan,” You said, turning on the bed to face him, “What is she like?”

Hunter finished prying off his boots and sat back with a sigh, gazing out the window as if he could see something that you couldn’t.

“She’s full of energy all the time, I can hardly keep up with her. She loves everyone and everything. Last month she wanted to be a baker, the week before that she wanted to be a ferrier, by the time we get home she’ll want to be a teacher.”

You nodded as he spoke. When he talked about Megan, it was as if a huge weight lifted off his shoulders. His eyes softened, and the frown lines just above his nose melted away.

“She’s the smartest kid in her class, you know. She’s brilliant with science, I just wish there was more that we could teach her out here. She helps Tech with medicine when she’s not at school.”

“Wait, wait, I thought you said Tech was an inventor?”

“He is,” Hunter nodded, “When he has time in between house calls and everything else he’s asked to do.”

“Everything else…?” Your mouth was almost gaping, but your mother had taught you better than that.

Hunter chuckled, “He’s the surgeon, barber, and dentist.”

You shuddered, “How does he make time for everything else?”

“That’s where I come in. It’s my job to make sure people get out of trouble before they really need his help.”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“What does your day usually entail?”

He ran his hand over his lower back with a wince, “Lots of horseback riding. Pabu Creek’s a tight-knit community, but some of the farms are spread out. People are nice enough, but there’s always a squabble or two needs mediatin’.

“We’re far enough away from most places that folk’ll try to hide out from the law, so I have to keep up with wanted posters and the telegrams from towns in the next territory. And there’s always the threat of someone trying to get into the copper mine.”

“Do you have as many titles as Tech? Or just the one sheriff?”

“Just the one, but it keeps me busy enough.”

You frowned without realizing it. As a sheriff, Hunter’s job was bound to keep him occupied from sunup to sundown, leaving you to manage the house and your sister. Though you just barely knew your husband, you found the thought to be very lonely.

“And what about you?” He asked, as if he could hear your thoughts tumbling around in your head, “How did you spend your days?”

“Well,” You straightened out your legs, perched on the edge of the bed like a lady, “I doubt you’d find what I did back in Philadelphia to be very interesting. Especially compared to your job.”

“I don’t care if it’s interesting, I want to know what you like to do, how you spend your time.”

You bit your lip. “Well, my grandmother was teaching me how to run the household before I became pregnant.”

The word felt crude in your mouth. But why? It was the truth of the matter, plain and simple. You knew it, and Hunter was your husband. He nodded long, oblivious to your internal conflict.

“My mornings were spent calling and receiving visitors. My friends, or even just people who wanted to build connections with my father.”

Hunter couldn’t help a chuckle, “I don’t think you’ll get many visitors like that in Pabu Creek.”

“Don’t worry, that was my least favorite part of the day. I spent whatever time I could during those visits sewing or reading, keeping my hands busy while pretending to read.”

“What do you sew?”

“Quite a bit, actually,” You flushed, “Most of it’s fancy work, embroidery and such. But my mother taught me to sew a blessing dress before she passed. It’s in my chest.”

“I’d love to see it,” Hunter said, and to your astonishment, he sounded sincere.

Hope swirled in your chest as you tried to ignore the flush in your cheeks.

“I’m not the best at cooking, though, I apologize. My father employed a chef and several cooks, but my grandmother taught me a few things she knew.”

Hunter shrugged, “We’ll eat anything so long as it’s hot. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I don’t want to…to poison you.”

“I doubt you have it in you to poison a mouse, much less a human being.”

You laughed, and he smiled softly, his cheek resting in his hand as he looked at you. The only person who had looked at you like that before was Edmon.

After a brief moment of somewhat comfortable silence, you realized this was the longest you’d been left alone with your husband. No hovering chaperone, no brother or grandmother sitting on the other side of the room, just you and him. The last time something like this had happened, well, it put you in a bit of an awkward situation.

You wrung your gloves in your hands and tried not to look at Hunter, “Anyways, my grandmother was teaching me how to manage the household, balancing the budget, keeping things organized, that would take up the better part of our afternoons before dinner, which was either just the two of us and my father, or a dinner party. Father tried to host them as often as possible, and I was responsible for putting them together.”

“Were you any good at it?”

“That depends on what you mean by ‘good’. I didn’t enjoy it, but my father always liked impressing people. That’s how I met Edmon.”

The name slipped out before you could stop yourself. The way Hunter’s eyes widened must have meant you looked as white as a sheet.

“And Edmon is…”

It wasn’t a question, more of a confirmation.

You nodded. “He’s married. Only after I told him of the child.”

Hunter frowned, and the fragile sense of camaraderie the two of you had been building together shook under the weight of the mention of Edmon.

“I’ll get us something to eat,” Hunter said at last. He pulled on his boots and made for the door. “Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

You didn’t want to ask anything more of him, but even if you were just going to be sick again you needed to eat something.

“Just some broth, please. And a biscuit.”

Hunter nodded. He stood in the doorway for a moment, but said nothing. Then he left, shutting the door behind him

—

Hunter didn’t attempt any more conversation that day, and neither did you. The buffet car provided a canteen of soup so that it wouldn’t spill, and the biscuits were a bit stale, but they settled nicely in your stomach. You slept most of the day after that, and only awoke when Hunter removed the pillow from beside you on the bed.

“What is it?”

Hunter stumbled backwards, surprised to see you awake, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You glanced at your window. The sky had darkened to a deep sea blue, with stars twinkling above the treetops. You groaned at the realization you’d slept through the entire day. Not that there was much to get done on a train anyways, but you felt terrible at the idea that you hadn’t managed to get anything productive done.

“You should have woken me earlier,” You tried to scold him.

“But you looked so peaceful,” he said.

You gaped up at him, and shook your head, “What are you doing with the pillows?”

He pointed to the cushioned bench by the window. It took you a moment to realize what he was trying to do.

“That’s not nearly long enough for you to lay down comfortably.”

“Trust me, as a Sheriff, I’ve done worse.”

“All the more reason why you should take advantage of the bed now,” you pointed out. You waved to the bed. It wasn’t spacious by any means. Your bed at home was much larger than this, but it could easily fit two people. So long as neither of you moved around too much,

Hunter squinted in the dark of your cabin. “You’re certain?”

“Of course I am!” He was truly starting to irritate you. Was he determined to make you feel even more guilty that he had been saddled with an absolute disaster of a wife? Yes, you had been raised in wealth and comparable luxury, no, you didn’t know half of the tasks that you would be expected to take charge of as the wife of a sheriff on the frontier, and yes, part of this whole arranged marriage was that Hunter would claim your child as his own, so if your husband hated you enough that he insisted on sleeping on the floor rather than on the bed with you, your life might as well be over now.

Hunter’s thumb brushed against your cheek and you jumped. Where had that come from? His hand drew back, and you lay your fingertip over the warm spot on your cheek where his hand had been, only to find it wet.

Lovely, you were crying already.

“Alright,” He cleared his throat, “We can share.”

But you knew he didn’t really want to. It was only because he felt bad about making you cry, and you swore you hadn’t meant to.

Hunter put the pillows back on the bed and turned down the covers on his side. Neither of you had proper nightclothes while you traveled, opting instead for your underdress and his shirt. Both covered all the necessary parts, not that modesty was required between husband and wife.

As he climbed into bed, you were assured that Hunter no longer had any more intentions to utilize the floor, and rolled onto your side with your back to him to give him whatever privacy he needed.

Once he was settled, Hunter blew out the candle on his bedside table, dousing the room in all darkness but the moon outside the window. You closed your eyes, intent on returning to sleep, but the bed shifted behind you. And again, and again.

“Are you alright?” You asked him, trying to keep the tightness out of your voice.

“The sheets,” He turned, trying to move slowly so he didn’t disturb you, “They’re too smooth. I’ve never had sheets like this before.”

“Are they itchy?” You asked.

“No, they’re too soft,” He sighed, staring up at the ceiling, “I guess I’m not used to this.”

“It’s alright, I’m sure I’m not used to life in Pabu Creek.” You said softly.

Hunter sighed. The silence seemed to agree with you, but Hunter finally spoke.

“I hope you'll like it. It's a good place to raise a child.”

Chapter Text

The week on the train passed much the same way the first day had. While you didn’t feel exceptionally nauseous, the way the train rocked back and forth certainly didn’t help your stomach. It was just you and Hunter most of the time, unless Phee decided to stop by. She couldn’t stay for very long for risk of catching attention from the conductor, but she always had a new tale to regale you with, usually about her own adventures wandering the plains until she settled down in Pabu Creek. She helped native communities obtain heirlooms they’d left behind after being forced onto reservations, navigated for immigrant families migrating out west, and even spent some time in Mexico.

Each of her adventures was more exciting than the last. Hunter sat at the window through it all, rolling his eyes here and there as if he didn’t believe his sister in law. Mostly he kept his soulful eyes on the landscape, watching the trees get fewer and far between. Eventually, even the grass became more sparse.

“Hunter and his brothers built this rail, you know,” Phee boasted. You looked up from your sewing.

“Not the whole thing,” Hunter groaned. Phee winked at him mischievously.

“The whole reason Hunter and his brothers came to America was to find work. Their father came here when they were kids and never came back for them, so they set out to make their own way. They were all immediately drafted for the war, but afterward, they were hired by the Union Pacific to work on the railroad.”

“You were in the army?” You asked Hunter.

Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but Phee beat him to it, “Not just the army, he was a Sergeant. Went in with all his brothers, and got them all out too.”

“With a few…scrapes,” Hunter amended, though his tone made it sound like he was trying to make it sound better than it was.

“Oh Hunter, she’ll meet him soon enough,” Phee waved her hand at him, “Echo lost both legs and his hand to a cannon wound, got captured by the South, but Hunter and his men got him out alive.”

Hunter tried to hide his blush, but his long, dark hair was tied back so that he had to bury his face in his arms like a tired child.

“We take care of him. He does the records for the Chuchi’s ranch just over the hill from our farm. He’s good with numbers,” Hunter said, voice muffled.

“He’s not a bad shot either, even with one hand. Hunter and his men ran sixty-six successful attacks on the confederates,” Phee said, “They were a five-man army. Won the whole war on their own.”

“Phee…” Hunter groaned. Embellishing her own stories, he could handle. But when she illuminated his own feats, he was a flushing mess.

You laughed softly, and though Hunter was desperate to avoid more attention, his eyes shot to yours, staring at you for a long time as Phee continued on. You blinked, and he was looking back out the window again.

—

On the seventh day, Hunter helped you pack your things neatly in your carpet bag. Phee and Tech met you outside your room as the train slowed to a stop. You hated the squealing of the breaks every time you stopped, but Hunter was always there to take your arm and hold you steady.

The smoke billowed around the train like the layers of a Southern Belle’s dress as you looked around. Those who weren’t boarding the train crowded around the pile of trunks and baggage being stacked outside the ticketmaster’s booth.

Hunter went to inquire about your trunk, but paused, his head tilted to the side.

"Hunter!" a young voice cried out from the end of the platform.

As Hunter turned to the sound of the voice, you saw a real smile for perhaps the first time since you'd met.

“Megan!” He knelt down on the sun-baked wood and held out his arms. A girl in a worn brown dress burst from the crowd with her bonnet hanging from her neck to show an unruly head of blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across her face. She launched herself into Hunter’s arms, throwing her arms around his neck. Scarcely had she done so when she turned to Tech to hug his legs just as enthusiastically. Tech barely had time to tenderly ruffle her hair when she hugged Phee. Phee scooped her up into her arms, pressing her cheek against the girl’s.

“Megan,” The girl was perhaps too big to be carried in the way Phee was holding her, but Phee didn’t seem to care, settling her to be able to face you, “Meet the new Mrs. Fett.”

You curtsied out of habit, and felt rather foolish. “Hello. It’s very nice to meet you, Megan.”

“Nice to meet you too!” She grinned, and you could see that she was missing a tooth. Without further ado, she practically fell out of Phee’s arms to hug you around your neck. It took you by surprise, but you caught her quickly. Phee laughed as you stumbled, but Megan let go and dropped to the ground as light as a feather.

“Megan,” Hunter said quickly, “Be gentle with her,” His voice was stern, but not unkind.

“Sorry,” Megan ducked her head shyly, holding her hands behind her back, but when she looked up at you she was still smiling.

“I-It’s alright,” You said, hand on your stomach out of instinct. You straightened your arms at your sides quickly, hoping no one could guess your state.

Two men had appeared out of the crowd, greeting Hunter and Tech with affectionate back-patting. Both were tall, but with completely opposite builds. One was skinny with frown lines, while the other had more muscles than the body-builder you’d seen at P.T. Barnum’s and a smile brighter than New York City.

"So, this is the famed debutante?" asked the wiry man with a piece of straw between his teeth, and you felt a blush creep up your neck, tugging at your bonnet to hide it.

“Easy Crosshair,” Hunter grunted. He placed a hand on your back, even warmer than the harsh desert sun.

“This is Crosshair. My deputy.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Crosshair feigned hurt with an aghast hand on his chest.

“He’s the youngest of our brothers,” Tech rolled his eyes. Phee linked her arms with her husband’s and with Crosshair’s, marching them down to the end of the platform.

“And I’m Wrecker!” The other man said. He gripped your hand with a solid handshake, leaving your arm vibrating.

Hunter gave you a quick once-over, but a nod assuaged him. He was awfully concerned over the woman who was carrying another man’s baby, even though that woman was his wife.

Wrecker didn’t notice, lifting your trunk in his arms without any assistance. You stood there, blinking at him for a moment.

“Wrecker’s strong!” Megan assured you. She took your hand with one of hers, and grabbed Hunter with the other, leading you after Phee and the others. She skipped along, her boots thumping against the wood with a satisfying sound. You had to admit, the three of you made a pretty picture. A husband, a wife, a daughter, and a baby on the way. It was all too good to be true.

Megan led you to a wagon hitched to two mis-matched horses. One was a painted horse, with darker splotches leading up its legs and nose to the lighter gray coat. The other was a blinding blond, with a shiny coat and even paler mane.

“Havoc,” Hunter pointed to the palomino, “And Maudie.”

“Hello,” You said softly, before remembering they were horses. Maudie nickered, while Havoc just huffed and turned away.

“Don’t take it personally, Havoc’s a little vain, like your husband there,” Crosshair grinned around the straw between his teeth.

“I am not vain!” Hunter was suddenly defensive, but his hand went to his hair as his brothers sniggered. Long hair certainly wasn’t the style for men, and you expected it made him hot on long sunny days like today, but you had noticed that his hair was brushed and smoother than plenty of women you knew. You wondered what it would be like to run your fingers through it.

“Sure you’re not,” Crosshair lowered the back of the wagon to allow Wrecker to slide your trunk into the bed of the wagon.

“Woah,” Megan’s eyes went wide, “Your trunk is so pretty!”

It was an old trunk, but it had been your mother’s hope chest. A dusty sky blue painted with tiny red roses.

“Thank you,” You said softly.

“Sure you don’t have anymore? I know you’re all particular back east,” Crosshair hummed.

Hunter fixed his brother with a look, and though his expression didn’t change, he didn’t say anything else.

The wagon had two benches. Tech and Phee sat in the front bench, Megan in between them, and the reins in Tech’s hands. Wrecker and Crosshair hopped in the wagon bed, leaving that second bench for Hunter and you. He helped you the way he had helped you on and off the train, and something felt almost intimate about it. Plenty of men who tried to court you back east had helped you in and out of coaches, and you’d never felt your throat swelling like this before. Maybe it was the whole being married thing. Or maybe it was the baby wreaking havoc on your body.

Havoc and Maudie, despite their differing temperaments, started off in-step with a clicking noise from Tech’s teeth. They pranced out of the trainyard and down the dirt road. Pabu Creek didn’t have its own train station, it was just through the canyon, on the other side of the mountains.

Phee and Tech's intention was to give you and Hunter a modicum of privacy, allowing you to get used to your surroundings before everyone barrage you with questions, but Megan had not been privy to such conversations. She turned in her seat to face you with her blinding grin and began firing off questions.

“Hunter says you're from Pennsylvania. Have you heard about the Liberty bell there?”

“Well-”

“Do you have any siblings back at home? I've got the four brothers, but I always wanted a sister. Like you and Phee!”

Megan continued to pester you with questions. Had you ever been to the beach? (she did, but only as a baby and she didn't remember it.) Where did you get your dress? Could you get one for her? She needed a new dress. Did you have flowers at your wedding? She wished she could have been at the wedding but Hunter told her that Wrecker, Crosshair, and Echo needed her help with chores on the farm.

You didn't even need to answer. She talked more than Tech did.

Hunter leaned over to you as she talked about her friends at school, “Sorry about her.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubbed his hands together as you followed the curve of the mountain, “Well, I know she can be a lot before you get to know her-”

“Not at all,” You whispered. Was Megan overwhelming? Certainly, but in a sweet way. It reminded you of your own childhood, back before your father insisted you wouldn’t be a nurse or an artist, you had a reputation and a family to uphold. Not that his plans for your future got him anywhere.

Megan squealed, pointing to something on the face of a mountainside cliff. It was a waterfall, hissing down the cliffside from the very top of the mountain to the river alongside the road. Immediately next to the creek and the waterfall, bright green trees grew between all of the rocks.

It was beautiful.

“Hunter! Have you told her about the Bridal Veil falls yet? Tell her about the falls!”

Hunter chuckled softly, “You sure? It’s not a pretty story.”

“But it’s sweet!” Megan insisted. She had fully turned around now, gripping the back of her bench and resting on her knees. You noticed now that her stockings had holes in the knees.

Hunter sighed, and you could feel his arm resting along the back of the bench along your shoulders, “There are two native tribes that live in this area, and a long time ago they were at war. But a girl from one tribe, Norita, fell in love with a warrior from the other tribe. He was called Gray Eagle.

Hunter reached past you to point to the top of the falls, “It’s said that the two planned to meet at the top of the cliff to elope and run away together, but their plan was uncovered by the elders of both tribes. They found Norita at the top of the cliff and told her that they had killed Gray Eagle. In despair, Norita flung herself from the cliff, intending to join her lover in the afterlife, but Mother Nature took compassion on her daughter, turning her tresses and wedding robes into a beautiful waterfall.

“And she turned Gray Eagle into the mountainside, because he had big shoulders!” Wrecker cackled from the wagon bed, flexing his arms as an example. Crosshair rolled his eyes.

“More so to be able to shield and protect his beloved forever,” Hunter finished.

Tech cleared his throat as the waterfall faded behind you, “In actuality, there was most likely an avalanche, uncovering an underground stream that allowed the waterfall to form. In any case, it provides the drinking water for all of Pabu Creek.”

“Ah, c’mon, Brown Eyes, where’s your imagination?” Phee asked.

“I am merely inferring. The name ‘Gray Eagle’ resembles many names that frontiersmen stereotype as a common name of many natives, and we know the tribes of this area very well. It seems that they have been at peace for generations. “

“Well, maybe they formed peace because of the two of them,” You suggested innocently.

Tech hummed thoughtfully, but said nothing.

Havoc and Maudie followed the creek for a few more miles, and soon you could see a town in the distance, settled on a bed of reddish-orange sand. The creek carried the trees around the outskirts of town, separating it from a fenced-off section of land. There were rows and rows of corn and sugar beets, some yellowing in the sun, others saved by the grace of the water from the creek. Like Hunter had said, there were two barns, one with faded green paint, and one with fresh wood that had yet to be painted. And between them stood a small, two-story house, with smoke curling out of the chimney like a picturesque children’s book.

Phee grinned at you, “Welcome to Pabu Creek.”

—

The wagon pulled up the dirt road to the house just in time for dinner. You hadn’t expected the sun to be so low so quickly, but that was due to the mountains that surrounded Marauder Valley.

A dog barked as you approached, running alongside the wheels and yipping at poor, tired Maudie and Havoc. Megan jumped down from the wagon, running alongside the dog and laughing breathlessly up to the door. There you could see a man in a wheelchair, waving with one good arm. That must have been Echo. Hunter assured you that was the last of his brothers you needed to meet, but they had plenty of cousins in all the territories from here to California. Thankfully, you didn’t need to remember all their names.

Echo’s right hand was the one he’d lost in the war, leaving a stump behind. That stump pushed a pump that powered the right wheel of his chair at the same speed that his left arm could steer the left wheel. His legs were cut off at the knee, but he had a kind smile as Megan pulled you into the house.

“Pleased to meet you,” You tried not to stare and hoped he couldn’t tell.

“Ma’am,” He nodded and backed out of your way.

The first floor of the house was one big room, with two doors to your left. One was just before the staircase, made of logs jutting out of the wall, and the other door was just under the stairs. There was a fireplace, just hot enough to warm the pot that hung over the flame, with two rifles criss-crossed above the mantle. The centerpiece of the room was a wooden dining table, large enough to comfortably fit six chairs and Echo’s wheelchair. There was an seventh chair, noticeably newer, with a lighter finish than the other chairs.

“Hunter made that one just for you!” Megan said, holding out the chair for you.

“Well, she needed a place to sit with all of us,” Hunter said dismissively.

Wrecker dropped your chest at the bottom of the stairs and marched over to the stove. He lifted the lid from the pot, tasted its contents, and declared it finished. Phee and Omega grabbed the servingware from the kitchen cupboards and the utensils from the drawers. You wanted to help, but realized quickly that you had no idea where anything was as the siblings moved around each other like water around a rock in the middle of the creek, setting the table for dinner.

“Sorry we don’t have finer china,” Crosshair sneered as he plopped into the chair across the table from you. The servingware was all made from tin, no fine china in sight, but it was all clean, so the material was inconsequential. You straightened your back and tried not to flush. It was obvious that he was trying to get a rise out of you, trying to figure out if you were as delicate as most ‘debutauntes’ back east.

Hunter sat in the chair next to you, shoulders squared as he stared at his brother. Crosshair huffed, taking the piece of straw he’d been chewing the entire time and tossing it into a far corner of the room.

Echo said grace for the eight of you, but that ended the similarities between a dinner with the Fetts and a dinner with your father and grandmother. They weren’t obnoxiously loud, but they talked energetically. How was the farm while Hunter and Tech were gone, was the train as fast as the papers said, the plow needed to be replaced, Megan was certain that Lulabelle the cow was pregnant, but Echo said that was impossible.

Elbows on the table, a drop of soup spilled here and there, your grandmother would faint if she saw such a fight. You tried to make yourself as small as possible, listening intently while trying not to be noticed. Phee wouldn’t let you stay invisible, passing you slices of bread purchased from the bakery in town, Echo had placed it in the coals, warming it up so that it still tasted fresh, and telling everyone everything she’d learned about you on the train.

Well, not everything.

The soup was delicious and filling. If Wrecker was this good a cook, maybe you wouldn’t be needed to cook after all. When dinner was over, the siblings dispersed. It was Tech and Phee’s turn to do dishes, Wrecker had to check on the horses, and Crosshair dragged a chair over to the fire, using the flames to light a match for his pipe. Megan had school in the morning, so she was sent to bed with a hug and a kiss from each brother. Echo disappeared into his room under the stairs, and Hunter helped you bring your trunk into your room, the door right before the stairs.

“Well, this is my- our room,” He said. It was more modest than the room on the train, with a homemade quilt laid across the straw mattress on a wooden bedframe. There were pillows, but no elaborate headboard. There was one nightstand, probably for Hunter’s side of the bed, so you set your travel bag on the other side of the bed. Hunter set your painted next to one made of birch. It was old and worn, but it still perfumed the room gracefully.

“I know it’s nothing like what you had at home…” Hunter tried to say, laying an armful of blankets at the foot of the bed.

“It’s fine, Hunter,” You insisted. You got yourself into this mess, he didn’t have to bend over backwards to make his home more comfortable for you. It was comfortable enough for the seven of them so far, you would make it work for you too, and the baby.

Hunter nodded, rubbing his hands together uncertainly, “I’ve gotta talk to Cross on…on everything I missed while I was gone.” Two weeks away was quite a bit of time for a Sheriff to leave his post, even to get married. Hunter was lucky that he had his deputy.

“That’s alright. “

“I’ll, uh, be back in a minute, but, ah, good night,” He mumbled.

“Good night-” He barely gave you the chance to respond before he closed the door behind him.

Well, you didn't have to unpack much, if everything was to be kept in your trunk, so you might as well get ready for bed.

Your wardrobe for the Philadelphia Social Season would have taken up the entire room. Your grandmother had secured a few practical dresses in addition to your favorites that you’d managed to pack, but having seen Megan and Phee’s wardrobe, even those might stick out like a sore thumb to the residents of Pabu Creek. Was Crosshair right? Were you just some rich girl playing house?

Aside from the dresses and your whites, you had your sewing kit, a necessity out here, but the embroidery kit not so much. At least it would provide you with something to do in your free time, if you ever figured out how to do all the chores required of you.

In your travel bag, you had two books, taken from your mother’s personal library. She had specifically bequeathed it all to you before her death, along with all her jewelry. Your father refused to let you take all the books, and all he let you save from the jewelry that would be sold to make up your dowry was a cameo brooch of your mother’s profile.

Your throat swelled as you thought of her. She would have been disappointed in you, of course, just like everyone else, but you knew in your heart that she wouldn’t have sent you away just to save face. Even if your father pressed for it, she would be here with you, crowded into this small wood cabin with seven family members that were no more than strangers to you.

”I will always be with you, my child,” She promised on your darkest nights, when you cried over nightmares or a crush that kissed another girl behind the school.

You missed her.

You pinned the brooch to your nightdress and grabbed your shawl to keep your modesty. You needed a drink of water, and you wondered if they kept a store of it, or if you’d have to pump it for yourself outside. Perhaps Hunter would help you if he and Crosshair were done discussing practical matters. You opened the door a crack to see if you were interrupted and hear someone scoff.

“Why her?” Crosshair was asking. You froze. You didn’t need to be a genius to know he meant you, the newcomer.

“She was looking for a husband.”

“So? Echo’s all but shacking up with the Chuchi’s daughter. If we wanted a Ma for the girl she’s right next door.”

“Watch your language,” Hunter hissed, and there was a rattling of plates and cups as the table shifted from the force of someone standing up quickly.

You kept your breath shallow and quiet, praying they couldn’t hear you.

“Why not?” Crosshair demanded again.

“Echo’s lame and he’s missing an arm. You think the marshal’s gonna consider him to be a good father?”

“So it has to be you?” Crosshair hummed bitterly, "The self-sacrificing sergeant of the '99..."

“I didn’t hear you volunteering. Tech and Phee are all over the place, they can’t give her a steady life. If we want to prove to the marshal that we can give Megan the life she deserves, we needed someone else. I wasn’t going to break Echo’s heart just to keep Megan here.”

“So you decided on a mail-order bride.”

“Don’t call her that,” Was Hunter’s immediate response. It was endearing, but only for a moment.

“You’ve got to face it, Hunt. Someone that rich, someone from the lap of luxury doesn’t just upend their entire life and move out into the middle of nowhere for no reason. So you have to ask yourself, ‘What does she want?’.”

Hunter was quiet. He knew what you wanted, why you needed this marriage. So did Phee, but you definitely didn’t want Crosshair to know. The way he spoke about you meant he didn’t trust you, and you knew if he found out about the baby he would probably hate you, using his brother and his family to hide your child.

You whispered a short prayer under your breath, just to beg the universe that Hunter wouldn’t reveal your secret. He hadn’t so far, but would the pressure from his brother break him?

“It doesn’t matter what she wants,” Hunter said, his voice low and his tone sharp, “What matters is that she’s here now, and she’s my wife, so you will treat her with the respect that she deserves. In return, she’ll respect you, she’ll help us with Megan, and we can all go about our business without the marshals breathing down our throat.”

You bit your lip. Their conversation was dying down, but you weren’t thirsty anymore, so you creeped back to bed before either of the brothers could discover you.
Megan needed a mother. That part of your deal with Hunter was plain and simple, but what did the territory’s marshals have to do with that? You’d been raised by a single father, but the police hadn’t come around personally to ensure that your grandmother was being a maternal influence on your life. There were far more dangerous criminals acting out, according to Hunter, so why were the marshals concerning themselves with the family of the Sheriff in an inconsequential town?

You heard the creaking of the stairs as Crosshair went up to his room. By the time Hunter came to bed, you were reading one of your books by the light of a candle. He glanced at the dress that you laid out on the chair for the next day. It was a beautiful sky blue printed with white and yellow flowers, and trimmed with lace.

“Well, how was your day?” He asked lamely, though he’d been with you for most of it.

You shrugged. Your eyes didn’t move across the page as someone reading a book might, “It was fine.”

He nodded. His boots were left by the front door downstairs, but he took off his shirt and tossed them in a corner with his socks. He perched on the edge of the bed still wearing his pants and suspenders over his undershirt.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Your voice came out in a squeak.

He shook his head quickly, “I’m fine. Are the blankets warm enough?”

It was summer, but it was also the middle of the desert. What baked in the sunlight froze in the dark, but the blankets on Hunter’s bed were more than enough.

Before Hunter could figure out how to get under the blankets without touching you, there was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Megan,” Hunter said, his tone soft, but stern.

The door creaked open slowly. Megan’s head poked out of the darkness, smiling sheepishly.

“Sorry Hunter.”

“Did you have a bad dream?” He asked.

“No, I’m fine,” Megan shook her head, but her eyes landed on you, “I just wanted to ask if you would come with Hunter to drop me off at school tomorrow?”

It was like cupid pierced your heart with his arrow. Of course your answer was yes!

Hunter sighed, “Couldn’t this have waited until morning?” He stood, walking over to the door.

“I wanted to make sure!” Megan bounced up and down on the tips of her toes excitedly, “I want everyone to meet my new Ma!”

The world seemed to freeze around you.

“Ma.”

Growing up, you had always used “mother” or “mama”. You hadn’t even given birth yet, you had just barely married this girl’s brother, but here she was, grabbing you tight and not letting go.

You were a goner.

Hunter tried to usher his sister back up the stairs to her room, “Let the poor woman get some rest, she’s had a long trip-”

“I’d love to drop you off,” You said softly.

Hunter turned back to you, and Megan’s face split open with a smile.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Megan turned to go to bed, satisfied with this answer. Then she turned heel, running at you. You braced yourself this time, dropping your book and holding out your arms to return her hug.

“I’m glad you’re here, Ma,” She rubbed her cheek against your shoulder for a brief moment, then darted back out the door.

“I’m going back to bed now!” She chirped, halfway up the stairs.

“Don’t wake the others!” Hunter hissed. He waited at the door for another moment, listening to be sure she was going back to bed, then he shut the door and trudged back to bed. He kept saying how tired you must be, but he seemed to be the one that needed the rest.

“She’s sweet,” You told him.

“Yeah,” He nodded in agreement as he pulled back the covers on his side of the bed, “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You tried not to let it get to you. You were in an arranged marriage, you were carrying a bastard child. Of course this wouldn’t be the love match you dreamed of.