Free Michelle: Bride of Mississippi (American Mail-Order Bride 20) by Cindy Caldwell

rain when the time came.
    “It was mighty nice of you to let Mrs. Michelle have the buggy today with the girls and offering to walk.”
    He looked over his shoulder at Mable. “Hm? Oh, yes. She said she wanted to go to the park. But please tell her what the weather might hold. She’s not used to Mississippi weather. We all know how unpredictable it can be.”
    “Yes, I certainly will, Mr. Anthony. But from what I can tell of Miss Michelle so far, she can handle herself.”
    He looked up at her and was greeted with a wink. She and Michelle hadn’t spent any time together as far as he knew, and he shrugged his shoulders and stepped outside, Mable closing the door behind him.
    He clapped his hands together as he headed down the drive, glancing at the barn. His hands hadn’t warmed up since he’d come out before dawn to feed the horses and muck the stalls. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he’d had time for another cup of coffee. Between the nanny leaving and having to let the yard boy go, he’d had to do everything himself, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a good night’s sleep.
    He sighed as he walked. Last night, with Michelle by the fire when she’d told him she’d grown up in poverty would have been the perfect time to inform her of his predicament. He kicked himself that he’d not had the courage to do it. She had a right to know, after all. She was his wife now, and he’d never imagined he’d have a wife, let alone a wife he instantly kept secrets from.
    Shaking his head as he inhaled the crisp autumn air, he thought of his conversation with Mr. Banks the day before, and his heart lifted a bit at the possibility of what he’d mentioned. Maybe everything would work out and he wouldn’t have to tell Michelle. No reason to worry her if things turned about as he hoped they would.
    He warmed as he walked as quickly as he could down Taylor Street. A distant train whistle blew and he glanced quickly at his pocket watch. The arrival of the trains was surprisingly consistent, and he quickened his pace even more as he realized he would be late to open the shop and at the same time saw the first raindrop of the day.
    He hurried past the courthouse, its bricks darkening with the increasing rain and glanced up as a woman, herding three children down the steps, moved quickly toward the street. He stopped and watched her pick up her gray skirts, holding onto two of the children’s hands while the oldest held the hand of a toddler.
    She looked up at the sky and crouched down beside the toddler, buttoning his coat up to the top and pulling his cap down more securely on his head. “Button your coats now, boys. It’s a bit of a walk and the rain will be coming hard soon.”
    “Mama, I’m cold,” the toddler said, stamping his worn boots on the ground.
    Anthony couldn’t move--none of the children had gloves, nor did the mother. He thought of the twins’ warm coats, scarves and gloves tucked in their wardrobe.
    The mother stood, startled as she ran into Anthony. Her cheeks flushed as she said, “Oh, excuse me, sir. Didn’t see you there,” and started down the street, her brood in tow.
    He looked down at the brass handle of the umbrella he held over his head, his hat nice and dry. The brass handle would have been cool in his hand had he not been wearing gloves, and he remembered when his father had given it to him when he was a young boy. He hesitated for a moment, but Adelaide popped into his head. Even as a young girl, she’d always said, “There are so many less fortunate than we are, Anthony. We must help. It is our responsibility.”
    “Excuse me, madame. Please, take this. It should begin pouring soon,” he said as he caught up to the mother in two long strides.
    Her eyes wide and her mouth open, she looked from Anthony to her children and back up again, both gratitude and embarrassment radiating from her shy smile. “Thank you, sir. It’s mighty cold today. Wasn’t near as cold