Free Katie: Bride of Virginia (American Mail-Order Brides 10) by Sylvia McDaniel Page B

here I wanted to create a union with a man I didn't know. I hope to have children with you and for us to have a life filled with bad and good times. But it's all based on trust and you don't trust me. You showed me that this morning, when you thought I had stolen money.”
    “I'm trying to trust you. But I trusted my first wife and I shouldn't have.” Daniel ran his hand through his hair. “I don't like talking about Eloise because everyone in town thinks I murdered her.”
    He turned and walked away, leaving Katie staring at his retreating back. She sank onto the sofa. Her stomach clenched with fear and she gazed at the man she had grown to like and even care about. Could he have killed his first wife? What made people think he was her killer?
     
     
     
    #
    At daylight, Daniel woke to find his wife's side of the bed empty. Rolling over he was shocked at how quickly their marriage had spiraled into trouble. All marriages had peaks and valleys, but they were still newlyweds and they were having issues.
    When he'd seen her on that train platform, he thought she'd seemed like a ray of sunshine. For over a year he'd been needing someone or something to brighten his days.  And Katie did. He couldn't wait to get home and see her smiling face.
    In the time she'd been here, he'd even seen a change in his mother. If he were honest with himself, he was the one causing the problems in their marriage. The girl was smart enough to recognize he was not being honest.
    If he didn't tell her the truth, someone sooner or later was going to give her their version and how could he blame her for getting upset. He had to find the time to tell her what happened between him and Eloise.
    There was a rapid fire knock on his bedroom door. “Mr. O'Malley, wake up, sir.”
    He jumped out of bed and opened the door to see one of his workers, standing before him. “Sorry, to disturb you, sir, but there is a herd of cattle out in the vineyard. I need help rounding them up.”
    “Dear God,” he said grabbing his pants. “Where the hell is Jack?”
    “I don't know, sir,” he said. “I saw them when I was walking to the shed.”
    He paid his foreman a decent salary to make certain the vineyard was protected, the hands did their work and the wine was produced. Sure Daniel was involved in all the day to day activities, but he had a foreman because the man was in charge of his workers.
    “You go on and I'll catch up to you. Who the hell's cattle is it?”
    “I don't know, sir,” he said running down the stairs.
    If they trampled the vines, he was ruined. Everything he'd worked so hard to achieve would be for naught.
    “Do you need help?” Katie said appearing in the doorway.
    “Yes, pull on a coat and boots and grab a blanket to shoo them away with,” he said.
    No, he didn't want his wife out in the vineyard herding cattle, but if the vines were trampled, they would have nothing. They all had to work to keep them from destroying their future crops.
    Hours later when they returned to the house, Katie turned to him and sank down at the table. They had saved most of the vines, but there were some the cattle had not only trampled, it appeared they'd been running through his field. Thank goodness it was not his older grapes, but the newer ones and he thought he could save the cuttings, though he would have to do a  lot of work.
    Katie turned and stared at him. “Do not blame this one on me.”
    He laid his head back against the chair rest. “If only I could, because then I would know who had created the problem. My gut is telling me this was deliberate.”
    But who would be trying to destroy him?
    She stared at him, her big eyes wide and bright. “But why? Who would want to ruin the vineyard? You're just starting to make money.”
    Shrugging his shoulder he shook his head. “I don't know.”
    “Is there anyone who wants you to fail?”
    How could he answer that question? Everyone in town thought he'd murdered Eloise. Could this be a vigilante