Free Cheryl Reavis by The Bartered Bride

daughters, listening to their convoluted story of how such a fine Frühstück had come about.
    “Beata’s going to be upset,” Lise said.
    “Beata is always upset,” he said, spreading more jam on a huge slice of bread.
    “But she’s going to say we took bread she was keeping for something else.”
    “For what?” Frederich asked with his mouth full.
    “She never says that part,” Lisa answered, and he laughed.
    “Don’t worry, little one. If Beata wants to hoard her bread, then she must come down here and guard her kitchen herself. The biggest trouble with sulking, you see, is while you’re off hiding with your long face, life will go on without you. If she stays away, there’s no telling what we mightdo with the rest of the food in the pantry—we might even find where she hides the coffee,” he added in a whisper.
    He was smiling—until he glanced at Caroline. Then he was immediately reminded of what a disaster this morning had been.
    He abruptly got up from the table. “I have too much to do,” he said, the reproach in his voice apparent even to him. He took another hunk of the ill-gotten bread and a slice of bacon with him. He had stayed in the company of his children and Caroline Holt too long. He had nearly let his anger dissipate, and he needed it if he was going to plow the north field and locate his good-for-nothing nephew.
    He went back to the barn. He tossed the last bit of bacon and bread to the barn cats, and he climbed the ladder to the hayloft, fighting off a fit of sneezing that came from the dust and the pungent scent of the hay. He stood for a moment peering into the dark corners for Eli’s sleeping form. If Eli hadn’t gone to Caroline, then he had to have slept somewhere.
    The loft was empty, and Frederich began pitching the hay into the stalls below. The cats mewed loudly for another handout, and Beata was awake. He could hear her complaining all the way out here.
    He moved to the other side and looked over the edge. The door to the stall directly below him stood ajar, and the bay gelding that should have been there was gone.
    Frederich stayed away from the house until shortly after noon. The kitchen was quiet when he came in, and he was surprised that there was no meal on the table. Even if Beata was still sulking, he expected Caroline to have at least managed something for the children. He didn’t see the girls anywhere, but she was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs.
    “We observe the Mittagessen in this house,” he said.
    She looked at him blankly.
    “The noon meal,” he said as if to a backward child.
    “Lise and Mary Louise have eaten.”
    “Is there anything left?” he asked pointedly.
    “I don’t know. Beata took it.”
    “Took it where?”
    “I don’t know,” she said again.
    He swore under his breath and went looking for whatever Beata might have put aside for him—or missed hiding. There was nothing. He looked up from his search to see Caroline standing nearby.
    “Have you…found Eli?” she asked, not quite meeting his eyes.
    “One of the horses and a saddle is missing. Eli had some money put by. I expect he is long gone.”
    “Oh,” she said, as if she hadn’t considered that possibility.
    When he looked up again, she was putting on her shawl and opening the back door. “Where are you going?”
    He saw the rise and fall of her breasts as she took a deep breath before she answered him.
    “This—marriage—isn’t going to work. I’m going to ask Avery to let me come home.”
    The remark took him completely by surprise, and his temper flared. He had given her the only chance she would ever have for any kind of respectability and she was about to throw it away?
    “Avery will not let you come home,” he said bluntly.
    “You don’t know that—”
    “He made too much of a show among the men of disowning you.”
    He walked into the pantry looking again for something Beata might have forgotten to hide. He supposed that the loss of her secret