A Mail-Order Christmas Bride Page 13

  They all waited for Ella now, breath visible in the cold air. The white clapboard box of a church, set in the wide-open plain, almost blended into the surrounding winter landscape except for the roof of the steeple and the three stairs leading up to the double door, both of which were painted red. A small crowd of neighbors was still clustered outside the church, catching up on news.

  At last, Ella emerged, holding the bottle wrapped in soft flannel. Mamie Wainwright stopped her with a gloved hand on her sleeve. Caleb had courted Mamie once when they were teens. She said something to Ella, who replied. They both looked in his direction and giggled.

  “Let’s get a move on! Ain’t got all day!” shouted Wes.

  At that moment, Caleb thought he could do it. Put the muzzle to that spot on his brother’s neck where the hair was trapped…and pull the trigger. A man who would begrudge his wife a few minutes of pleasure talking to another woman, when she was alone and snow-bound most of the time, wasn’t worth taking up space on earth.

  She hurried along, the hem of her dark-green, velvet coat catching snow.

  “Here. Tuck this under the robe,” she said, handing Caleb the hot water bottle.

  He did as instructed, then climbed down to give her a hand up. When she was seated, he climbed in beside her. Wes didn’t even wait for him to fully sit down before he snapped the reins, jerking the sleigh into motion. Caleb fell heavily in the seat beside Ella. She arranged a robe over both of them.

  Miles of flat plains stretched out to every side of them. The smell of snow was in the air, and the sky had that silvery-blue color, like it was building up more snow. All his life, the vastness of the land inspired both awe and fear in him. On a good day, it was breathtaking with its grandeur and promise of freedom. On a bad day, traveling mile after mile without seeing another soul, the land could make his throat tighten in fear. No…she’d never make it out of here in the winter on her own.

  The progress of their conveyance was the only sound in the wintry, muffled landscape. The runners of the sleigh made a thin, slicing sound as they rode over ice and snow. The horses’ hoof beats were dulled by the soft ground, but the sleigh bells jingled merrily with every step they took. The bells were meant to warn others of their approach, because sleighs moved so silently and were hard to stop if a pedestrian got in the way. Caleb smiled at the thought of a pedestrian suddenly stepping out in front of them. Out here where you could see forever, you’d spot anything long before you’d be in danger of running it down.

  He turned to look at Ella. Her face was in profile, half-hidden under a muffler and hat with her fur-trimmed hood up. Only her eyes were visible. He leaned over and whispered in the vicinity of her ear. “When I leave the day after tomorrow, I mean to take you with me.”

  Slowly, her head swiveled in his direction. Her eyes were wide and dancing between layers of wool. Frost dusted the muffler over her mouth and under her nose where her moist breath caught. He couldn’t discern if it was fear or excitement making her eyes look so deeply into his own.

  “We’ll talk later,” he whispered.

  Under the robe, he peeled off his glove and then reached over and took her hand, pulling off her fur-lined mitten. They rode in silence, hand in hand, staring straight ahead.

  Sometimes the landscape was broken by a copse of trees. A barn falling to bits marked the halfway spot. When Caleb had been a boy, they had gone by this way once and saw a corner of the roof had collapsed under the weight of snow. “Somebody better tend to that roof, or he’s going to lose the barn,” his father had said. Then every time they rode past, the family noted the decline of their neighbor’s barn. Now, it was collapsed in on itself, a victim of careless neglect.

  A stream of smoke rising in the sky from some distant homestead was the first sign of life they’d seen since leaving church. Caleb felt Ella’s hand, so delicate and vulnerable, in his. He squeezed her fingers while caressing the mound between her thumb and forefinger. His old break was acting up in the cold, but he didn’t care.

  ****

  Wesley put his feet up on the hassock and rubbed his distended belly. Caleb noticed with satisfaction that his brother had let himself go soft in the middle. Days spent in the saddle, month after month, had given Caleb a lean, hard frame. He could take Wesley now. Not the bigger, older brother anymore. Just older.

  When his mother was alive, she could keep Wesley in check most of the time. Now, with her gone and the old man debilitated, Wes had gotten all puffed up like a toad. But Caleb saw him for what he was—and he wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

  He turned his attention back to Ella. They hadn’t had a moment alone together, and he was trying to work out how to accomplish this feat.

  ****

  When they got back from church, she’d put together a meal for them with last night’s leftovers. Caleb felt so much tension in the air, he was sure the vibrations coming off of him and Ella were going to rattle the window panes, but Wesley was unaware, shoveling food into his mouth. He always had faulty vision, in that he only saw what he wanted to see.

  After dinner the family exchanged gifts, but it was a random, half-hearted exchange. Before riding home, Caleb had gone to the mercantile store. He bought a tin whistle for Virgil and a stack of new bandanas for his father. Then he fretted over what to buy for Ella. The shopkeeper made the situation more awkward by asking him questions about his “sweetheart.”

  “How many yards do you want?” the shopkeeper asked, a pair of heavy scissors in one hand.

  He was so flustered over the question, he bought the whole thing. And it wasn’t until he was well away from the store he remembered he didn’t have anything for Wesley.

  In the parlor, he was so embarrassed by his paltry gifts, he almost didn’t bother handing them out. Except when it was clear gift-giving wasn’t going to play much of a role in this Christmas, he did bring out his presents.

  “Oh, Caleb, this lace is lovely! It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Ella exclaimed, clutching the bundle to her breast.

  “’Nuff of it,” said Wesley.

  “Now, seeing the bolt, I guess I did misjudge. I wasn’t sure how much lace a lady needs.”

  “No, it’s fine. I can trim the table cloth and maybe even the kitchen curtains.”

  “I was hoping you’d use it on something for yourself,” he said.

  “Well, of course. It just occurred to me I could freshen up my everyday dress. Maybe trim a bonnet as well. Or use it on a new dress to wear on a special occasion,” she said with a sly smile.

  When Wesley gave Ella a necklace and earring set tucked into a velvet box and a bottle of cologne, Caleb was uncharitably pleased to see, Ella didn’t react with the genuine pleasure she’d shown over his gift. Of course, Wesley couldn’t give a gift without letting everyone know how much it cost.

  Virgil had carved them all animals out of wood. A horse for Caleb, a hummingbird for Ella, an antelope for Father, and a big boar for Wesley. The boar had a snout so large it was out of proportion to the body, which had spindly short legs. Evil-looking tusks sprouted out of the beast’s jaws. It wasn’t an hour before Wes accidentally stepped on his gift from Virgil, snapping off its legs.

  The silent guests on this holiday were the absent children. A Christmas without the surprise and delight of children opening presents was a different affair. They hadn’t bothered to put up stockings in years.

  Now, all gifts that were to be exchanged had been exchanged, and the family all sat in the glow of the tree.

  Ella was watching Wesley with narrowed eyes, her cheeks sucked in. She looked calm, but for her hands that were busy darning a sock, betraying her state. One hand held the sock tight over the wooden darning egg, and the other hand held the needle, strung with a piece of cotton wool. The needle was shaking so, Ella couldn’t pick up a stitch.

  When Wes’s head settled back and his eyes closed, Ella waited a few minutes for his breathing to deepen.

  “Wesley, I have to go to the ro
ot cellar to put some things away. Would you come with me and hold the lantern?”

  Wes snorted but didn’t open his eyes. “Aw, Ellie, I just got comfortable. Let me take a nap first.”

  “I’ll go with you Ella. I want to stretch my legs a bit.”

  “Thank you, Caleb. I might as well fetch up a few bottles of currant wine.”

  He stood up and stretched. “Would that be my mama’s recipe for currant wine?”

  She put the sock on the side-table and smoothed out her skirt as she rose to stand. “Why, yes it is. Why don’t you take a bottle for yourself to take back with you?”

  “Well, I might as well take a little something back with me,” he said, smiling at her.

  “You do that,” said Wes, without opening his eyes.

  In the kitchen, Caleb helped Ella into her coat before putting on his own. He grabbed an oil lamp. She picked up a basket of apples.

  “I didn’t really need to put these away,” she said, her eyes full of mischief.

  “I figured that out on my own. Still, it’s a sin to let good things go to waste. Let me take those. You get the door.”

  The icy air hit him in the face like a hundred bee stings when the door swung open. It was already dark out, and the sky was dancing with the stars winking at them. He could clearly pick out the Big Dipper and the North Star pointing out the direction.

  The snow crunched underfoot as they made their way to the root cellar with the bright light of the lantern directing them. As they walked away from the house, they moved closer together so their shoulders bumped with each step. His excitement at the thought of being alone with her made his heart pound. As if reading his thoughts, Ella linked her free arm through the crook of his elbow, giving him a squeeze so her breast was pressed against his arm.

  At last, the glow of the lamp hit upon the door of the root cellar. The low building made out of rough timbers was dug partway into the ground and surrounded on three sides by sod. The root cellar was the oldest building on the property. When Caleb’s grandparents settled here, they’d first built the sod house to live in while the main house was being built. Over time and a couple of generations, the main building had expanded.

  Caleb put down the basket so he could take up the shovel set there for the purpose of clearing away the snow drift collected at the base of the cellar door. Once it was free, Ella pushed open the heavy wooden door and hung the lantern from a hook in the ceiling. He followed in behind her, dropping the basket and closing the door behind them.

  In an instant, they were in each other’s arms. A nervous giggle escaped from Ella, but Caleb stopped it with his mouth ground down on hers. Like a hungry man long denied a meal, he took in her lips between his own. He pulled her into him while he ran his hands over her back and then up to her face. Deep sounds escaped her throat as she unbuttoned his coat to feel his body underneath.

  She pulled back after a time. Her eyes were shining. “Are we running away?”

  “No, we’re not running. We’re going to do this the right way. I’m going to talk to Wesley man to man.”

  She started in his arms, fear written on her face now. “You can’t. He’ll kill you.”

  “I can handle him. I’m not going to start our life together under a cloud of secrecy. He’s going to grant you a divorce—so I can marry you properly.”

  “He’d never—”

  “One way or another, I’m going to persuade him. Remember, I told you once I make up my mind, I can fix anything.”

  She looked hard at him, and then, as if she’d taken his measure, nodded.

  He cupped her chin. “Tell me. When you sent for me, was running away with me what you had in the back of your mind?”

  “Not so far in the back. I hoped…but I thought you might not—”

  “Might not be able to stand up to him?”

  In the dim light, he saw her blush and look down, ashamed. “Yes. He has such power over…people.”

  “Over me, you mean. That’s all right. It’s true. But not anymore. I think leaving here and being away from him started me thinking, but when I saw how he treats you, something in me snapped. I’m not afraid of him anymore.”

  “How are we going to do this? Where are we going to go?”

  He made a face at her. “San Francisco, of course. I’m tired of wrangling cattle.”

  She threw herself at him again, unable to control her glee. Caleb lifted Ella off her feet and spun her around, his nose buried in hair smelling of spring flowers. She got to giggling again, and he set her down.

  “Listen. We don’t have much time. Tomorrow, first thing, I’m going to tell Wes I want to talk to him in his study. When I do, I want you to pack a bag and be ready to leave. I’m going to need a gun. Where does he keep the key to the gun cabinet?”

  “You don’t mean to kill him!”

  “I hope that sort of persuasion won’t be necessary, but I’m not going to take any chances. He’s a violent man.”

  “In his pocket. He keeps the keys in his pocket. After he goes to bed, I’ll get them and put them on the table outside our bedroom door. When I do, unlock the cabinet, but put the keys back on the table. He’ll miss them if I don’t put them back in his pocket.”

  Caleb nodded. “We need to get back, now. We’ve already been out here longer than necessary.”

  Reluctantly, he dropped his arms from her and took her hand to lead her back to the house.

  “Caleb?”

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  “I like the way that sounds. I love you too, Ellie. We’ll have a lifetime to discuss that fact.”

  “Wait!”

  “What?”

  “The wine.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot we didn’t come out here to only put a basket of apples away.”

  Caleb found the crate with the bottles of wine in one corner. He took a moment to look around. One wall was lined with shelves full of preserved vegetables and fruit in jars, some probably still from Ma’s time. Wooden racks were built into a frame for storing root vegetables. There were baskets of apples and pears, herbs hanging from twine to dry, burlap sacks full of potatoes, and…Burlap sacks…

  He brushed the cobwebs out of Virgil’s hair and wiped the snot off his face with his own sleeve.

  “Hush, now Virgie. Wes won’t find us in here. We’ll give him time to simmer down—or find someone else to pick on.”

  Virgil was sniveling, wringing his hands. Caleb pulled the burlap sack over, hiding the two of them in the corner. The scent of onions was strong. He could never abide the smell of onions after that day. They sat there for hours, squatting on the dirt floor, afraid to talk, listening for the sound of the door opening.

  “Cal, he makes me do things to him. Bad things. I hate him,” said Virgil.

  “I know. I know what he makes you do.”

  Virgil had looked up at him wide-eyed. Caleb nodded. He knew first-hand what Wesley made Virgil do.

  Ella was waiting for him at the door, studying him. It was funny how the memories were coming back to him, fast, now. Seeing the bruises on her arm…

  ****

  Something wasn’t sitting right with him. He found the keys on the table just as planned. From the gun cabinet, he got a revolver and bullets. Small enough to stick in the back of his waistband, unseen when he had his jacket on. He put the keys back on the table, and when he walked by the room in the morning they were gone.

  When he entered the main part of the house, it was eerily empty and quiet.

  Then, he heard the murmur of voices from down the hall. Caleb followed the voice to Wes’s study. He turned the knob and walked in. Wes was sitting at his desk. Their father sat in a chair across the room. That wasn’t right. He hadn’t planned on his father being there. Just as well, he decided. Tell them both at once.

  Wesley looked at him with his piggy, bloodshot eyes. “You’re up early.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t sleep last night,” he said. Which was
true enough.

  He’d tossed and turned with excitement all night. Worry, too. He thought about all the things that could go wrong.

  Then, he noticed it. The door to the gun cabinet behind Wesley was slightly ajar. Then, it came to him. That unsettled feeling. He’d forgotten to lock the cabinet. A space. There was an empty space in the cabinet where the Winchester rifle was supposed to be.

  From where he stood, he couldn’t see directly behind Wes’s desk. Was he waiting for him with the rifle at ready?

  “What’s got you so worked up you can’t sleep? Ca-leb.” Wes’s tone was taunting.

  “I need to talk to you, and Pa might as well hear this.”

  “I hope you aren’t here to say you want your old job back, because we get along just fine without you.”

  “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “Must be something important. Coming all this way.”

  His scalp tightened, making the hairs stand up on his head. “Where’s Ella?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her this morning. It’s like she up and disappeared on us. Why you want her?”

  “Have you done something to her?”

  Wesley genuinely looked surprised. “What would I have done to Ella? I told you I haven’t seen her this morning. She’s probably in the hen house gathering eggs,” he said, and then his eyes narrowed. “What has she been telling you?”

  “She didn’t need to tell me anything. Those marks you left on her arm told quite a story, though, and it’s a tale I’ve heard before.”

  “What’s this all about?”

  “I’m leaving, and I’m taking Ella with me.”

  His brother sat up straight in his chair. He spanned his arms across his desk and pushed himself up to standing, surprise giving away to menace. His father looked back and forth between his sons, trembling.

  “How do you think you’re going to do that, little brother? I’m not letting her go.”