A Mail-Order Christmas Bride Page 28

  As for herself, Stella wanted to start out right with the man with whom she’d be spending the rest of her life, but he wasn’t cooperating all that much. Instead, he crossed the room and sat on the bed.

  “I have to work all night and I need to sleep.” After that announcement, he slid under the covers and within seconds, started snoring.

  She shrugged off her overcoat and joined Dinah in the kitchen. Without saying a word, Dinah handed Stella a knife and the bacon.

  “Yours snores,” Dinah whispered.

  “You haven’t seen yours yet,” Stella reminded her friend. “He might snore even worse.”

  “And be more unkempt. I’m a mite worried.”

  Stella sliced off another rasher. “I want to start off right. He needs to know what I expect for myself and our children.”

  “First things first.” Dinah tossed another handful of flour in the pancake batter. “We’ll eat a good meal, set ourselves to rights, and decide if we want to stay. We talked about that.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t think we really would have to start our own restaurant. Mostly I just wanted to fall in love with my new husband.”

  “Might still happen, but it’s not looking promising at the moment.”

  ****

  Hec had finally warmed up enough to face the two women, one of whom was his brother’s Christmas present. He’d told Zeke that he was shopping, and his brother hadn’t slept for a day and two nights—he would be sawing logs now. Little did he know, in just a few hours, he’d meet his new wife.

  The two of them had talked about starting their families, but the seasons went by and all they did was work. A man in his mid-thirties ought to have a wife and young’uns. He’d gotten the notion to send for a bride, then decided what the hell—he might as well get one for Zeke, too. All it cost was fare. That was a considerable amount, but Hec thought it wouldn’t amount to more than it would to court a lady for a year. Maybe less.

  At Ted’s shout, Mrs. Woods peered through the window. “Stage is coming,” she said.

  The butterflies in Hec’s stomach were shooting it out with the boulder in his throat. Maybe brides hadn’t been such a good idea after all. But he wanted a family, and Zeke needed one, too, whether he knew it or not. He put on his hat and stepped out to meet his new wife.

  The driver waved at him. “Hey there, Hec. I left two nice Christmas packages at your house. You best hightail it to the ranch. Looks like they could use a little unwrapping to me.” He hopped off the coach and went straight to the outhouse.

  Damnation! Hec followed him. “You left them at my place?” he hollered through the outhouse door.

  “Can’t a man have any peace when he does his business?”

  Hec didn’t know whether to jump on his horse and dash full tilt for home, or stay and question the driver. Except he brought that danged dilapidated wagon—it would take him twice as long to get to the ranch. He headed for the barn to get his team ready.

  Lord help him—and that was a true plea, not cussing—if Zeke found out about the brides without Hec being there. On the other hand, at least he didn’t have to worry about Zeke whacking him upside the head. Yet. But he’d try.

  By the time the team was hitched, the driver had walked up and clapped him on the shoulder. “Congratulations, Hec. You and Zeke picked some mighty fine women.”

  “Thanks, but why did you take them to the ranch instead of the station?”

  “Thought we’d have bad weather, so we started a little early. We had time, and I knew where they was headed, so I took them there to save you a trip.”

  “How’d Zeke take the news?”

  “Don’t know. Once the ladies got out, I tossed their trunks off and came here. Didn’t see Zeke.”

  A gust of wind nearly blew off Hec’s hat as he climbed onto his wagon and picked up the lines. “Wish me luck.”

  “Best wishes for two happy marriages, my friend.”

  Actually, the luck Hec needed was for his brother not to pound his head into the ground.

  “Hurry on home, now.” The driver looked to the sky. “Those clouds look mean—I’m smelling snow.”

  He didn’t have to say that twice. Hec hollered at the team and they plodded off, the wagon groaning even though it had no load. The hour’s drive would seem like ten, what with the dread in Hec’s gut.

  Regrets battered him nearly as much as the wagon did as it jerked and jolted over the frozen ruts. They’d had a rainstorm, one of the few of the year, a hard freeze the next day, and snow a week after that, so the road couldn’t have been much worse.

  The herd and ranch wasn’t in all that good of shape, either. One of the brothers did the day work, which was enough for three men, and at night, the other rescued yearlings from snowdrifts and whatever other trouble they could find. Both he and Zeke had worked their butts off since the cold weather hit nearly a month back, one brother taking the night watch for a week, then they switched.

  He knew they needed to hire a couple more hands, but they’d get through this winter with the help of two good women. Zeke just needed to come around to Hec’s way of thinking, is all. Hec reckoned that if he and his brother didn’t have to cook, milk the cow, or feed the chickens, they’d get a lot more of the work done.

  Plus, the food might be edible. Zeke was a piss-poor cook, and as for himself, well, he burned just about everything he touched. They’d survived, but life would be a lot better with women. Especially at night. Hec truly looked forward to that part. Most especially on the cold nights.

  He’d been writing to the two women, Dinah Goode and Stella Clemmons, for nearly a year. He’d wired the money to Cleveland in September, hoping they’d arrive in mid-October when the work slowed down some. But he’d wanted the ladies to arrive at the same time so he could get Zeke open to the idea, what with both women being there already, so when Miss Goode said she couldn’t leave her job until November, that put them back some.

  Dinah Goode seemed like the perfect woman for him. She said she was strong-boned and knew how to cook—two requirements for a rancher’s wife. Stella Clemmons sounded sweet and Zeke’s disposition could sure use some sugar. Neither lady was young so he didn’t have to worry about them being flighty. Yep, he’d chosen well.

  Maybe.

  He’d been so deep in thought, he hadn’t even noticed the wind kick up, but when the snow blew sideways into his face like sewing pins, now that got his attention. The horses shied to the side, not wanting their faces in the snow. The blinders would help keep the snow out of their eyes, but still they hopped around in the harness.

  Within another few minutes, the blizzard had struck with such force that he had to stop the horses. Hec wasn’t even for sure that they were on the road. White everywhere—right, left, up, or down. Nor did he know how he’d get back home. Best he stay right there and do whatever he could to keep warm. Once the storm lifted, he’d be on his way.

  Just as he got off the wagon, a lightning bolt flashed. The horses reared and neighed, then took off.

  Hec stood in the middle of what he hoped was the road. Nothing to do but start walking. Cold and lost. What a helluva fix. And he hadn’t even seen his bride yet.

  ****

  Zeke could not believe his older brother had ordered two brides. Now he knew what Hec had been yammering about all summer. It wasn’t just yammering—he’d been writing to those ladies all along. But if Hec thought Zeke would get leg-shackled to just any woman, well, that just wasn’t going to happen. Zeke had courted one proper lady and she turned out to be a two-timer. A man couldn’t trust “honest” women, that was for sure.

  He fought the snow swirling down the back of his neck as he hauled the trunks into the cabin—which was Hec’s. The brothers had seen no reason to split what precious wood they had to heat two houses, so Zeke had moved into Hec’s house on account of it was closer to the barn.

  Fred got in the way a time or two, which didn’t make the job any easier. Zeke put all four trunks in Hec’s
house for two reasons. First of all, they were danged heavy. Second, Hec was the one who wanted the two women, so he could have both of them. When Zeke wanted a woman, he could go to Silver City and rent one, as always before.

  And where in the blazes was his brother, anyway? He should have been back home. Between the brides, the weather, and his missing brother—which meant Zeke would have to milk the cow and gather the eggs—his mood had plummeted. And it hadn’t been too good to start with.

  But the minute he opened the door to drag in the last trunk, the smell of flapjacks and bacon salved his foul mood considerably. Fred yipped and Dinah hushed him. Zeke pointed to the corner where Fred’s bed was, and the dog slinked over with his tail between his legs.

  Zeke sympathized with Fred. “You’ll get some soon enough, old boy.”

  “Wash up,” Stella said. “Dinah cooked pancakes, and after being assaulted with stage stop food full of weevils for a week, we’re ready for a good meal.”

  Wash up? In the winter? “It’s a mite cold to be dunkin’ my head in the horse trough.”

  Stella brought him a pot of warm water. “I heated this for you.”

  Now that, he could get used to.

  She handed him a towel. “Hurry up. The flapjacks are getting cold.” She turned and attended to whatever she was doing at the table. Zeke didn’t mind so much because he rather liked looking at her backside.

  Stella had covered the roughhewn table with a cloth and set the table with plates and such. It looked right pretty. But the flapjacks in the middle looked prettier and Zeke felt like he could eat a side of beef with a mutton chaser.

  He sat where Stella pointed. Dinah forked six flapjacks onto his plate, then handed him the butter and molasses. “Enjoy.”

  And that, he did, even though he felt guilty about eating in front of Fred, who still whimpered in the corner. He dipped his bacon in the molasses, then took a big bite of flapjacks. “Mmmm.” Then he polished off the stack and got another one just like it. Once he ate those, he put down his fork for a breather, thinking about having some more.

  “These are the first decent flapjacks I’ve had since Hec and me lit out for the war.”

  “Hec and I.”

  “You didn’t go with him—I did.”

  Dinah gave him another stack and he sure didn’t want them to go to waste, even if he was a mite perturbed at the woman who claimed to be his bride.

  Stella refilled his coffee. “I mean you should say ‘Hec and I,’ because you wouldn’t say ‘since me lit out.’ You should practice good grammar if you want the children to speak properly.”

  If the flapjacks weren’t so danged good, he’d have told her to mind her own business. “Still and all, I ain’t had flapjacks this good for a while.”

  “Haven’t. Ain’t is a contraction for ‘am not.’ ”

  “You’d think you were a danged schoolmarm or something.”

  “I am. And watch your language.”

  He did know not to cuss around ladies. “Pardon my French, ma’am.”

  Best he just shut his yap and eat, because anything he said wouldn’t suit her. And he danged well didn’t plan to spend the rest of his life listening to her correct him. He wolfed down another stack. Once his belly refused to hold one more bite, he stood and stretched. Dinah had already given Fred his flapjacks, which the dog ate in two gulps.

  Zeke started to tell the ladies what he planned to do, which was to move his things to his own cabin and let Hec deal with them, but decided his words wouldn’t be good enough. So he shrugged on his coat, tipped his hat at Dinah in thanks, and left.

  Chapter 3

  “You were a mite hard on him, don’t you think?” Dinah poured hot water into the dishpan. Even though she had a plan to open a restaurant if this marriage business didn’t work out, she realized that she really wanted a love match. “Maybe, just maybe a romance might work out between myself and Hec Murdock, but not if you and Zeke lock horns right from the get go.”

  “Yes, I saw that I had wounded his pride when he left the way he did. He tipped his hat at you but he didn’t even look at me. I’ll have to find a way to make it up to him.”

  “He’ll come back when he’s hungry. You’ll think of something.”

  A few minutes later, Zeke came in to fetch the milk bucket. “Would be obliged if one of you would gather the eggs.” He left, leaving boot tracks on the floor Stella had just washed.

  Dinah handed her friend a basket. “You might as well start now. Don’t you say a word about your clean floor. I’ll wipe it up while you’re out there freezing your derriere off.”

  “I don’t know a thing about chickens.”

  “Guess you’ll learn in a hurry.”

  Dinah cleaned the floor while Stella bundled up. She didn’t seem at all enthusiastic about collecting the eggs, but then neither of them had seen a real chicken up close. On the other hand, picking up eggs and putting them in the basket couldn’t be that complicated.

  Maybe she should help milk the cow. After all, wasn’t that what ranch wives did?

  ****

  Stella ventured out in the freezing cold and headed for the barn. She found Zeke brushing a brown cow. “Could you please direct me to the chickens?”

  He pointed to a little rustic shack not too far from the barn, but otherwise ignored her. She stood there for a moment while he continued to brush the cow, then started to wash her udder. She knew she needed to apologize right away or a bad situation could become much worse.

  “I’m very sorry for correcting your speech at dinner, and I promise to be less of a schoolteacher and more of a wife in the future.”

  “Watch out for Cheryl. She’ll peck your hand.”

  “Cheryl? With a hard ‘ch’ sound?”

  Zeke nodded and went back to his milking. He hadn’t said much, and he hadn’t accepted Stella’s apology, but at least he’d said something. She ventured to the chicken house and heard soft clucking, which calmed her nerves a little. The closest she’d ever been to a chicken was at the market in Cleveland. Some farmers kept them in cages and people bought them. The farmer would chop off their heads and dip them in a vat of scalding water. She hadn’t watched after that, as it made her sick to her stomach.

  These chickens laid eggs, which suited her considerably more. And they sounded content, so maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all. Plus, it couldn’t be any colder inside the chicken coop than outside. Martialing her courage, she opened the door. Even though the smell—sort of like fermented corn soaked in ammonia—nearly gagged her, she stepped in.

  Right on some gooshy chicken poop. The hens all sat in little boxes lined with straw. She found two eggs, put them in her basket, and left, making sure the door was latched behind her.

  She proudly held out her basket to Zeke, who had a pint of milk in the bucket already. “I got the eggs!”

  “Only two eggs?”

  “That’s all I saw.”

  “Did you feel under the hens?”

  “You mean, touch their, uh, bottoms? Why would I do that?”

  “They’re sitting on their eggs.” He went back to milking. “You should’ve found at least a dozen.”

  “I guess I have a lot to learn.”

  “I reckon.” The steady squirts of milk made bubbly foam in the bucket. He certainly knew how to milk a cow.

  That was another thing she didn’t know how to do. If she hadn’t seen him milking, she wouldn’t have had the slightest notion which end to put the bucket. One thing Stella was sure of—she didn’t want to touch those chickens. But she would. Four days on the train and a week in a stagecoach with no sleep and disgusting food, what little of it there was, had made her determined to learn to do whatever was necessary to make it in Owyhee County. With or without Mr. Ezekiel Murdock.

  “I’ll go check again.”

  “Did Cheryl peck you?”

  “No, which one is she?”

  “The one that guards her eggs something fierce.”

&
nbsp; She heard the dull clopping of horses’ hooves in the snow and a wagon clattering. Zeke jumped up, and the cow kicked the bucket over.

  “Damn, Hec’s not on that wagon!” He cast a glance at Stella as he ran out and caught the horses. “Unhitch the team, finish milking the cow, and get those eggs gathered. I’m going to look for my brother.” He grabbed his saddle and headed for a stall in the back of the barn.

  She worried about the man who was to be her future brother-in-law. Why wasn’t he on the wagon? Neither she nor Dinah knew the slightest thing about unhitching horses or doing farm chores of any sort. And she really worried about Cheryl.

  ****

  Hec bent into the wind that slung stinging snow in his face as he walked. The cold and deep snow tired his legs something fierce, but he trudged on despite screaming muscles and bitter cold feet. He couldn’t be sure he was even headed the right direction, but he kept between the two lines of sagebrush poking above the white. In fact, the tips of the sagebrush were the only color at all, and as the snow deepened, even they disappeared.

  His face stung and his fingers and toes tingled. He’d never been so icy cold before, to the point of being beyond shivering. In fact, he felt hot, and resisted the urge to take off his coat. His mind twisted in odd directions and it took all his willpower to stay focused.

  Whether the sun had set, he didn’t know because of the storm-darkened sky. Hec regretted a lot of things he’d done, but the worst mistake he’d ever made was ordering brides. Zeke was probably throwing a conniption fit this very moment, and if Hec didn’t survive, his brother would have two wives to contend with.

  Hec raised his face to the blackened sky and laughed. He didn’t know why he laughed—so cold—but his brother would curse his soul to hell. He staggered to his feet, the snow clinging to his britches, but his legs wouldn’t hold and he fell to his knees. Now, he knew where the end of the road was.

  ****

  Dinah had just put away the last dish when Stella charged into the house. “Zeke’s gone! We have to milk the cow and gather the eggs. Do you have any idea how to unhitch a team?”