Читать книгу Mail-Order Christmas Brides Boxed Set: Her Christmas Family / Christmas Stars for Dry Creek / Home for Christmas / Snowflakes for Dry Creek / Christmas Hearts / Mistletoe Kiss in Dry Creek - Janet Tronstad - Страница 24
ОглавлениеTiny hailstones were still falling as Maeve followed Noah out of the mercantile. The damp cold hit her face and she reached down to scoop Violet into her arms. She wrapped the blanket around both of them, even though she could barely carry her daughter.
A huge amount of snow covered the walkway. Maeve had worn her best leather shoes and didn’t want to ruin them so she began to gingerly place her feet in the trail of footsteps Noah had left behind. These were her church shoes, and, before she left Boston, she had promised Violet that they could go to church when they got settled here. She didn’t want anyone to look down on her and Violet so she’d need the shoes. The church people in Boston had been very particular about what a woman wore on her feet and on her head. That was even before they’d rejected her on account of her late husband.
Maeve had taken only two steps when Noah turned around. The clouds had darkened since they’d gone into the mercantile. He had his Stetson firmly pulled down on his head, but his beard was whiter in the snow.
“Here,” he said as he held out his arms. “I can carry her.”
“I don’t know.” Ever since the stabbing of her father, Violet had been skittish around men. They scared her. Maeve didn’t know how to explain all of that to Noah, though, especially not standing in the freezing wind in the middle of the walkway. “She’s content under the blanket.”
“She’ll still have the shawl if I take her,” Noah said.
Maeve hesitated, but she supposed the girl needed to get used to Noah at some point.
She bent down to whisper to her daughter. “The man’s going to carry you so you’re out of the cold faster. Is that all right?”
It was a moment before she felt her daughter nod her head slightly.
“Thank you,” Maeve said as she held her daughter out.
Noah took the girl and kept walking down the street. Now that Maeve was free to pick up her skirts, she stepped a lot faster behind him. She didn’t want to be too far away from him in case Violet needed her.
Noah waited for her in front of the small white church. She liked it. There was no formal steeple like they had back East. The place looked almost friendly and she saw smoke coming from a chimney in the back. The windows on each side were small and rimmed with frost. She doubted they had been pushed open since the last day of fall. Snow had blown against the casings and collected all around. She believed this church would not turn a woman away because of her husband’s sins.
After she arrived at the church steps, she looked at Noah. “I’ll need a few minutes to talk to you.”
He nodded as he opened the door and gestured for her to go inside ahead of him.
The smell of burning wood greeted her as she walked into the church. The blanket, while still wrapped around her head as best as she could manage, was cold and damp as she stood there. Some of the snowflakes on the wool must have melted while they were in the mercantile. Now a musty scent was beginning to rise from the covering as the heat become more pronounced.
It was dark enough inside the church that her eyes needed to adjust. A cast-iron heating stove stood in the far corner next to a pulpit. That was where the heat was coming from. Student desks were pushed against the sides of the church and, she noticed, there was a blackboard in the front of the room. A faint gray line on the floor, which looked as if it had endured many scrubbings, divided the room. This was Saturday and benches were lined up in the room now. She’d heard these frontier churches often used the same building for a schoolhouse and a church.
Maeve relaxed her grip on the blanket wrapped around her head and felt it fall to her shoulders. As the wool slid off her head, it took her hat with it.
She felt a moment’s unease. Her thick, riotous copper hair had given her trouble in the church she’d attended back East. People seemed to think a woman kept her morals in her hair knot and strands of hers were always coming loose. And that was before her husband had been loudly denounced from the pulpits in Boston. Maeve hadn’t trusted the clergy since then. It was the ministers who had turned her employer against her.
“Welcome.” A man’s voice came from the front of the room and she saw a figure rise from a chair next to the stove. Tall and dressed in black, the white-haired man swayed a little as he walked. “I’m Reverend Olson. I’ve been expecting the two of you.”
She blinked the last of the snowflakes off her eyelids and saw him lean on his cane with one hand as he walked down the side of the benches with the other hand outstretched.
“Excuse me, I should have said the three of you,” he added as he smiled at Violet even though the child had her face pressed against Noah’s chest and couldn’t even see the reverend.
“My wife is going to be here any minute,” the preacher continued, beaming at them all now. “She’ll bring our neighbor Mrs. Barker with her so you have the witnesses you need for a legal marriage certificate.”
“I need to discuss something with Noah first,” Maeve said. She couldn’t marry him without telling him about the baby.
Then she heard a choking sound behind her and turned.
Noah was staring at her. “Your hair.”
Maeve squared her shoulder. If the man had something against red hair, he should have mentioned it earlier.
“I told you I was from Northern Ireland,” she told him defiantly. “Everyone knows a lot of women in that part of the country have hair like this. I can’t change the color. I’ve been working to tame my voice so it sounds American, but there’s no changing my hair.”
Maeve knew she should back down. This man held her future. If he was going to reject her because of her hair, he certainly wouldn’t accept her with a baby.
She’d forgotten Reverend Olson had been talking until she saw that he was waiting patiently at the end of the row of benches. He’d given up on shaking anyone’s hand, but he was watching Noah and her with some interest.
“You haven’t changed your voice as much as you think,” Noah finally said as he sat Violet down on a bench.
Maeve glared at him. “I’ve done my best.”
“There’s music when you speak,” Noah said, his voice clipped as if he was angry, even though she didn’t know why he would be. He had removed his hat and set it down by her daughter. He ran his hand through his damp strands of hair.
“I like to sing,” Maeve said defiantly. She looked into the man’s eyes. The color had darkened and they were almost dark brown instead of green. She didn’t know why she fought when she was afraid, but everything in her seemed to lead her that way.
Noah nodded as he studied her some more, obviously trying to decide something.
“I suppose I could put blackening in my hair if the red color bothers you that much,” Maeve forced herself to say. She couldn’t stand against the man’s wishes. Not when she remembered how destitute she was. How would she care for a baby and her daughter? She glanced over at Violet and saw the girl was watching both of them intently. She’d sacrifice anything to give her children a decent life, even her pride.
Noah shook his head. “Your hair is magnificent. Like the sun in a red sky at night.”
He didn’t say it as if it was a good thing, but Maeve was still relieved. She wasn’t sure she could walk around with blackening on her head.
“It’s just I thought you were a widow,” Noah said, his voice tinged with reproach.
Maeve felt her heart beat faster. “Who would lie about being a widow? My husband died seven weeks ago. You can read any of the Boston papers if you don’t believe me. They certainly covered his death long enough.”
Everyone was silent for a moment. Maeve could hear the crackle of the fire and noticed the preacher had left the door to the stove open, no doubt to warm the room faster. It reminded her that the coal bin for the small fireplace in her rented room would have been empty by now, regardless of whether she had been able to leave or not. She’d burned only enough coal to keep them from freezing. She couldn’t take her children back to that life; they might not survive next time.
“You’re too young for the kind of marriage I have in mind,” Noah finally said. “That’s why I asked for a mature widow.” He looked at her, and this time he didn’t bother to hide his reproach. “Why, you’re scarcely old enough to be a wife, let alone a widow.”
“I’m twenty-five-years old,” Maeve said as she straightened her back so she was her full height. She was tall enough to intimidate most men, but she didn’t seem to move Noah. “Old enough to have a daughter and lose a husband in a very public and humiliating fashion.”
Noah was quiet. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t ready to mention the baby. Not in anger like this.
They were both quiet for a moment.
“I’m sure you’ve had some hard times,” he finally added, “but life can change. You’re young enough to find a happy marriage. You’re not who I expected.”
Maeve had traveled over two thousand miles, breathing the smoke of the train and pretending to be grateful for the stale butter sandwiches, the only food she’d had to pack with them when they’d left. Her daughter was suffering from bad memories; it was almost Christmas; and before long, Maeve would likely have bouts of morning sickness.
“Violet and I might not be the kind of people you expected,” Maeve said, her voice growing strong. “But we are who you got.”
Noah looked a little stunned at the force in her voice and she had to admit she was surprised herself. But she was at the end of her road. She didn’t have money to wait for another mail-order husband. Not that she was likely to find one now that she’d have a baby to consider as well as Violet. Besides, she thought indignantly, Noah shouldn’t have put an ad in the newspaper unless he expected someone to answer it.
Maeve looked over at the reverend.
“I just need to discuss something with Noah,” she said. “If you’ll excuse us.”
She willed her nerves to stop racing around in her stomach.
The preacher nodded as a couple of middle-aged women came through the door, brushing snow and hail off their garments.
“My wife,” the reverend gestured to a plump, kindly looking woman.
Then he introduced the other woman, who had dark hair and a stern face. “Mrs. Barker.”
“Pleased to meet you both,” Maeve said with a smile for the women. They nodded in return.
Maeve reached up to her hair. Curls sprang from her head the way they did in damp weather. The whole bunch of it had escaped its pins and was, no doubt, spreading out around her head like a wild dandelion on fire. She looked down and saw her hat had rolled under one of the benches. She walked over and bent down to retrieve it. The cook at the house where she had worked had given her that old wool hat so she could take Violet to church without having anyone gossip or complain that she wasn’t dressed in the right church clothes.
When she stood up, she saw that Noah had walked close to her.
“I don’t mean for our marriage to be real,” he said to her. He spoke low, clearly not wanting the others to hear. “If that’s what you want to talk about, don’t worry. I thought the ad made it clear that I’m suggesting we have one of those—what do they call them—marriages in name only?”
“I read the ad. I know you don’t want a regular marriage.”
She meant to keep her voice quiet, but she was troubled. What kind of a wedded life would they have? No affection. And no more children after the baby that was coming—which he didn’t even know about she realized with a sinking heart. Maybe he didn’t want more children.
Maeve barely noticed the gasps of the two older women. She was watching the deep red spread over Noah’s face.
“I thought you’d be fifty years old at least,” he protested, no longer trying to be quiet. “A marriage in name only means sleeping apart.”
“I know what it means,” Maeve snapped.
Noah’s jaw was clenched and his words came out low. “You’re too young to give up your life for a steady job. I’m trying to give you a chance to avoid this marriage. If it’s a matter of money to get home, I can give you some—with extra.”
“I don’t take charity,” Maeve said defiantly, even though it wasn’t true. After she’d lost her job, she wouldn’t have been able to provide food for her and Violet if her only friend, the cook at the house where she used to work, hadn’t given her bags of foodstuffs every few days. Her pride had been another recent casualty in her life.
“Good, then work for me,” Noah challenged her. “You and your daughter can live in the house. I’ll move to the bunkhouse.”
Someone gasped even louder than before and Maeve heard footsteps coming closer.
When Maeve looked up, she saw the stern-faced woman, Mrs. Barker, standing there with her hands on her hips as she scolded Noah. “You can’t ask this young woman to live out there with all those ranch hands of yours and no wedding ring on her finger. Shame on you, Noah Miller. You know her reputation will be in tatters if she does that.”
“I don’t mind,” Maeve said quietly. A reputation was a luxury she could not afford to consider.
“She and her girl would be staying in my room in the house,” Noah assured the other woman. “My men will vouch for me staying in that room off the bunkhouse. You don’t need to worry about Maeve and her girl. I’ve got a comfortable bed for them. Made the frame myself.”
“I can’t take your bed.” Maeve blushed when she said it. Sleeping in the man’s bed felt intimate. She glanced around and saw that the preacher was walking toward them now, too.
“Yes, you can.” Noah’s voice was deep and filled with some emotion she couldn’t identify. He’d turned from the other woman and was focusing on her. “It comes with the job. You’ll need to rest if you expect to get up early and fix breakfast for the men. Coffee and fried eggs will do. Can you cook them?”
“Anyone can fry an egg,” Maeve said, feeling relief flow over her. He meant to keep her for now. “And, coffee, of course.”
“We’re set, then?” he asked.
She gave him a nod as she felt a slight roll in her stomach. It must have been the thought of frying eggs. The smell had given her problems when she was carrying Violet, too. Not that she had a choice now. She had to cook eggs.
Her friend in Boston had said that ad might not be all she hoped and it looked as if she was right. But it was winter and she had a daughter as well as a baby to consider. She needed to keep them warm and fed. Besides, if she gave Noah time to come to love Violet, she could tell him about the baby.
* * *
Noah clenched his hands into a fist. The woman looked pale. He had confused things and he didn’t know how to make everything right. After she got rid of that hat, the woman had been glorious, with her pink cheeks and her copper hair tumbling down to her shoulders. She was a beauty and deserved the kind of happiness he’d heard a good marriage could bring. The very thought of working for him seemed to turn her sickly, though.
It depressed him to have to disappoint her, but he hadn’t been able to keep his first wife, Allison, happy. And he’d loved her. Her list of things she wanted had been long—a proper house, a set of English china, a silk dress for every day of the week, copper pans in the kitchen, Irish linens in the bedroom, hand-painted angels on the mantel in the parlor and a maid. He would have sold every possession he had if she would have stayed with him and raised a family. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much worth selling in those days.
The irony was that, after she’d left him, his herd of cattle had increased. Slowly, he’d built up his ranch, adding the kind of proper house Allison had always said she wanted. He never expected to see her again, but he’d found himself adding all of the little luxuries she had wanted. It was more to prove to himself that he could afford them than because he had much use for them.
Maeve was silent and the preacher was standing next to her.
“I can’t take advantage of her,” Noah said to the reverend, feeling guilty now that Maeve had stopped being angry with him. “And that’s what I would be doing. She deserves a better marriage and she’ll find it if she takes some time.”
“I won’t be changing my mind,” Maeve said.
“You can get married any day you want if that’s what you decide to do,” the preacher announced calmly. “Things might look different in the morning. Better to put it off until you are both happy about the decision. Your men will make good chaperones. I’ll speak to them.”
Noah noticed that Maeve was watching him.
“Sounds sensible to me,” Noah said, ignoring that spark within him. He had begun to wonder what it would be like to forget about fairness and marry the woman. He had little doubt, though, that Maeve would find a better husband than him if she took some time to look around. The new banker was a widower. He was a few years older than Noah, but he seemed nice enough. And he played the violin. Women liked things like that.
“As long as I get paid for the cooking I do,” Maeve said, her voice wavering a little as though someone had taken advantage of her in the past.
She suddenly looked even younger than her twenty-five years, and he felt his hands curl into fists. He would not mind having a word or two with the man who had given Maeve a hard time. But he couldn’t say anything.
So he nodded instead. “We better start heading home, then. Jimmy should have our wagon sitting out back.”
It didn’t take long to say farewell to the preacher and the two women. They all promised to come back to the church in the next few days if that was what he and Maeve wanted. Noah could tell they were disappointed. He came to hear the sermons when the weather was nice enough to get into town, and he knew the women had been praying for him to find a wife. He hadn’t asked them to do that, but he suspected his ranch hands were behind that, too.
The winds didn’t let up when Noah helped Maeve and the girl into the wagon. He brought forward a couple of old blankets and a buffalo hide he kept in the back for when the weather was like this. He wrapped a blanket around their heads and tucked the others around their legs. He put the hide over all.
“That’ll keep you warm,” Noah said as he picked up the reins. When he’d gotten out the blankets, he’d checked to see that the teapot was in the back, hidden behind the cases of canned peaches.
Noah set the horses to their course and they pulled the wagon along the road.
When he drove the team over the rise that led down to his ranch, his face was raw from the force of the blowing snow and the sun was beginning to set behind the storm clouds. If it had been a nicer day, he would have taken pleasure in showing Maeve and the little one the view from the top of the rise. His land stretched out in all directions as far as the eye could see. At this time of year, only the tumbleweeds broke the whiteness on the ground, but in the spring tufts of green grass would dot the landscape.
His two-story house was nestled in a dip after the rise, making it close to the creek that ran through his property. Noah thought sometimes the land he’d chosen for his home was curved until it looked as if God was holding the house in His hands. Noah never mentioned his fanciful thinking to anyone, but he liked to walk up to the rise when he prayed in the mornings. He knew he had many blessings even if the love of a wife wasn’t one of them. Some distance from the house was a tall red barn with a long, squat bunkhouse built against its side. The ranch hands never had cause to complain about their quarters. Their long room was snug and homey with a fireplace at each end and chairs scattered around for sitting on a winter evening. Beds lined the walls.
The house itself was the jewel on his property. Windows faced in every direction, each one of them gleaming despite the frost curling around the edges of the glass. He’d had to send back East for the beveled windows in the main door. A wide porch wrapped around the front part of the house and, in the summer, bright red geranium plants were scattered around in clay pots.
Suddenly, Noah frowned. What looked like a sheet was blowing from one of the upstairs windows. Then he noticed that the door to the bunkhouse had opened and a stream of ranch hands was spilling out. They stood a moment, watching the wagon as Noah guided it down the road. Dakota was in the lead, waving his hat as the men started to walk closer.
Noah didn’t know whether to warn Maeve that they were being welcomed or try to figure out a hand signal that would convince the ranch hands to go back inside and pretend they hadn’t noticed them coming home.
Finally, it was too late to do either.
Maeve had lifted her head out of the blankets and was looking straight ahead.
“Is someone doing the wash?” she asked, puzzled. “Isn’t it too cold for anything to dry?”
“It’s not laundry,” he said and hesitated a few seconds before adding. “It’s hung there to celebrate our wedding.”
“But we didn’t get married,” she protested, looking over at him in surprise. “Oh, of course, your men don’t know that, do they?”
He shrugged as he looked into her green eyes. The shadows made them dark, but he noticed they had some sparks to them that they hadn’t before. The woman was not hiding her feelings from him as much as she had earlier.
“They mean well,” he said, smiling at her. “And, if I’m not mistaken, they’ve already told everyone from miles around that we were getting married today. They’ve been waiting since I got your letter. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll explain it to them and they’ll spread the word that it didn’t happen.”
Maeve looked away from him then and his throat tightened. She was upset that they had not gone through with their vows. If he didn’t believe she’d feel differently in a couple of days, he would have turned the wagon around and headed back to the church.
But he couldn’t live with a woman who felt trapped in a marriage to him. His wife’s unhappiness had left them both miserable.
Just then, his men came up close to the wagon. They were all noisy, grinning and carrying their rifles. No doubt they intended to fire off a volley in honor of the occasion. Noah stopped the horses and held up his arm. He wouldn’t be surprised if Dakota had organized all of this; that man was determined to give up his cooking duties.
The crew looked at Noah expectantly.
“We’re not married yet,” he explained as he surveyed the ranch hands. “I felt it was only right to give her a chance to see what she’s in for before she goes through with it. In the meantime, I know you’ll honor Maeve as if she were my wife.”
“Maeve?” one of the men in front of him asked as he tilted his head. “Isn’t that Irish?”
“You can call her Mrs. Flanagan for the time being,” Noah replied. Some of the men had hard feelings against the Irish after a brawl with some soldiers from nearby Fort Keogh. “She and her daughter, Violet, are my guests. Now let me get this wagon up by the porch. You can help carry everything inside before the storm gets any worse.”
He started the horses forward.
“Is she going to cook for us in the morning?” Dakota called after them. “I mean, since she didn’t marry you?”
Noah reined in the horses and looked over at Maeve. She had pushed more of the blankets back so she could see what was happening. Her green eyes were sleepy. Her hair tousled. He didn’t need to ask to know she was exhausted.
“Dakota can fry eggs in the morning,” Noah said. “Same as usual.”
That was enough to make all of the men turn to stare at him.
“But he burnt them last time,” one of his men reminded Noah, although he didn’t do it loudly. “I almost couldn’t eat mine. And you know me. I eat anything.”
“I was looking forward to a biscuit,” a younger cowboy complained, as well. “How hard can that be to make?”
Dakota bristled at this and turned to the younger man. “I’d like to see you try to make some.”
They hadn’t had bread of any kind for months. The last batch of biscuits Dakota had made had been hard as stones. No one could eat them. Noah had finally ordered the man to stop even trying so they wouldn’t keep wasting flour. He wasn’t sure if Dakota was relieved or still held a grudge over the incident.
“The woman deserves a rest,” Noah said. And he intended to see that she had one.
He wasn’t sure what decision he and Maeve were going to make about the marriage, but he did believe she was a decent woman who had been overcome by trouble. Whether she wanted to marry him or not, he meant to see that she got a new start in life.
“I’ll get up early anyway,” Maeve said with a yawn and then sat up straighter on the wagon bench. “I always do.”
Noah didn’t answer as he pulled the horses to a halt in front of the house. For however long Maeve and her daughter were with him, he wanted them to be welcome.
“You’re entitled to stay in bed in the morning,” he said firmly. “You’ve had a long trip here. And treat my place like your home. Don’t let the ranch hands convince you to get up and cook for them.”
Maeve looked at him, speechless, and then smiled before turning to wake up her daughter.
“I can carry her in,” Noah said as he started to climb down off his wagon. “I’ll come around.”
His men had walked up to the back of the wagon and were starting to unload the supplies.
Noah hurried to the other side of the wagon and held out his arms for the girl. He had moved most of his clothes out of the bedroom yesterday and put them in the room at the end of the bunkhouse. The woman and her child would be comfortable in the house. His room shared a wall with the parlor fireplace so it was the warmest place in his house, except for the kitchen.
He could hear Violet murmuring as her mother gathered her up. The girl was likely still half-asleep. Noah’s hat was knocked off by the wind and it fell into the back of the wagon. He left it there since the woman was ready to set the girl in his arms. For a moment, he let her weight settle. He was surprised at the contentment he felt holding her. He’d never had a child on his ranch before, not one he could lay claim to as his own. His neighbors, the Hargroves, brought their girls over once in a while when they visited, but there was no one else.
Noah had hoped his wife would have his children, but, even if she had stayed, she had made it clear she didn’t intend to be a mother. She had muttered something about little ones having sticky fingers and colic.
The girl shifted suddenly in his arms, and then stiffened as she opened her eyes. A shriek of pure terror split the early night as she screamed.
“What’s wrong?” Noah looked up at Maeve in alarm. The girl was rigid in his arms.
“She’s frightened.” Maeve slid to the end of the wagon bench and opened her arms to take her daughter back. “She was startled when she saw you. I should have known. She hadn’t fully woken up yet. I wasn’t thinking.”
Noah gave the now-shivering girl back to her mother. Maeve was apologizing, but Noah didn’t think she was surprised. The child had been terrified.
Dakota had opened the door to the house and two other ranch hands were moving the trunk inside. They set down the burden and ran back to the wagon at the sound of the scream.
“What’s wrong?” Dakota asked breathlessly. The other ranch hands crowded around.
Maeve was rubbing her daughter’s back and Violet’s whimpering was slowing down.
“We’ll be fine,” Noah answered. The girl’s eyes had opened wider at the sight of the other men. She might be silent now, but she wasn’t at ease.
“Give her some room to breathe,” Noah advised the other men.
The men were used to animals that panicked and nodded.
“Anything she needs,” Dakota whispered as the men turned their backs.
They all walked away quietly and picked up the trunk again.
Noah waited a few minutes for the girl to start breathing normally.
“Let me help you down,” he finally said as he lifted his arms up to help the burdened Maeve down. He pulled her toward him and then let her slide to the ground. Carefully, he avoided touching her daughter cradled in her embrace. Something in his heart shifted as he watched Maeve protect the girl. Not all women were so fierce in defending their young. His wife never would have been.
When Maeve stood squarely on the ground, he put his arm around her and escorted her to his house. He could feel her trembling, but he didn’t say anything. He sensed she was too proud to admit to being shaken up, though he found he liked having her lean on him.
He wondered how they were going to live with each other, even for the duration of the storm. He had always said that his heart had been torn out by its roots when his wife left. Now he suspected there might have been a seed left behind. He doubted it was enough for him to love someone again, but it might be enough to remind him keenly of all that he was missing. He liked being able to protect the woman and her child. He knew that when they were gone from him he’d worry.
With those despairing thoughts, he reached down and turned the knob so he could open the door to his home. He looked down and saw red strands of hair sticking out around where the blanket was wrapped. Maeve moved farther toward him. He was relieved that it was the situation and not him that made her hesitate.
“It’s a good house,” he said, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. “Safe and warm. Live in it as your own while you’re here.”
As he swung the door wide-open so they could all enter, he wondered how long the blizzard would last.
“Your daughter will feel better once she’s been here for a while,” he said, adding the last bit of comfort he could, wondering what had happened to Maeve and Violet to make the girl so afraid.
