A Fearless Bride for a Wounded Rancher

by Ember Pierce

  * * *

  They’d had a few conversations in the past. Maybe she’d been too hasty in leaving her father’s home. Here, in Scott’s home she was invisible and there was nothing she could do about it.

  * * *

  But now she was married to Scott. If she ran away, she’d still be tied to him. How could she have been so foolish? She’d ruined her chances of finding a husband who really cared about her. Because now she already had one. A brand new one who didn’t even want to talk to her.

  * * *

  When they were through eating, Mae started cleaning up and Scott went into the cozy parlor. He sat near the fire in an upholstered chair with his feet up on a hassock.

  * * *

  Mae went to the parlor door. “Can I bring you a cup of tea, Scott?”

  * * *

  He barely glanced up from his newspaper. “No, thank you.”

  * * *

  Mae went back to the kitchen. She felt like throwing a plate, she was so aggravated. A myriad of emotions, from anger to frustration to sadness, washed over her. She hadn’t thought through the way this would actually work in reality. How was she going to live like this, day in and day out?

  * * *

  It wasn’t that she needed or wanted constant attention. She did very well with her own company and enjoyed her alone time. But with Scott, she didn’t know him at all. She wasn’t sure yet when was the right time to speak. And when should she keep quiet? What was the right thing to talk about?

  * * *

  He was a very private person. She could sense it and she didn’t want to embarrass him by asking an unknowingly untoward question. Then she grew angry and resentful. Why did she have to walk around on eggshells around him? He was not only private, he was quiet to the point of being rude.

  * * *

  Well, she reckoned she’d get used to it. She didn’t have much of a choice. She pumped water and filled a large pot, putting it on the cookstove to heat. There was much to be done in the house in the way of cleaning.

  * * *

  Although, Mae had to admit that, for the home of an unmarried man, it was kept up well. But Mae had her own ideas about things, cleaning for one. Since the house was to be her domain, she endeavored to do everything she could to make it more bright and beautiful.

  * * *

  One thing she was looking forward to was cleaning and arranging the kitchen and pantry to her liking. She also wanted to do away with the ugly burlap curtains Scott had hastily made from feed sacks. Her idea was to make some light and airy, white cotton curtains for the kitchen windows.

  * * *

  And she wanted to make a rag rug for the parlor. Although she had a feeling that would be in the works for some time. She’d fled Havenshire with very little. Her balls of sewn-together rags were still, presumably, in the cedar trunk at the foot of her bed in her father’s house. Yes, it would take a while to save the pieces necessary.

  * * *

  She might buy scraps from the seamstress in town, perhaps. Or, since Scott was so generous with his money, maybe she would buy a rug. The idea of spending money on one galled her somewhat as she’d been making them with her mother since she could sew, which was since she was five years of age.

  * * *

  The water was boiling and Mae poured the water into the dishwashing tub and the rinse tub. She proceeded to do the dishes and let her mind roam where it would.

  * * *

  A stubbornness emerged. If she had to live here in silence, if she was to be ignored by her new husband, then she was going to find other ways to enjoy her life. If Scott wanted to feel sorry for himself and stay a recluse that was just fine. Mae refused to be pulled into a pit of morose feelings.

  * * *

  The dishes were done and she turned her attention to the wooden table. She removed the table cloth and shook it out outside. Then she scrubbed the table top with hot water and a little soap and was mildly horrified at the dirt that came off.

  * * *

  Her mind was, once again, going around in circles. There was so much she wanted to do around the house. Dusting. And scrubbing the floors. Those were the first things that needed to be done. But she had wanted to have a talk with Scott about what else she could do.

  * * *

  She planned on making the new curtains. How would he feel if she were to make some changes other than cleaning the place? He’d said the house was her domain. That statement, in and of itself, had given her permission to do as she saw fit around the house.

  * * *

  She stood up and went to dump the dirty wash water. Mae made the decision that she was going to do what she wanted as far as the house was concerned. Scott didn’t want to talk to her. Well, then fine. She wouldn’t ask his opinion and if she did something that he didn’t like it would be too bad.

  * * *

  Finally she swept the floor and again the mild feeling of horror revisited her at the state of it. Tomorrow, the kitchen floor must be scrubbed.

  * * *

  Clearly Scott had cleaned things on the surface and kept the house tidy. But that wouldn’t do for Mae. She intended to scrub this place from top to bottom and make the whole house shine.

  * * *

  She would accept nothing less. Mae put the broom back in the little broom closet, removed the apron she was happy she’d packed, and smoothed her hair back.

  * * *

  It would be nice to sit in the parlor with a nice cup of tea. But Scott had said he wasn’t interested in having any sort of relationship with her.

  * * *

  Not even a friendship. It made her feel sad, but she had to tell him she was going up to bed. In a different room than her husband. She sighed and went to the parlor door.

  * * *

  Scott glanced up.

  * * *

  “Good night.”

  * * *

  “Oh, good night. I hope you’ll find the room to your liking, It’s the larger of the two unused rooms upstairs. It’s above the kitchen which makes it extra warm in the winter. And there’s a fireplace.”

  * * *

  Mae nodded. “Thank you. Good night.” She turned and went back to the kitchen. Since the room was in the back of the house, she’d use the back steps.

  * * *

  “Good night,” Scott called after her.

  * * *

  She opened the door that hid the back staircase and walked slowly up to the second floor. It was very dusty on the staircase and there were cobwebs in the corners of the doorway above. She opened the top door and stepped into the hall. Her room was directly to the right and she went in.

  * * *

  It was dark. There was no fire on the grate. Everything seemed shadowy and cheerless. She felt down. She was too tired to build a fire. But then she took a closer look with the lamp she’d just lit.

  * * *

  The fire had been laid in the fireplace. All Mae had to do was light the kindling. She gave a tiny smile at this sign of kindness.

  * * *

  Once the fire was crackling cheerfully in the fireplace, she readied herself for bed, then lay in the semi-dark looking up at the ceiling and listening to the fire.

  * * *

  She smiled to herself. This was a lovely way to fall asleep. It had been thoughtful of Scott to lay the fire. She sat up and leaned over to blow out the lamp.

  * * *

  Then she went over the events of the past few days in her mind until she heard Scott come up to the second floor by the front stairs.

  * * *

  His footsteps stopped near her door and her heart beat fast for a moment. Would he come in? But a moment later, she heard him go into his room. Mae shook her head and closed her eyes resolutely.

  * * *

  She was not sad that Scott didn’t want her. It was better than being wanted by a man like Bill. But a little voice in the back of her mind wondered if there maybe was something in between being unwanted attention and no attention at all.
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br />   * * *

  It didn’t matter if there was, Mae told herself. She was married to Scott. And she might as well get used to it. They were stuck with each other. And she would have to put up with him. No matter how much his coldness hurt.

  11

  In the morning, Mae was up before Scott. It was quiet in the dawn light, a cow lowed, the birds twittered. She stretched and smiled, happy to be finally secure in her place in the house. No one could send her away or take her away. She was a married woman and, as such, this house was now her home.

  * * *

  Her sleep had been deep and dreamless. She was well-rested and threw the covers off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The washstand was in the corner of the room, by the fireplace. Mae went to it and washed her face. Then she sat on the bed and undid her braid.

  * * *

  Last night she’d been too tired to brush her hair, so she now flipped it over her head and brushed and brushed until the brush glided through it. Then she pulled the long tresses into a low bun for Church.

  * * *

  She’d been smart enough to pack nice clothes as well as work clothes when she’d left Virginia. She had two everyday work dresses, along with a going to town dress which she’d worn after the marriage ceremony yesterday, and she had her Church dress which she now donned.

  * * *

  She surveyed herself in the mirror. Making a good impression was important to her. The dress she wore was immaculate and in near perfect condition though it was three years old.

  * * *

  Turning this way and that to see herself in the mirror, she was satisfied with the effect. She tied on a clean apron and left the room, taking the back stairs down to the kitchen.

  * * *

  The clock on the wall said five-thirty. Well, that wasn’t surprising. She’d woken up at five in the morning for as long as she could remember. Even when she’d taught at the schoolhouse. Classes were at eight o’clock, but she had always been early. In fact she was slightly thrown off because she’d actually slept in by thirty minutes.

  * * *

  Mae loved the morning hours. The quiet time before everyone else was awake when it was only her and the stars outside gently winking out one by one in deference to the rising sun.

  * * *

  She was glad the habit of waking early had stuck with her. If she was going to be a farm wife, then she’d have to be up very early in the morning every day.

  * * *

  It was time to go outside. Her crocheted shawl was upstairs and she didn’t want to go back up to the second floor. Scott was still sleeping. She didn’t want to wake him, so she decided to brave the morning chill.

  * * *

  As the sun crept up over the horizon, Mae reminded herself that she would, in the dead of winter, be doing what she was now doing. She decided it was better to leave the shawl where it was. It was better to toughen up and brave the chill of the morning. She’d be glad, come December, that she had.

  * * *

  The two cows needed milking and Mae had to feed them as well as the other animals and collect the eggs. Even though she’d taught school for the last five years, before that she’d worked on her father’s farm. She knew how and what to do and went about doing it.

  * * *

  By seven o’clock she was back in the house. She put the coffee to boil and sliced some thick slices of ham to fry. A batch of biscuits was quickly dispatched into the oven and then Mae started on mixing up the pancakes and flipping them on the griddle.

  * * *

  Once she had a stack of them on a plate, she made the eggs. Scrambled. That way she could keep them warm until Scott woke up. She hoped that would be soon because Church services were at ten-thirty. She hoped Scott would introduce her around to some of the people in Fable Springs so she could start making friends.

  * * *

  She opened the oven and leaned over to take out the biscuits. When she stood and set them on top of the cookstove, she then went to the cupboard to get the plates.

  * * *

  The table took only a minute to set and as she was dishing the food onto a plate for herself, Scott appeared in the kitchen doorway. Mae noticed he’d used the front stairs again.

  * * *

  She didn’t know why she should notice something so casual, but it seemed odd considering he’d known he was going to the kitchen. Did he make a point to avoid walking by her room?

  * * *

  “Good morning, Mae,” he said quietly.

  * * *

  Mae smiled pleasantly and set a cup of coffee on his place at the table.

  * * *

  “The food smells delicious,” he offered.

  * * *

  She finished putting eggs, bacon, and biscuits on the plate and set it down at his place. Another smaller plate held the pancakes.

  * * *

  When through serving him, she fixed her own plate and sat across from him. She said Grace silently as she had for supper the night before, then began to eat.

  * * *

  Scott sat down and took a sip of coffee. He took a few hesitant bites of food and then Mae was gratified to see him start eating with a relish. She was confident about her cooking, if nothing else. She supposed she was confident of her physical looks and the effect they had on men.

  * * *

  But the attention she got because of her beauty created a strange insecurity within her. She enjoyed being told her cooking and baking were delicious in a way that she could never enjoy being told how beautiful she was.

  * * *

  She would always be able to cook and bake. She would lose her looks with time. Not so, her female friends had told her. They said that Mae had the kind of beauty that withstood age.

  * * *

  Scott looked up. “This is very good, Mae. Very good. Where did you learn to cook like this? I think you’re a better cook than Molly over at the mayor’s mansion.”

  * * *

  She smiled again. “Thank you. I’m glad the breakfast meets with your approval. What’s your favorite dish, Scott? If you don’t mind my asking. I mean, if I'm to do the cooking and baking around here it wouldn’t hurt to know some of the foods you enjoy.”

  * * *

  He leaned back in his chair as if considering something very important. After about two minutes of deliberation he offered his favorite food to Mae.

  * * *

  “Well, truth be told, I do confess to a fondness for apple cobbler. It’s my favorite dessert, or sometimes breakfast. Although, this breakfast today is something else. It’s like a feast.”

  * * *

  “It’s Sunday. Big breakfast and big dinner. Supper is fancy too, it’s the leftovers from dinner, in this case it will be a roast with carrots and potatoes. I needed an idea for dessert. Now, I have one!”

  * * *

  He smiled but didn’t answer, going back to eating and reached for more when he was finished. She understood that the talking was over for the meal. Or was it maybe for the day? She didn’t know and it made her angry.

  * * *

  Mae took a few more bites of her eggs even though her appetite had left her. The lovely morning had suddenly turned less bright. She hadn’t known Scott long but she knew when he didn’t want to talk anymore.

  * * *

  He would shut her out as quick as the sun dipping behind a cloud. She thought it was unfair and that she shouldn’t have to try and figure out what mood he was going to be in from minute to minute. It wasn’t polite of him that he shouldn’t at least be cordial to her.

  * * *

  She stopped eating. She folded her hands in her lap and watched him until his movements slowed down and, finally, he looked at her. She smiled. “What time do you want to leave for church? I’ve been told the service begins at ten-thirty. It’s almost ten now.”

  * * *

  He didn’t answer for a long moment. Mae was just about to ask again when he said, “I don’t go to church, Mae.”
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  * * *

  It surprised her. She couldn’t imagine skipping church even once. Surely, now that she was here, he would go with her. In her mind, they were supposed to go to church together.