This didn’t happen in any of the romance novels she’d read.
Of course, no one wrote romance novels about ordinary people. She sighed and a tear trickled down her cheek.
Without thinking, she reached up to brush the tear away and as she did so, the plate in her hand slipped free and shattered all over the floor with a clatter that made her jump.
She gasped and stared at the remnants scattered around her feet.
A slow smile spread across her face.
She dropped another.
And giggled.
A cup followed, the loud crash of it shattering filled her with satisfaction. Stress fell away.
Another cup hit the floor and then two saucers.
She looked at the mess on the floor. She should have felt guilty. But she didn’t.
Tossing her apron on the floor she headed out the back door. She needed a break.
* * *
There was no park in Juniper Junction like there was in St. Louis. No fancy hotels to which she could go for afternoon tea. Of course there were no theaters or museums.
She stared down Main Street at the sad excuse for a town. One general store that included Josie who was the best seamstress in town. Not that she had anything against Josie. She did nice work and her designs were intriguing. She supposed they were extraordinary considering she had no exposure to the latest fashions or trends. Of course, the latest fashion trends were impractical for the ladies of Juniper Junction who were all toiling away over washboards and hot stoves.
Including Lizzie.
Not wishing to face anyone at the moment, she headed in the opposite direction, toward the Windy River and the path that ran along its banks. At first her steps pounded the ground as she worked out her frustration and anger. It felt good to move. She swung her arms vigorously and charged along the path, grateful to be alone to enjoy the fresh air and activity in solitude.
Her mind spun with so many thoughts. The wonderful food prepared by the staff at her home in St. Louis. The ease of her life. Sleeping until she felt like waking up, then Minnie arriving with a tray of coffee, toast and jam. Greeting her with a smile and wishing her a good morning before she opened the curtains. Lizzie would sit and look out the window while she had her coffee and read the newspaper or any letters that might have arrived for her that morning.
Once she’d had a leisurely time of waking up to start the day, Minnie assisted her in styling her hair and dressing. Her gowns somehow miraculously appeared in her closet clean and pressed. She’d never in her entire life given it a thought.
Her undergarments were bleached until they were a crisp white.
In all her eighteen years, she’d never once made a bed until she arrived in Juniper Junction. She still wasn’t sure she did it properly, especially since the corners never felt as tight as on her bed in St. Louis.
As she swung her arms some of the tightness in her muscles eased. She’d never lifted anything heavier than a book and in the last week she’d been hoisting kettles and dishpans, moving furniture as she attempted to sweep and clean the house.
She hadn’t even gotten to laundry day, but that loomed on the horizon. Her back ached just thinking about it.
Sitting on a tree stump along the path, she covered her face with her hands and cried. Grateful for the solitude, she allowed herself to sob, great wracking sobs that seemed to come from her toes and work their way through her body and out, purging her frustration and confusion.
All the events of her life in the past few weeks, possibly longer, came to a head and she gave way to the anguish of it all. The strained relationship with her father as well as his vile plan to marry her off in order to improve his own fortunes, without the slightest regard for her feelings on the matter. She’d known she was little more than a decorative accessory to him, but to have it all shoved in her face so directly was humiliating and hurtful.
The stress of sneaking out of her house to escape like a fugitive.
And then arriving to be assaulted by a stranger before she’d even gotten off the train.
She paused to wipe her face and catch her breath, taking in gasping gulps of air as though she’d never be able to fill her lungs properly. Her hands shook and much as she tried to stem the tide of tears, they continued to roll down her cheeks.
A nagging, horrible thought crept to the forefront of her mind.
Had she made a huge mistake?
She stared at her hands. A new callus had formed on one finger.
It was as though everything pretty had vanished from her life to be replaced by toil, sweat and an aching back.
Finally the tears stopped and she gazed out across the river. She had to admit, Wyoming Territory was breathtaking. Mountains and endless blue sky. Inhaling the fresh air, she remembered the smoke billowing from factories all around St. Louis. Sometimes it was so bad it obscured the sun.
As her eyes scanned the countryside, she saw Windy River Ranch in the distance and an image of Matt came to mind.
To her shame, she realized she’d barely thought about him at all since he’d left for work early that morning. She’d been too preoccupied with self-pity to give anyone else, including her husband, much consideration.
Oh, she was a horrible spoiled brat. Matt worked hard. She gazed up to see the sun beating down while she sat in the shade, blubbering and feeling sorry for herself. Matt came home tired and dirty too. It wasn’t as though he and Jake and all the others at the ranch were sitting around shooting the breeze and sipping lemonade. Or whiskey.
He never complained. Then when he got home, he took care of Zelda, his horse, and chopped firewood for the stove and fireplace.
After every meal, he thanked her and complimented her on her cooking, even the really horrible dishes she’d made.
Had she thanked him for all he did?
Her throat tightened as more tears threatened, this time lamenting her beastly behavior. Blinking them back, she stood, patted her hair into place and wiped her face for the last time, then headed back to town.
There was still plenty of time to clean up the mess and tidy the house. If she hurried, she could use some of the money she had hidden away to get some new dishes at the general store. She’d have some explaining to do when Matt realized they had new dishes.
She’d just add that to her growing list of lies.
* * *
It was a beautiful late afternoon as Matt and Zelda made their way home. Though he still enjoyed his work at Windy River Ranch as much as ever, since getting married he looked forward to going home to his lovely bride.
Sure, her cooking left a lot to be desired, but she was making progress. Besides, he could get a decent meal many places, but only one woman lit his desire the way Lizzie could. It wasn’t just their lovemaking that excited him. Far from it. Her smile, her laugh and knowing that when he got home he’d get a warm welcome and one of her sweet kisses. Maybe more.
They were getting to know each other and with each new discovery, he found her more enchanting. Their conversations were enlightening, but simply observing her, especially when she wasn’t aware he was watching, revealed so much. Her graceful movements and the way her nose crinkled up when she concentrated fascinated him.
And if he got the chance, like today, to head for home a bit early, he took it.
As he arrived he looked for Lizzie, expecting her to rush out the door to greet him. When she didn’t appear, he felt a bit disappointed but assumed she wasn’t expecting him and probably didn’t know he’d come home. Once he’d tended to Zelda he walked toward the house, eager to surprise Lizzie.
He peeked into the kitchen window as he went by but didn’t see her. Opening the backdoor quietly he stepped in and closed it silently behind him. His pulse sped up as he thought about surprising Lizzie and making her squeal. He planned to make her squeal in other ways too.
As he moved through the kitchen, though, he pulled up short.
A piece of fabric lay crumpled on the floor. Conf
used, he picked it up. Lizzie’s apron? Then he glanced around and saw shattered dishes. Not just one, but all of the breakfast dishes were in a broken heap.
“Lizzie!” he called out. He rushed to the staircase and called her name again. No answer. Running up the stairs he shouted for her again, then searched the upstairs for her.
Standing on the landing his mind raced. Nothing in the house seemed out of place, other than the stuff on the floor of the kitchen. Returning to the kitchen he examined the dishes again. No blood. They were all in a pile, as though they’d been dropped.
Had Lizzie fainted? Did someone remove her apron and then take her to the doctor? Why didn’t they come and get him?
Fighting against panic, he spun toward the door. He’d check with Doctor Granger and if Lizzie wasn’t there, he’d contact Cal Watson, the sheriff.
Chapter 11
Matt stepped out of Dr. Granger's office with the doctor following behind him.
"Matt? Are you feeling unwell? You look awfully pale. Why don't you let me check your pulse?"
"No," Matt answered firmly, charging down the steps to the wooden sidewalk. "I have to find Lizzie."
He turned toward the jail and the office of Cal Watson, the sheriff. Matt's heart pounded so loudly in his chest it was like being up in the bell tower of the church on a Sunday morning.
Cal was sitting on the porch of the jail. Obviously Lizzie wasn't with him but Matt strode up anyway. He was out of ideas and maybe the sheriff could help.
"Afternoon, Matt. What can I do for you?" Cal stood and greeted him.
"I can't find Lizzie. You got any idea where she could be?" It was embarrassing to not be able to find your wife, but Matt was beyond caring about that sort of thing.
"No, can't say as I do. Did you check with some of the other women? Posey or Tassie? They're probably somewhere getting up to trouble," Cal said with a laugh. "The last time Tassie and Posey were together those girls from Windy River ended up brawling in the street."
"Thanks, Cal." Matt took off before the sheriff finished his story.
Maybe she'd returned home. It's possible she'd gone off on an errand and he was simply overreacting.
The whole thing brought back bitter memories. He'd stuffed them away, but this situation with Lizzie brought them barreling forward with a vengeance. The day he came home and found his house empty. His mother gone. She'd left her apron on the kitchen table with a note. She was tired of being a farmer's wife, working all day and with nothing to show for it, not even a husband she could love.
Matt wished she'd at least sealed the letter and addressed it to his father. Reading those words in his mother's own hand had cut deep. He blamed himself. If he'd done more. Been better, maybe she would have stayed.
His father had tried to do everything. Cooking and farming and caring for Matt and his siblings, but it had been exhausting. Matt did what he could, but as an eight-year-old boy he didn't have the strength for many of the chores.
Everything had gone downhill from there. His parents' marriage hadn't been ideal, anyone could have seen that, but his mother had just up and left.
And now, he feared Lizzie had done the same.
But why?
He'd done everything he could think of to make her happy. She sure seemed happy.
All these thoughts swirled in his head as he made his way home, bracing for what to do next. He was overreacting and he'd just go home and wait for Lizzie. She'd have a reasonable explanation for all of it.
He was nearly home when movement from the side caught his attention. "Matt!" Lizzie called out to him. He opened his arms and she ran to him and he swept her up, swinging her in a circle. He buried his face in her hair and breathed deep.
"Lizzie," his voice was tight with emotion. "Where were you? I found the dishes and apron. I was so worried."
Her body shook as she took in a ragged breath.
"I-I'm so so-sorry," she said, her voice quivering.
He leaned back and looked at her face, tears running down her cheeks. "Lizzie? What is it, sweetheart?"
He carried her into the house and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs, setting her on his lap. Taking hold of her chin he tipped it up and gazed into her tear moistened eyes. "Did you get some bad news from St. Louis? Did something frighten you? Tell me, Lizzie. Please."
"I am a spoiled brat. A horrible person."
He continued to hold her chin even though she tried to pull away.
"Just because you dropped some dishes?" He gave her a small smile. "Come on, sweetheart, accidents happen all the time. It's nothing to get upset about. Come on, I'll help and we'll get this all cleaned up."
"It wasn't an accident. I did it on purpose."
The smile faded from his face. "On purpose? You broke things on purpose." He glanced at the pile of broken dishes. "That's a lot of dishes. Sounds like you had a bit of a temper tantrum. Is that what happened, Lizzie?"
"Y-yes. I'm sorry."
* * *
Moments later Lizzie found herself standing in the corner of the kitchen wearing nothing but her apron. Behind her, Matt cleaned up the dishes. She winced as they clattered together when he threw them into the trash.
She was thoroughly ashamed of herself. The look on Matt's face when she admitted to breaking the dishes on purpose had broken her heart. She could have dealt with anger, she'd been doing that her whole life. But his disappointment cut her to her core.
She glanced over her shoulder to see if he'd finished cleaning up the mess she'd made.
"Eyes front, Lizzie." His stern voice admonition made her gasp and turn her head forward.
Her hands were clasped behind her back and she worried her fingers together wondering what was going to happen. Would Matt send her away? Where would she go?
She had enough money and jewelry to take care of herself, but now she realized more than anything else, she wanted to stay with Matt. In the house in Juniper Junction and make venison stew and wash dishes and take care of her man.
Oh why hadn't she figured that out hours ago and saved them both this grief?
A chair scraped across the floor and Matt called out. "Come here, Lizzie."
Taking a deep breath, she turned and did as he instructed. He opened his knees and pointed to a spot on the floor where she was to stand. On trembling legs, she moved to the place he indicated, head down. A slow tear trickled down her cheek. She braced for a scolding and shouting. She deserved it.
"When I was a little boy," Matt started, his voice not angry at all, "my parents fought all the time. Didn't talk to each other. Not about important things like what was on their minds."
She looked up at him, confused about why he was talking about that instead of her horrible behavior.
"One day, I came home and found my ma's apron on the kitchen table and a note. Said she was tired of life on the prairie. Never saw her again."
A gasp escaped her and she reached her hand out to touch his cheek. He stopped her and held her hand in his, rubbing his thumb along the tender flesh inside her wrist.
"I came home early today to surprise you. Wanted to spend time with my girl."
Her heart clenched when he looked into her eyes. Oh lord she was the worst human on the planet.
"When I saw your apron and then the broken dishes---I didn't know what to think. I checked with the doc and then the sheriff, but no one knew where you were. Thought the worst had happened."
"I'm sorry about your ma, Matt," she whispered. "I'd never run off like that. What I did was wrong, I know that." Tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "Pl-please don't send me away."
He gaped at her. "Send you away? Never. But, you are going to tell me what happened that caused you to break our dishes and then take off without leaving a note or telling anyone where you were going."
Oh lord. What should she say?
“The truth, Lizzie. Nothing else will do.”
She drew in a long, ragged breath. “I-I guess I was feeling sort of homesick
for St. Louis.” That was in the neighborhood of the truth. “And the f-fancy house where I worked.” Oh, she felt like an absolute wretch admitting it. “The dishes there, even the ones the servants ate from, were pretty and it made me feel nice to eat off of them. But our dishes, the ones I b-broke, are ugly and I guess it just all felt like too much.” She sniffled and tears flowed down her cheeks. Tears of shame over her childishness and how hurtful it must have been to Matt.
“I’m sorry about the dishes. The first plate slipped from my hand, but it felt good to see it broken on the floor so I dropped another and the next thing I knew, I’d dropped them all and enjoyed it. But now, I h-hate it.”
“I don’t give a damn about those dishes, or any dishes for that matter. But those dishes were ugly. They were here when I moved in. I figured they would do until we had a chance to pick some out together. Remember—make our house a home together?”
“Ohh.” She really was a fool. The biggest fool ever.
“But what I do care about, is that you were upset about something. Stuff like that doesn’t just happen, usually it builds and builds until it boils over. But you never told me. You just let it keep building. That won’t work, Lizzie. We have to talk about these things. Did you think I’d be mad if you said you didn’t like the dishes?”
“I-I didn’t know if we could afford other dishes,” she said. “I guess if I was that worried about it, I shouldn’t have broken them.”
Matt just cocked his head to the side.
“Is there anything else you want to say? Why did you leave?”
“I guess I needed some time outside. Away from all the chores.”
“I bet you miss all the things you could do in St. Louis, eh?”
She nodded. “Sometimes. But, there are things to do here too. And I-I lo-love you, Matt. You’re more important than dishes or strolls in the park or any of that. I just needed to learn that lesson, I guess.”
Cowboy’s Rules: Brides of Juniper Junction, Book Three Page 8
