A Bride For Dalton

by Caroline Clemmons

  ***

  Dalton had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at his wife’s appearance. He gestured for her to stand beside him. “Watch how I saddle Blaze and then you can try on Dancer.”

  He told her what he was doing with each step. “It’s possible to ride bareback but you would need a bridle for control.”

  When he’d settled the horse blanket and saddle on Blaze’s back, he tightened the cinch. “He’ll try to expand his lungs to keep me from tightening this properly, so I use my shoulder and give a little push on his side that makes him exhale.”

  When he’d finished, he handed her a bridle. “Let’s see if you can manage Dancer. Don’t act afraid. Horses are smart and take a cue from you.”

  To his surprise, she pulled a withered carrot from her pocket and fed Dancer. Then, she stroked the horse’s nose and talked to the horse. Smart woman. She had no trouble sliding the halter over his head.

  With a toss, she got the saddle blanket on Dancer’s back. She had trouble lifting the saddle high enough. “I’ll gain strength, Dalton. I’m afraid you’ll have to help me today.”

  He hefted the saddle but let her tighten the cinch. “Good, you remembered to put your shoulder to Dancer’s side. Once you’re in the saddle, I’ll adjust the stirrups for you. You know to always approach from the left?”

  “Yes, I remember that much from watching others.”

  “Okay, climb onto Dancer’s back. You’re tall for a woman but you may have to stand on something to get your foot into the stirrup.”

  She proved him wrong and swung her leg over the saddle. Watching her reminded him of their lovemaking last night. He fought the image of her long legs wrapped around him. He’d better focus on teaching her to ride a horse.

  Exhaling, he adjusted the stirrups and then mounted Blaze. “We’ll walk around the homestead until you’re comfortable.”

  Her eyes were big as dinner plates. “I’m awfully high off the ground.”

  “Don’t worry, the ground here is pretty soft if you fall.”

  She sent him a glare. “May look that way to you, but not to me.” She patted Dancer’s neck. “Don’t toss me off, all right, Dancer?”

  “Relax and become part of the horse and saddle. This isn’t like Eastern riding where they stand in the stirrups. This is a lazy rocking back and forth.”

  “I sense a rhythm. I hope I can learn well enough to make you proud.”

  “I’m already proud of you. You’re trying with a good attitude. Don’t think I don’t appreciate your efforts.”

  “Thank you, Dalton. That means a lot to me. Everything here is so different, but I enjoy living in Montana. This is a beautiful place and you and Bert are good companions.”

  “I was hoping you were more partial to me than to Bert.”

  She sent him a saucy grin. “Perhaps a little. Of course, Buddy is my favorite.”

  Dalton laughed. “Okay, let’s ride a ways from the house. Start us toward town and see if you can find the landmarks.”

  “I’ll try if I can concentrate on staying in the saddle and looking for sights at the same time. I believe this is the way we’d go, isn’t it?”

  “Good so far. Keep going.”

  She pointed out the places he’d asked her to memorize.

  When they reached the cairn marking the edge of his ranchland, he turned. “We’d best go back now. You’ll be sore since you’re not used to riding.”

  “Did your mother ride astride?”

  “Sure did. She wore an old pair of my pants under her dress so her legs and ankles wouldn’t show. I’d forgotten all about that. Her things are still in the attic. You’re welcome to go through them and see what you can salvage. One thing I know would be helpful is her quilted flannel petticoats this winter. Mama was larger in the waist than you so they’ll need altering.”

  “That sounds generous of you. I’ll definitely look through them. No point duplicating what she had if you don’t mind me wearing her things.”

  “I think she’d be pleased to have you use them. She was a generous woman and wanted me to marry well. I believe I have.”

  “Thank you, so have I. I hope our mothers have met in heaven.”

  Back at the barn, he told her, “Wait where you are until I can help you.”

  She bristled a bit. “I can get down by myself, Dalton.”

  “I know you can but can you stand up when you do?” He helped her dismount.

  She wobbled and held on to him. “Oh, my, I see what you mean. My legs don’t want to support me.”

  “Stand there a few seconds until your legs cooperate. In the meantime, I’ll take advantage of the situation.” He kissed her several times and she responded with equal measure. His enthusiasm increased and he wondered if she’d agree to cavorting on the hay.

  Bert’s voice cut in, “Can’t leave you two alone, can I? Leave your horses to me and go on up to the house if you’ve a mind for that kind of thing.”

  Dalton grabbed her hand and, laughing together, they ran toward the house.

  Chapter Eight

  The following day, Rebecca strolled around the yard. When she reached the barn she turned to get a fresh look at the house. Although not the type she was used to, this was a fine, sturdy house for Montana. Something was missing if only she could put her finger on what.

  A picket fence wouldn’t look right with the log style, but flowers up next to the house would look cheerful. She’d have to water them by hand, but that wouldn’t require much time. The horse trough and pump were handy.

  Right inside the barn, she found a shovel. She used its edge to draw out a bed along the porch and started digging up dirt. She’d turned up a strip two feet wide and maybe ten feet long when Bert came from the garden.

  “You planting something?”

  “Flowers. I know you can’t eat them, but they’re pretty.”

  “You bring seeds?”

  The idea hadn’t occurred to her. “I wish I had. I suppose I can get some at the Mercantile or the feed store. I saw some pretty flowers at the edge of the pasture.” She pointed to some yellow blooms waving in the breeze.

  He turned to look. “Them’s weeds.”

  “All flowers are a weed somewhere. If you plant them intentionally, then they’re not weeds any longer.”

  He scratched his chin. “Reckon you’re right. Besides, now it’s your house, too, and you can plant what you like.”

  “Do you have a wheelbarrow I can use or a little cart of some kind?”

  “I’ll fetch the wheelbarrow.”

  When he delivered the wheelbarrow, she laid the shovel in it and trekked to the fence. Buddy trotted along with her. A few clumps of the yellow flowers would brighten the house. She planted those and carried water to keep them happy. She let Buddy drink from the bucket before she emptied it.

  Walking along, she searched for other types of wildflowers. Buddy chased birds she was glad he didn’t catch. A patch of white flowers that looked similar to daisies caught her eye. She dug up several clumps. Nearby evening primrose grew, waiting until dusk to open.

  On the way back to the house, watching Buddy’ antics led her to spot bright red flowers. They were pretty but when she got close, she admitted they didn’t smell all that great. In spite of that, they’d brighten the flower bed.

  These would be all she had time to plant today. She’d find more another time. By the time she planted those she’d harvested and then watered them, she was tired. Nevertheless, she was pleased with the finished flower bed. The flowers she’d transplanted were bright and cheerful with red, yellow, pink, and white blossoms.

  Humming, she prepared lunch. When she heard horses, she looked out. Clyde and Dalton came into view. Dalton dismounted and Clyde led both horses into the barn. Her husband walked toward the house cradling his hand wrapped in his handkerchief.

  She rushed out to greet him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Aw that durn Two Bits let a length of barbed wire spring loose and it sw
iped right through my palm. Ruined my best pair of gloves and didn’t do my hand any good.” He stopped and stared at her flowers. “What the devil’s all this?”

  She straightened her shoulders proudly. “I dug a bed and collected and planted wildflowers all by myself. Don’t they look cheerful?”

  Appearing incredulous, his voice rose. “Flowers? Honey, those are weeds pure and simple. We do our best to keep them out of the pastures so the grass has a chance.”

  She grew defensive. “They’re not weeds if I plant them and they’re not in the pasture. They’re in a flower bed and will make the house prettier.”

  His voice rose and sharpened, “There’s nothing wrong with the way it looked before you planted weeds. That red stuff is skunk flower and stinks. If the house was good enough for my folks and Bert and me the way it was, it oughta be good enough for you.”

  She fisted her hands and her voice rose, “I didn’t say anything was wrong with the house. I like flowers, okay? I didn’t ask you to dig them or water them.”

  She pointed a forefinger at his chest. “Do you mean to say you don’t plan to improve this place, ever? If that’s the case, I hope storms don’t damage anything or there’ll be water leaking through the roof so you don’t have to change the shingles.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “Don’t you say another word for a while.” She remembered he was injured and snapped, “Oh, come into the kitchen and let me look at your hand.”

  Inside the kitchen she pointed to his chair at the table. While he sat, she got a pan of water and a clean rag which she set in front of him. Still not speaking to him, she took down the medicine kit from the shelf and set it beside the water. She added hot water from the kettle she kept heating on the range.

  “Put your hand in the water and let me clean the wound.” Her voice sounded sharper than she’d intended.

  When she saw the deep gash she gasped and her tone softened, “Oh, my stars, Dalton, this needs stitches. Let it soak clean while I get my needle and thread.”

  He chuckled. “You might want to wash the mud off your face while you’re at it. Don’t want that dirt falling into the gash.”

  Self conscious, she touched her cheeks. Her left hand came away with dried mud. He laughed aloud as she raced upstairs.

  Bert was in the kitchen when she got there with her sewing kit. She set the kit on the table then went to the sink. After splashing water on her face and soaping her hands and rinsing them she dried herself. Examining her hands showed they were free of dirt.

  Bert sat in his usual place. “I don’t reckon laughing at the one who’s going to be sewing up your injury is right smart.”

  She could tell Dalton was fighting laughter still. “Sorry, Rebecca, couldn’t help myself. You always look so regal that it struck me funny to see mud smeared on your pretty face.”

  She sent him a frosty glare. “Don’t try to cover your foot-in-mouth disease with flattery, Dalton Sterling.” She looked at Bert. “You have any alcohol around here?”

  Bert rose and opened a cabinet in the parlor then returned with a bottle of whiskey. “We keep this for medicinal purposes.”

  She glanced at him. “Thank you. I hear it helps arthritis.”

  He shook his head. “Only temporarily and plays havoc with my head and stomach.”

  Solemn now, Dalton said, “We really do keep it just for emergencies like this.”

  After she gently dabbed his wound dry, she poured whiskey over it.

  He didn’t move but she heard the hiss of him inhaling through clamped teeth.

  “Sorry, I know that hurts.” She met his gaze. “I admit I’m not as sorry as I would have been if you’d been nicer about my flowers.”

  His jaw relaxed slightly and he gestured with his uninjured hand. “Just get on with it, will you?”

  She folded the clean handkerchief she’d grabbed upstairs. “Bite on this.” She threaded her needle with a length of stout thread.

  He examined the handkerchief. “Is it clean?”

  “Except for the poison I soaked it in earlier in case this situation ever arose. Of course it’s clean. Get ready for the stitches. I think this will require four but I might need more. In the web like this between your thumb and forefinger and the fleshy part of your palm is bad. I’ll have to be careful or you’ll lose partial use of your hand.”

  She braced herself. “Close your eyes.”

  Wishing she could close hers, she forced herself to concentrate. She had to do this. He couldn’t sew up his own hand. She wished she’d asked Bert to do the honors. But, Dalton was her husband and she was supposed to take care of him in sickness and in health.

  He sucked in another breath around the folded cloth but didn’t groan or wince.

  She felt guilty for hurting him even if doing so was necessary. “First stitch hurts the most. I’ll be as quick as I can.”

  By the time she finished five stitches, applied ointment, and bandaged his hand, her forehead was wet with sweat. She leaned back in her chair. “Don’t do that again, please.”

  His pain was reflected in his pale face and drawn features. “Don’t intend to. Guess I’ll stay around the house the rest of the day. You gonna rustle us up some lunch?”

  “No, of course not. I planned to go to a ball at the Governor’s mansion.” She rose and collected the things for sandwiches.

  Behind her, Bert said, “Boy, you are pushing your luck.”

  Clyde hesitantly entered. “Um, we gonna have lunch since we’re here?”

  She nodded to the man. “I’m preparing it now. If you’ve washed up, have a seat.”

  Looking as if he expected a blow from every direction, he sat at the table. “Look, I’m real sorry about your hand.”

  Dalton shrugged. “It’s over and done with. Rebecca stitched me up.”

  Clyde rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Um, we going back out there this afternoon?”

  Dalton shook his head but didn’t look at the cowhand. “Nope. You help Bert this afternoon. I’m feeling sick at my stomach so I’m taking the rest of the day to work on bookkeeping.”

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning after the men had left, Buddy barked as if to alert them a Mongol horde had descended on them. She hoped the raccoons hadn’t returned. Bert had gone to collect eggs.

  Rebecca stepped out the door and found a snarling skunk on the porch. She hadn’t known skunks could snarl.

  Bert shouted, “Get back inside. That skunk’s rabid.”

  She backed up and closed the door, grateful for the warning. She wrinkled her nose. “Euww, that odor.”

  Then she realized Bert and Buddy were exposed to the crazed animal and Bert had left his rifle in the house. What could she do to help them?

  They never used the side door but it offered a way to get out and get a rifle to Bert. She hefted the rifle and a box of ammunition and left by the side door. Hurrying toward the chicken pen, she stopped in her tracks. The skunk had come around the corner of the house.

  Bert had locked Buddy in the barn by this time and he circled around the diseased animal. When Bert reached Rebecca, he took the rifle and ammunition from her. The skunk advanced on them.

  “Get inside in case I miss.” He leveled the rifle at the animal.

  When she was inside, she heard the sound of the rifle. She hated that the animal had been shot. After she worked up her nerve, she peeked out the window.

  Bert had a shovel and was digging a hole. He used the shovel to scoop the skunk into the hole and then filled in over the animal. He tamped down the ground as if he was mad at it.

  When he’d washed up and came into the house, he sat down. “Whew, that was a close call. I thought sure Buddy was going to tangle with that skunk before I got my dog into the barn.”

  “I’m sorry you had to shoot the poor thing. I sure didn’t know how.”

  “Poor thing? Those ‘poor things’ eat baby chicks and eggs. A rabid skunk contaminates anything it comes in contact with
. I wish I knew where that one wandered in from so I could make sure none of its relatives are rabid.”

  “I’ve never thought about what a skunk eats. I would have supposed they ate leaves and berries. I’m so glad you got Buddy into the barn. He sure was mad at that skunk. I’m sure he would have tried to attack it.”

  “That would have upset me plenty. Buddy has been with me since I was injured. I know he’s getting older but I expect him to live several more years.”

  He brushed a hand across his face. “You can bet I won’t ever leave the house without a gun from now on. I was careless and it could have meant disaster.”

  He stood. “I’d better go finish the eggs and let Buddy out of the barn.”

  “Wait, here’s a sausage patty left from breakfast. Give it to Buddy so he knows he’s not being punished. He did well to warn us.”

  Bert took the meat and a smile broke out on his face. “He did, didn’t he? I’ll tell him you said he’s a good boy.”

  When the men came in for supper, Bert told about the day’s adventure.

  Dalton slapped his uninjured hand on the table. “That does it. Tomorrow I’m teaching you to shoot, Rebecca. One of you could have been bitten.”

  She pushed her meat around on her plate. “I’ll admit I sure wished I’d known how to use a gun this morning.”

  Rob looked at her. “Every ranch wife needs to know how to shoot. There’re lots of varmints out here and not all of them have four legs.”

  Dalton nodded. “Got that right.”

  He pointed at Bert. “Keep your gun with you, Bert. I reckon you can strap on a holster if carrying a revolver is easier than the rifle.”

  “I ain’t leaving this house again unless I have a gun of some kind with me. I recall there’s a holster your father used to wear. I’ll hunt that up and oil the leather good.”

  “It’s in the attic with some of his other things. You need to show Rebecca where Mama’s things are stored while you’re at it.”

  Rebecca stood. “That’s enough dreary talk for tonight. I’ll serve the pie.”

  Clyde belched. “Having dessert ever’ night sure is welcome. So’s the good food.”