He’d dreamed of the woman who’d warm his bed and how he’d teach her about the intimate part of marriage. In his fantasies, she responded to him with shared pleasure, eager for his touch. Now he realized he didn’t know if either Priscilla or this Tabitha were virgins. Why had he been so foolish and written away for a wife?
Maybe he should have reconsidered that chattering, giggling Miss Castleberry. He shook his head, deciding he couldn’t bring himself to court her. After sitting with her once at a church picnic, he realized he didn’t want children badly enough to listen to her constant prattle and silly laugh day in and day out.
Disgusted, he wanted to throw the paper he held into the fire. He gazed around the large room that comprised his home’s living space and kitchen. He’d recently built on another bedroom, hoping that would serve as a future nursery. What a dreamer he’d been.
“Son, what in the world is wrong with you?” His mother touched his arm. “You’ve been acting out of sorts since you went to town three weeks ago. I’ve held my questions long enough, hoping you’d share your troubles. Tell me what’s going on inside that handsome head of yours?”
He handed her the wire that had crushed him. To give her time to read without him having to watch, he strode to the window. The fine view reminded him of a painting he’d seen once in a book. His ranch would one day be even better. So far, he’d poured most of his profits back into improvements, more land, and more cattle.
A hawk glided high over the meadow. Water in the distant creek below sparkled in the sunlight. A breeze tickled the leaves in the tree line. Usually the sights from this window lifted his spirits. Not today.
“What am I, buzzard bait?” He looked at his mother, Erna. “I know my size makes some wary, but this woman never even saw me.”
He sat at the long pine table in his ranch house kitchen. Sunbeams poured through the open window, framed by cheerful blue-checked curtains. The new range with a reservoir for hot water gleamed in black and chrome. He’d visualized his wife cooking tasty meals on that stove, proud of him for providing the latest model for her convenience.
Erna shoved the paper at him. “Now, son. Don’t take it personally. Says this Priscilla hated to leave home.”
She hurried to the cupboard and returned with a cup she set on the table in front of him. “I’ll bet she’s a mama’s girl, so you’re better off. Or, maybe knowing she’d have her mother-in-law living with her scared her. Having a six foot mother-in-law that’s fat as a heifer would frighten any woman.”
“Naw, that’s not it.” He refused to meet her gaze. “Besides, you’re not fat, Ma, you’re sturdy. If you were thinner you’d be like a three-story building that’s only half a room wide.”
His mother grabbed the coffee pot. She stopped in front of him, her face displaying suspicion. “Son? You did tell her I live here?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “I told her Pa’d passed on, but I worked our family ranch. Didn’t tell her you lived here in so many words, but reckon anyone with half a brain would figure out you’re here.”
“Tobias Andrew Baldwin, are you daft?” She poured his coffee and slammed the coffee pot back on the range. “How’s a woman supposed to read your mind? No woman wants a live-in mother in law sprung on her.”
“Don’t matter now. She isn’t coming.” He took a sip of the hot liquid.
She sat across from him. “But this other woman is. Tabitha’s a pretty name and the wire is worded as if a woman with schooling wrote it. Must have cost her a pretty penny for all that explaining.”
He slashed a hand, hoping to end the discussion. “Ma, I lost interest, all right? I don’t like the idea of being passed around like a pair of old boots.”
As usual, Ma didn’t discourage easily. “Now, son, don’t let your pride cost you a good woman. Give this Miss Masterson a chance before you make up your mind against her.”
Tobias calmly folded the paper into a small square and tucked it into his shirt pocket. He pushed his anger and hurt deep inside, like he did all his softer feelings. He longed to crush the danged wire and stomp on it like Priscilla had stomped on his dreams.
“I’m not exactly against her. Guess my feelings are stung a good bit. Priscilla’s letters sounded so nice and all, I was looking forward to talking in the evenings, especially in winter in front of the fire.” He scratched his jaw. “Dang it, I scared away a woman who hadn’t even laid eyes on me.”
“Son, you’re making too much of the change. Don’t pass judgment until you meet her.” She took a sip of her coffee while she appeared to study him, and then she heaved a deep sighed. “Except for the beard, you look like your pa when I met him. A more handsome, gentle, caring man never lived—but I know you and Beau are trying to be as good as he was. Oh, I knew the moment I saw him, he was the one for me.”
He loved the wistful look that came over Ma when she talked about his father—as if the memories were all good and her love remained strong. His parents had the kind of marriage he wanted. Damn his luck.
Disappointment stabbed at his insides. “Well, the woman I asked won’t be meeting me.”
“Tabitha will. Imagine, coming all the way from Massachusetts. I hope she don’t turn tail and run all the way back to Boston when she sees how different things are out here.”
“And that’s another thing. I don’t even know if she can cook or help around here. She might be some stuck-up city woman who expects a passel of servants.”
Ma tilted her head as if considering his remark. “No, I don’t think so. Said Priscilla’s her best friend, so like as not she knows what to expect. What did your letters tell her?”
He wiped a hand across his brow. “We wrote about things we like, books we’d read, stuff like that.”
She shot him an exasperated stare. “Didn’t you tell her about the ranch and how hard you work? Didn’t you tell her what you expect from a wife?”
“Mentioned plans for the place, like buying more land and cattle, maybe building on more rooms.” He slumped in his chair. “I should have let you write the letters, Ma. You’d have put down the things a woman needs to know.”
She exhaled a sigh. “What’s done is done, son. You’d better get cleaned up and get to the stage.”
He rubbed at his chin, stroking his beard. “Suppose I’d better shave?”
His mother leaned back and appeared to critically assess his appearance. “You probably should, son. Many women don’t like whiskers on a man. And wear that new blue shirt I sewed last week.”
Still reluctant to meet this substitute mail-order bride, he slowly rose to his feet. Might as well get on with his job.
As he headed to his room, Ma called, “And polish those boots.”
***
Tabitha wiped grime from her face with what had once been her last clean handkerchief. The grubby linen square had ceased to be white somewhere between Fort Worth and Millsap, Texas where she now waited for the stage that would take her on the last leg of a seemingly endless journey. How did people survive out here with all this…space?
Wind carried grit that scoured her skin and irritated her eyes. Soil and dust had left her black serge traveling suit in a disreputable state. Closing the train windows had been too hot each afternoon, yet ash and soot blew in with the windows open for a breeze. Three weeks of travel had exhausted her and abused her apparel. She suspected that under her stylish hat, her once auburn hair now appeared as dusty as her clothes and handkerchief.
What had possessed her to throw caution to the wind and travel well over a thousand miles to a place she’d never seen? And intend marriage to a man she’d no guarantee would even meet her arrival? If he did show up, she might not like him. Only the bitter memories of her brother’s heartless attitude, sniping Bertha, and the worthless William prevented Tabitha from throwing up her hands and rushing back to Boston.
If she married, at least she’d be mistress of her own home, plus she’d receive the funds from her dowry trust. That is, if her husban
d shared the money. She knew she’d never see a dime if William were in charge. But why would her little dowry attract William’s attention? She puzzled over that time and again.
Tabitha would rather work in her own home with her furnishings around her than slave for someone else—especially if that someone were William. Misgivings aside, her excitement built. Whether or not her prospective groom accepted her, at the end of her journey she could find a room, have a bath, then sleep for hours and hours. How wonderful that sounded.
She stepped back when what she thought must be a wild Indian walked by wearing a dirty and severely tattered cavalry uniform, but with feathers adorning his long black hair. Tobias had written that the Indian danger no longer existed in town and only rarely in less settled places. Now it struck her to wonder what that meant for her. Tobias lived on a ranch. Didn’t that mean less settled?
Why hadn’t she…or Priscilla…asked more questions? She had no idea what to expect in Radford Springs. When she’d read in Tobias’ letters that it was the largest town in the area, she pictured a place almost the size of Boston. The tiny relay station village of Millsap hardly qualified as a town. If her prospective new home was this small, what would she do?
The stage’s appearance in the distance distracted her from her reverie. Thank heavens she wouldn’t be left standing here for long. She hadn’t spotted a hotel or suitable business in which she could refresh herself. Only a privy with no place to cleanse her hands except the horse trough. How she’d love a glass of cool lemonade.
The tallest, most ruggedly handsome man she’d ever seen stepped from a saloon across the rutted dirt of what passed for a street. Although he appeared at ease, she had the sensation that he watched everything around him. Tabitha’s muscles froze when he walked her direction. She swallowed and wondered what on earth had come over her. She’d never let a strange man’s appearance intrude on her thoughts.
At least five or six inches over six feet, he looked strong as an ox. A leather vest hugged his broad chest and shoulders. His waist under his vest appeared trim and fit. Black dungarees covered powerful-looking legs that strode purposefully, as if he owned the road and all around. On his head he wore one of the Stetsons she’d come to see so often on her trip. Beneath it, his long brown hair touched his shoulders.
Suddenly, his gaze connected with hers and he smiled. His effort illuminated his chiseled features and set his bright blue eyes twinkling. He touched two fingers to the brim of his hat in the gesture she’d seen men use as a greeting more often the further West she traveled.
“Morning, ma’am.” His deep voice sounded softer than she’d expected from a man of his size.
Tongue-tied, she forced a weak smile and managed a nod. Although considered tall for a woman at almost nine inches over five feet, she shrank to petite in comparison with his large, muscular frame. This man stirred longings in her she had no right to consider since she’d come to wed Tobias.
He stopped beside her. “Traveling far?”
Hastily, she smoothed the hair that had strayed from under her bonnet. She’d already learned men in this part of the world didn’t wait to be introduced before speaking to a lady.
She blinked and looked up. “I-I’m not sure exactly how many miles it is to Radford Springs.”
He nodded. “Be there about nightfall.”
Shoring up her courage, she asked, “Is there a hotel suitable for a single woman?”
“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Stevens keeps a respectable hotel, so you’ll have no worries. If you prefer, Mrs. Welborn’s Boarding House isn’t fancy but I hear it’s clean.”
Tabitha released a sigh. At least that problem no longer bothered her. This attraction to a stranger probably originated due to her being unused to her surroundings and being on her own.
But no other man on her journey had aroused these sensations. She chastised herself for her unfaithful thoughts. Tobias deserved her loyalty and consideration..
“Radford Springs is a nice town. Is someone meeting you there?”
She looked at her feet. “I-I won’t know until I arrive. M-My party might be tied up on business.” Or he might not want anything to do with me.
The stage stopped in front of the livery corral next door. Two men rushed out to change the team.
“Mules?” She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud.
The man gestured toward the team. “They do better on the hills than horses.”
Two older ladies emerged from the stage and stretched their legs.
“You can wait right here with your trunks, ma’am. The driver will pull alongside to load.” The giant touched his fingers to his hat again.
Lengthy strides carried him the short distance toward the two women. She couldn’t help noticing that, while his shoulders were broad as a doorway, his hips were trim and his long legs muscular as the fabric tightened around them. No doubt about it, he was the best looking man she’d ever encountered.
The two women greeted him and the three appeared to converse before the women headed for the privy. With the new team hitched, the giant helped the two women climb back into the stage. The driver called to him and climbed atop the bench. While the vehicle rolled the few feet to the way station office, the giant man jogged alongside. For such a large person, he appeared light on his feet.
He helped the driver load luggage onto the top and back of the stage and strap it down. In spite of his lifting her trunks and other heavy luggage, he didn’t appear winded. The man must be as strong as he looked. She peered at her belongings to insure they would make the journey undamaged.
Due to the confined space inside, she carried only her largest purse and a book. Signs in stage offices said each passenger was allowed only fifteen inches of width. Smiling to herself, she wondered if men the size of the one she’d just seen had to pay double for enough space to accommodate his shoulders.
The driver signaled her to climb inside. She stepped up and felt a strong hand grasp her elbow. Bright blue eyes the shade of his shirt met hers when she turned to see who helped her.
The large man smiled shyly. “Careful, Miss.”
Inside, she adjusted her skirts and saw that she sat beside the two women she’d spotted earlier. To her dismay, the large man climbed inside and sat across from her. At the last minute, another man sauntered from beside the saloon, tossed his cigarette onto the dirt, and climbed aboard.
“Bear, ladies.” The newcomer wore well-made clothes, but they didn’t suit him or fit well. She couldn’t put her finger on why, but he failed to inspire trust. His orange vest was a shade too bright to be in good taste. A shiny ring and gaudy watch fob caught her attention. Almost clean hands looked as if strangers to work.
“Lawson.” The man addressed as Bear—and the name fit him—obviously had no fondness for the newcomer.
Tabitha brushed at dust on her skirt.
The woman at her right smiled. Brown curls bounced beneath her tan bonnet. She held a fold of her light brown skirt. “One learns to wear clothes the color of dirt for travel.”
Tabitha sighed but smiled at her traveling companion. “I wish I’d known that in Boston.”
“My, what a long journey you’ve had. I’m Lizzie Mae Fraser, and this is my sister, Maggie Jo Gamble. We’ve been to stay with a sick cousin in Cleburne and now we’re going home to Radford Springs.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, ladies. I’m Tabitha Masterson, and that’s my destination also.”
The one called Maggie leaned forward so she could meet Tabitha’s gaze. “Are you visiting someone we might know?”
“I’m thinking of moving there.” She had no intention of announcing her true purpose in case her would-be groom failed to show up—or worse, turned her down after he met her.
Lizzie clapped her hands together. “Lovely, dear. We’ve only lived there…” she turned toward the other woman. “What is it now, sister?”
Maggie tapped her finger against her chin. “Let’s see, we moved there in summer of �
��72, just after Zach and Alice married.” She gazed at Tabitha. “Our three nephews live in or near Radford Springs, and we moved to be near them.”
“And how is your cousin?” Tabitha wished she’d bought something to eat on the rest of the journey.
Lizzie shook her head, and her brown corkscrew curls bobbed again. “Poor Rutherford passed away two weeks ago. We stayed to bury him and clear out his house.”
“I’m so sorry. My condolences, ladies.” She adjusted her attire, and brushed at remaining at smudges. “Were you and your cousin close?”
“Not in later years, but he had no one else.” Lizzie dusted at a spot on Tabitha’s skirt. “We went to his aid so he wouldn’t be alone. Such a sad time.”
Maggie leaned forward again to speak. “It was a blessing he went when he did. He ran out of money and gumption at the same time. Now he’s with his wife and I’m sure they’re both happier.”
Tabitha paused from her tidying movements. “That’s the way I feel about Papa. He passed away three months ago, which is why I’m in black. He was so sad after Mama died. By the time he fell ill, I don’t think he enjoyed anything.”
Lizzie patted her arm. “I’m sure he enjoyed having a darling daughter like you.”
If only that were true. “I hope he knew I tried to please him.” What else could she say?
“And what brings you west?” Lizzie clapped a hand to her throat. “Oh, my, I hope you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all. When Papa died, my brother inherited the family business and family home. I-I’d read a lot about this area and decided to start over here.” They didn’t need to know about David’s attitude or Bertha or about that lecherous William.
“Radford Springs is a nice place to settle down.” Once again Maggie leaned forward to make eye contact. “We love living there. I’ve missed our sweet little home while we were at Cousin Rutherford’s.” Poor lady much be tiring of her efforts to make eye contact when they conversed.
Tabitha's Journey Page 3
