A Bride For Gideon

by Caroline Clemmons

  Orla flopped onto her back on the mattresses. “This isn’t bad just like this.”

  “When I’m through, I hope it will be much better than ‘not bad’. I want Gideon to be pleased and comfortable and I want not to fall out of bed.”

  Laughing, Orla hopped up. “Won’t hurt yourself if you fall off the bed when it’s like this.” Orla was cheerful and found humor in most things.

  Keira hugged her sister-in-law’s shoulders. “You’re a pleasure to be around, especially after six months of my cousin’s wife, Millie. Auch, her mother was even worse and came by every day to remind me of my shortcomings.”

  “And probably suggested you should be grateful they let you stay there, right?”

  Keira’s surprise bubbled out as laughter. “You must have met Millie and her mother?”

  Orla laughed with Keira. “I know that type.”

  How nice to have a friend like Orla.

  Chapter Six

  That night, Gideon gave Keira a chance to get in bed before he went into the bedroom. He looked forward to being able to stretch out and to hold his wife in his arms. He wondered how a good bed would feel, for in all his adult life he’d never slept in a comfortable one.

  He rapped and opened the door.

  She was in bed with the new blankets pulled up to her chin. “There’s no top sheet yet, but I’ll work on solving that tomorrow.”

  “You can’t right the world in one day.” He stripped out of his clothes and crawled into bed. When he stretched out, he exhaled a long breath. “Ahhhh, what a big improvement you’ve made. I thank you, wife, for thinking of this.”

  “Your sister pointed out that if I fall out of this bed, it won’t hurt for it’s only a few inches to the floor.”

  He held her close and nuzzled her beautiful hair. “I’ll finish a bed frame as soon as I can. In the meantime, at least I can hold my wife in my arms and stretch out.”

  Later, he came awake with a yell. He knew the sound had been from him. Hadn’t he had the same nightmare often enough? He opened his eyes to moonlight shining in the window.

  Moonbeams outlined Keira leaning on her elbow. Gently, she smoothed a hand along his forehead. “You had a bad dream, Gideon, only a dream, and not real. You’re safe in our nice home.”

  “Memory—and it was real, something that happened in the war.” He breathed deeply to calm his pounding heart. “Sorry if I frightened you.”

  She stroked his forehead again. “Sorry am I that you have such horrible memories to haunt you at night. I’ll pray they fade so you can sleep peacefully.”

  He rolled to his back and pulled her head to his shoulder. “That’s kind but this recollection will never leave me. It’s branded onto my heart.”

  “Would talking about it help?”

  He closed his eyes against the pain the memory resurrected. “Nothing will help. Go back to sleep. I doubt the dream will come again tonight.”

  He lay in the dark cradling Keira within his arms. Darren had been correct and having her with him was a balm to his tortured soul. But, he’d never get over what he’d done.

  Never.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day, Mr. Walker arrived to help Gideon. Keira had insisted they both come to lunch for the first day. She was surprised when Mr. Walker turned out to be a colored man.

  He was about an inch under her height but his arms and chest bulged with muscles. She could believe he would be able to work in the smithy. She must have stared.

  Mr. Walker grinned at her. “I’ll bet you never thought you’d have a colored person eating at your table.”

  “Sorry for staring but I’ve never talked to a person of color. I’m from a remote Scottish village where we were all at least distantly related to one another. I saw colored people on my trip but I didn’t have an occasion to converse with one of them.”

  She leaned forward. “I hate to admit I was so frightened to be traveling alone in a strange place that I hardly spoke to anyone. I’d heard tales of train robbers and pickpockets and worried I’d lose my purse.”

  Gideon pointed with a biscuit. “If you’re thinking my wife minds having you here, you’re wrong. Keira’s not the sort to misjudge people or put on phony airs.”

  Mr. Walker dipped his head in a nod. “I appreciate the fine meal. I’m still a bachelor.”

  “My husband said you’re a rancher. Do you have a sweetheart, Mr. Walker?”

  He widened his eyes. “Surely you know there are no colored women here, Mrs. Ross.”

  She shook her head. “I only arrived here on Monday.” She counted on her fingers. “I’ve met Mr. Forbes at the Mercantile, Orla and Darren McVie, and three women who stopped at the Mercantile while I was there. Oh, and the man at the furniture store and his son.”

  Gideon looked at the other man. “No reason she has to be colored, is there?”

  “Not legally here in Montana, but I’d be more comfortable.” He chuckled. “Life would sure be a lot easier if our skin matched. Some folks get mighty upset otherwise.”

  Keira refilled coffee cups. “I can understand why you’d feel that way. I’d suggest you write away for a mail-order bride, but that didn’t turn out very well for Gideon.”

  “Still, I’ve considered doing just that. I’m not someone who has to be around people all the time, but the ranch sure gets lonely of an evening, especially in the winter. Besides, I want a wife and a family.”

  Gideon leaned his hands on the table. “Several men in town have had happy outcomes with a mail-order bride.”

  He sent a nervous glance toward Keira. “I used the wrong agency. Other agencies check out the background of a potential bride and groom and require letters of reference from a minister or lawman plus one from someone influential in the community.”

  Mr. Walker nodded thoughtfully. “I could provide those. I’ll give it more consideration.”

  “Better hurry if you want someone before winter.” He stood. “Right now, guess we’d better get back to work.”

  Mr. Walker pushed away from the table. “Thank you again for lunch, Mrs. Ross.”

  Chapter Eight

  On Sunday morning, Keira dressed in her best dress, a blue faille she’d worn for her proxy marriage. She took great care with her hair. She wanted to look her best to meet the congregation. When she was ready, she went into the parlor. Gideon sat reading a book.

  “You’d better hurry or we’ll be late for church.”

  He glanced up and returned to his book. “Not going.”

  “What do you mean you’re not going? Surely you attend church.”

  “Not since the war. I saw enough carnage to convince me God cares nothing for us poor mortals.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “How can you say such a thing? Of course He cares. He sent you to rescue Darren and Alec. He preserved you.”

  “What about those who died? Why did He let that happen?”

  “Gideon, they didn’t die because of God. Men started the war and men killed them. I thank Him that you and Darren and Alec survived. I’m sorry for those who didn’t. That’s no reason to abandon your faith.”

  He closed his book and laid it on the table beside his chair. “I no longer have faith, Keira. If you want to go to church, that’s fine with me, but I’ll not be going with you.”

  Anger and disappointment blended with sorrow. Her husband was more damaged by the war than she’d realized. She should have sensed his pain from his nightmares.

  “Gideon, would you come just for me? You don’t even have to listen to the sermon. You could count sheep in your head or mentally recite poetry.”

  “Don’t be harping on it, wife. I’m not going and that’s that.” He rose and strode out the back door.

  She stared after her husband. The nerve of him. Devil take the man. She gasped.

  Oh, dear Lord, I don’t mean that literally. Bless my husband and help him. He needs to know Your love. Show me how to help him. Amen.

  She straightened
her spine. Gideon wasn’t going to keep her from church. Perhaps Orla and Darren hadn’t left yet and she could walk with them.

  She set her hat on her head and grabbed her shawl from the peg by the door. When she stepped off the porch, Orla and Darren were coming down their steps.

  “Yoo Hoo, can I walk with you to church?”

  They waited for her at their gate.

  “Thank you. I don’t even know how to find the church.”

  Orla put her hands on her hips. “I take it my brother is not coming with you.”

  “Refused in no uncertain terms. I’ll not give up, though.”

  Orla smiled. “Good for you.”

  As soon as they reached the end of the block, Keira looked up. “Now I see the church spire.”

  They joined others heading for the service. Once inside the sanctuary, they sat about midway. Ella Price and a man Keira thought must be Mr. Price sat across the aisle. Mr. and Mrs. Colbert stopped to say hello then sat a couple of rows forward with their son Willie.

  Nellie Bolton stopped in the aisle. “Mrs. Ross, may I introduce my husband, John Bolton? He’s an attorney.”

  They exchanged pleasantries. The pianist began playing, so the Boltons took their seats.

  The minister, whose name was Joe Wells, stood at the front lectern. “Welcome. Let’s all stand and sing hymn number 241, ‘In the Garden’.”

  The service was inspiring and pleasant. Keira was glad Reverend Wells wasn’t one of the fire and brimstone ministers. Instead, his message concentrated on how the Bible could be applied to make daily life and relationships better.

  After the service ended, they made their way out of the sanctuary. Ella stopped Keira with a hand on her arm. “Mrs. Ross, let me present my husband, Alfred Price.”

  He was a handsome man, as Orla had mentioned, but already he showed signs of his dissolute life. “Well, nice to meet the woman brave enough to marry Ross. Fortunate for me that Ella here chose me instead.”

  Keira smiled. “Fortunate for me, too, Mr. Price. Good day.”

  Ella gasped. “Well, did you ever see such rudeness?”

  “Now, Ella, I don’t think she meant it to be rude. Probably in a hurry to get home and cook dinner for that giant husband of hers. I imagine he requires quite a bit of food.”

  Keira stopped, but Orla pulled her ahead. She whispered, “Let it go.”

  Darren took her arm on one side and Orla’s on the other and walked them out the door.

  Reverend Wells greeted everyone at the door. “So nice to have you, Mrs. Ross. Please come back.”

  “I will, for I found your sermon helpful.”

  “Nice of you to say so.”

  Then they were down the steps, she saw Mrs. Thompson from her stagecoach ride. The woman came up and grasped her hand. “So nice to see you again, Mrs. Ross.”

  “Please call me Keira. I hoped I’d run into you so I could thank you for helping time pass on our travels.”

  “Then you must call me Abigail. Wasn’t that a bumpy and uncomfortable trip? I prefer to stay right here in Haverhill.”

  “So do I.”

  Orla introduced her to numerous people but Keira knew she wouldn’t be able to keep them all straight, not with meeting a large number at once. Having so many friendly greetings cheered and reassured her.

  Back home, she changed from her best dress into a cotton calico before starting dinner. She’d left a ham baking in the oven so she had only to make creamed potatoes and open a can of home-canned green beans she’d found in the pantry. Orla must have put them up last summer. She couldn’t see Gideon doing so.

  When dinner was ready and the table set, she went in search of her husband.

  He was in the smithy but he wasn’t working. Instead, he sat on a stool cleaning a pistol so intently she’d have thought he’d been chatting with the thing.

  “Your dinner is ready.”

  He startled as if surprised. “So’s my appetite.” He stood and locked the firearm in his safe before he came toward her. “I keep guns locked in here because they’re a target for theft once they’ve been repaired.”

  She turned and headed for the house, certain that he was following. “What are you doing here on your day of rest?”

  “Working on guns takes concentration but isn’t tiring to my muscles. Good light helps. I’d thought I might work on the bed but I’m still tired from the week.”

  “We’re doing well enough as we are, aren’t we? I haven’t fallen out of bed again.”

  He caught her hand and twined their fingers. “That’s true. I know you’d like the bed frame, though. What did you think of church?”

  “I like the minister and I met a lot of people. I won’t remember many of their names, but they seemed friendly enough. All except Mr. and Mrs. Price.”

  “Well, they wouldn’t be, would they? So, you’re no longer mad at me?”

  “Aye, I am still angry as well as verra disappointed but I’m not a sulky child. I’m your wife and I’ll see you have your food and clean clothes and a clean home same as before.”

  Chapter Nine

  Keira twirled in her green taffeta dress with black trim on the bodice. “Orla said this is what I should wear. I hope I don’t regret the long sleeves before the evening ends.”

  Gideon fastened a black string tie at his throat. “You’re the prettiest woman in Montana Territory. Good thing I’m large so I can intimidate the other men and not have to punch them.” In spite of his new shirt, he wore work britches and no jacket. His black leather waistcoat hid his suspenders.

  Keira tapped her foot. “Orla and Darren are calling for us. I thought they’d be here.”

  Gideon sat on the couch. “You might as well learn that my sister takes extra time when going to a party. I guarantee you, there is no hurrying her. She wants the folds of her skirt just so and each ringlet a certain way. Darren and I gave up long ago, for all that happened was we got upset but she didn’t change.”

  “Doesn’t it seem odd to you that women dress up and men don’t?”

  “When we first came here but not now. Most women like pretty clothes and don’t have enough chances to wear them, especially out here unless they live in town. Most men are not so fond of them and don’t like to waste the money. This way, everyone is happy.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Men wear suits if they own them. Darren has a suit he bought for his wedding and I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same to meet your stage.”

  She smiled at him even though she remembered how upset she’d been at the way he’d been dressed when he met her. “A dress suit is not a requirement for a blacksmith and gunsmith as far as I know. However, I’m pleased to have a chance to wear the few good dresses I own. As you’ve seen, most are serviceable calico or muslin, I’ve wool for winter.”

  “You know you can put whatever you wish on our account at the Mercantile and other stores in town.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t suppose there’ll be anything like what you’re wearing for sale here.”

  “There’s a dressmaker in town but I sew well enough. Besides, I have enough clothes for now. When I got to Alec’s, I bought three dresses for church or special occasions and three for work. I was feeling that rich with the money from my parents’ farm. Now I realize it wasn’t much for their lifetime’s work, but it helped me right enough.”

  A brief rap preceded their front door opening. Darren came in and Orla glided beside him as if she were in a ballroom.

  Keira stood. “You’re so lucky you can wear pink.”

  Orla was gorgeous in pink pongee trimmed in burgundy velvet. “I love pink and yellow. Not together, of course.”

  Gideon looked at his friend. “You look lovely in your brown suit, Darren.”

  Darren pretended to toss his imaginary long hair over his shoulder. “This old thing?”

  Laughing, they locked the door behind them and walked toward the hotel where the dance would be held in the dining room.

  O
nce there, Keira retained her hold on Gideon’s arm. “There are so many people here.”

  “Aye and no one’s insulted me yet. The night is young, though.”

  “Oh, Gideon, I hope you have a pleasant time. I know you only came to please me and I appreciate your effort. I want you to enjoy yourself, too.”

  “I will try.” His cynical facial expression told her how hopeful he was.

  The band consisted of men playing a banjo, a concertina, a guitar, and a woman at the piano. They struck up a tune and people crowded the dance floor.

  Gideon stood watching.

  Keira tugged on his arm. “Am I to be a wallflower?”

  He pulled her into his arms and glided onto the floor. “I’ve never had a partner before. Guess I forgot what to do.”

  “My, you’re a good dancer, husband.”

  “One of the only good things my grandmother contributed. She thought every gentleman should know how to dance.”

  “Oh, look at Orla and Darren. Don’t they make a lovely couple?”

  “Aye, but not as bonny as us.”

  She laughed and enjoyed being twirled around the room.

  The evening consisted of schottisches, polkas, waltzes, and reels. Keira and Gideon danced each of them. When the band took a break, Keira and Gideon met up with Orla and Darren at the refreshment table.

  The other couple appeared as breathless as she and Gideon were.

  Keira repeated what she’d told Gideon. “You two look so nice dancing together. I could tell you were enjoying yourselves.”

  Orla toasted her with a cup of punch. “I said the same thing to Darren about you two.”

  Darren nudged Gideon. “They’ll be wanting us to do this more often.”

  “Auch, there’s only one Harvest Dance a year and nothing we can do about that.”

  A man appeared to deliberately bump into Gideon. “Oh, it’s the giant. I thought it was a pillar holding up the roof.” He laughed to his friend.

  Gideon’s jaw tensed but he didn’t respond.

  The man was likely under six feet for he was Keira’s height. He didn’t look over his early twenties. “What’s the matter, big man, cat got your tongue.”