Brides of Idaho

by Ford, Linda;

  Glory had chosen the moment to get an armload of wood. She stared. “You’re going hunting with an ax?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be helping Levi?”

  “He’s ordering supplies. I’m going up there later.” The way she eyed the ax, Mandy knew even mention of Levi hadn’t distracted her.

  “You’re letting him order supplies on his own?” She hoped the doubt in her voice would trigger concern in Glory and send her after Levi.

  “I think he can manage. What kind of animal do you hunt with an ax?” Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t going to go into hand-to-hand combat with a bear, are you?”

  Mandy laughed. “I might.”

  Glory snorted. “Even you aren’t that stupid.”

  “You calling me stupid?”

  Glory shrugged. “I’m not going to fight with you.”

  “Cluck, cluck.” Mandy made flapping motions with one arm, the other otherwise occupied with holding the ax.

  Glory simply shrugged again. “You can’t provoke me today. I’m in too good a mood.”

  “Well, ain’t that sweet?”

  “Unlike you, who seems determined to be miserable.”

  “Am not.” Didn’t take any effort at all to be grumpy with an intruder on her land. She strode away.

  “So where are you going with the ax?” Glory fell in at her side.

  “You sure are hard to figure out, Glory. When Joanna needs you to help, you can’t be found anywhere—”

  “I can always be found helping Levi.”

  “Then when I have something to do that I don’t need help with, you stick to me like a bad smell.”

  Glory punched her shoulder. “I don’t smell. At least, not bad.”

  When Mandy ignored Glory’s attempt to start a tussle, Glory deliberately bumped into her, making her sidestep off the path.

  “Stop it.”

  “Tell me where you’re going with the ax.”

  Mandy drew to a halt and faced her sister. Glory was a year older and a daredevil who liked to ride wild horses and challenge any man who abused his animals. Did Levi have any idea what he was getting himself into by marrying Glory? She sighed. Her persistent sister would not give her any peace until she found out what Mandy intended with the ax. “If you must know, I’m going to build a house.”

  Glory roared with laughter then seeing Mandy’s frown, sobered. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve always wanted a house.”

  “Yeah. And no doubt you think Pa will come and live with you, and you’ll be a happy family at last.”

  “So what if I do? I don’t hate Pa like you do. I wish he would come back.”

  Glory lifted her hands in a sign of defeat. “I don’t hate Pa. I just don’t have any expectations of him. I no longer hope and pray he’ll come back and make a home for us. Besides, in case you’ve forgotten, I’m going to make a home with Levi. He’ll never walk out on me the way Pa always does.”

  Mandy kept her mouth clamped shut. They’d had this argument before.

  “You don’t need Pa anymore either. We’re all independent, full-grown women now.”

  Mandy hurried away.

  Glory followed.

  “I guess it’s too much to hope you might leave me alone.”

  Glory ignored Mandy’s dig. “Where are you going to build this house?”

  “I got a place picked out.”

  “Oh yes. I remember. Every time we move, you pick out the place where we will suddenly become a happy family with Pa living contentedly with us.”

  Mandy didn’t slow down. Not that it discouraged Glory.

  “So where is this place you got picked out?”

  “If I tell you, will you drop the subject?”

  “Maybe.”

  Mandy stopped, pointed up the valley. “On that hill over there. A nice flat clearing with hills rising on one side.”

  While Glory studied the place Mandy pointed out, Mandy resumed her journey.

  Glory hurried after her.

  Mandy sighed loudly.

  “You’ve always had this dream but never before built a house. Why now? Is it because I’m getting married? Does that make you feel like our family is falling apart even more than Pa leaving all the time? Because I’m not leaving. I’ll be real close. You’ll probably get downright tired of me being so close.”

  Mandy ground to a halt and stared at Glory. “Are you out of your mind? This has nothing to do with you.” A blast of exasperation exploded from her lungs, and she lifted a hand in defeat and amazement. “If you must know, it’s because someone else thinks they can own my land. If I build a house first, it will be mine.”

  “Why don’t you just file on it?”

  “Because…” It made perfect sense but completely eliminated any possibility of besting the man. “I intend to claim it fair and square by getting my house up first.”

  “What do you know about building anything? Seems to me any time that kind of work came up you disappeared.”

  “Someone had to find food.”

  “Yeah, but using a rifle isn’t a skill that will help you build a house.”

  “How hard can it be?” She steamed onward, Glory sticking to her side like a burr.

  “Who is this person who wants your land? A man, I assume.”

  “A man by the name of Trace Owens.”

  “So you’ve met him?”

  Mandy’s insides flared hot at the memory.

  “Is he alone, or does he have a family?”

  Mandy jerked to a halt so fast that Glory had to retrace her steps. “There was someone. A woman or girl, I couldn’t be certain.”

  Glory tapped her chin and considered this newest bit of information. “Did you ever think he might need the land more than you do?”

  It was enough to make Mandy want to wrestle Glory to the ground until she hollered stop. “Look around you.” She waved her arm in a wide circle. “There’s plenty of other places.” She pushed past her sister and hurried down the trail. “Let him find something else.”

  After a bit she realized Glory hadn’t followed. About time. She went directly toward the clearing where she would build her house.

  Trace swung his ax again and again, the shudder racing up his arm a constant reminder of his despair. No point in crying over spilled milk, as Ma would say.

  He lowered the ax to the ground and bent over, moaning as pain with no physical cause clenched his innards.

  Bad enough Ma and Pa had died. But the reason, the treachery behind it. Behind Cora’s scars…

  He lifted the ax and attacked the tree, welcoming the ache in his limbs from the hours he’d devoted to this kind of work.

  But pain in his body did not neutralize the pain in his heart.

  He knew nothing would. Not time. Not drink. Nothing but death, and he was too stubborn, too proud to let his enemies drive him to that. Besides, what would happen to Cora if he weren’t around to care for her?

  The tree fell, and he set to peeling it, sweat pouring from his brow and soaking his shirt.

  No one would drive him from this place. Certainly not a woman who could pass for a man. A grin skated across his lips. No way could he be fooled into thinking she was a man. Not with those full lips, wide eyes, and feminine body.

  The ax slipped, but he caught it before he did himself damage. He needed to focus.

  No man or woman was driving him away. He was through running. And hoped they were far enough from his past that no one would bother them.

  He secured a chain to the logs, attached it to the horse, and dragged them to the camp.

  There she was. Mandy Hamilton. Complete with ax and rifle and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a hammer in the pocket of her baggy pants. She circled the logs he’d already placed.

  She turned a jaundiced gaze toward him as he drove the horse close to the house. “See you’ve been hard at work.”

  “You’ll never catch up.”

  “Sounds surprisingly like a dare.”<
br />
  He grunted. Seems they’d already established it was a competition, at the very least. “What’s to stop either of us from going to the land title office and putting our name on the deed legal-like?”

  Her look shot daggers at him. “On my part, honor. I said first one to build a house—and live in it—gets the land. When I say something, I do it. I keep my word.”

  The words came out like hot bullets. He wondered if she meant them as strongly as she spoke them. “I ain’t got much use for words. Easily spoken. Easily forgotten or excused.”

  She lowered the ax to the ground, carefully eased her rifle to rest against the logs. “Mister, them are fighting words. That’s not the first time you’ve offended me. How do you propose to give me the satisfaction of justice?”

  He rolled his eyes at her drama. “What? You want a duel? Swords at sunrise? Pistols at noon?” He snorted.

  A muffled giggle came from the tent where Cora listened to everything.

  Mandy’s gaze shifted that direction, filled with curiosity, then returned to him, as harsh as before. “I demand satisfaction.”

  Trace shook his head back and forth. “No way I’m fighting a girl.”

  She sputtered. “I’m as good as any man.”

  “At what?”

  “Everything.”

  He simply stared at her. “I can’t believe we’re having this discussion.”

  Another muffled giggle from the tent. No doubt Cora was enjoying her brother’s discomfort at being challenged by a woman.

  Mandy stared toward Cora’s hiding place. “Your wife?”

  “My sister, and I’ll thank you to stay away from her.”

  “‘I’ll thank you to stay away from her.’” She mocked him. “I saw her from up the hill yesterday. She looked perfectly ordinary to me. What are you trying to hide?”

  “Mind your own business.”

  Her eyes hardened. “Mister, you have offended me yet again. It’s about time we dealt with this.”

  “Okay, fine. What do you have in mind? Another wrestling match like yesterday?” He grinned, letting her see just how much fun it had been to subdue her.

  She blushed clear to her hairline. “A shooting match.”

  He chortled. “You’re on.”

  They reached for their rifles in one fluid movement.

  She cradled hers in the crook of her arm. “First, let’s be clear about what’s at stake.”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Yup. You win, I forgive your insults. But when I win, which I will, you let me meet your sister.”

  They both heard the gasp from the tent.

  “’Fraid that’s not my call.”

  “Ask her if she’s willing.”

  He could almost hear her asking if he was afraid. He was certainly not afraid of her. She was a woman. If he couldn’t outshoot a woman, he better put on a dress and grow out his hair. “Cora, what do you think? You don’t have to agree.”

  He waited, picturing the struggle his sister would be enduring.

  “If I refuse it sounds like I don’t think you’ll win. But I know you will, so I agree.”

  “Done.” Mandy held out her hand.

  “Done.” This ought to be fun. Like taking candy from a baby. Her firm hand in his reminded him he was not dealing with a helpless child.

  They agreed on targets and took their places.

  “Ladies first,” he said generously. After all, he didn’t want to intimidate her with his skill.

  Her face hardened, and he sighed. He didn’t need her to step back and refuse to lift her rifle to know he’d be the one shooting first.

  “Don’t say you didn’t ask for it.” He lined up a bead.

  Mandy stood back to watch. The man had loads of confidence. It showed in the way he widened his stance and pressed his cheek to the stock. It revealed itself in his assurance he could outshoot her. In fact, if they weren’t in competition, she might admire his self-assurance. He was going to need it. ’Cause she intended to beat him soundly.

  He curled his finger around the trigger, and a shot rang out. The piece of wood serving as target exploded. Five more times without a miss. He lowered his rifle and stood back, grinning as if he’d already won the contest. “Ready to concede defeat?”

  She flicked him the barest of glances. Defeat? He’d soon be crowing out the other side of his mouth. She knelt on one knee and rested her elbow on the other, eased her sights on the target, and squeezed off a shot. The chosen wooden target exploded. She reloaded five times, and five more targets followed suit. She rose and faced him. “Ready to concede defeat?”

  “Not a chance.” He glanced about, pointed out a dead tree branch a fair piece away. “I’ll get that in the first shot.”

  “If you don’t, I will.” She indicated he should go ahead. He took his time lining it up then fired. At first she thought he missed, but then the branch cracked and fell to the ground. He was good. She’d give him that.

  Just not good enough.

  “See that branch?” She indicated one several yards past where he’d shot. “I’ll take it down first shot.”

  He hooted disbelief. “Lady, if you do, I will concede defeat.”

  “Prepare to concede.” She knelt again, studied her target, shifted when the sunlight glinted off the barrel. She pushed her hat back and steadied her arm, drew in her breath, held it, and squeezed very slowly. At this distance, she couldn’t afford the least mistake. The rifle cracked. She pushed to her feet, her eyes never leaving the branch she’d aimed for. It exploded from the tree.

  Ears ringing from so many shots, she bent enough to rest her rifle against the logs then turned to face Trace, a grin threatening to split her face in two.

  His mouth hung open, and he stared toward the now-missing branch.

  She whooped. “I win.”

  His attention jerked toward her. Admiration replaced surprise, albeit reluctant admiration. “That was a fantastic shot.” His gaze held hers, exploring, she supposed, what kind of woman could shoot like that. Better than any man. But he continued looking at her, causing her insides to shift as though he offered something she hungered for.

  How stupid. She didn’t need anything. Especially from a man. Hadn’t she proven over and over that she could manage without her pa, without any man? Hadn’t all the Hamilton sisters?

  She shifted her gaze and did a little victory dance up to him. “I won. I won. I won.” She danced back to where she started. Only then did she face him again, wondering what she would see. No doubt anger, displeasure at being beaten by a woman.

  But he grinned widely, his eyes flashing appreciation.

  Her words died on her lips, and her feet ceased dancing. The only part of her body that still moved was her heart, and it rattled against her ribs like a trapped animal trying to escape.

  “No one likes a sore winner,” he groused, still grinning. His gaze trapped her. Then he glanced toward the tent, freeing her to suck in air and shake herself inside for being so easily affected by a smile. Like she was some sort of foolish female. She followed his gaze and waited.

  “Cora.” He sounded so regretful she almost backed down from their agreement. But curiosity overrode any weakness. What kind of woman hid in a tent?

  “I know.” The disembodied voice sounded uncertain, maybe even a little unsteady. “I can’t believe you let a woman outshoot you.”

  “I can’t believe it either,” Trace said. “But she’s awfully good.”

  Mandy faced him. “I tried to warn you.” Whatever silly thing she’d felt must have been only fleeting foolishness. But then his gaze collided with hers, and her heart dipped like it had broken free from its hitching post. She jerked away. What was wrong with her? “I won fair and square.”

  “No argument with that. And we’ll live up to our agreement. Won’t we, Cora?”

  “We’re honorable people no matter what others might say.”

  That was a mighty peculiar observation,
but before she had time to consider it, the tent opening flapped. His sister edged out, though she clung to the bit of canvas as if it served as an anchor. “Hello, I’m Mandy Hamilton. I’m pleased to meet you.” If you could call this a meeting.

  Cora hunched forward as she had the first time Mandy saw her. She pulled the poke bonnet close to her face. She didn’t even bother to look at Mandy. Wouldn’t allow Mandy to see her. A sting of sympathy caught Mandy’s heart. “I know what it’s like to be shy. I’m not much good around people myself. Kind of prefer being out in the woods watching the animals. Do you like animals?”

  A brief nod acknowledged the question.

  “I can move through the woods so quiet I can get right up to a deer. Maybe I could show you how.”

  The girl jerked toward her, allowing her a brief glimpse of her profile, then turned away before Mandy could garner any details. From what she could see, the woman was barely out of childhood. “How old are you?”

  “She’s sixteen,” Trace said.

  “Can’t she talk for herself?”

  “Course I can. I’m sixteen just like he says.”

  “I’m eighteen. Perhaps we could be friends. Apart from my sisters, I’ve not had a friend for a long time.”

  “Why not?” Cora asked.

  “Mostly because we move around too much.”

  “Why do you move?”

  “It’s a long story. Sure you want to hear it?”

  One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “Very well.” She sank cross-legged to the ground. “Our pa is always chasing off after one adventure or another. Ma and us girls would follow after him. Ma died eight years ago, but we still tried to keep up with him. Gotta tell you it wasn’t always easy to track that man. He moved so frequently we were often two stops behind him. Guess if a man isn’t interested in keeping his family together, he doesn’t really have anything to keep his feet in one place. Pa’s been everywhere, tried everything.”

  “Like what?”

  Mandy shot a glance at Trace to see what he thought of this mostly one-sided conversation.

  He smiled encouragement, and her heart again lurched inside her chest.