Brides of Idaho

by Ford, Linda;

  “If you say so.” She chanted a tuneless ditty as she worked.

  After a moment, he made out the words.

  “I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.”

  “Psst.” Cora called for his attention.

  He left his work to see what she needed.

  “Why is she so confident?”

  He wondered the same thing. “It’s all bluff.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t trust her.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her.” Neither of them said they weren’t ready to trust anyone.

  He returned to his work, doing his best to ignore the endless cycle of words coming from Mandy as she worked. “I’m not afraid of the big bad wolf.” He could almost believe she repeated the singsong dirge without thought… but not quite. It was part of her strategy. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  He pried the next log into place, struggling to raise it to the next level. Sweat poured from him as he worked.

  The endless tune from Mandy came to an end but only because she watched him lifting the heavy log. It would have made a world of difference to have someone hold one end steady while he hoisted the other, but he wouldn’t ask her for help if his life depended on it and was equally certain she’d refuse if he did.

  The log slid into place, and Mandy clapped.

  Not about to let anything she did annoy him—or rather let her know it did—he bowed deeply then headed for the water bucket. He downed two dipperfuls, took off his hat, and poured another dipperful over his head.

  Mandy stared as he shook the water from his hair, then spun away as if he’d splashed her. He knew he hadn’t.

  But she didn’t return to her own house. Instead, she sidled up to Trace. “It must be awfully hot in that tent. Why don’t you let Cora come out?”

  “Let her?” He sputtered. “You think I’m forcing her to stay there?”

  “Nothing else makes sense. It must be hot as an oven. If you let her sit in the shade, she’d be so much cooler.” There was no gentle pleading in her voice, only hard, accusing tones that stung Trace clear to the tips of his ears.

  “I am not making her stay. She doesn’t want to come out.” He shot out each word with fury. How dare she accuse him of such unkindness?

  “Prove it. Tell her she can come out.”

  “Mandy Hamilton, there are some things you should stay out of, and this is one.”

  She jammed her fists on her hips. “So you can’t prove it.”

  “I don’t need to prove anything to you. Best you just leave this alone.”

  “So you’ve said, but I take orders from no one.”

  “Kind of figured that was your problem.”

  “Don’t consider it a problem.”

  “Think what you want, but Cora won’t come out even if I beg.”

  “Prove it.”

  He took a step toward her. “If you were a man—”

  “Don’t let that stop you.” She widened her stance and held her hands in front as if she truly expected him to engage in another wrestling match with her.

  He turned his back to her, thought better of it considering some of her little habits like kicking and biting and goodness knows what else, and faced her again. “You are the most infuriating woman I have ever met.”

  “And you are the most devious man I’ve ever met, and that’s going some. I’ve met a lot of male creatures, especially in the stopping house, and I gotta say some are pretty nasty people.”

  He’d only once before seen a red haze in his vision. And it had taken a whole lot more than one woman to cause that. “Cora, come out and prove to this… this…” He refused to say woman. “… person that you are not some sort of prisoner.”

  Cora gasped. Next followed a silence so deep he could hear the beat of his own heart and the flap of wings on a bird passing overhead.

  “She’s accusing me of forcing you to stay in the tent.”

  “I don’t want to come out. I won’t.” Cora’s voice trembled. “Mandy, Miss Hamilton, believe me, it’s not because of Trace. It’s my own choice. Please, just leave me alone.”

  “There.” Trace had never glared at a woman before like he glared at Mandy. “Are you satisfied?”

  She didn’t look one bit convinced. “There’s something mighty fishy around here, and it ain’t fish.” But she strode over, picked up her ax, and headed for the woods.

  He waited until she crashed out of sight. Allowed himself a small smile. Not like her to be so noisy. She must really be annoyed. But she had no reason. Any more than she had any need of the truth.

  He brought his attention back to his sister. Cora would be in fear and trembling until she knew she was safe. “She’s gone.”

  “Why is she so set on seeing me?”

  “I can’t say. Maybe she’s truly concerned about you staying in the tent in this heat.” Or maybe she thought she had a right to know everyone’s business. Or maybe she suspected them of some deep, dark secret, though he couldn’t imagine what two travelers—a brother and sister with nothing more than what they could carry with them in way of belongings—could be suspected of concealing.

  Except Cora was hiding, and that piqued Mandy’s curiosity.

  He didn’t trust her to let it go, but he didn’t know what to expect next.

  What an unsettling woman.

  Chapter 5

  Mandy worked like a fiend putting up log after log. Never mind that Trace called them twigs. They were making walls, and that’s all she cared about.

  She tried to ignore him as he worked, steadily building the walls higher on his house. It was a fine-looking building. She’d be right proud to be its owner in a short while. She tried hard not to think about his sister, Cora, while the sun beat down. Even out in the open with a breeze against Mandy’s hot skin, the heat was close to unbearable.

  “Aren’t you afraid she’ll perish from the heat?” she demanded as she paused to down some tepid water from her canteen. She thought longingly of the cold water in the river not far away. But she wouldn’t waste time to fetch it.

  “She’s fine.”

  “How do you know? Did you check to see? How can you ignore her?”

  He flung around. “Seems you worry about her enough for the two of us.” But he stomped over to the tent and ducked inside.

  She listened shamelessly.

  “Mandy is sure you’re going to die in here. Are you?” As he spoke the anger in his voice fled and his words gentled. “It is dreadfully hot. Cora, let me take you to the shade.”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Cora, you’ll be just as fine outside.”

  “No I won’t.”

  Mandy held her breath and leaned close to catch Cora’s whisper.

  “She’ll see me.”

  “I’ll hide you by those bushes up the hill a ways. No one will see you.”

  “No. Just leave me. I’m fine.”

  “Fine.” The word sounded angry.

  Mandy stepped away and bent over one of her logs.

  “She’s fine.” Trace’s tone did not indicate any relief, but he, too, returned to shaping logs.

  Even at lunchtime, Cora refused to leave the tent.

  Mandy grew more and more curious. She’d seen glimpses of Cora and could think of no reason the girl would be afraid for others to see her.

  Something was not right here.

  And Mandy intended to find out what it was.

  The afternoon sun, unrelenting in its heat, headed for the west. Time for Mandy to return to her chores back in Bonners Ferry. She stood back to study the progress on her house.

  “One good wind and it will blow away.” Trace sounded downright happy about the idea.

  “Wouldn’t gloat just yet. Unless…” She spun about to eye him with suspicion. “Seems in the story the wolf had something to do with the fall of the first two houses. Don’t you be planning to do something to my house.”

  He let out a tsk. “You are one mistrustful woman. Fact is, it never cr
ossed my mind.” He tipped his head one way and then the other as he studied her house. “Looks a little askew to me.”

  “It’s a good enough house for me. I guarantee it won’t disintegrate in the wind or the snow. What it lacks in beauty it makes up for in strength.”

  He had the gall to laugh openly.

  “A gentleman would show more respect.”

  “Ah, but you forget, I’m really the big bad wolf.” He puffed out his cheeks and blew at her house then faced her, his gaze filled with teasing.

  She gasped. Not because he pretended to blow her house down but because like sunlight on water, his eyes flashed with blue brightness, allowing her to see something she’d not noticed before.

  The man was as handsome as any man she’d ever seen. And when he smiled like that, he seemed to make the world a happy place.

  She forced her unwilling attention to something beyond his left shoulder. Tried to think what she was supposed to be doing. Her gaze settled on the ax. Then the walls of her house. Drifted onward to the hill beyond, where the trees glistened with heat and birds twittered softly. A chickadee flitted between branches seeking food for her nestlings.

  Food. Mandy’s thoughts slowly righted themselves. “Time for me to go. The stopping house is in need of fresh meat.” She brought her gaze back to Trace, relieved to see he had returned to his usual guarded look. “See you tomorrow. Bye, Cora,” she called.

  “Bye.” Surprise filled the single word coming from the tent.

  Mandy strode off, grinning, though for the life of her she couldn’t explain why.

  A little later she took game to Joanna then slipped noiselessly back up the narrow trail toward Trace and Cora’s camp. She circled to a hill overlooking the site where she knew Trace wouldn’t bother her. The trees there were too small for him to want to chop down. The brush allowed her to edge close to the clearing for a good view.

  She found a spot allowing her to see the front of the tent and settled back to watch.

  Trace worked on a log. Did the man ever leave off building the house?

  Mandy measured his progress, checked it against what she’d accomplished earlier, and nodded. She still held her own.

  There was no sign of Cora. Surely she didn’t remain in the tent after Mandy left. But Trace seemed to be talking to someone.

  Mandy edged to her left until she could see around the log wall. Cora was there all right, sitting with her back to the wall, plucking blades of grass and examining them. Her mouth moved as she talked to Trace, but Mandy was too far away to hear her, and she’d never learned to read lips. Too bad. It would have come in handy at the moment.

  Trace dragged the log to the wall, rolled it into place. He dusted his hands as he stood back and admired his work, obviously well pleased with his efforts.

  Huh. It was way too soon for him to think he could gloat.

  He took his horse and headed back up the hill for another log. Good. Now she could watch Cora without the distraction of Trace.

  She edged closer until she couldn’t go any farther without fear of discovery. Cora still sat against the log wall, her bonnet practically covering her face.

  In the distance, the ringing of an ax informed her of Trace’s whereabouts. The thump of a falling tree soon followed. He would be busy trimming and barking it for some time.

  Mandy simply had to wait and watch Cora.

  Cora stretched her arms skyward as if embracing the world or imploring God to change it. Mandy couldn’t say which. A breeze fluttered the leaves. Cora shoved her bonnet to her shoulders and shook her head as if inviting a breath of coolness. She bent to get a pot off the ground and take it to the fire where she hung it to cook the contents.

  That’s when Mandy saw her face. One cheek beautiful as china. The other red and puckered.

  “Oh no.” She mouthed the words. So this is what she doesn’t want people to see.

  “I guessed you wouldn’t let it go.”

  She jumped to her feet like a frightened deer and jerked around to stare at Trace. “Where did you come from?”

  “You’re not the only one who can tiptoe through the trees.” His narrowed eyes warned he wasn’t pleased to see her.

  She saw his anger and something more. Something that made her want to reach out and touch him, assure him things weren’t as bad as he and Cora seemed to think. But tension vibrated through him, and she knew any sudden movement on her part would bring forth some sort of eruption. Instead, she leaned back, hoping her attempt to appear relaxed would neutralize his tautness.

  “Now you know why she doesn’t want anyone to see her.”

  She nodded. “What happened?”

  “She was burned.”

  “How dreadful for her.”

  “She will never forget it. And if she tried, neither her mirror nor other people’s stares would let her.”

  “I didn’t mean her scar. I meant being burned. It must have been painful.”

  “More than you can imagine.” His eyes lost their anger and flooded with despair. “She deserves to be left alone.”

  “Deserves? Or do you mean desires? But she’s a beautiful young woman. I can’t imagine she wants to spend the rest of her life hiding.”

  “What she wants and what she has to deal with are entirely different things.”

  Mandy sat on the ground, cushioned with old leaves and pine needles, and turned to watch Cora.

  “Can’t you show a little decency and leave us in peace?”

  “I’m not bothering anyone. Just sitting here enjoying the afternoon shade.” She wanted to say something more, but she didn’t even know what it was. She needed time to clarify her thoughts and put them into words. “You’re welcome to join me.” She patted the ground beside her.

  He grunted. Or was it a groan? “What have I done that deserves this kind of torture?”

  “Are you referring to the heat? Or the flies? Maybe the work of building a house?” She knew he meant none of those things, but she would not give him the satisfaction of acknowledging what he meant.

  “I mean you. From the first day you have tormented me.”

  She grinned up at him. “You’re just sore because I upset your plans.”

  “I couldn’t have said it better.” But the anger and despair fled. He glanced at the spot she’d indicated beside her and shrugged as if to say he didn’t have much choice because he expected she wouldn’t leave him any peace until he sat. With a great show of reluctance he joined her. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to suggest you forget you’ve seen her.”

  “Why would I want to forget it?”

  “She doesn’t want people to know.”

  She understood he meant know about her disfiguring scars, but she wouldn’t accept it. “I am not repulsed by her face, if that’s what you expect.”

  He didn’t say anything, which she found oddly touching. But when she turned to study him, his face was a mask of disbelief.

  “Her face is scarred horribly.”

  “Only part of one cheek, not her whole face. And it’s only a tiny fraction of her physical body and nothing to do with who she is.”

  “Huh.”

  “I’ve seen people who are whole and even beautiful, but their spirits are scarred terribly by greed or bitterness or cruelty. I’ve seen people who are ugly and deformed but have such an inner beauty you never think about how they look.” The words she’d been trying to sort out tumbled forth in a tangled rush. “Where we once lived there was a bent little man who had a hump in his back and one side of his face twisted all out of sorts, but Old Terry was the sweetest person I’ve ever known.” Her voice tightened, revealing how fond she had been of the old man. “He understood how three girls forced to live with an unwelcome family could feel abandoned and unloved. So every day as we walked to school, Old Terry would meet us. He’d walk a little ways with us. We had to slow down for him to keep up, and he only went a short distance before he was out of breath. But every day he gave us something. May
be only a pretty rock to put in our pockets.”

  She sniffed, hoping he wouldn’t notice as unshed tears clogged her nose. It had been a long time since she’d thought of Old Terry, and she wondered how she could have forgotten him and the lessons he’d taught them—like finding happiness and joy in little things, accepting the bad without letting it destroy them. If only she could make Trace and Cora see life like Old Terry had. “Sometimes he found a wildflower or a bit of pretty glass. Many times it was only a kind word, a reminder of better things.”

  She’d been lounging over her knees but suddenly sat up straight and blinked back her threatening tears. “I just remembered. One thing Old Terry would bring us was Bible verses written on a scrap of paper. I used to keep them in a little cigar box.” She turned to look at Trace. “I can’t believe I forgot that.” A sudden rush of memories washed over her. “He said we should always trust God no matter what happened, believe God had nothing but good planned for us.”

  Trace watched her closely, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. But she saw something more and recognized it as the same mixture of despair and hope Old Terry had noticed in her and her sisters.

  “I remember the verse he gave us one day and made us promise to memorize. For days afterward he would make us repeat it until we could say it easily.”

  “What verse was that?” Trace’s voice sounded as thick as hers had felt a few seconds ago. “Do you still remember it?”

  “As if I could forget. Jeremiah twenty-nine, verse eleven. ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’ He said it meant God had nothing but good for us in His thoughts.”

  Trace’s gaze held her firm. Searching, hoping, delving into her heart as if seeking some balm there.

  She let him look his full, prayed God would comfort and encourage him with the verse as it had her when Old Terry gave it to her.

  He blinked and shook his head. “Hard to believe God has anything good in mind in what happened to Cora.”

  “Let me meet her. Really meet her.”

  “I can’t do that. I promised to protect her.”

  “By hiding her?”