High Country Bride

by Jillian Hart

  “Just regular groceries. Whatever you want for the kitchen for the week.” He fisted his hand around the coins. “Wouldn’t mind if you got some pie-making ingredients.”

  “You like strawberry pie?” The coins tumbled onto her palm.

  “I would like anything as long as you baked it.”

  “Was that the real reason behind last night’s question?” The words were out before she could take them back. In her mind they’d been light, but spoken, they hung in the air between them like a swirling tornado.

  “Possibly.” Aiden grinned slightly, but his eyes remained sad. “There are other reasons I asked what I did, you know.”

  “I’m a passable cook.”

  “A mighty fine one in my opinion. But there are more reasons, too.” He glanced at the kids and said nothing more.

  She heard what he didn’t say. Daisy had taken to hugging Clyde’s front leg. The other horse held his head low enough so that James could pet his ears. Her children were happy and giggling.

  They were what mattered most.

  Aiden was still at the center of her thoughts at day’s end. She was driving toward town. Her first day working for Noelle had been the best job she’d ever had. She had helped Ida in the garden and spent another pleasant hour washing down Noelle’s lovely new kitchen. Ida was glad to keep an eye on the children, who wore themselves out running in the wild grasses. Joanna was looking forward to returning on Wednesday afternoon to help with the weekly baking.

  “Ma, why are you doing that?” Daisy bounced closer on the wagon seat. “How come, Ma?”

  “It’s a hem,” James said from Daisy’s other side. “From church.”

  “A hymn,” Joanna gently corrected him. “I guess I was humming, Daisy.”

  “I can, too.” Daisy clamped her lips together and gave it an off-key try.

  James covered his ears. “Oh, brother. Do I gotta listen to that, too?”

  “Yes, you do.” Sympathy filled Joanna. She had been the oldest, as well. She knew how hard it was to always be patient.

  As she turned into town, she couldn’t help but notice one of the local saloons. Aiden had tried not to seem affected, but she knew him better than that. He had to have taken his brother’s leaving very hard, which was why she had quietly mentioned Finn’s departure to Thad. Maybe this was one heartache Aiden wouldn’t have to shoulder alone.

  She pulled the horses to a stop outside the mercantile. It had been a good month since they had all been inside the store. She had bought beans, cornmeal and flour, counting coins out of the bottom of her reticule to pay for them. “I want you both to remember to mind your manners.”

  “Yes, Ma,” James said seriously.

  Daisy’s head bobbed in agreement.

  Joanna thought of the few extra coins she had now as she climbed down from the wagon. Her little ones were so dear, sitting there as neatly as could be. Daisy’s twin braids were tidy and her little pink calico dress made her look adorable. James had a grass stain on the knee of his denims, but that aside, he was a little gentleman. Her heart swelled with love for her babies. She held up her hands to lift Daisy from the seat.

  She set her daughter on the ground and let James hop down on his own, as he insisted. But she kept a hand out to catch him just in case. He landed with a two-footed thud in the dusty street. She looped the reins around the hitching post and let James lead the way onto the boardwalk.

  “Do you know what I have for each of you?” she asked just outside the door. “A penny. After we get all of Mr. McKaslin’s groceries, then you each can pick out candy of your own.”

  “Really, Ma? Honest?” James’s smile lit up his face.

  “I want the striped kind,” Daisy decided at once.

  Together they went into the store, hand in hand. The pungent brine of the pickle barrel, made stronger by the day’s heat, wafted toward them the instant they stepped through the door. It wasn’t busy. Most folks had probably already done their shopping in the cooler part of the day. Joanna dug through her reticule for the list she’d made before leaving Aiden’s house.

  Mrs. Lawson had her back turned, kneeling to sort through a few low shelves behind the long front counter. She seemed terribly busy. Joanna lifted a small sack of white sugar from the stack against the wall and chose a can of baking powder from a nearby shelf. She felt a tug on her skirt.

  “Are you done yet, Ma?” Daisy whispered.

  “Not yet, baby. We just need a few more things.” Like a sack of beans, a tin of tea and a few bars of lye soap, which she carried to the front counter.

  Mrs. Lawson didn’t seem to notice her. Joanna waited, realizing she might be filling someone’s order. She slipped her list back into her reticule.

  “Now, Ma?” James asked politely.

  “You may look.” She hadn’t gotten the words out before both kids were off, rushing across the floor toward the glass display of candy next to the door.

  “Don’t touch,” she reminded them just as Daisy’s fingers were about to reach out and smudge the spotless glass.

  “I’ll watch her, Ma.” James, resigned to his fate, took guard over his little sister.

  He was such a good boy. She was thankful for the new job because now she had a few pennies to spare. Now, if only Mrs. Lawson would be free to fill the rest of her order, they could have their candy and be on their way home. Home. A rush of relief swelled through her at that single word. Already that little shanty had become a safe place all their own.

  “They have the striped ones.” Daisy’s whisper to her brother carried in the still hot air.

  “And the lemon ones.” James held his sister’s hands to keep her from reaching out.

  It seemed as if they had been waiting awhile, and no other customers were in the store. “Mrs. Lawson?”

  “I’m busy, Joanna.” The woman’s tone was sharp and her hand faltered. A bobbin of thread tumbled to the floor.

  “I know, and I hate to bother you, but I need a few more things. A pound of bacon and a large sack of flour.”

  Mrs. Lawson snatched the thread off the floor. Her gaze was as hard as her frown. “You’ll have to take your business elsewhere.”

  “Excuse me? I thought you closed at five o’clock.”

  “Oh, we’re still open.”

  “But—”

  “I don’t need your kind in here. Women like you.” Mrs. Lawson nodded toward the door. “Good day.”

  Joanna felt her jaw drop. Your kind, she’d said. What kind was she talking about? Oh, maybe it was because of last time she’d been in. She had to count pennies and put back two items before she could afford her groceries. She felt every stitch on every patch of her dress. Shame bit her hard, and she lowered her voice. She tugged open her reticule. “I can pay for this. It’s for Mr. McKaslin. He gave me enough for—”

  “Whatever he gave you is none of my concern, I can assure you.” Mrs. Lawson sounded scandalized. Worse was the harsh judgment on her face. She lifted her lip as if she smelled something foul. “Your money is no good here. Please leave.”

  “But—” Shock washed over her. She stared down at Aiden’s silver dollars at the bottom of her reticule. Please leave. Those words echoed in her brain over and over. Your money is no good here.

  “Try the general store over on Eighth Street. Right next to Steiner’s Saloon.” Mrs. Lawson marched around the end of the counter. The strike of her shoes sounded like a gavel of judgment.

  “But that’s a bad part of town.”

  “Exactly.” Mrs. Lawson seemed perfectly aware of that as she yanked open the front door. “They serve your kind there. Take your children and leave. Now.”

  What kind of person did Mrs. Lawson think she was? Bewildered, Joanna left the groceries on the counter and forced her feet forward. She could feel the shopkeeper’s disdain, as if she were little more than those unfortunate women who worked on Eighth Street. Was that what folks were thinking? That she was—No, she couldn’t even think the words. Her mind cl
osed off, her heartbeat lurched to a stop and she took each child by the hand.

  “Come,” she said quietly, struggling to keep her voice steady, although it did wobble a little. “We need to go to another store.”

  James hung his head, as if to hide his disappointment. He took one last long glance at the lemon drops. “Yes, Ma.”

  It broke her. James came along at her side, as if resigned, but his hurt seemed to hang in the air. He did not deserve this. Her eyes blurred and she blinked hard to keep control of her emotions. “Come, Daisy.”

  “But, Ma.” Big blue eyes filled with tears. “I got my pieces all picked out.”

  “I know, honey.” Joanna ignored the store owner’s gaze boring into her back, and knelt down to kiss her baby’s cheek. “Come, we have to go.”

  Daisy sniffled. “You said, Ma. You said we could.”

  “I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Anger beat at her, because it wasn’t right, denying her children. They might not have much, but they were good and honest. She mustered all the dignity she could and led her family out of that shop, shielding them the best she could from Mrs. Lawson’s bare disdain, and started blindly down the boardwalk. She couldn’t seem to think what to do next.

  There. Her vision cleared enough to spot the dry-goods store at the end of the block. “We’ll try in there. I know they have a good selection of candy.”

  “It don’t matter, Ma.” James fought to be brave, although the choked sound of his voice gave him away. “I don’t want any candy. We can’t afford it.”

  At least her children were spared the understanding of what had happened. How could Mrs. Lawson think such a thing? Joanna glanced around at the busy boardwalk, realizing that a woman she recognized from church was giving her a wide berth as she passed. No nod of greeting, no smile, nothing. Mrs. Collins deliberately looked the other way.

  Apparently Mrs. Lawson was not alone in her judgments. Joanna withered inside, not at all sure what to do. What if she was turned away from the dry-goods store and the other stores on the good side of town?

  She told herself that she didn’t care what others thought; she knew the truth. But as another woman she didn’t even know purposefully avoided her on the boardwalk, shame washed over her.

  She stopped in the shadow of the barbershop’s awning and dug two pennies out of her reticule. They shone coppery in the sunlight, winking like a promise. She handed one to each child. “Now don’t drop yours, Daisy. Hold on tight. We’ll go in and you can buy your own candy.”

  She wasn’t sure it would work, but it was worth a try.

  Chapter Ten

  Joanna was like a godsend in his life. Aiden led the way out of the minister’s office and into the sweltering sunshine, glad for the drum of footfalls following him. He wasn’t alone, because Joanna had mentioned his meeting to Thad. Thad had come, dutiful Thad, and he was going to take over the reins.

  Aiden knuckled back his hat to take a long look at the sky. Storm clouds were gathering in the west, blocking out the lowering sun. He judged it to be near four o’clock, maybe a few minutes later. Those thunderheads might hold some rain, he figured, but it would take until dark before they would see any. It would blow on northeasterly, was his guess, and the hay drying in his field would be safe.

  “I wish I could come along,” he told Thad.

  “Me, too, but something tells me Finn might take one look at you and lose his temper.” Thad glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the minister to join him. “We’ll stop and get Hadly’s son to help out. There are only four saloons in town. Finn is likely to be in one of them. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him if I can.”

  “That’s a load of worry off my chest.” Aiden had hardly slept last night, torn between standing his ground and riding to town to search for him. He feared what choices his youngest brother was making—his baby brother. “You’ll send word if you find him?”

  “I will.” Thad’s seriousness eased a fraction. “No one could have done as much as you, Aiden. Finn has to know that somewhere deep down. This will right itself in the end, I know it. Now, go find that woman of yours—”

  “She’s not my woman.”

  “Sure, fine.” Thad didn’t look as if he believed it. “You go have a nice evening. Maybe she’ll bake you another one of those pies. Best dessert I’ve ever tasted.”

  “You and me both.” Aiden loosened Clyde’s reins from the post. Dust scudded in whirlwinds down the street. He figured he had a chance of making it to the mercantile before Joanna did. “There’s something you ought to know. I suppose you could call it news.”

  “That’s no surprise, considering. Glad you’re getting around to telling me.” He gathered Sunny’s reins and mounted up with a squeak of the saddle. “Are you going to marry that woman?”

  “I asked her.” Aiden slipped his foot into the stirrup and swung into his own saddle. “How did you know?”

  “I figure that’s why you wanted us to meet Joanna.”

  Aiden didn’t correct him. His throat clenched up tight. He’d brought Kate home to meet his family right before he’d got down on his knees and given her his ring. He couldn’t seem to find the strength to say it was different this time. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t foolishness. It was practicality. He wanted to say he was doing the right thing for Joanna, but his proposal wasn’t that selfless. He would be getting something out of the deal. Not his heart, that was for certain, but maybe his soul.

  “I got to tell you, Aiden, I didn’t think this day would ever happen.” Thad drew Sunny around. The gladness on his face was easy to see.

  Aiden struggled to breathe. Tangled pieces of too many broken feelings seemed to jam up, leaving his voice strained. “Don’t say anything. She hasn’t said yes.”

  “I can see why she might hesitate. She’s a sweet-seeming woman, and you are no catch, big brother.”

  So now the teasing was going to start. Aiden rolled his eyes and guided Clyde into the street. “I guess that makes me a lucky man that she didn’t say no right out. I’ll try to catch up with her at the mercantile.”

  “Guess even the tough fall in love.” Thad winked, and there was no hiding the grin on his face. He was enjoying this.

  Aiden cringed, remembering how adamantly he had insisted he would never marry again. He supposed he deserved the brotherly ribbing. “Speak for yourself, Thad. I hope you can talk some sense into Finn. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it and a whole lot of divine intervention. There’s the minister.” Thad rode off toward the narrow alley next to the church so he could join Hadly on his white mare.

  Aiden was mighty grateful to have their pastor’s help on this. It was a perilous road Finn was walking, and if he didn’t make a real change, then Aiden hated to think what would become of his littlest brother. He disliked feeling helpless. He wished there was something more he could do to change things. The failure ate at him.

  There was Joanna’s horse and wagon right in front of the mercantile. Looked like he’d lucked out. The prospect of seeing her again put a little spring into his step as he left Clyde at the hitching post.

  His eyes were already searching for her through the wide front window. His ears were straining for the gentle music of her voice. When he heard it, his hand was on the door handle. Something was wrong; he could feel it like a cool breeze skittering down the back of his neck.

  “But I wanted the candy, Ma.” The daughter’s face was streaked with tears.

  “I know, baby. I did my best.” Joanna scooped the child up into her arms, balancing her on her slim hip. She kissed away her tears. The boy was looking down at the cracks between the boards, his shoulders slumped.

  What was going on?

  “Joanna?” Aiden was halfway to her before he realized it. A few more steps and he was close enough to see the tight control around her mouth and the hurt in her eyes. It was all he could see—that hurt. He drew himself up tall, hands fisting, stunned by the overwhelming impulse to protec
t her at any cost. “What’s wrong?”

  “Aiden.” She gazed up at him with regret—it could only be regret—as if she didn’t want to be seen with him. Her face was pink from emotion and her delicate jaw set like steel. “I—I was just trying to get groceries.”

  “At the dry-goods store?” That didn’t make any sense. He looked at her arms, empty of packages. He glanced toward the back of the wagon and didn’t see a single sack of staples. Why did she look ashamed? “Come with me into Lawson’s.”

  “No.” She stopped, bracing both feet. “I don’t want to upset the children. I’m sorry, Aiden, but I can’t do your shopping. The only store that will probably serve me is one I don’t want to go in.”

  This still did not make a lick of sense. “Why won’t they serve you?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Aiden. I’ll take care of it later.”

  “No. We’ll take care of it now.” He drew himself up taller, all might. All fight. “This better not be what I think it is.”

  “They don’t serve my kind, according to Mrs. Lawson.” Joanna wouldn’t meet his gaze. She kissed another tear from her daughter’s cheek and smoothed the boy’s windblown hair with her free hand.

  “Your kind?”

  “That’s what she said.” Shame ate at Joanna. What more could she say? She could see Mrs. Lawson watching through the front window, tsking as she shook her head slowly from side to side. We don’t do business with your kind, she’d said. Women like you.

  “Ma?” James asked. “Are we gonna go home?”

  “Yes, baby, we are.” Humiliation had turned her mouth bitter, and her face felt sunburn-hot. She fought hard to keep her voice calm and her upset locked up tight, for her little ones’ sakes. “Let’s go to the wagon now.”

  “Okay, but you should have my penny.” James held it out, trying so hard to be good, her dear little boy. “I don’t need any candy.”

  “I do,” Daisy hiccuped.

  Joanna’s heart just kept breaking off in pieces. “Baby, you keep the penny.”