Beatrice the Bride (Cowboys and Angels Book 1)

by Kirsten Osbourne

  “I can cook. My mother has been working with me since I was a little girl.” She was excited that there was something she could do to help him after he’d gotten her out of the mess she was in.

  “Oh, good. I’ll look forward to eating more than beans and cornbread, then.”

  She smiled. “I can certainly do better than that, Mr. Jameson.”

  He frowned. “I’m your husband now. Perhaps you should call me Arthur.” He knew she was keeping up the formalities to put a distance between them, but that was the last thing he wanted. He would do everything he could to court her properly in the next two months—and truly for the rest of their lives!

  “I will try.”

  “The store will be closed for the day, but perhaps we could go there in the morning so you can get some fabric—as well as some more flavorful foods.”

  “I would assume you don’t wish me to try to find work? You want me to keep your house?” She wished she’d thought to ask him that before she married him, but she wasn’t sure her answer would have been any different.

  “I do want you to keep house. There’s no need for you to work. I make a good salary, and I’m not given to a lavish lifestyle. The only thing I ever splurge on is new books to read.” Did she want to work? He’d always thought most women preferred to be able to stay home and keep house.

  She smiled at that. “That is my biggest weakness as well.”

  “Then I think we’re a good pair.”

  “Would you like me to see if I can find something to make for supper? And maybe we can spend some time talking and getting to know one another after we’ve eaten?”

  “I’d like that a lot.” He led her to the kitchen and quickly showed her where he kept everything. “I don’t have much to work with.”

  “I’ll figure something out.” She set to work, glad to be able to take her mind off her troubles. Cooking was something she’d always enjoyed, so she gave herself over to it.

  When she put two bowls of beans on the table, she apologized. “I can do more with other ingredients.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not worried. I had planned to eat beans for supper tonight anyway.”

  He took her hand in his, bowing his head for a prayer. “Father in heaven, please help Beatrice settle into life here in Creede. Help her to mourn the loss of her parents, but still be able to make it through her days. I pray this in the name of your Son, Jesus. Amen.”

  “Thank you for mentioning me in your prayer.” Beatrice took a bite of the beans, thankful she’d made them plenty of times and knew just the right seasoning to use.

  “You’re very welcome. What were you going to be doing in Creede?” It was rare for a young lady to come to the town.

  She sighed. “My father wanted to come here to mine for gold. I hate the idea of letting riches rule our thoughts, but I came along because I really had nowhere else to go.” She wished they had done anything but come to Colorado to mine for gold.

  “Where are you from?” He knew he was peppering her with questions, but he wanted to get to know her.

  “I grew up on a farm in Missouri. Father sold his farm to come out here.”

  “Did you go to school there?”

  She nodded, her eyes brightening at the topic. “I even taught a couple of terms of school before we headed here. I love teaching.”

  “This isn’t a town where there will be much chance of teaching. The families are mostly poor, and they don’t value education the way I wish they would.”

  “That’s really sad.” Beatrice shook her head. “I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity to teach our children, then.” As soon as she realized that she’d brought up the subject of them having babies, she blushed. She wanted at least a handful, but she’d take whatever God gave her.

  “Do you want a lot of children?” He’d never given himself the time to think about children. He’d been too busy working, and there were few decent women to marry in Creede. He’d been considering sending off for a mail-order bride, but hadn’t let himself think past good meals and a clean home.

  She nodded. “I’ve always wanted several. My mother was only able to have me, and I know she’d always wished for more.” If she couldn’t teach, she wanted a whole houseful of children, and she would teach them. She’d do her favorite thing one way or another.

  “Tell me about your mother.” He knew she needed to talk about her if it wasn’t too painful to do so.

  Beatrice tried to think of her mother through someone else’s eyes. “She was pretty and kind. I think her worst fault was doing what my father said as soon as he told her to do something. She never once questioned his decision to sell off everything and move.”

  “And you think that was a flaw?”

  She nodded. “I do think women should obey their husbands…but within reason. I don’t think anyone should ever blindly follow another.”

  “Seems I’ve found myself a wife with the ability to think for herself.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Absolutely not. I’ve never been the type of man who could let himself fall for a simpering woman. If she thinks I’m as wonderful as some women pretend to think their man is, then she is lacking in common sense. I’m anything but perfect.”

  Beatrice laughed softly. “Is that so? Tell me what your biggest fault is.”

  “That’s not something you can ask your husband on your wedding day!” Arthur protested, a smile on his face.

  “But I already did. So you have to answer me.”

  “I do, do I?”

  She nodded emphatically. “You do.”

  He thought for a moment. “My biggest fault is that I don’t do more to try to change this town.”

  “What do you think is wrong with the town?” Beatrice had heard of nothing but how wonderful it would be to live in Creede for their entire journey. What did he know that she didn’t?

  “I think the men here live for payday, when they have a chance to go and drink as much liquor as they can. They spend money on booze, women, and gambling. I’ve never been one to partake of those activities, but I’ve not tried to stop others. Maybe I should have.”

  “Why?” She knew many men spent their paychecks on those three things, but she wasn’t sure if he objected for religious reasons, or if it was simply because he didn’t like to see people waste money.

  “I think the more men who are here and pursue those things, the worse the town gets. Women have begun disappearing…there are two that no one can find. If it was just one, I could chalk it up to marrying and leaving town. But two? No, I’m worried that there’s something sinister going on here in Creede, and I’m not sure what I can do about it.” He hadn’t even mentioned there was a problem until that very moment.

  “Is there a sheriff? A marshal?”

  “There is. There’s a rumor that he’s on someone’s payroll, but I’m not sure if I should believe that or not. I don’t think he did a good job investigating after the last fire.”

  “The last fire? How many fires have there been?” Beatrice was growing more and more worried about the new community she found herself in.

  “Creede has almost completely burned to the ground twice now. It’s really not a good place for women or children. I worry about everyone who moves here hoping the town won’t corrupt them. I almost think there’s something evil about this place.” Or someone evil. He had his suspicions about who it was, but he dared not say anything, because the man was powerful.

  “Are you being fanciful? Or do you really think it might be evil?”

  “I really think it might be evil. I wish I was only being fanciful.” He was afraid to tell even Beatrice who he thought it was for fear she would slip and tell someone else. He had no idea how well she kept secrets.

  She thought about the woman who had been in the wagon with her and later disappeared. She hadn’t seemed like she was evil, but maybe she was. She’d certainly let Beatrice’s parents die without trying to stop it.

  Chapter Twor />
  When Beatrice woke early the following morning, it took her a moment to realize where she was. Arthur had been true to his word, taking a blanket and a pillow to sleep in the parlor on the sofa.

  She spent a moment lying in bed, praying for peace as she went about her day. A new marriage should be a time of joy, but she was still filled with sorrow about her parents.

  She quickly dressed, having slept in just her petticoats, and hurried into the kitchen to start breakfast. There was little she could cook with the ingredients Arthur had on hand, but he’d been pleased with her beans and cornbread the night before, declaring them a million times better than what he could do.

  She stopped short when she reached the kitchen, looking at the bounty of food available to her. Spotting Arthur sitting at the table sipping coffee, she grinned. “Where did all this food come from? Surely the store isn’t open so early!”

  He shrugged. “I know the owner and asked him to open up early for me. I do the same when he wants to send a telegram. We try to keep each other happy.”

  Beatrice smiled when she saw the eggs and bacon. “Would you like eggs for breakfast? Or I could make some pancakes? Do you have a preference?”

  Arthur looked at her for a moment before a grin spread across his face. “Do you have any idea how wonderful it is for a man like me to have choices about what he can eat? I’ve had beans and cornbread for three meals a day for years. I’m going to have a real breakfast!”

  She laughed. “Yes, you are. And I will do my best to never make beans and cornbread for you.”

  “Let’s have pancakes. With bacon!”

  “Did you get a lot of supplies? Or just enough to see us through breakfast?” She saw some flour, milk, eggs, butter, syrup, and bacon. But what else had he gotten?

  “Just breakfast. We’ll go to the store after we eat, and you can choose a couple of different fabrics to make yourself some dresses, and we’ll get some food to fill the ice box. I can’t believe I’m going to get real meals!”

  She laughed softly. “Will you want me to bring you lunch at the office?”

  “As long as you make it, I can pop over to the kitchen to eat it. I’m close enough that I can still hear if a telegraph comes in.” The house and the telegraph office were really one and the same, with only a door separating them.

  “All right. It’ll be nice to have three meals a day together.” Already he was starting to grow on her. At first, she’d thought he was handsome, but now she was seeing that he was more than that. He was a good man. She was proud to be able to call him her husband.

  “I hope so. My mother always said that she loved my father as long as she didn’t have to put up with him too much.”

  Beatrice grinned. “I can understand that, I think.” She got down a mixing bowl and expertly mixed the batter for pancakes. As soon as she was done, she got out a frying pan and put the bacon on. “Do you mind if I change a few things around the house?”

  He shrugged. “It’s your house as much as it is mine…more, to my way of thinking. You’ll be spending more time here, because you’ll be home while I’m at the office. You have to make it your own.”

  “All right.” She could already envision how nice the house would look with a gingham tablecloth and matching curtains.

  “I do want you to promise me that you won’t leave the house without me.”

  She frowned. “Being a prisoner in my own home isn’t exactly appealing.” Did he not trust her at all? She knew they’d just met, but why would he marry someone if he thought he’d never be able to believe in her?

  “You won’t be a prisoner! I worry that someone will snatch you like happened to the other ladies. You’d be welcome to leave if Creede was safer.”

  “I see.” She felt bad for jumping to conclusions. “I’m sorry I said that about being a prisoner. I understand your safety concerns.”

  “Good, because I need to know you’ll be all right while I work. I would rather you didn’t open the door to any men except the reverend, either.” He knew keeping her away from other people in the middle of town was a lot to ask of her, but he also knew it would keep her alive.

  “There’s no one else you trust?” she asked. Surely that couldn’t be so. The man had been alone for a long time. He had to have made friends over the years.

  He shrugged. “No one that I’d trust with your life. You’re too precious.” He blushed a bit after saying the words, realizing he sounded like a lovesick idiot.

  Beatrice blushed, not looking at him. She didn’t know how to react to such a thing. She’d never had a beau, so someone saying sweet words to her like that really threw her for a loop. “I’ll be as careful as I can be.”

  “Good. That’s all I ask.”

  After breakfast, they walked over to the mercantile together. “I’m happy to come over here with you any time you want me to, but you’ll have to let me know.”

  She nodded. “So if I run out of milk, I need to come get you and have you walk with me to the mercantile. It seems a little more difficult, but if you’re sure that’s the only way I’ll be safe, then that’s what I’ll do.” Already she respected him more than any other man she’d known. That was a good way to start a marriage.

  The mercantile was relatively quiet when they arrived. She quickly chose fabric for two dresses and a plain white for a couple of aprons and a nightgown. Then she searched for food. She wanted to cook him wonderful meals, because she knew how long he’d lived on beans and cornbread. No one should have to eat the same thing day in and day out for years.

  She made sure she chose things that would appeal to him, but she also got some things to make a cake. She was sure he’d be thrilled with the treat. She wanted to please him, and that couldn’t be a bad thing.

  On the walk back, they each carried a wooden box filled with their purchases. “How long will it take you to make the dresses?” he asked.

  “I should have the first done by tomorrow evening,” she told him. “If I didn’t have to cook, I could be done faster, but I have this strange feeling you’re looking forward to me cooking for you.”

  “I really am. I dreamed that you made a pot roast with carrots and potatoes.” He was all but drooling as he talked about it.

  She grinned. He must not have paid much attention to her purchases except to pay for them, because she’d gotten what she needed for pot roast. Making that for supper would make her happy, because she knew it would please him.

  They were almost to the house when a man stopped in front of her, bending low as if he was a courtly knight of old. “I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance. I’m Archibald Grady.”

  She looked over at Arthur, wondering how he would handle this, deciding to follow his lead whatever he did. She wasn’t about to speak to a stranger on the street, anyway.

  Arthur wanted to kick Archie out of their way so they could continue on. The man had never been a favorite of his, and he thought he was better than everyone else in town anyway. “Archie, this is my wife, Beatrice. We married yesterday.”

  Archie frowned. “I see. I guess you had to marry him because you met him before me. If only you could have held out a little longer for the better man.”

  Beatrice shook her head. “I married the right man.” She nodded cordially and walked around the man, wanting to break into a run to get away from him, but she didn’t have it in her to run on her ankle. There was something about the way he talked that made her skin crawl.

  Arthur couldn’t help but grin at the shocked look on Archie’s face as his wife made it clear she wouldn’t have chosen him regardless. “Stay away from him,” Arthur said in a low voice as they reached their home.

  She nodded. “You don’t even have to tell me that. There’s something about that man that makes me feel like there are spiders climbing all over every inch of my body.”

  “Now that he knows you live here, I’d keep the door locked during the day as well.” He didn’t want to risk anything happening to her, and the
re was something about Archie that made him think danger followed him around.

  “I will do just that. I’ll only open to another woman or the reverend.” For now, she was busy enough that she wouldn’t need to leave. She had so much to do to get settled in properly.

  “Perfect. You’re learning fast, I see.” He carried his box into the kitchen and set it on the table. “I need to get to work. Do you have everything you need?”

  She nodded. “I do. I’ll be fine.” As soon as he was gone, she sat down and looked at her ankle. It still throbbed after all the walking she’d done the day before, but at least the swelling was down.

  She thought about soaking it in cold water for a moment, but she knew it was more important she get started cooking and sewing. Starting by mixing up the dough for a loaf of bread, she sat at the table kneading it, rather than standing as she normally would.

  For some reason, Beatrice was worried that Arthur would think she was weak if she told him about her ankle injury, so she’d done her best to not even limp in front of him. She would baby it as much as she could during the day, but when he was around, he would never see her pain. She had landed on her feet after her tragedy, but it wouldn’t stay that way if she didn’t appear to be strong. No man wanted a weakling for a wife.

  For lunch, she fixed a thick stew, knowing that he would be hungry when he came in. Before it was time to eat, the bread would be ready as well, and he could have a feast.

  After everything was cooking, she sat down and propped her foot up, carefully cutting out her first dress. She wasn’t worried about the styles at all, more worried about having something that was serviceable.

  By the time Arthur came home for lunch, she had the bodice of the dress already basted together. Her fingers were sore from sewing so quickly, but she didn’t care. She served them each a big bowl of the stew and put the fresh bread on the table along with some butter.

  Arthur rubbed his hands together when he saw the food. “I am already thrilled I married you. Food is definitely the way to keep me happy.” He picked up his spoon and took a big bite.