Her Fearless Love_Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride

by Florence Linnington

  “And what does Bonnie think of this wild land?” Neil asked. “Hard place to be a woman, I reckon.”

  “She’s happy.”

  “Really?”

  Neil sounded as if he didn’t believe it, so Steve looked straight at his friend when he spoke again.

  “What makes you say it that way?”

  Neil shrugged one shoulder. “She hasn’t even been here a month yet.”

  “You’re thinking about winter?”

  “Didn’t it take you by surprise? Even coming from New York?”

  Steve nodded. “It did. We’ve already talked about that, though. I think she’s ready for it.”

  Neil nodded in satisfaction. “One more thing.”

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Did the catalog you found Bonnie in have any red-haired Irish lasses?”

  Neil winked, and Steve tossed an eggshell at him. “How long are you going to be on that, huh?”

  “Until I find my wee bonny Irish lass, that’s how long.”

  “That’s not what I said,” a man’s angry voice suddenly rang out from somewhere nearby.

  Steve and Neil turned where they sat and looked into the woods leading down to the creek. The foliage was thick, making it hard to see anything or anyone.

  “Someone’s having a spat,” Neil whispered with a cheeky grin.

  “Fine!” the man shouted. This time, not only was the voice louder, but Steve thought he recognized it.

  “Russell Hawkins,” he said softly.

  “Huh?” Neil asked.

  A bad feeling entered Steve’s gut. Holding his hand up to signal for Neil to be silent, he rose and made his way to the woods in the direction of the raised voice. Neil followed behind, picking up on what was happening and taking careful steps.

  Hawkins’ was still shouting at someone, but his voice was growing softer. He was walking away--probably along the creek.

  At the tree line, Steve halted at the sound of crashing. Someone was loudly making their way back toward the mine.

  Hawkins’ emerged from the woods, his face down. When he looked up, his eyes widened slightly and his gaze swept from Neil to Steve.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “Everything all right?” Steve asked.

  “Course everything is all right.” Scowling, Hawkins walked past them and headed for the mine. Steve waited until he was sure the man was gone to speak.

  “What do you think of that?” he asked Neil.

  Neil glanced at the woods. “Who was he yelling at?”

  Steve stayed where he was, waiting for another miner to emerge from the woods. After a minute, he turned to Neil. “Could have been someone from town.”

  Neil scratched his jaw. “Or his wife.”

  The hair on the back of Steve’s neck stood up. He’d seen Hawkins yelling at his wife on Sunday. It had been a hard thing not to notice.

  The mine wasn’t that far away from the cabins and towns. She could have walked up the creek to bring him lunch. Following the creek meant an easy and straight trek, and more than a few of the miners’ wives did it.

  But Hawkins hadn’t carried any lunch that Steve could see.

  Shaking his head, Steve turned away from the woods. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the man was talking to himself. He’s an angry fellow.”

  Neil’s cheeks puffed with an exhale and he nodded heartily. Hawkins was known for having a short fuse. He had very few friends, and the ones he had were probably fair weather ones.

  “Let’s get on back,” Steve said. “Lunch is almost over.”

  Climbing the hill, they entered the clearing next to the mine just as the bell signaling the end of lunch rang out. Steve went through the motions of preparing to enter the mine like it was clockwork. The whole process was one he could do in his sleep.

  Helmet. Pickaxe. Lantern. Neil and another man named Trevedi were guiding the mules, and it was Steve’s job to lead the team’s way. As the pocket they were in was ripe with coal, there hadn’t been any blasting that week. Instead, they were to extract what was already exposed.

  The rest of the afternoon passed in the same dull manner it always did. Like usual, Steve was half there and half not. He swung his ax; loaded coal into the cart; guided the cart back out of the mine when it was full.

  The whole time, he heard Hawkins voice. What had he been shouting at? Had it been his wife, or someone else?

  Steve didn’t know why, but he couldn’t get those questions out of his head. They kept nagging at him throughout the day, demanding to be answered.

  Maybe it was the mine doing this. Being in the dark all day long did things to a man’s sanity. Or maybe it was Hawkins himself. There had always been something off about the man. Steve didn’t know him too well, and it had been Hawkins’ own cynical approach that kept a distance between them. When Steve had introduced himself to Hawkins the first time, Hawkins only offered up a ‘huh.’ Not even a hello had passed through his lips.

  Maybe Steve’s personal opinion was causing suspicions. Or maybe, he told himself, he was onto something.

  Hawkins was a… different kind of man. Steve would likely never get to know him better than he did then, and that was fine.

  But then why couldn’t he get the gruff miner off his mind?

  6

  6. Bonnie

  Chapter six

  The knock on the open door came as Bonnie was finishing up blacking the cook stove. Setting the rag on the can’s lid, she stood and found Mrs. Briggs and little Aria in the doorway.

  “Good afternoon,” Mrs. Briggs said, lifting a pail. “How about we take a break from housework and pick some raspberries?”

  Bonnie carefully pushed hair from her face with the back of her hand, in case there was any blackening on her fingers. “Raspberries are in season?”

  “It’s their last week, but yes. They grow about half a mile up from here. Not far at all. So? Would you like to come?”

  It was such a lovely idea, and Mrs. Briggs’ demeanor so friendly, Bonnie could not possibly say no. Plus, there was the opportunity to bake Steve a pie. She could see the look on his face when he came home and found it sitting on the table.

  Thanks to the way he kissed her the night before, Bonnie had been thinking up ways of pleasing him all day long. She’d had a couple suitors when she was younger, and even came close to engagement once, but none of the chaste kisses she’d shared with those men had held a candle to what happened when Steve’s lips touched hers.

  That one romantic gesture--easily the most thrilling one of her life--had made Bonnie’s heart soar. She wanted to do more for Steve, to be more for Steve.

  And a berry pie seemed like a great place to start.

  “Let’s go right now,” Bonnie answered. “That sounds like such a lovely idea.”

  With a bonnet on and a pail in hand, Bonnie followed Mrs. Briggs’ up the hill.

  “I can carry her some,” Bonnie said, reaching for the baby.

  “Oh, no, you do not have to.”

  “Please, I want to.”

  Mrs. Briggs nodded and handed over Aria, who was half asleep. The baby seemed not to even notice the change in shoulders, instead pushed her hand under Bonnie’s cheek and sighed.

  “Her eyes are half closed,” Mrs. Briggs said.

  Bonnie smiled. It was nice to hold a little one. Her boss in Baltimore had two small children, and Bonnie had loved to play with them when they came into the shop., She and Steve had discussed the possibility of children in their letters to each other. She only hoped he would want to wait until she became more settled in Whiteridge.

  As much as Bonnie already loved the mountain, she was still adjusting to her new life. She did not have it in her to adapt to motherhood at the same time.

  “Look,” Mrs. Briggs said. “It is Margaret.”

  Bonnie looked up the hill, to a cabin sitting close to the road. Mrs. Hawkins was in its doorway, sweeping dirt out onto the grass. Mrs. Briggs waved at her, and the other woman paused
in her sweeping to wave back.

  “Good afternoon,” Mrs. Briggs said as they approached the cabin. “I heard there are still some raspberries on the bushes. Care to join us before the birds and deer get the last of them?”

  Mrs. Hawkins set her broom against the doorframe and wiped the sweat from her brow. Her sleeves were rolled up and a handkerchief tied around her forehead held back her hair. “That sounds nice,” she said, “but I should stay here. There is so much housework to be done.”

  Mrs. Briggs hesitated, nibbling on her bottom lip the slightest bit. “Are you sure? We will not be there for long.”

  Mrs. Hawkins looked Mrs. Briggs square in the face. “I am sure, but thank you again.”

  Another silence followed. Bonnie glanced between the two women, feeling there was a second conversation--one happening with looks--going on.

  “Well, we will be there for a good while if you do manage to get away,” Mrs. Briggs said, the tone of defeat in her voice.

  Mrs. Hawkins nodded. “Thank you. Have a good time.” She briefly glanced at Bonnie. “It is good to see you again, Miss Potter.”

  “You as well, Mrs. Hawkins.”

  Mrs. Hawkins went to grab her broom, and as she did so, Bonnie noticed something she hadn’t before: a purple and yellow bruise peeking out from underneath her rolled up sleeve. It was on the side of her arm, halfway between her shoulder and elbow.

  “See you on Sunday,” Mrs. Hawkins said. Her gaze briefly caught with Bonnie’s before she looked away.

  “See you then,” Bonnie answered, adjusting Aria’s weight in her arms.

  Back up the mountainside, Bonnie and Mrs. Briggs continued their trek in silence, each lost in deep thought. The climb was harder than Bonnie had expected, especially with the baby’s added weight, and by the time they arrived in a half-shaded field, she was huffing with the exertion.

  “Here.” Mrs. Briggs took a sheet from her pail and spread it out in some shade. “Set her down here.”

  Bonnie gently laid Aria down. The baby made a slight cooing noise but remained asleep.

  “Is she all right?” Bonnie asked, standing up.

  Mrs. Briggs put her hands on her hips and stared at the grass. Bonnie knew she didn’t have to explain that it was not the baby she spoke of.

  “I do not know,” Mrs. Briggs answered.

  “There was a bruise on her arm. It looked as if someone had grabbed her.”

  Mrs. Briggs sighed. “I saw that. She probably meant to cover it up, but forgot all about it.”

  “Why would she do that? If her husband has treated her poorly, wouldn’t she want people to know?”

  Mrs. Briggs gave Bonnie a sad look. “What good would people knowing about it do? If anything, it would likely only anger her husband more.”

  “But if others knew… If the men knew, they could…” Bonnie faltered.

  “They could what?” Mrs. Briggs asked quietly. “Unless she is in true danger, who can step in? Leaving must be her own choice.” Her lips drew tight. “If you can call it that. Margaret lived on the streets before she came to Wyoming. There’s nothing for her to go back to. This home, awful husband or not, is still the best she’s ever had.”

  Bonnie’s stomach sank. “It’s not right. Even if they are quarreling, a man should never put his hands on a woman like that.”

  “Believe me, you do not have to tell me that. I wholeheartedly believe the same.”

  “There really is nothing we can do?”

  Mrs. Briggs picked up her pail. “I will talk to my husband. Perhaps he will have a suggestion. If anything, he can keep an eye on the Hawkins, make sure things do not… escalate.”

  “And if they do? I thought you said intervention is not an option.”

  Mrs. Briggs’ shoulders drooped. “Perhaps, if things get too bad, we can help Margaret find another alternative.”

  “Divorce?”

  Mrs. Briggs chewed on her bottom lip. “Perhaps.”

  Bonnie nodded, but she did not feel much better. Even for a woman who wanted one, a divorce could be hard to procure. The laws governing it were different in every state, with many areas favoring the husband. Bonnie did not know what the exact laws in Wyoming were, but she did not suspect they would be on Mrs. Hawkins’ side. And then there were the moral implications. Some women would rather suffer through horrible situations than face the shame of a divorce.

  “Come.” Mrs. Briggs turned for the nearest raspberry bush. “Let us pick. Perhaps Margaret will join us after all.”

  Bonnie suspected Mrs. Briggs, just like her, already knew that would not happen.

  7

  7. Bonnie

  Chapter seven

  A loud boom shook Bonnie’s core as she approached the mine. Stopping where the road ended in the clearing in front of the mine, she hesitated. There were a few mules and men in the outside area, but no one took notice of her.

  Steve had been running late for work that morning and ended up leaving his lunch behind. Worried he’d have no time to slip back home and fetch it, Bonnie had set off at noon, taking with her the cold chicken and boiled potato in a tin pail.

  As she stood in the shade of an evergreen, a man rang a bell at the mouth of the mine and men covered in soot emerged. Bonnie squinted her eyes, trying to make out Steve, but the blinding light made it hard.

  “Afternoon, ma’am,” a miner said to her as he passed.

  Bonnie opened her mouth to ask if he knew where Steven Huebner might be, but he was already gone. All the workers were spilling out in different directions, some of them picking up lunches that were set in the shade and some of them going down the hill, toward the creek.

  “It’s a beaut,” one miner said to another as they walked nearby. “The manufacturer only made about a couple thousand of these pistols.”

  The man speaking looked over at Bonnie, his gaze sweeping up and down her figure. Heat filled Bonnie, and she pursed her lips. The nerve!

  She’d expected the mine to be a somewhat rough place, but did a man have to be so blatantly disrespectful?

  Sighing, Bonnie looked toward the well, where two men who weren’t covered in coal ash conversed. They had to be the supervisors. Perhaps, Bonnie could just leave Steve’s lunch pail with them.

  “Well, hello there.”

  Spinning around, Bonnie found Steve. He’d walked up while she’d been watching the other men, and his cheeks were covered in soot. She was familiar with the dirty clothes he wore home and shook off outside before coming in, but she’d had no idea his face and hands became so smudged while working.

  Bonnie exhaled in relief. “There you are.”

  His gaze fell to the pail in her hand. “You brought me lunch.” He grinned. “Aren’t I the luckiest man on this mountain?”

  Bonnie handed the pail over. “I couldn’t let you go hungry.”

  “Aw, I would have been all right. I’ve worked plenty of days straight through without stopping to eat.”

  “That does not matter. I am here now, and I will not allow that to happen. Besides, I forgot to pack you the last slice of pie this morning. You forgetting your lunch meant I was able to slip it in there.”

  “I’d give you a kiss on the cheek if I wasn’t so filthy.”

  Bonnie smiled in pleasure. Another group of miners passed by. She had not caught sight of Mr. Hawkins, and she wondered where he was. As predicted, Mrs. Hawkins had not shown up to pick the last of the raspberries the day before.

  “Steve…”

  “Uh-huh?”

  Bonnie looked all around, making sure no one else was within hearing distance. Being at the mine and thinking of Mr. Hawkins made her want to say something about Mrs. Hawkins, but she also knew this wasn’t the best time or place.

  “Never mind.” Bonnie forced a smile.

  “Well, hello there,” a young man said as he approached them.

  “Neil,” Steve said, “this here is my fiancée, Bonnie Potter.”

  “I figured.” Neil tipped his hard
hat, revealing blond hair that had managed to escape the coal dust. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  “You as well,” Bonnie said.

  Steve smiled at Bonnie with pride. “Bonnie brought my lunch I was so daft to forget.”