Her Fearless Love_Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride

by Florence Linnington

  “He is handsome,” Bonnie whispered. “Are you courting him?”

  Was that... jubilation in Bonnie’s voice?

  “Yes?” Margaret said, more like it was a question than a statement.

  “Goodness,” Thea breathed. “What a gentleman. What does he do? Where is he from?”

  Margaret took in their sparkling eyes and wide smiles, and realized, yet again, she had expected the worst out of people when they were only too willing to give the best.

  “How much longer did you say you have?” Margaret asked.

  “Almost an hour,” Thea said.

  “Walk with me back to house,” Margaret said. “We can have some tea, and I will tell you all about him.”

  Chapter 12

  12. Margaret

  Chapter twelve

  The squeak made Margaret jump and nearly drop the broom. Spinning around from where she swept around the cookstove, she looked at Lulu.

  “Did you hear that?”

  Lulu, in the middle of mixing cornbread, nodded. “She’s right there.”

  Margaret followed Lulu’s nod. In the corner of the kitchen, behind the flour barrel, Muffin’s tail peeked out. There was another squeak and then a heavy meow.

  Muffin backed out from behind the barrel, a limp mouse in her mouth.

  Margaret pressed her palm to her lips and gasped. “You caught that, Muffin? But you are so little!”

  “Fierce, though,” Lulu said.

  “She needs to take that outside,” Margaret said, putting the broom down and walking to Muffin. Probably afraid the catch was about to be confiscated, Muffin ran up the stairs.

  Margaret threw up her hands. “I hope she does not eat that on any furniture.”

  “She’ll likely hide under a table or in a corner,” Lulu said, going back to her cornbread.

  Margaret stuck her tongue out in disgust. “Goodness.”

  Lulu chuckled. “How’s that banker of yours?”

  Margaret cocked an eyebrow. “I do not recall speaking about him.”

  “That’s why I asked.” Lulu winked.

  Margaret picked up the broom and resumed sweeping. “I do not know. I have not seen him since church.”

  One day. That was nothing, wasn’t it? So then why did it feel like years?

  Lulu chuckled. “It’s almost lunch time. Would you like to take him something special?”

  Margaret paused in her sweeping. “Like what?”

  “Hardboiled egg with pickle relish and fresh cornbread.”

  “That sounds delicious, but I am fairly sure he brings his lunch to work every day.”

  “You’re missing my point.” Lulu clicked her tongue. “This is your chance to show him you care. A little... romantic gesture.”

  “Oh,” Margaret said dumbly. It appeared her initial desire to keep the courtship under wraps no longer mattered. People knew she and August saw each other.

  And, Margaret was finding, she liked knowing that they knew.

  “If it is no trouble...”

  Lulu waved her hand. “I suggested it, didn’t I? Soon as the cornbread is done, I’ll wrap it all up and you can walk yourself over there.”

  Margaret finished up the kitchen, and then gave the second-floor hallway a thorough sweeping and mopping. The delicious scent of cornbread filled the house, and Margaret quickly slipped into her bedroom to repin her hair.

  While in there, she did a quick sweep of the room. No sign of Muffin or the mouse. Hopefully, the cat had not devoured her treat on Margaret’s bed.

  Arriving back downstairs, Margaret took the packed lunch and set off. The sky was gray, with a steady snowfall coming down, and Margaret blinked against snowflakes as she made her way to the bank.

  Using the heavy knocker on the bank’s front door, Margaret signaled her arrival. Her heart sped up, and she listened for footsteps, but heard none.

  Perhaps August and his employer were not in. Or maybe they were busy.

  Margaret looked down at the lunch pail. Was this a bad idea? She did not wish to disturb August at work. Or to anger his employer.

  Biting her lip, Margaret turned back to the street. She would go back to the house and tell Lulu no one answered. She wouldn’t need to add the part about regretting going to the bank.

  Before she could take a step, the door opened. Margaret spun around, finding a man with a bushy white mustache.

  “Yes?” he said. “Hello?”

  “H--hello. I am...” Margaret gritted her teeth and tried again. “I brought Mr. Dowdell a lunch. Is that all right?”

  The man’s shoulders rolled back, and he stood up straighter. “Oh! You must be Miss Meyers. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded and chuckled. “August talks about you a lot.”

  “He does?”

  “I’m probably not supposed to tell you that.” He stepped to the side and waved her in. “Come in. It’s too cold to stand outside. August is in the room right there.”

  He pointed to a closed door to the right and shuffled in the direction of a door at the end of the short hall. “Go right in,” he said over his shoulder.

  The man--who she assumed was Mr. Walsh--disappeared into the back room. Margaret knocked on August’s door, and it opened almost right away.

  “Margaret. I thought I heard your voice.”

  His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his waistcoat and his pocket watch’s chain, and part of his hair stood up like he’d only just ran his fingers through it. Margaret smiled at the thought of him bent diligently over his desk, working away while absentmindedly pushing his hand through his hair.

  “Do you have a minute to spare?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes. Of course. Please. Have a seat.” He gestured at where a chair sat near a stove.

  “I brought you lunch.” Instead of taking the chair, Margaret stood close to the stove and lifted the lunch pail. “I know you probably packed something for the day, but Lulu suggested it, and her cooking is so very delicious, and...”

  She trailed off and set the lunch pail on August’s desk.

  “You did not have to do that,” August said.

  “I know, but I... um...” She’d been right. It was a silly idea, and now August would think her odd for it.

  “How sweet,” he said, opening the lunch pail and peering in.

  “You think so?”

  August tilted his head and laughed. “Most certainly.”

  Margaret sighed in relief. “I was worried about disturbing your day.”

  “Nonsense. I am always busy, but a visit from you will never be a disturbance. And this lunch looks a hundred times better than the bread and cheese I packed myself for the day.”

  “Good. I am glad you are pleased.”

  “Extraordinarily pleased.”

  August closed the space between them and lightly trailed his fingers across Margaret’s cheek. A sweet shiver followed where he touched her, and before Margaret could even get in another breath, he leaned in and pressed his lips on the spot his fingers had been.

  His spicy scent filled Margaret’s nose and coated her tongue, and her head turned woozy. He drew back, a hint of pink in his cheeks.

  “I am sorry,” he said. “Was that... too forward?”

  “No, no,” Margaret said hastily. “Not forward at all. It was... lovely.”

  August’s eyes danced, and a yearning swelled in Margaret. She wanted to feel his lips against hers.

  But this was not the time or place. They were at his place of work, and she needed to return to his.

  “Enjoy the lunch,” Margaret said.

  He nodded. “Please tell Lulu thank you.”

  August led her to the front door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “May I cook supper for you this Friday? I won’t be able to match Lulu’s level of expertise, but years of bachelorhood have made my kitchen skills somewhat agreeable, if I might say so myself.” He smiled, adding, “Zeke will be there.”

  Margaret nodded. “I woul
d be honored.”

  “Lovely,” August said, the word infused with a crisp gaiety. “I look forward to it. until then, Miss Margaret.”

  “Until then,” she repeated.

  August opened the door for her, and Margaret departed with a wave. Thick snowflakes hit her cheeks, and Pathways’ roofs hid under feet of snow. All about her, the cold struck with its usual ferocity, but Margaret was immune to it, for in her heart it was summer.

  Chapter 13

  13. August

  Chapter thirteen

  Merry laughter filled the kitchen, and August slapped his knee in delight. “And that is why you never hide crawdads in your sister’s bed. Take it from Zeke.”

  “Yes.” Zeke smiled. “I will never do that again.”

  Margaret pressed her palm to her lips, the last of her giggles leaving her. “Your sister was certainly not one to be messed with. A snake in your bed! Goodness.”

  Zeke shook his head. “I deserved it. Crawdads pinch. A black snake merely slithers.”

  August began collecting the empty supper plates, and Margaret stood to help.

  “No,” August told her. “You have a seat. I’ll make coffee.”

  Setting the dishes in the wash bin, he filled the tea kettle and set it on the cookstove, then poured some beans into the little grinder and started cranking away. Though he’d been slightly worried about Zeke and Margaret having supper together, as they were both shy people, the meal had turned out to be a success.

  August could not have predicted the two of them would get along so well, and he was happy to see them talking and laughing.

  He finished grinding the beans and went to pull the tin mugs from the cabinet. A heavy knock sounded on the front door.

  August looked to Zeke. “Expecting anyone?”

  Zeke frowned and shook his head. “No.”

  August quickly crossed through the front room and opened the door. It was dark, past the time most people would come calling.

  Rick Walker stood on the threshold, his hands tucked under his arms for warmth. “August,” he nodded.

  “Come in,” August said, the cold night air obliging before Rick had the chance to.

  In the kitchen, Zeke noted Rick’s serious face and stood up. “Is it the mare?”

  Rick nodded. “The foal is coming, but it’s having a tough time. I think it’s turned around.”

  Zeke’s jaw tightened. “Let’s go.” He grabbed his coat from the hook by the back door and looked to Margaret. “I’m sorry to depart, Miss Meyers. Foaling can take many hours, as I’m sure you know, so you will be gone by the time I return. It was very pleasant seeing you.”

  “You also,” Margaret told him.

  The two men left in a hurry, leaving only August and Margaret.

  “Mr. Davis is a veterinarian as well as a schoolteacher?” Margaret asked in confusion.

  August carefully poured the hot water on top of the coffee grounds. “He’s the closest thing we have to one in this town right now. His father was a vet, and Zeke grew up helping him on calls. He also happens to be one of the smartest men around, so whenever there’s any sort of issue, he’s a good person to go to.”

  “Ah. I see.”

  August set the sugar and milk on the table. The coffee was done brewing, so he brought the two mugs over as well.

  “Supper was delicious,” Margaret said. She blew on her coffee, and the steam vanished into the oil lamp’s soft light.

  “Really?” August wrapped his hand around his coffee mug, enjoying the warmth sinking into his palm. Maybe after Margaret left, he’d fill the canteen with coffee and take it to Zeke and Rick. They’d be cold and tired, working all night in the stable with the laboring horse.

  “Yes. Of course...” Margaret smiled playfully. “It was no Lulu’s.”

  August pressed his hand to his chest. “Ah, Lulu. That relish won my heart over. I will forever be a changed man because of it.”

  “I will be sure to tell her that, word for word.”

  “Please do. Perhaps she will send me even more relish.”

  Margaret smiled, and they sipped their coffee, falling into a comfortable silence. August found himself imagining what it would be like to live with Margaret. Would it be this way every night? Them sitting in a cozy kitchen, drinking coffee and making jokes?

  He liked the thought of that. Very much.

  August cleared his throat. There was something he’d been planning on discussing with Margaret, but he’d been waiting for the right time. He’d thought Zeke would be with them all evening, so he hadn’t planned on the ‘right time’ being tonight, but why not now? He and Margaret were growing closer. He was thinking of a future with her, and he hoped she at least entertained the same thought.

  But before they made any more advances in their relationship, there was something he wanted to discuss. Something he wanted to share.

  “Margaret...”

  “Yes?” she asked.

  August ran his thumb down the mug’s handle, not sure where to begin.

  “Is everything all right?” Margaret asked.

  “Oh, yes. Certainly.” August sat up straighter. “My apologies. I did not mean to worry you.”

  Margaret’s brows pinched. “You appear stressed.”

  August ran his tongue across his front teeth. “I wish to discuss something with you.”

  “What is it?”

  August took a deep breath. “That day we met outside of the post office, and you told me about your husband... I know you said it was an outburst, but I... it did not bother me. If you want to discuss that more, I am here. I can converse, or I can simply listen.”

  Margaret sat motionless, saying nothing.

  August gulped. Had he said the wrong thing?

  “Why would you want to talk more about that?” Margaret asked.

  “I thought it might ease your burden some.”

  Margaret’s fingers tightened around her coffee mug. “But you do not know of my burden,” she whispered harshly. “And do you not think it is rather assumptive of you to draw such a conclusion?”

  “I...”

  But Margaret was not finished. She went on, her voice rising with each word. “For me, August, the past is in the past. I wish not to wallow in it, nor to dredge it back up for the sake of entertainment--which is what it seems you are doing.”

  “Wh--what?” August sputtered. “This has nothing to do with entertainment.”

  He reached for her hand, but she withdrew it, placing it in her lap.

  “Oh, no?” she asked. “I see the way everyone in this town looks at me, August. And I’ve heard their whispers. They are all desperate to know what happened in Whiteridge. Did I secretly have a part in my husband’s death? Am I glad he’s gone?” Margaret shook her head. Her lips trembled, and she clenched her jaw.

  “Margaret, please. You misunderstand me.” August’s chest ached, and he longed to pull Margaret in his arms and hold her tight. Longed to keep her safe from the world that had hurt her and judged her.

  “I must go.”

  “Margaret, no. I care. That is why I asked. And I wanted to share my own experiences.”

  But she was already pulling on her coat. Fumbling with her hat, she rushed for the front door. August followed, right on her heels.

  “Please don’t go,” he said. “You and I, we are alike.”

  At the open doorway, Margaret turned to face him. The candle on the small table there cast her face in an eerie glow. She opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider and closed it and left without another word.

  “Margaret,” August called out from the doorway, but the dark street did not answer.

  Chapter 14

  14. Margaret

  Chapter fourteen

  Lulu looked out the kitchen window and shook her head. “A blizzard is coming. I bet anything on it.”

  “Oh, no,” Mrs. Bain wailed, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “How long do you think it will last?”