by Danni Roan
Bruno’s belligerent beauty
Tales from Biders Clump
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Epilogue
Polly Esther Olson sat in the afternoon sun on her front porch, her mending forgotten in her hand as she watched Bruno Sparak following Janine Williams down the street. The handsome, young man carried his hat in his hands, his close-cropped, raven black curls exposed to a cold winter’s sun.
Polly shook her head, making the loose bun of gray hair on her head wobble, as she pushed her rocking chair into motion with a toe. “That boy’s in for a world of hurtin’,” she postulated to no one.
The old woman’s blue eyes continued to follow the lean, young man as he trailed the swishing red locks of the woman whose pert nose was nearly scraping the wide blue yonder. Janine Williams was the banker’s daughter and used to having her own way. She was an only child, pretty as a picture, but spoiled tremendously.
“What ya doin,’ Ma?” her husband George asked, stepping out of the house and squinting into the bright day.
Polly tipped her head in the direction of her quarry.
“Oh, Bruno again huh?” George moved around in front of his wife and took the rocking chair next to hers. “That boy sure is persistent.”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Polly agreed.
“Uh oh,” George’s words made Polly look up from where she was turning her mending right side in. “They’s at her house now.”
“Her pa’ll be home, since it is Saturday,” Polly added.
Along the street, the dark-haired young man and the fiery-haired girl stood before a fine house, its wide veranda surrounded with pretty shrubs.
“There he is.” George pointed as the door of the house opened and a portly man stepped out.
Together the older couple watched as Janine flounced into the house and her father confronted her companion.
“I told you before and I mean it,” Mr. Williams voiced echoed along the quiet street, “You will never be allowed to court my daughter.” With a final nod, he turned entered the house, slamming the door in the young man’s face.
“I’ll fetch the coffee,” George said. “You got any more of them sugar cookies?” his dark eyes sparkled with hope.
“In the pink flour tin,” Polly replied, eyeing the jacket pocket she had sewn back onto one of George’s coats, before spreading the warm garment over her knees. It was unseasonably warm for a week in February, but it never hurt to keep snug.
“Hello Bruno,” she called cheerfully as the young man, head hung low, walked along the far side of the street.
“Ms. Polly,” he greeted, tipping his hat politely.
“George is bringin’ some cookies and coffee out, why don’t you stop and sit a spell?” Polly offered, her eyes kind.
“I ain’t very good company today, Ms. Polly,” Bruno admitted, his dark blue eyes flashing with frustration.
“You insultin’ my cooking?” Polly asked with a cheeky smile.
Bruno’s lips tugged up at the corners and he shook his head. “No ma’am ain’t no one cooks like you. I’d be right pleased to sit a spell with ya.” Looking both ways first, Bruno stepped into the dusty street and crossed to her stoop.
“You sit right there,” Polly pointed at George’s chair. “George might be a spell. He likes to eat an extra cookie before he brings the lot. He thinks I don’t know, so I pretend I don’t.”
Bruno took the seat with a chuckle. “How long you and George been married, Ms. Polly?” the young man asked, straightening his faded denims and looking toward the banker’s house.
“George and I’ve been married thirty-four years,” Polly offered, her eyes full of light.
“You thinkin’ of getting hitched?” Polly rocked her chair smoothly, following his gaze toward the white house down the street
“It ain’t likely. I’m not good enough for no one in this town.” His voice was bitter.
“Oh, hello Bruno,” George said, joining them. “I thought I heard another voice, so’s I brought an extra cup,” he grinned, winking at Polly on the sly.
“Thank you, sir,” Bruno started to stand.
“You just sit there, son. I’ll pull up the peach crate, it’s better for my back anyways,” the old man said, placing a tray on a small stand and taking up a cup.
“It’s a mighty pretty day,” Polly commented casually as she offered Bruno a cookie.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied without heart.
“Ya know George,” Polly continued, “I been thinking about what story I might tell at the Valentine’s party this year.”
“You don’t say,” George mused, sipping his coffee, “Why don’t ya tell me and Bruno about it and we’ll see if we like it.” He grinned at Bruno, as sly gleam in his eye.
“Let me see now if’n I can remember it.” Polly adjusted the coat across her lap and tapped her lips with a finger. “I heard it a long time ago, ya see.”
Closing her eyes, the old woman began to speak as she set her chair to a steady cadence.
“A long, long time ago there was this fella,” she began her eyes still closed, “he was a wealthy fella with lots of money and servants and the like and he had two daughters.”
Polly sipped her coffee, settling into her tale, her blue eyes gazing off toward the high pass of the Rocky Mountains that towered over the town.
“Now one of them girls was as sweet as pie, ya see, she was kind and all the fellas loved her and wanted to court her in the worst possible way.”
Bruno set up straight in his seat, making the old rocker creak, and he blushed under his swarthy tan at the distraction.
“Did her pa let them fellas come courtin’?”
“Oh my no,” Polly replied. “You see, he had another daughter. This daughter was the oldest and by tradition she needed to wed first.”
Bruno looked at George questioningly, but the older man only shrugged, so he did not interrupt.
“The problem was there weren’t one fella anywhere who wanted ta court this girl.”
“Was she ugly?” Bruno asked, his eyes knowing.
“No, no, she was a right pretty girl and when she got married her pa’d give her husband some money and some land and such to get them started with.”
“She sounds like a catch ta me,” George said, hiding his grin behind his coffee cup.
“What was wrong with her then?” Bruno asked. “You’d think fellas would like a pretty girl with a good dowry an’ all.”
“The trouble with this other girl was that she was just plain mean,” Polly continued, giving both men a hard glare for their interruptions. “She was always fighting with the servants, and never liked nothin’ no one got her. She especially hated her sister ‘cause all the beaus were interested in her.
“Well she shouldn’t have been so mean and then some of them mighta’ cottoned to her,” Bruno stated. “No one wants to be with a mean woman,” he added, missing the quick glance George shot at Polly, who shook her head.
“I reckon she was so used to getting’ her own way,” Polly began again, “that nothin’ ever seemed good enough for her. It was getting’ mighty tough on her pa though, seein’ how he had fella’s left and right wantin’ to marry the younger girl. So, he come up with a plan.”
She looked at her audi
ence, judging their reactions and noting how they both leaned forward a bit in anticipation.
“This fella decided that he’d make his oldest girl’s dowry so sweet that someone would come along and take her off his hands, lettin’ his other, sweeter daughter get married and be happy.”
George and Bruno nodded as if this all made perfect sense.
“One day a fella come to town to make his fortune and visit an old friend. His friend told him a fortune was to be had if he could marry the harpy folks called Kate. And by gum, that fella decided he’d look the girl over,” Polly continued. “He went a callin’ and he run that girl round and got her so riled up she didn’t know if she was saying yes or no, so’s when her pa asked how they was getting’ on the young man said they liked each other so well they wanted to be married that very week.”
“Sounds like some places I know of here abouts,” George added sagely, “seems nowadays folks is sure in an all fired hurry to get hitched.”
“Hush, George Olson and let me finish,” Polly chided. “That young man went on home to get ready but pretty soon he come back and he looked a right mess. He had an old horse, and his clothes was old and not very nice.”
Polly grinned at the confusion on the men’s faces, but did not pause. “Well that made this Kate girl madder than a wet hen, but while she was spluttering he dragged her to the preacher and they got hitched, then he tossed her on his horse and plum rode off, not even staying for the wedding supper.”
“And her pa stood for that?” Bruno’s eyes were wide with disbelief.
“Well every pa’s different, I guess, and he’d had his hands full with that girl for a long time,” Polly said. “Later he brung her back, but not before he took her home to his place.”
“And they fell in love?” Bruno asked hopefully.
“No, they had a rough few days. Ya see that fella thought that his little Kate was pretty special in her own way. I mean she was smart and strong, and determined, she just wasn’t nice to no one.”
“The first night he kept her up all night carrying on about how their bed weren’t good enough for her. He threw the blankets out and stomped and stormed and threatened his serving men.”
“That don’t sound right,” Bruno said. “A groom is supposed to be loving and kind. He should woo his bride proper like.”
“Maybe if you have a proper bride,” Polly said, waving a hand impatiently. “Then this fella wouldn’t let that girl eat nothing. He said that the food was so bad he wouldn’t want her to eat none in case she was to get sick.”
“The men that worked for him was pretty sure the groom had gone plum loco, but little by little that girl realized that she’d been pretty rotten to everyone around her, just like her new husband was bein’ on her behalf.”
“So, she fell in love with him ‘because he was lookin’ out for her?” Again, Bruno’s midnight eyes were full of hope.
“Let me finish,” Polly groused, flapping a hand at him impatiently.
“Finally, after Kate had settled down a mite, this fella decided to go back to visit Kate’s pa, and have that wedding supper. On the way, Kate started thinkin’ how her new husband had been lookin’ out for her so hard, and how he must be tired and such, so maybe she should be a little more agreeable.”
Bruno smiled, nodding as he waited for the true love part.
“He didn’t make it easy on her though, even told her the sun was the moon and threatened to go home again, unless she agreed.”
“Did she?”
“She did, but then he told her she was plumb crazy, cause everyone could see it was the moon, and that’s when she realized how unreasonable she’d been, how hurtful and mean-spirited.”
“Did he tell her he loved her then?”
“No, they went on to the wedding supper and you know, by the time they got there, her little sister was hitched ta some fella and a friend had married a widow woman, so it was a humdinger of a party.”
“So, she must have apologized ta everyone when they got there,” George suggested.
Polly chuckled a wicked gleam in her eye. “Nope, she dragged them out by their ears when they refused to come to the table like they was asked.”
Bruno shook his head. “That don’t make no sense, Ms. Polly, I thought this here was a love story.”
“Bruno, when that Kate and her new man come back, she figured out that now she was married, she was part of a team and if her husband needed her help, she needed to give it, even in silly things.”
Bruno studied the older woman a while before speaking again. “Ms. Polly, you sure can tell some whoppers,” he said with a sad grin. “There ain’t no pa in the world would get rid of his daughter to some crazy fella like that.”
The young man stood to his feet, stepping to the edge of the porch and leaning against the railing. “Pa’s is protective of their girls, even the difficult ones.” He gazed off in the direction of the big house with the blue shutters and pretty bushes.
Behind him, Polly and George Olson slowly shook their heads.
“Thank you for the coffee and them mighty tasty cookies,” Bruno spoke again. “I’d best be getting back to the sheep.”
“Why don’t you take these last few cookies with you, Bruno?” George offered, picking up the treats in his big hands. “They’ll make a fine treat after supper,” he added with a grin.
“That’s awful nice of you Mr. George. Thank you.” Bruno pulled a faded bandana from his pocket and carefully wrapped the buttery discs in it before slipping them into his coat pocket.
“You have a nice day now, Bruno,” Polly said. “We’ll see you at Sunday Service, I reckon.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the boy in the run-down boots agreed as he stepped into the dust of the street.
Chapter 1
February was a quiet time in Biders Clump. The fields lay fallow, cows and sheep moved slowly over frozen ground and trains were few and far between as the pass over the Rockies filled with snow.
The Christmas season was always festive and the New Year’s celebrations brought everyone together for a welcome distraction, but by the time February rolled around, the long months of cold weather started taking a toll on people everywhere.
Too many days of gray clouds and blustery winds kept folks in doors and away from friends and neighbors. It was one of the reasons that the Valentine’s Dance was one of the most anticipated events in the little town.
Already, the general store was struggling to find red and pink fabric for new dresses, or ribbon, boxes and bows for special gifts to sweethearts. The Grist Mill restaurant did a bit more business with beaus bringing their girls out for a treat, but for the most part February was slow.
“Seems like everyone’s about stir crazy,” Maud Adams, a widow from an outlying ranch, said as Polly poured her a cup of tea. “At least with the snow blown off this year, the stock can find grass easy enough.”
“It might be a drag,” Polly agreed, setting a plate full of cookies on the table, “but at least we ain’t having a snowed-in winter.”
Maud smiled, something that had been far too infrequent in the years since her husband had passed away. The strain of keeping a ranch running and looking after three grown daughters had taken a toll on the tall woman with the gray hair.
“Aren’t these cookies sweet,” Maud said, laughing at her own comment. “I mean you’ve made them into hearts,” she clarified.
“Oh, that,” Polly grinned, waving a hand in dismissal. “George thought I should try it and then make a big batch for the Valentine’s Dance.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Maud agreed, biting into the soft, flaky cookie. “Mmm, and they taste amazing, too,” she said past the delicate bite.
“I imagine young Cam and Quil are lookin’ forward to the dance,” Polly said, her eyes bright with merriment.
“Yes, I really don’t understand how that all came about,” Maud offered shaking her head, “but they’re so happy…” she let her words fade away with a
shrug.
“And you?” Polly prompted, lifting her cup to her lips and pinning Maud with piercing blue eyes.
“Me? Good heavens, Cameron has taken away so much of the worry I feel like a new woman.” She chuckled. “Add to that the hope of a grandbaby soon, and I’m just about the happiest woman in Biders Clump.”
Polly smiled, thrilled that her old friend finally seemed settled after a hard time.
“How about the other girls?” Polly questioned. “They’re all grown women now.”
Maud’s brow furrowed. “Yes, pretty well grown up, but they don’t seem to be interested in anyone here in town or having a home of their own. I honestly don’t know what to think, but they seem content.”
“Life has a way of happening no matter what we think,” Polly replied. “Best thing we can ever do is pray for our kids,” she added wisely.
“I guess you never stop worrying about them,” Maud agreed.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Polly laughed, slapping her thigh joyfully. “Mine are all spread around this great country and if I couldn’t believe they was in God’s hands, I think I’d go right out of my mind.”
“Now what you doin’ in town today anyway?” Polly asked, changing the subject.
“Picking up supplies and getting a few things for the big party,” Maud smiled. “Prissy’s over at the Grist Mill. They wanted some more of her wild strawberry preserves and some of those smoked game hens she does up with herbs.”
“That girl loves to cook, don’t she?”
“And eat,” her mother chuckled. “Speaking of which, I’d better go see if she’s ready and head to the store to meet Sara.”
Together the two women rose and headed for the front door.
“I’ll see you at the dance in two weeks,” Polly said, waving her old friend off into a clear, cold day.
***
An icy blast of air rattled down the street from the high peaks of the Rocky Mountains, tugging at Maud’s skirt as she pulled her soft kid gloves over her hands.
“Right nippy out, ain’t it?” George Olson walked around the corner of the house, rubbing his hands together.
