Lariats, Letters, and Lace

by Agnes Alexander

  Nellie tried not to resent the fact that Millicent might remarry. It stood to reason that her daughter-in-law would one day find a new husband and let him raise Oliver’s children. A woman without a man had a hard life. She should know. She’d raised two boys alone. But this was different. As Oliver’s mother, she couldn’t help thinking it was still too soon after his death for Millicent to turn to another man. Her boy had only been gone for seven months. But why else would some stranger write her?

  She pushed the thoughts away and set her mind to finishing up supper. She’d deal with Millicent’s new husband later.

  ****

  When they finally arrived in Bellhaven, Samantha asked the stage driver if she could continue on to the Jenson ranch. He shook his head and said this was the end of the line for the stage. He told her she could probably rent a wagon and a driver at the livery stable to take them to the Jenson ranch. She asked directions to the stable and set off when he agreed to wait for the man and the wagon to come back and pick up the luggage. The children complained about being hungry, so she paused at a store to buy a small hunk of cheese and some bread.

  At the livery, the man who agreed to take them to the Jenson ranch said they all had to sit in the bed of the wagon. He didn’t want them on the bench talking to him on the way and slowing him down. She didn’t tell him she already planned to ride with the children.

  Samantha never dreamed it was so far to the ranch, but the man was so cantankerous, she didn’t dare ask him how much farther they had to travel. They’d been bouncing along the rutted road for over two hours. Now, she wondered why she hadn’t stayed in that little hotel in Bellhaven and headed to the ranch in the morning. She could at least have seen where they were going. But no. She thought the smart thing to do was get to the ranch tonight. How far could it be, anyway? It dawned on her that she was going to have to quit thinking things were spaced here like they were in Philadelphia.

  Her stomach growled, and Jamie had told her he was hungry again. She refrained from telling him she was hungry, too. Though she’d given the children the cheese and bread, it hadn’t been enough to fill them. For some reason, she thought they’d be able to eat when they got to the ranch.

  Another thing she didn’t count on when heading out was the freezing weather. Berating herself, she tightened the blankets around the children and prayed the ride would end soon.

  When they first left, she remembered thinking they would get to their destination in relatively short time. She climbed in the bed of the wagon as close to the back of the driver’s bench as she dared. She figured there would be less wind there. The children sat on each side of her. At first, they were excited. They’d never ridden in a wagon before. Neither had she, but she didn’t find the experience exciting as they seemed to do. All she could think was that if her friends could see her, they’d never let her live it down. She didn’t even try to imagine what Aunt Vivian or Weldon Wheaton, III, would say.

  When the time grew long and the ranch was nowhere in sight, the newness wore off for the children. Abby had cried until she finally fell into a restless sleep in Samantha’s lap. Jamie had moved away from her and was huddled in the corner of the wagon bed. She knew he had cried, too, because she heard him try to snuff back tears several times. She almost cried herself, but knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  She worked up the courage and suggested to the driver they go back to town. In a grumpy voice, he told her they would be at the ranch soon. She figured it was because he thought he’d have to give her back the three dollars he’d charged. There was nothing she could do except hope they’d reach the Jenson place before morning.

  Another hour passed, and finally the wagon pulled up to a house. Lamp light came through a window and spilled onto the long front porch. Samantha knew instantly the place wasn’t nearly as large as she’d thought it would be, but it at least looked welcoming.

  “This here is the Jenson place. You and the young’uns get out so I can git back to town afore midnight.”

  “Aren’t you going to help us get our luggage out of the wagon?”

  “That’ll cost you another two bits.”

  She was too tired to argue. She dug into her drawstring bag and got the money. Holding it out to him, she said, “Here. Now, put the trunks and the bags on the front porch.”

  “Yes’m.”

  Samantha roused the children. Abby cried again and Jamie mumbled, “Where are we?”

  “Just get out of the wagon, Jamie. The man will take you back to town if you don’t hurry.”

  He wasted no time in jumping from the back. “I’m out.”

  Because she had to climb down with Abby in her arms, Samantha almost fell. She grabbed the side of the wagon to steady herself. By the time she reached the porch, the wagon was pulling away from the house.

  The front door opened, and a tall man filled the doorway. “What the hell is going on out here?” he yelled.

  Abby cried out and threw her arms around Samantha’s neck. Jamie moved to her side and took hold of her free hand.

  Samantha frowned. “Sir, please don’t curse in front of the children. You’re scaring them.”

  “What children?”

  “These children. Mrs. Jenson’s grandchildren.”

  “Lady, you’re crazy. Mrs. Jenson’s grandchildren live in Baltimore.”

  “Who’s he, Aunt Samantha?” Jamie whispered.

  “I don’t know, honey.” She squeezed his hand and turned back to the man. “I brought these children from Baltimore. Millicent wanted them to come to live with their grandmother.”

  “That don’t make any sense.”

  “I don’t care whether you think it makes sense or not. Mrs. Jenson is expecting us. I wrote her that we were coming, so please tell her we’re here.”

  A woman’s voice came through the door. “Who’re you talking to, Russ?”

  “A woman who says you’re expecting her.”

  “I don’t expect anyone.” The woman pulled the door open and her face softened. “Well, Russ. Don’t be so unfriendly. You don’t have to look twice to see this woman and her children are cold and probably exhausted.”

  “Mrs. Jenson—” Samantha started.

  Pushing the rude man aside, the older woman, opened the door wider. “Come on in, child, and tell me what has happened. Is your husband with you?”

  Samantha again tried to explain, but was interrupted by the man. “Do you know these people, Ma?”

  “Does it matter? They need help.” She reached for Abby, but the sobbing little girl buried her face in Samantha’s neck. Jamie moved closer to her side.

  “You’re right. We are cold and hungry and would love to come in and sit down.”

  As they entered the front room, Samantha couldn’t help noticing that, though the room was rustic, it was well furnished with plush chairs, a colorful braided rug, and several tables with oil lamps and accessories. There was a tall rock fireplace on one wall with a mantle made from a roughly hewn log. Two rocking chairs sat on either side, and a dying fire had been banked for relighting in the morning.

  “Russ, stir up the fire and add a log. These folks are half frozen.”

  He looked as if he was going to argue, but he moved to the fireplace. After throwing a log on the fire, he turned to Samantha. “Now, would you explain why somebody dumped you on our door step?”

  “Oh, Russ, watch your manners. Let’s get these folks something warm to drink. There’s left over roast and biscuits for them, too.” He didn’t move, and Mrs. Jenson turned to Samantha. “Would the children like some warm milk? After they get some food in them, I might find a cookie. We have coffee or tea for you.”

  “I’m sure the children would like some milk and cookies later. We appreciate your kindness. We haven’t eaten in a while. A cup of tea for me would be lovely.”

  “I don’t know a thing about making tea.” The man actually growled.

  Mrs. Jenson gave a short laugh and waved to the chairs. “Please, make y
ourself and the children comfortable and warm yourselves up. I’ll get the food and drinks.”

  Though the man kept looking at her as if he’d throw her out in the snow any minute, Samantha couldn’t resist the rocking chairs. She crossed the room and took a seat in one of them.

  Abby calmed down and looked up as they sat. Jamie, who hadn’t spoken, moved to the other side of her chair, putting Samantha between him and the man called Russ.

  Samantha patted his arm. “Relax, honey. It’ll be fine.”

  They watched Mrs. Jenson as she left the room, but nobody said anything, and several minutes passed in silence. Samantha wanted to ask the man if he was Oliver’s brother, but she didn’t dare. He seemed to be mad at her, and she didn’t want to give him another reason to curse in front of the children. And curse was what she thought he’d do.

  After a while, Abby broke the silence when her clear little voice filled the room. “Is her my grandma?”

  ****

  Russ whirled around and looked at the little girl, surprised. Did he hear her right? The next thing he heard were the cups, saucers, and glasses clanging together on the tray as his mother entered the parlor with the drinks and sandwiches. He knew she’d heard the question, too.

  He took a breath. “What did she mean by that?”

  “Yes.” Nellie put the tray on the table in front of the window. “What did she mean?”

  “Are they going to hurt Abby?” Jamie grabbed Samantha’s arm.

  “No, sweetheart.” She patted his hand and turned to Nellie. “Mrs. Jenson, I wrote you that I was bringing your grandchildren to you. You should have gotten my letter a week ago.”

  Russ eyed her. What was this fancy city woman saying? Surely this wasn’t Oliver’s wife. He didn’t think she’d ever come to Wyoming. She’d certainly never mentioned she would come when she wrote that Oliver had been killed in some kind of explosion at the plant he ran. What was this strange woman up to? Was she trying to pass her children off as Oliver’s?

  “I didn’t get a letter a week ago. We don’t get our mail until we go into town. Our bunkhouse cook, brought one today, but I didn’t know who it was from, so didn’t take time to read it.”

  Samantha shook her head. “I’m sorry if this is a shock to you, but these are your grandchildren, Jamie and Abby.”

  “Don’t Grandma Nellie want us, Aunt Samantha?”

  Jamie had whispered, but Russ heard him and frowned. His voice wasn’t pleasant, and it was much too loud when he said, “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, lady, but I know you’re not Oliver’s wife. He told us she had long auburn hair—and yours is yellow.”

  “Of course I’m not Millicent! I’m her best friend, Samantha—”

  Abby began to cry again and Jamie hid his face on Samantha’s shoulder.

  “Russell!” Nellie pointed her finger at him. “Don’t attack this young lady again. Now, sit down and let’s get to the bottom of this.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.” Samantha smiled at her.

  “You’re welcome. Now, let me give this milk and sandwiches to the children and pour you a cup of tea. I brought you and me a cup of coffee, Russ.”

  “Thanks, Ma.” He took a cup of coffee and sat on the settee. He knew he should curb his quick temper and give the pretty little woman a chance to explain herself, but he almost knew she had some kind of scheme up her sleeve. If I can, I’ll keep my mouth shut and let her trip herself up.

  “Now, dear, please tell me what’s going on.” Nellie sat in the other rocking chair and smiled at her.

  “As I said, I wrote you a few weeks ago explaining why I was bringing Jamie and Abby to you. It was what their mother asked me to do.”

  “Where is Millicent? Why didn’t she come?”

  “Oh, Mrs. Jenson, I wish you had gotten my letter. It explains everything. I don’t really want to…First let me say, my name is Samantha Whitener. Millicent and I were cousins and best friends since we were toddlers. Her children even call me Aunt Samantha.”

  Despite his vow to say nothing, Russ couldn’t control himself. “What did you say your name was?”

  “Samantha Whitener.”

  “Ma, what was that name on the letter you got?”

  “That might have been it.”

  “Have you read the letter?”

  “No, son. I haven’t had time.”

  He stood. “Where is it?”

  “I left it in my apron pocket. It’s hanging on the pantry door.”

  He went into the kitchen and retrieved the letter. Glancing at the address, he saw it was from an S. Whitener. Could she be telling the truth? He started to open the letter, but knew he had no right. He hurried back to the parlor and handed it to his mother. “I think you should read this now.”

  Nellie nodded. He watched her facial expressions change as she read the letter. As she re-folded it, tears appeared in her eyes. She handed the letter to Russ, and turned to Samantha. “Thank you for bringing the children to me. They’re beautiful.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  Russ concentrated on the letter. It was hard to accept what was written there. Was it the truth? Did Millicent actually want his mother to raise her children? Most women would want to leave their children with their own mother. He went on and read the account of his sister-in-law’s death and how Samantha was heading to Wyoming in full-blown winter with his brother’s two offspring.

  He folded the letter and glanced up at the woman and the children. Abby did have auburn hair like Oliver said his wife had, and the little boy had the dark tresses that all the Jenson men had.

  He noted the little boy had moved from the other side of the chair to stand in front of his grandmother. He was giving her a shy smile. The little girl was still on Miss Whitener’s lap, but she was sitting to the side and looking at her grandmother as if she might speak to her soon.

  An hour later, his mother asked him to drag the four trunks and all the valises into the house. Then, she put the children in bed in the bedroom that he’d shared with Oliver when they were small. Though he’d often suggested they should set it up as a guest room, for some reason, his mother had kept the two beds in there the boys had used as they grew up. The other spare room was used as storage. The only other two bedrooms in the house were his mother’s and his. He wondered where his mother planned for Miss Whitener to sleep. When the two women came back into the parlor after putting the children to bed, he found out.

  “Russell,” his mother addressed him when she entered the room.

  He knew she meant business when she used the full name instead of ‘Russ’. Doing so always told him she would entertain no argument. “Yes, Ma?”

  “Go in your room and get what you’ll need in the morning. You’ll be sleeping in the bunkhouse tonight.”

  He frowned, but before he could speak, she went on, “Samantha will be sleeping in your room.”

  He opened his mouth, but she gave him the look that always told her sons, that’s the end of the discussion. Shaking his head, he went to his room, cussing under his breath.

  Chapter 3

  Because it was cold in the room, Samantha took a quick sponge bath. Nellie had filled the ceramic pitcher that sat in the matching bowl on the rustic bureau with warm water for her. Digging in her trunk, she slipped into a soft cotton gown and tied the pink ribbons at the neck. She didn’t take time to put on her slippers as she hurried and climbed into the high backed bed. She leaned over to blow out the lighted lamp and noticed the table matched the bureau, the bed, and the huge wardrobe that sat in the corner. It was massive, manly and rustic, but there was a beauty about it. With the right curtains, spread, and a few other decorations it would be a handsome—no, a lovely bedroom.

  What in the world brought that thought on? The man who sleeps here would never allow anything that looked the least bit feminine in this room.

  Snuggling down in the soft feather mattress, she couldn’t help noticing the smell in the room. It wasn’t the sheets. Nellie
had insisted on putting clean sheets on the bed, though some of the odor came through the pillowcases from the feather pillows. It was a masculine smell. Kind of like spice, leather, and wood. It had to be his smell. The arrogant, rude, hateful, unlikable, cursing Russ Jenson—who happened to also be a most intriguing, devastatingly handsome man who had the most captivating dark eyes she’d ever looked into.

  She turned over and jerked the cover to her chin. Samantha Anne Whitener, what are you thinking? Weldon would have a worse fit than he had when you left for this godforsaken land if he knew you’d had such a thought about some uneducated, overbearing cowboy. He’d never propose, then. Get yourself to sleep. In the morning, get up and help Abby and Jamie get acclimated to their new home, then get yourself back to Philadelphia where you belong. If you don’t, Alana Nelson could be Mrs. Weldon Wheaton, III, instead of you.

  But would that be so bad? another voice from deep inside her questioned. She huffed and turned over, punching at her pillow.

  Stop thinking that, you ninny. You’ll get home in time, and all of this will be behind you. You’ll never again have to think about Mr. Russell Jenson or how this room smells like him.

  Again she turned over, thinking it’d take a long time to go to sleep. She was wrong. Exhaustion took over, and in minutes, she gave in and fell into a deep slumber.

  ****

  Samantha came down the stairs the next morning, hearing Russ’s voice as he spoke from the other room. “Ma, I’ve got to have it. I didn’t think to get it last night. Can’t you slip in and get it for me?”

  “No, Russ. I don’t want to disturb Samantha. She was exhausted last night, and I feel she needs to sleep as long as she can this morning. In fact, the children are still asleep, too.”

  “What do you think of them, Ma?”