Sixteen Brides

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  She was. “It would appear you’ve gotten over being so angry with me for leaving you here.”

  “You were trying to help. I was just…afraid.”

  “How about now? Are you still afraid?”

  He shook his head, then seemed to think better of it. “Sometimes. But mostly…no.” He frowned a little. “I think I’d still be afraid if I heard a rattler hiss. Or a mountain lion scream. Or if I met up with some cattle rustlers. But I’m not afraid of the horses or the cattle. Or the wranglers, either. They joke a lot, but they don’t mean anything by it.”

  The gelding snuffled at his pocket and Jackson shoved him away. “Dakota’s one of Lucas’s favorite trail horses. Dakota and Soda—the gray one you’ve seen. I was afraid of them for a while. But sometimes horses just like to show off. Underneath it all, they’re both as kind as can be.”

  Just like their owner, Ruth thought.

  As Lucas came near, Dakota whickered and stretched out his neck. Jackson unfurled the lead rope, and the horse walked to Lucas and thrust his head against Lucas’s chest. “Hey,” Lucas murmured, and touched foreheads with the horse.

  “I think he’s ready to have you back,” Jackson said.

  Lucas tugged on the chestnut’s pale forelock. “Tomorrow, old boy,” he said, glancing at Hettie. “Right?”

  “As long as you keep your word about mounting up without jumping off that leg.”

  “I’ll climb up on a box.” Lucas grinned at Jackson. “And you are not allowed to laugh when I mount up like a girl.”

  Jackson held up his hand. “You have my word. But I can’t speak for Pete and the rest of the boys.”

  Hettie cleared her throat and interrupted in an uncharacteristically stern voice. “Just remember, it’s only some weight-bearing at first, and still a great deal of resting on the porch.”

  “You did hear that, patient-who-doesn’t-want-to-behave?” Ruth asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gray thanked Jackson for keeping Dakota and Soda in shape for him, then nodded Ruth’s way. “Have you convinced her to let you stay on for the roundup?”

  Ruth spoke for him. “I can’t think of a reason to say no.”

  Lucas nodded. “Then how about we consider Sam as part of my payment for keeping my leg?”

  Jackson gave a little whoop of delight that startled Dakota just enough to make the boy apologize—to the horse.

  Ruth looked into Lucas’s gray eyes. “You don’t have to do that.”

  He winked. “Which makes it all the more charming that I want to. You know what I said last week about finding ways to thank you and Mrs. Raines? I’m just getting started. Don’t spoil my fun. Jackson needed a horse. Now he has one. It will make him more useful once he does get back home. You can make him your errand boy. And just think—he’ll be able to ride to school.”

  Jackson made a face. “That wouldn’t have been one of my reasons for wanting a horse, sir.”

  Lucas laughed. “Spoken like a true boy.”

  The week after Ruth and Hettie returned from their “house call” to the ranch, Will Haywood delivered a new plow, courtesy of Lucas Gray. The generosity didn’t stop. Next came a dozen setting hens and enough lumber and wire to expand the chicken coop and to fence in a good-sized chicken yard. A few days later a milk cow arrived.

  “This has to stop,” Ruth said. “It’s…absurd. What will people think?”

  “I don’t know that Lucas cares much what people think,” Hettie said, “and if we protest, he will likely take it as a personal challenge and send over a well-drilling crew or something equally ridiculous. As soon as he’s back to full strength, he’ll be too busy running the ranch to think so much about us. I think it’s best to ignore it—beyond saying thank you.” She shrugged. “I wasn’t able to contribute anything at all to the homestead at first. It’s a very strange way to do it, but at least I can feel like I’ve done my share now.”

  “I suppose you’re right about Lucas. Trying to get that man to listen to reason would probably be a waste of time. I declare, I never met anyone so hardheaded. The man must have rocks for brains.”

  Hettie laughed softly. “Maybe that’s where he got the name for Graystone Ranch.”

  The well-drilling crew arrived the following week.

  It wasn’t long before Caroline realized that Zita was beginning to worry about her. Oh, she didn’t say anything directly, but increasingly, Caroline would look up to see the older woman watching her with a look of concern. Once or twice, Zita referenced how unusually quiet Caroline seemed and asked if she was feeling unwell. She made comments about how she had thought she was too old to be of use to anyone, and now, with the ladies of Four Corners, she had found a new purpose and how privileged she felt when the ladies shared their personal problems and asked for her opinions or prayers.

  While Caroline knew Zita was both a wonderful listener and a faithful woman of prayer, and while she had grown to love her as a second mother, she didn’t think expounding on what Lowell Day had tried to do was the kind of thing Zita should hear. What good would it do to talk about it? The thing to do was to forget—and be vigilant. She was trying, but as soon as she managed to stop thinking about what had happened in the livery, other ghosts haunted her thoughts. She worried about Mama and Daddy and longed to know how they were. Was the plantation house still standing after the war? She didn’t know if Daddy would survive the loss of Mulberry Plantation. Most often, however, the thing that intruded on Caroline’s thought life was the man with dark hair and blue eyes and a sweet redheaded daughter.

  Matthew had not been to Four Corners since that day in May when he’d nailed the final shingle onto the roof. Sometimes, Caroline’s longing to see him was so powerful it frightened her, but she kept telling herself that Matthew needed time with Linney. He needed to be about building a life for her. He was not a subject Caroline should entertain, even if he did have the most beautiful blue eyes and the strongest hands, even if she did sometimes feel literally weak in the knees when he helped her down from a wagon. Matthew Ransom was not meant for her. She was here in Nebraska to rescue herself. Matthew had other things to occupy his energies—not the least of which was fixing whatever it was between him and Lucas Gray.

  Lucas Gray. Was that man not a caution. That day at the ranch when he’d warned her about Lowell Day, he’d seemed like a different person. He hadn’t flirted once the entire time they talked. Even more strange than the change in Lucas himself was the fact that he’d asked about Matthew, bringing up the name and then backing away, almost as if he needed to know something but couldn’t quite ask the real question.

  It seemed that whatever Caroline thought about these days, she was confused. She couldn’t quite convince herself to forget Lowell Day. Lucas Gray seemed to be a different man from the one she’d met on the train. And after seeming to find her attractive, Matthew had retreated.

  On better days, Caroline could laugh at the idea of Caroline Jamison not being surrounded by men declaring their undying love. On other days, she jumped at odd noises and imagined Lowell Day lurking behind the barn. All of this and more circled through Caroline’s mind as she hauled water to keep the trees alive, and shelled peas and pulled carrots, and watched her once-perfect hands disintegrate into the hands of a woman who worked for her supper.

  Perhaps a drive to town would help clear her mind. She certainly wasn’t finding any answers watering trees or pulling green beans. And, try as she might, the promise that she just might run into Matthew and the knowledge that she would at least get to see Linney, who would likely talk about Matthew, got Caroline into the buggy with the rest of the ladies.

  Sally was the first to react to the changes in Plum Grove with a low whistle and her usual “Well, ain’t this somethin’.”

  “How could it have changed so much in only a few weeks?” Caroline wondered aloud.

  “Look at that.” Zita pointed to a Grand Opening banner hung above the door of the newly completed combination photography studio an
d dressmaker. The frames for three more buildings along Main had been erected since the last time the ladies were in Plum Grove. Otto Ermisch was adding on to the livery.

  “Are those houses?” Ruth pointed to half a dozen small buildings in various stages of construction on the prairie a short distance north of Main Street.

  Is Matthew building them? “I declare.” Caroline shook her head. “Can you believe it? There’s hardly room to hitch a team on Main.”

  Ruth swung the carriage alongside the outdoor stairway leading up to the Haywoods’ living quarters and hitched Calico to the stair rail.

  As the ladies rounded the corner toward the mercantile’s front door, Ella pointed toward the open wagon across the way with the hotel name emblazoned on the side. “Do you suppose they meet every train with that thing? I wonder if that’s hurting the Immigrant House business.”

  “Who’s to say?” Zita said. “But I don’t imagine that’s helping the mercantile much.” She pointed to the store across Main advertising Special Prices that would Beat All Competitors.

  “Well, now,” Sally piped up. “That’s just rude. There ain’t any competition but the Haywoods. It ain’t friendly to start a business by attackin’ the neighbors. I wonder what Martha thinks of it.”

  Martha thought the newcomers were interlopers, they soon found out. High and mighty. They looked out for themselves over and above the community. When Will asked them to contribute to the village fund for community promotion, they nearly tossed him out of the store on his ear. “Nearly tossed him out,” Martha repeated. “Can you imagine?” She shook her head. “When I think of all my William’s done for this county. For the way he’s worked all these years—” She snapped the length of flannel in her hands for emphasis before smoothing it on the counter. “How many yards did you say?”

  “Ten,” Sally answered. “I got to get a head start making some warm petticoats for all of us.”

  Linney came in the front door, and after offering an enthusiastic greeting to the ladies, she glanced Martha’s way and shook her head.

  “Let’s hear it,” Martha said.

  “Lots of business. And that flannel.” She nodded at the striped piece the ladies were buying. “It’s a nickel a yard cheaper over there.”

  “Cheaper quality, though,” Martha said.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s not. I sneaked a peek at the paper label. It’s from the same mill as that.” Linney pointed to the bolt lying on the counter.

  Martha shook her head. “The Immigrant House is full, the dining hall is doing a booming business, and look—” She gestured around her store, empty save for the ladies of Four Corners. “Something has to change. I just don’t know what.”

  “They won’t last long,” Linney said. “They can’t.” She glanced at Caroline. “They aren’t even nice. It’s all about the price over there. You should have heard the way they treated some of the German ladies.” Linney smirked. “As if shouting would make someone who doesn’t speak English understand you.” She smiled at Martha. “Just be patient. Soon enough folks will realize who’s friendly when they come through the door and who takes the time to make people feel welcome.”

  The ladies all agreed. “You’ll always have our business.”

  “You’re warmhearted and you make strangers feel welcome,” Zita said with a nod.

  “Several of us were near to demanding return tickets when we first arrived,” Caroline offered. “We stayed in Plum Grove mostly because of you.”

  “And here I thought it was Hamilton Drake’s promises and that spring snowfall.” Martha laughed, although it was obvious she appreciated the kind words. “Speaking of Hamilton Drake, you’ll love this. He went back to St. Louis intending to bring more brides west, but all he got was a bride of his own. Helen said that James got the telegram last week. He’s married and working for his wife’s family.”

  “Working at what?” Sally asked.

  “Something down on the levee. Can you imagine?”

  “All I got to say is his wife better check his pockets to make sure he isn’t selling dances with those steamboat girls on the side.” Sally crossed to the fabric shelf and ran her hand over a length of double pink calico, even as she returned to the topic of how Martha’s being so nice was one of the things that she’d always remember about her first impressions of Plum Grove.

  “Well, thank you.” Martha folded the length of flannel and then wrapped it with paper. Suddenly she looked up, her smile widening. “That’s it, Sally! Thank you! That’s what we’ll do!” Newly energized, she grabbed a piece of paper and began to write furiously. “I’ll take out half a page in the Pioneer—I wonder how much they’re charging for that—and Bill Toady can play—and we’ll put it right out front—a dance floor—right in the street—” She kept writing as she talked, and finally she held up a small version of a poster. “What do you think?”

  HAYWOOD MERCANTILE WELCOMES YOU TO PLUM GROVE WITH MORE THAN FAIR PRICES COME ONE, COME ALL TO THE INDEPENDENCE DAY WELCOME DANCE JULY 4, 1871 DANCE TILL YOUR FEET DROP OFF FREE REFRESHMENTS TO ALL OUR NEW FRIENDS COURTESY OF HAYWOOD MERCANTILE THE FIRST, THE BEST, AND THE LAST DRY GOODS STORE A SETTLER WILL EVER NEED YOU AREN’T JUST A CUSTOMER—YOU’RE A FRIEND AT THE HAYWOOD MERCANTILE

  Martha pointed with her pencil as she spoke. “Now, if the paper can just put a drawing down in this corner of something ladies like—say, high-button shoes—and something over here for the men—maybe a hat—don’t you think that’ll just set it off beautifully? We’ll bake up some nice cakes…and Mavis said there’s a fellow staying at the Immigrant House who plays the accordion. And another who’s really good on a mouth harp. We’ll get a jump on what anyone else might want to do for the Fourth.”

  Martha paused. “It can be a new tradition…Haywood Mercantile and Independence Day. It’s perfect.” As Linney began to wrap up the other things the ladies had stacked on the counter, Martha flipped through a stack of mail sitting in the “post office” on the back shelf.

  “Could you…would you mind giving this to Jeb Cooper? I hear he’s been doing a lot of work on your place lately.”

  “Not so much,” Ella said.

  “But we could stop by on our way home,” Ruth offered. “It’s not that far out of the way.”

  “Thank you. I know he’d appreciate it. He gets a letter every week or so—addressed with such beautiful script. And—” Martha reached below the counter and pulled out a beautifully embossed leather-bound book. “This came with the last letter. Someone made a mess of the package. I’ll rewrap it if you can deliver it.”

  Ruth gazed down at the Four Corners shopping list and said, “Go ahead and wrap it. We’re finished for this trip.”

  “But you didn’t get your coffee yet. Or the cinnamon. And what about—”

  “The rest will have to wait.”

  “But…why?” Martha asked.

  “Don’t worry.” Ruth was quick to reassure her. “We aren’t headed across the street. We just need to be careful. We can do without the rest for now.”

  “Let me show you something.” Martha reached for her ledger book and, opening it to a new page, turned it around and held it up for all to see. “You see this says Four Corners at the top.” She pointed to the credit balance. “You’ll also see that you can get whatever you need today.”

  “But-but,” Ella sputtered. “That’s—”

  “That,” Martha said, “is Lucas Gray’s way of thanking Ruth and Hettie for saving his life.” She lowered her voice. “And his note said to make sure he’s notified when it’s down to twenty dollars. Which I take to mean you will all have a running credit here.”

  Ruth and Hettie exchanged glances. “He won’t listen,” Ruth said.

  “Rocks for brains.” Hettie shook her head.

  Caroline lingered in the mercantile while the others headed to the dining hall for lunch. She wasn’t hungry, and while she wasn’t exactly hiding, if she stayed and helped Martha so that Linney could have lunch with the o
thers, she would not only have a chance for a nice visit with Martha but also avoid running into anyone who was, according to Linney, working on the newest building on the other side of Main today. Someone she was already thinking about entirely too much. Someone who probably didn’t want to see her anyway.

  “Not that I need help,” Martha said as the ladies exited, “but I’m pleased as can be to have a chance to catch up on Four Corners news.”

  Caroline recited the garden news, the livestock news, the weather news, and the news that, according to Hettie, Lucas Gray’s leg was going to be fine. When Martha thanked the good Lord for that miracle, Caroline nodded agreement. They were standing by the counter when Martha reached over and grasped Caroline’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”

  Surprised when tears gathered so quickly, Caroline squeezed back. “Thank you,” she said. “But there’s really nothin’ anybody can do.”

  “I can—and will—pray for you, dear. And that’s not nothing.” After a moment Martha said, “He does care for you, you know. And Linney flat-out adores you. Give him time, Caroline.”

  She sighed. “Am I that obvious?”

  “No, but I’ve been watching. And listening. Linney talks about you all the time. And when she talks about you, Matthew enjoys listening. He’s drawn to you, but he’s going to be careful about it. That’s wise. Just give him time, dear.”

  “Well, I’m just gonna take a look,” Sally said. “I can re-tie the string.” She’d been guessing at what kind of book Elizabeth Jorgenson, whose name appeared on the return address of the letter, would be sending Mr. Cooper for what felt like hours, and Ella wished she would hush.

  “Here, Ella,” Sally said, when she’d finally picked the knot open and untied the book. “You read it.”

  Ella handed the book to Caroline without a word. “I don’t think it’s right to read a man’s mail.”