Sixteen Brides

by Stephanie Grace Whitson

  Hettie pushed her spectacles up on her nose. “You don’t have to battle them. You should be grateful for them. They’re the ones who came up with what I’m proposing.”

  Forrest picked up the napkin he’d had spread across his lap. Folding it, he laid it on the table. “All right, Hettie. I’ll leave first thing in the morning. I’ll take care of everything. Just get me a list of anything you want from the house.” He reached across the table and laid his hand atop hers. “And promise me you’ll still be here when I get back.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Hettie blinked the tears away.

  It was a week before Matthew caught up with Luke, not because the rancher was hard to find, but because…well…because Matthew had to talk to Jeb about things and then plan a speech and practice it and…because for all his talk to Caroline about how he felt clean and new, he still dreaded facing Luke, who would likely toss Matthew off the ranch. Maybe plant his own fist on Matthew’s jaw. And then what? What would Caroline do when Matthew reported that he’d collected enough courage to go ask for forgiveness, but Luke wasn’t willing to give it?

  Jeb Cooper said that all God expected of a man was for that man to do his part. To be obedient and leave the results with God, since a man couldn’t control results anyway. It was called living by faith, Jeb said, and Matthew understood the concept, but acting on it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.

  Jeb agreed. “It’s called living by faith,” he said, “not sight.”

  When Matthew rode into the green valley that comprised the heart of the Graystone Ranch, Luke was standing in the middle of a corral lunging the same gray stallion Matthew had watched him unload back in April. His heart pounded just like it had back then. Only now it wasn’t hate that caused the reaction. Now it was just plain nerves. At least there weren’t a lot of other wranglers about. Matthew was grateful for that. He hadn’t planned on even dismounting—at least until he saw how Luke was going to react to what he had to say, but the stallion didn’t seem to like the idea of Patch getting too close, so Matthew retreated to the big barn, dismounting and hitching Patch before returning to where Luke waited. He’d stopped lunging the horse and reeled him in.

  “Mrs. Dow said your leg healed up pretty well.” Stupid. Not what he had planned to say at all. But looking Luke in the eye for the first time in years seemed to have erased his practiced speech.

  Luke nodded. “Thanks to both of them—Ruth and Hettie.” He stroked the stallion’s neck. “No thanks to me and my cursed pride.”

  Matthew glanced around. “Things look good.”

  “Could be better. That late spring snow didn’t help with calving.”

  “Ruth’s son. He thinks a lot of you. He likes Pete, too. But he talks about you more.”

  Luke shrugged. “Did you ride all this way to tell me that Jackson Dow likes me?” He rubbed his jaw. “Or did you want another chance at knocking me clean to heaven—or hell, where I likely deserve to go.”

  Matthew shook his head. “I don’t want to knock you anywhere. I want—” Why is this so hard? He nodded at the stallion. “He’s a beauty. Reminds me of Silver.”

  “Silver was a good horse.”

  “Well, he would have been. If I’d listened to you. But I didn’t. I was too bullheaded to listen. About a lot of things. And then when he turned up lame I blamed you.” Sweat trickled down his back. “I’ve blamed you for a lot of things that weren’t your fault. Things I should own up to. More important things than that horse I ruined.” His voice wavered. He stopped talking.

  Luke reached up to unsnap the lead from the stallion’s halter. The horse gave a little snort and danced away. Still, Luke remained in the center of the small corral. “I didn’t betray you with Katie, Matthew. I did love her. I did want her. And I did beg her to stay with me that day. But she didn’t. She loved you. I was wrong to act on my feelings. I was wrong, and if I could take back what I said to her that day—and to you—I’d do it.”

  He looked down at the ground. Took his hat off, brushed his forearm across his forehead, and put it back on. “I was wrong and I’m sorry. Of course saying that after all this time isn’t enough.” He gestured around him. “You may not believe it, but I’d give everything you can see and more to fix things for you. But money can’t fix the really important things.” He broke off. “Can you do it, Matthew? Can you forgive me?”

  “I came to say I’m sorry,” Matthew blurted out. Surprise shone in Luke’s eyes.

  “All these years I’ve blamed you. It wasn’t your fault. None of it. I wouldn’t see it. It’s taken me all this time to see it true.” He took a deep breath. “So I came out here to ask you to forgive me.” He held out his hand. It felt like the hand stayed out there for years. In reality, it was just the seconds it took for Luke to cross the corral and grasp it.

  “Done,” he said.

  Matthew nodded. “Done.”

  Awkward silence reigned for a few seconds. Finally, Matthew said he’d be getting on his way. He turned to go.

  “Matthew.” When he turned back, Luke nodded toward Patch. “That horse know anything about driving cattle?”

  “Not a thing. Why?”

  “Well, I promised Jackson five cows. I haven’t gotten them to him and—well, I thought maybe you could help me drive them that way when I have the time to deliver them.”

  Matthew’s heart sank. He’d seen Lucas talking to Caroline that first day. Of course he hadn’t known it was Caroline then…but she’d been there in the mercantile, too. What if it wasn’t Linney that Luke was following? What if it was Caroline? History repeating itself. Would God let that happen? The rock returned to his gut.

  Luke cleared his throat. “I suppose I should confess there’s a little more to my interest in Four Corners than taking cattle to Jackson.”

  Here it came. Matthew steeled himself to hear it.

  “The truth is…I’d like to call on Ruth.”

  Sometimes Ella wished that Jeb Cooper wasn’t quite so smart. Every time the windmill creaked and sent water through Jeb’s system of pipes toward the garden, it made her think of him and how much she was dreading meeting his bride. Jeb Cooper had gone back east to get the woman who was sending him those letters. At least that was what Ella concluded when he said he’d be gone for a while and didn’t explain himself any more than that. Not that he owed her an explanation.

  Even Martha Haywood thought that’s where he went. As post-mistress to the area, Martha saw everyone’s mail, and when Ella was in town on Saturday, Martha didn’t have a letter from Elizabeth Jorgenson and thought that was odd since Jeb usually got a letter nearly every week from her. And then Mavis Morris came in hinting and asking if they knew where Jeb Cooper was going on the train yesterday all dressed to the nines.

  Ella came back home, and as she and the other ladies worked to put up their garden produce, she hoped on hope that Elizabeth Jorgenson knew how to work hard, because if their well was deep enough to supply a reliable amount of water, that woman was going to have a good garden—just like the ladies at Four Corners. She was that woman in Ella’s mind. She could not bring herself to think in terms of Elizabeth Cooper.

  They were into canning season now, spending hours a day over the hot stove processing tomatoes and beans, carrots and beets. They filled gallon crocks with brine, and Mama showed them how to make pickles. They shredded small mountains of cabbage and added crocks of sauerkraut to the larder. No longer did the fruit cellar smell like earth. Now it smelled of vinegar and spice.

  Jackson located chokecherries and buffalo berries, elderberries and plums. They gathered baskets of ripe fruit. Even Hettie went along to gather wild fruit, now past the early weeks of her pregnancy and feeling better. The ladies spent long hours in the kitchen making jam and jelly and drying fruit for winter pies.

  Still there was no sign of Jeb Cooper. No sign of Matthew Ransom, either. Ella thought Caroline seemed almost as distracted as she felt. But she didn’t bring it up. Still, she wond
ered if once again, she and Caroline, the unlikeliest candidates for such a thing, shared similar concerns about certain things.

  Sometimes, Ruth thought, emotions were like a horsefly. Just when you thought you’d banished it from the kitchen, here it came buzzing back. If only there was a flyswatter that could kill stubborn, stupid, illogical…hope. She’d been doing so well. She hadn’t thought about Lucas for several days. At least not very often. In fact, she had convinced herself that she would rarely think of Lucas at all if it weren’t for Jackson’s wondering aloud about when the Graystone cattle would arrive. And now here they came, bawling their way across the prairie on the last Tuesday morning of July, driven by none other than the rancher himself, looking so handsome Ruth wanted to—She stopped in mid-thought at sight of the other wrangler. Cattle driven by Lucas Gray and Matthew Ransom—together? But—that’s impossible.

  “Will wonders never cease,” Zita said from where she stood in the doorway.

  “Well, ain’t that somethin’,” Sally echoed from the open window.

  Ruth stood speechless, water bucket in hand, beside the seedling trees. Caroline, who’d been watering the seedlings at the opposite end of the house, set her bucket down and waited, shading her eyes with one hand. While the cattle scattered in the general direction of the cottonwood tree and the spring in the distance, Lucas rode up to Ruth.

  “Good day, Mrs. Dow. I believe I promised your son some cattle.” He grinned at Jackson, who’d come running from the direction of the barn. “Think you and Sam can manage to keep track of a dozen?”

  “I don’t know about me,” Jackson said, “but I’m pretty sure Sam’s up to the task.”

  Lucas laughed. “Well, you’ve learned one of the most important lessons in a cowboy’s life. If you’ve got a good horse, listen to what he has to say.”

  Matthew rode up to Caroline and dismounted. Ruth didn’t know what he was saying to her, but whatever it was, she seemed to like it.

  “You’ll stay for dinner, of course,” Zita said.

  The men said they would. Lucas dismounted. When he took off his hat, that same lock of hair fell over his forehead. Ruth wished for a flyswatter.

  Somehow Ruth made it through dinner without knocking over a glass or spilling peas down her front. She remembered these feelings from those long-ago days when she was a reasonably attractive young woman invited to dinner by the much-sought-after cadet with the long name. Back then she’d been so nervous she could barely eat, and that’s exactly how she felt now. How ridiculous for a grown woman—a widow and the mother of a half-grown son, no less—to feel this way. She might not be wearing black anymore, but that didn’t mean she should be harboring any notions about Lucas Gray.

  Things went from the ridiculous to the absurd when Lucas asked if they could take a walk. Her heart began to hammer. She didn’t wait for him to speak. Instead, she took up the topic she was certain he had in mind. “We are all fine with your cattle grazing on that section of our land this year, but I hope you’ve schooled Jackson in what he needs to know. None of us knows a thing about your longhorns.”

  “The cattle will be all right. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” He kept walking. Ruth hurried to keep up. Finally, when they were farther from the house than she cared to wander as the sun went down, he stopped. “You did get the note I sent with Jackson?”

  “I did.”

  “I wanted to tell you something first. I’ll tell the others when we get back inside, but I didn’t want to ruin a nice dinner with this news. Lowell Day’s serving ten years in the penitentiary at Lincoln. Charlie only got three, but I honestly don’t think he was ever a real threat to any of you. But mostly I wanted to say that I was really sorry to miss that dance. The trial took longer than I expected and then—”

  “You went to the trial?”

  He looked surprised that she’d ask. “Of course. I always knew I should keep an eye on Lowell. I only hired him because of Clyde. Clyde’s a good man. I wanted to give his brother a chance.” He shook his head. “In a way I feel responsible for what happened. Thank God it worked out as well as it did.” He smiled a slow smile. “But just because I sent a note doesn’t mean I don’t owe you a special apology. It also doesn’t mean I don’t expect you to make good on the promise. Two dances at the very next hoedown.”

  Ruth crossed her arms over her body and took a little step back. “That isn’t necessary. We were going to talk business. The business got attended to. That’s what matters.”

  “I see.” He didn’t seem pleased, but he guided things away from the subject of dancing. “Well. Maybe we’ll come back to that. You’ll recall the note said I had things to attend to before I could come back into town. Things…plural?”

  “I remember.” I memorized every word.

  “How much do you know about my…history…with Matthew?”

  Ruth’s hand went to her collar. “Enough to know it’s none of my business.”

  “I appreciate your respecting a person’s privacy. But I’ve reasons for wanting you to make it your business. Will you hear me out?” When she nodded, he began. “Matthew and I came out here together. We had a plan….” He told her what Ruth presumed was everything. The whole tragic story. He didn’t try to gloss over his own behavior. She could tell it was difficult for him to form the words, and yet he did, staring off toward the horizon as the setting sun painted his handsome face gold.

  “I still can’t believe we just managed a cattle drive together and didn’t come to blows even once.” He shook his head. “Maybe miracles do still happen from time to time.” He smiled at her. “Maybe this is my year for miracles. After all, here I stand on two good legs.”

  Ruth didn’t know what to say. Everything he’d just shared was horrible…and wonderful. Her mind was whirling so that she almost missed it when Lucas said something about yet more “business” between the two of them.

  “I’m going to go for a third miracle.” He lifted her chin. Met her gaze with those cool gray eyes…not so cool at the moment. “Would you be open to my calling on you from time to time?”

  Ruth pulled away. Gently. She frowned. “You can’t mean that.”

  “Why can’t I mean it?”

  “Well, because I’m old enough to be your—”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “Thanks be to God you’re old enough. I have made inquiries about you, Ruth Dow. You are exactly three years, two months, and fourteen days older than me. You’re also smarter and braver and a heck of a lot more honorable. But you aren’t very good at answering questions sometimes. So I repeat, may I call on you?”

  “I don’t…know.” She looked toward the house. “I…I have Jackson to think of.”

  Lucas sighed. “All right. I can respect that. I thought you might react this way at first. Can’t say that I blame you. But I’m not giving up, Ruth. As I told Jackson earlier, if you’ve got a good horse, listen to what he has to say.”

  “I fail to see what that has to do with this conversation.”

  “Hannibal liked you from the start. I should have listened to what he had to say a long while ago.” He glanced toward the house and stepped back. “I have a long ride home in the dark, and I should get started. Are you sure you can’t give me an answer tonight?”

  Ruth managed a laugh. “After the long ride home I imagine one of you will come to your senses and regret this little speech.”

  “One of us?”

  “You or that horse you listen to. But if, for some reason, you and Hannibal both fail in the common sense department, and if you really want to make calls that require hours in the saddle, then yes, you may call. Now, let’s get back to the house before they send out a search party.” As she and Lucas made their way back across the dew-soaked prairie toward the house, he took her hand.

  Dear Lord in heaven above, she was going to need a bigger flyswatter.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; b
ut of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

  2 TIMOTHY 1:7

  In the middle of August, Hettie told her friends that Forrest would be returning to Plum Grove the next week and opening an office in one of the new buildings on the town square. “So Plum Grove will have a real doctor.” She smiled and went on to say that Forrest had sold the house in Missouri along with most of the contents and would store the few things she’d expressed some interest in keeping in the back at the clinic. “He’s living in the upstairs apartment for now. It’s…nice.” She glanced at Caroline. “And he’s hired Matthew to build a house on one of the city lots not far from the office.”

  “A double lot, actually,” Caroline said.

  “Ain’t that a little pushy?” Sally asked.

  Hettie shook her head. “No. It’s not like that. Forrest has always had a good head for business. He said it’s a good idea to invest in real estate here in town. At the rate things are going, he says a house that costs a few hundred dollars today could be worth a few thousand someday.”

  “Too bad I ain’t got a few hundred dollars,” Sally murmured.

  August was such a long month. Especially for a woman missing a man who’d gone back east to marry and communicated very little ever since. “All I know,” Martha said when Ella expressed concern one day over the hay that was going to go to waste over at Jeb Cooper’s, “is that Jeb telegraphed Will to say Elizabeth was ill, and he was going to be delayed. So Will telegraphed back and said he’d see to the haying.”

  It was nice, the way the folks in Dawson County took care of one another. Ella didn’t let on that it hurt her not to be invited to the haying. After all, she’d promised Jeb she’d help with haying as payment for his cutting all that sod this past spring. When she talked to Will about it and offered to move Jeb’s livestock over to Four Corners until Jeb got back, she got yet another surprise.