by Rita Hestand
"Comes natural, I'm Irish."
"But a dress like you were wearing cost a lot of money, somehow this doesn't all fit." He mused.
She nodded and again hung her head; this time shame did wash over her. "You wouldn't understand, not being poor. I know."
"Well— enlighten me." He leaned over the horn of his saddle and listened.
"I spent almost every penny I had to buy that stupid dress." She looked away from him, ashamed of her behavior. "After you sent a letter saying I had the job, I wanted to make a good impression. I so needed that job. I suppose I'd planned to lie about my background. Not that I'm ashamed. I'm not, I lived with the most wonderful parents, you can't imagine. I had a happy childhood but growing up wasn't as easy. I realized the rent had to be paid, and with my father drinking so much after my Mama died, someone had to make the living. That someone was me. And glad to have a job such as scrubbing floors. But with you, I wanted to make an impression. You and your ranch became my new dream for life. Granted, I knew nothing about you except you were a rancher, in need of a cook. But because cooking for people is so much better than scrubbing floors. I figured if I was dressed nicely, you'd think better of me and keep me on."
"Well you sure as hell did that." He smiled. "You're a beautiful woman, why didn't you just marry someone."
She shook her head. "In St. Louis there are two kinds of people and they don't mix. The people there were kinder hearted than those up north, I'll admit. There are the rich, and there are the poor. And since that was the rule, you don't automatically marry a rich man, and I wouldn't marry a poor man, unless I really loved him. I had no time for love, so marriage was not doable. But to tell the truth, I had little time for frivolities. My Momma loved my Pa. She was happy, even though she scrubbed floors all her life. But I had bigger dreams. I have some very bad qualities and you might as well know them. I have a temper, and I always fight for the underdogs of the world and from time to time I cuss almost like a sailor, my father would have told you."
"Nothing wrong with fighting for something you believe in. My grandfather did a lot of fighting when he first came here. He wouldn't fight the Indians though, so he had to fight the whites. They burned him out once. He rebuilt. I guess he was kind of a stubborn man."
"Is he alive?"
"No, he passed away a few years back. Got the consumption."
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I'd have liked to have met him."
He stared at her. Something in his eyes warmed to her and she didn't understand that.
"So why didn't you marry. You never fell in love?"
She smiled a bitter smile, "Like you, I didn't have time to be courting. I had no time for men and frivolities."
"I guess you didn't. I'm sorry. But I am glad you told me."
"Why?"
"Because we are married, and I wanted to know the truth. And I found out something about you just now, you didn't know I was really rich, did you?"
"No," she frowned. "But I'll admit to stretching the truth at home, to feed my own ego that I was working for a rich rancher in Texas, when I suspected you were just some ordinary rancher needing help."
"Why did you do that?" He cast her a real smile now.
"Like you I wanted to impress my friends. Because all of my people at home were poor, and to hear something grand like that, made them have hope for themselves. It gave them a dream. And I like making dreams. Trouble is, I have way too much imagination."
He chuckled.
Chapter Four
Lance was seeing his new bride in a different light now. She was poor, honest, and very proud. Damn, if he didn't like her. But despite all that, she was for a fact the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she seemed so unaware of herself. Her dark hair lay in curls down her back and shoulders, so very long, he ached to touch it. To run his fingers through it. Her blue eyes were crystal clear and penetrating, and her figure was perfect.
He couldn't quite get the picture of her out of his head.
He'd been prepared to lay the law down to her about the whole mess, but the more he learned about her, the less he wanted to. This was no ordinary woman, and he knew it.
She'd had a rough upbringing, and for some reason he was beginning to trust her. He could tell by the look on her face that she didn't have any idea who he was. So, she wasn't after his money.
What threw him was that his kisses had baffled her so. And thinking about it he'd enjoyed everyone of them. Still, there was Priscilla to worry about too. He'd proposed to her. So, it left everything up in air.
What bothered him about Trudy was that he'd sort of lied to her, claiming his friends would be upset if he suddenly dumped his new bride. He originally thought she was after his money. But when she came clean, and so honestly, he realized what a poor little lady she was. She'd spent all that money on that dress. And he could have bought her twenty dresses like that without feeling anything in his pocketbook. She must have been desperate for a good paying job. But he reckoned years of scrubbing floors would make anyone desperate. He'd never met anyone from such humble beginnings, and it was an eye opener.
Strangely it humbled him a little to think a girl would go to that much trouble, and expense to impress a boss. Still, he had to admit, she had impressed him in more ways than one. Admitting the truth had to have come hard for her as he saw the stubborn jut of her chin, the proud look in her eye as she told him of her ancestors. It was an unexpected admission, from a proud kind of woman.
How could he not feel for her, she'd lost her father, was about to lose her home, and spent every dime on a beautiful dress. He'd never met anyone like her in his life.
She was fascinating and he quickly decided he wanted to get to know his new bride and cook!
When they finally arrived at the ranch, Chico came and took the horses and stabled them.
When Lance didn't introduce her, she stared at him with her hands on her hips, "Who was that?"
Lance glanced at the retreating Chico, "Chico, come here." He hollered.
Chico ran back to his boss, "Yes Señor boss."
"Chico, this my new bride."
"Señora," Chico stared at her and he beamed her a smile. "It is a great pleasure to meet you."
"Thank you, I'm pleased to meet you, Chico." She extended her hand and shook it.
He smiled and left.
Watching him walk away she asked, "What does he do here on the ranch?"
"He's my horse wrangler and many other things."
"I like him." She smiled.
Lance stared at her and a soft smile spread over his face.
The house was beautiful, and newly painted too, she could tell. It had a wide porch that surround the entire front of it. There was a walkway built to the front steps too. When they went inside, they were alone again. She thought a house this big must have servants, but she didn't see any. She glanced around at the rock fireplace, the big cowhide rug, the leather sofa, and a few comfortable looking chairs. He took her down a hallway and opened a door, "This will be your room."
She stepped inside and gasped, it was spacious, decorated in western décor, it had a multi-colored bedspread on the bed, a beautiful bureau, a lovely pitcher and bowl to clean up with, and a closest to put her clothes in. "It's beautiful." Her eyes practically danced around the room. "Isn't this room a bit fancy for a cook?"
"They will know you are my bride, but they won't know that we don't sleep together."
She blushed.
"Glad you like it."
He set her two valise down and he started to leave. She followed him to the door, "Where is your room?"
He smiled, "Right next door here, if you need anything."
"Oh," she nodded. "Well, alright, thanks."
"There's a maid but she's off today as I hadn't figured on being home, of course." He told her. "The only work you will do here is in the kitchen and maybe the garden outside at the back to your right."
"I don't mind feeding the chickens and tending to th
em." She nodded, "Shall I plan something for supper, then?"
He couldn't believe she was ready to go to work the moment she set foot in his house.
"No, I'll be cooking outside tonight, how do you like your steak? And you can feed the chickens if you like, I'll tell Chico, so he won't feed them."
"Medium well," she told him.
"We'll have baked potatoes on the grill and corn on the cob."
"Sounds good." She smiled.
"You can relax, I've got to go check on a few things, I'll be back directly."
She nodded. "Of course."
"Do you want me to call you Priscilla or Trudy?" he asked, pausing in the hallway.
"Well, I'd prefer my own name, but if you don't care to explain that, then Priscilla is fine, I guess."
"I'll just tell them Trudy is your middle name, how's that?"
"That'll work." She nodded. "At least for now."
"Do you need anything?"
"No, I may take a nap, I'm pretty tired, I didn't get much sleep last night."
"I expect not. Neither did I." he told her and walked off.
He went out to the barn and found George. George was a jack of all trades around the ranch and most of all he was Lance's confidant. He needed someone to talk to that wouldn't carry tales.
George was grooming one of the horses when he came in. He was one of the oldest hands and Lance always trusted his judgement. Even as a boy he sought him out for advice. Nothing had changed.
George was a short man, stocky, and full of life. He had brown-greying hair, and brown eyes, and was a meticulous hand. George had worked for his father years ago, and he'd been his only real confidant in all those growing up years. "Hey boss, what are you doin' back so early?"
Lance took a deep breath, "Can we talk?"
"Sure, let's go inside there," George pointed to the supply shed.
He knew his boss was troubled about something and he always lent an ear and advice if he had any.
When Lance told him what had happened, George was a bit confused. "She didn't stop the wedding?"
"No, she said my kisses discombobbled her." Lance smiled. "And that I didn't give her a chance, I was talking up a blue streak, nerves, I guess.
"Well, that's a good sign."
"What do you mean?"
"She must be some woman if you were kissing her before the wedding."
"Well, George, I thought I'd been writing to her for the last two years. I thought she was Priscilla. I thought she'd expect a warm greeting. Especially since I was about to marry her."
"Obviously, but I thought you had a picture of her."
"I did. But it was fuzzy, she had dark hair in the picture. It's just when I saw her get off the train, in that dress, she looked so beautiful. I mean that dress looked like a wedding dress. What was I to think?"
"So, she didn't throw a fit, and you married the cook?"
"That's about the size of it."
"So, what you gonna do?"
"I'm not sure." Lance started pacing. "I'm not at all sure." He paused and smiled sadly at George. "She told me she came from Irish slaves to this country."
George's mouth flew open and he turned his head. "Irish slaves. I've heard of them up north, but I'd thought it had died out long ago."
"It did, basically, but when you come as a slave and then released, look how the blacks do, they still live in shacks, not making much progress. George, her mother scrubbed floors, and when she died, Trudy scrubbed floors too."
"Poor little gal."
"My thinking exactly."
"Do you love this Priscilla?"
Lance glanced at him, "I thought I did. But I've been so tied in knots the past two weeks, and then this happened."
"She's a real looker, huh?"
"She is that." His voice belied an interest. "She's got hair like some angel, George, it's so long, and black and curly. And the bluest of eyes."
George stared at him now with a smile.
"Why didn't the real bride come?"
"I don't know. After the wedding and I found out what happened, I wired Priscilla, haven't gotten an answer yet."
George shook his head and smiled, "Well, you got a problem. Any time you got two women on a string, you got a problem boy. Your married to this one. You're not, to the other. Which one you like the best?" George asked.
"Is it as simple as that?" Lance chuckled.
"I'm afraid it is if you want to be happy."
"I know how it sounds, but you can't marry a stranger, George. I hardly know this lady. And yet for the life of me I couldn't send her packing. Especially after she came clean and told me of her upbringing. It's so in contrast with Priscilla."
"All I can tell you is, if she's smitten with your kisses, then she's feeling something too. I'm sure shock was part of it, but there's more here than meets the eye."
"What do you mean, too?"
"Knowing you, if you'd have been totally against it, you would have sent her packing."
"George! You can't marry someone and send them packing the same day, can you?" Lance protested. "Besides, I took one look at her getting off that platform and well—"
"I don't know. But you can't marry them both, so you'll have to chose which one you really want, then tell the other one. It'll hurt one of them, but that's part of life."
"I lied. I told Trudy I couldn't face the community and tell them I'd married the wrong girl."
"So why did you say that?" George chuckled.
"I don't know, I guess I just couldn't send her away after she told me about that dress and where she came from. The girl just lost her dad, she was nearly evited, and then she spent all her money on a dress to impress me. Just to be my cook, not my wife. It was too much."
"Dress?" George frowned.
Lance looked him in the eye. "You won't believe this, but that girl spent her last dollar buying a dress to impress her boss. Which is me! Can you imagine someone doing something like that? She was about to get evicted from where she lived because her father died and left her penniless. Then she saw that dress and bought it. All she had left was a train ticket. And she fainted after the wedding. I figure she probably hasn't eaten in a couple of days either. I just couldn't say, 'sorry this was a big mistake'."
George scratched his head then gave a little smile, "Maybe you should get to know her a bit, and find out how much you like her, before you do anything. Poor girls learn more and faster than rich little pampered ladies. Her last dollar huh?" George chuckled.
"But what if she doesn't feel the same?"
"Then you still got the other one."
Lance sat down on a barrel and looked at him. "I guess you are right. When I went to send the telegram, I was a little beside myself. I mean if she wasn't coming, why didn't she have the curtesy to tell me before hand, she's the one that insisted we get married the minute she got off the train. I been running around like chicken with no head for two weeks now, trying to make everything perfect for her."
"Do you like her? This Trudy gal?"
"Yeah, I kinda do like her. It's funny but she's so different than anyone I've ever met, I'm not sure why I like her, but I know I do. She very proud, that much I know."
"Well, I've met a few Irish, and they are all like that, so I'm told."
George's smile faded, instead he gave it a lot of thought before saying any more.
"Well now, that's a different breed altogether. Kind of interesting, isn't it?" George's head turned in question, "But, you already feel something for her in such a short time?"
Lance went to the door, and turned to smile at George, "Wait until you meet her, then tell me what you think."
"Looking forward to it, boss."
"We're having steaks on the grill tonight; you and the rest of the boys can join us."
George chuckled, "I'll be there, I'm already curious."
"Great take about an hour and a half."
George nodded, and when Lance left, he kind of leaned against the door frame
and smiled.
Chapter Five
"Well Pa, I really did it this time," Trudy shook her head, a tear falling down her cheek as she paced her bedroom.
Her eyes went around the room. "It's so beautiful here, this room, this house, this land, and he's gorgeous Pa. I don't think I've said that about any man before. And the way he kisses me, takes my breath. I've never met anyone like him before. It's a mistake, I know, but it's a lovely one."
She wrapped her arms around herself. She had a strange habit of talking to her dead father, and some might think her daft, but it's how she dealt with his death. Like he wasn't entirely gone from her life. She clung to that part that she could talk to. She missed him so. After her Ma died so suddenly from the pox, it was just her and her Pa. She'd felt like at ten, she had to take care of him. She learned to cook as soon as her Aunt Betty came to stay with them and taught her many things, like how to sew, how to cook, and clean house. Aunt Betty helped with the bills while she stayed there too. And she stayed there because of Trudy. By the time her aunt married and moved away, Trudy knew how to handle the household well.
As she grew up, her work for Mr. Mason the town Mayor, took most of the day time hours. At night she went home to see after her Pa. He'd curry the one mule they had, and clean out the barn, and drink his bottle. Her mother had a big inheritance when they married, and the money lasted them for a good eleven years. But by the time his wife died, Mr. O'Toole was broke. And Trudy went to work to try to support them, she offered to scrub floors for the Mayor like her mother had so many years. She wondered at that. Her mother had inheritance from her family, but she still scrubbed floors. So, one day, just before her mother took sick and died, she asked her. "Ma, how come you got an inheritance, and you scrub floors?"
"Honey, money don't last that long, especially when you start out with nothing. Grandpa left it to me when he died, which wasn't that long ago. The first five years married to your Pa, we had very little. My grandfather left that money to me because he felt I'd never have anything if he didn't. He was right, we never had much, but, the one thing no one could give us."
"What's that, Ma?"
