No matter what she did, it became evident after a couple more hours the stuff wasn’t going to jell, and she was at the point she didn’t care. If Mrs. Calhoun came in to complain, Adela would take the whole pot to the pig pen and let them eat it out of the pot. Give Mrs. Calhoun something to really complain about.
But when Mrs. Calhoun came in to fix supper, she just shrugged. “Sometimes it won’t jell. Nothing you can do about it.”
Byron came in. Adela had hoped to take a bath and change clothes before he saw her.
“What’s that I smell so good?” he asked.
Somehow that struck her as funny. As if one could think burnt syrup smelled good. She started giggling and couldn’t stop. “I made a mess of your crabapple jelly, Byron.” Another burst of giggles followed, though she noticed both Mrs. Calhoun and Byron looking at her in a strange way. “I guess you’ll have to settle for syrup.”
Byron found a teaspoon and dipped it into the gooey mess and popped it in his mouth. “It’s good, Adela. Really good.” He pointed with his spoon. “You have the jars all ready. I’ll pour it in for you.”
Laughter died in her throat, and she sent him a hard look. Was he serious? He wanted to can the syrup. Whoever heard of such a thing? Mrs. Calhoun hadn’t. She just rolled her eyes and left the kitchen.
Byron was serious. He took a towel and, holding the sides of the pot, lifted it off the stove. Adela stared as he filled each of the four jars, then fell into a chair and burst into tears. He was only doing this to make her feel good, which was the sweetest thing she’d ever known.
With a glance of alarm, Byron returned the pot to the stove. He squatted down beside Adela. “What’s wrong? It really is good, no sense in wasting it.”
She pulled the end of her apron to her face and sobbed into it. “You don’t have to do that to spare my feelings.”
“I’m not, honestly.” He looked around as if for inspiration, then sprang to his feet. Returning a moment later, he held out a biscuit left over from breakfast. “Look.”
Adela peeped over the edge of her wadded apron. He poked a hole in the biscuit with his finger and spooned some of the crabapple syrup in the indention. Taking a bite, he smacked his lips. “Gooood. Here take a bite.” He waved the biscuit in front of her like she were a small child he was trying to get to eat.
She’d have to humor him. After dropping her apron, she took the biscuit and sank her teeth into it, chewing thoughtfully. Her eyes widened as the tangy sweetness exploded in her mouth. “It is good.” Who would have believed crabapple would taste like nectar?
“Sure. We can put it on flapjacks, biscuits, maybe even baste a ham with it. You’ve invented a whole new dish, Adela.” He laughed. “You’re not the first one to discover a good thing by accident. Pasteur discovered how to vaccinate for diseases by accident I heard.”
She had the feeling he wanted her to know he wasn’t ignorant. How could she let him know she thought he was as smart as any man she’d ever met? His face was so close, she got lost in his soft gray eyes. Without thinking, she stroked his cheek with her free hand. The bristles of a day’s growth sent tingles up her arm, and she dropped her hand, yet unable to break contact with those eyes.
“You’d make any man a wonderful wife, Adela.” Was that his way of proposing?
Byron leaned in. Her pulse raced. He was going to kiss her right here in the kitchen. She’d never been kissed. How was she supposed to act? She tilted her head so their noses wouldn’t bump together and ran her tongue over her lips to remove any remaining biscuit crumbs.
The back door slammed open, and Byron jumped. He stood and looked over her head. She turned around to find Dick standing with a gunny sack in his hand. “What is it, Dick?” Byron asked, sounding irritated.
“I found this hanging in the rafters. Are you sure you want it hanging there?”
“What’s in the sack?
Adela knew what it was. The popcorn she’d harvested last week.
“Looks like corn,” Dick said.
Looks like? Couldn’t he tell corn when he saw it? “That’s the popcorn I hung in the rafters to dry.” Adela couldn’t image why Dick thought it needed Byron’s attention.
But Byron looked at her funny like he couldn’t believe it. “You hung it up? In the sack?”
Dick pulled out an ear. “Thought it might be hog feed. A lot of the ears are bad.” He’d started to shuck one. Some of the kernels had popped on the cob.
Something must have been wrong with the popcorn. “Maybe I should have taken them out of the sack,” she said, “but I thought if I hung it from the rafters, the mice wouldn’t get it.”
“Mice could get it no matter what.” Byron ran his fingers through his hair. “We have four barn cats. Mice aren’t a big problem.” He addressed Dick. “Shuck the good ones and spread them out to dry, Dick.”
Dick closed the bag and scratched his head. “I doubt there’s many good ones left.”
“Well, however many there are, do it.” Byron’s annoyed tone didn’t brook any more argument. Adela didn’t know if he was annoyed with Dick or her, but it was obvious she’d ruined the popcorn.
After Dick left, Adela drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t understand, but if I’d have thought about it… I seem to be doing one stupid thing after another.”
Byron shook his head. “It’s my fault. I should have explained to you that you have to shuck the corn and lay it out in the air to dry. There was no reason for you to have known that.”
No reason for anyone who didn’t use her brain. That beautiful moment when she’d thought he might kiss her was gone. She walked ahead of him to the parlor. Maybe she could finish her dress tonight while listening to Byron read. She loved to hear his voice, and at least she knew how to sew.
Chapter 13
A week later, Dick ran off during the night, and Byron saddled up to go hunt him. He ought to be in the fields helping Lem, and here he was wasting time chasing after the boy. And what was he going to do with him when he found him?
He’d rather think about Adela. If Dick hadn’t interrupted them in the kitchen last week, he’d have kissed that little gal. Darn Dick’s hide. Byron chided himself for not asking her to marry him by now. He wanted to in the worst way.
There was only one thing stopping him. Ma. He couldn’t marry Adela without Ma’s blessing, though he’d thought so before Adela arrived.
A gnarled cottonwood marked the turn in the road toward town, and Byron stopped under its pitiful shade to drink from his canteen and give the horse a rest. A low hanging branch jutted out from the tree like a bent elbow. Legend held that this was a hanging tree back when this was a territory.
Byron felt like a noose was tightening around his neck, and maybe he’d put it there. Ma always said he was too willful, wanting to get his way no matter what. She was right about that. He’d been too willful, even to the point of selecting a bride. It was almost like he couldn’t find what he wanted in the mercantile, and ordered it out of the Montgomery Ward catalogue.
He wanted Adela. She was sweet, intelligent, and unselfish. Beautiful, inside and out. She had a way of turning his insides to mush every time she looked at him. There was no other woman in the world he wanted to marry. But maybe he should have.
What if he’d married Hilda Jane? Clint Lynstrum would have joined their two farms and managed them both. He was a good farmer. Every bit as good as Pa had been, and that was saying a lot. Byron could have started the ranch and given those wayward boys a home. Yes, he’d have had to deal with Hilda Jane, but maybe she’d have settled down like Ma said.
Byron had prayed over his decision to send for Adela, but did he really listen to God’s answer? Or did he hear what he wanted to hear? God would have wanted him to be honest with Adela. Byron hadn’t been fair to her. For certain, God expected him to honor his mother.
Adela hadn’t been here but two weeks. He’d promised her a full month to make up her mind. He’d have to give her time to fit in. Everyone f
ussed over Adela at church, making her feel welcome there at least. She enjoyed the service, and best of all, Hilda Jane wasn’t there to make trouble.
He was pretty sure Adela had feelings for him, but Ma was making her life miserable. It wouldn’t get any easier after he married Adela. No way around it. He’d have to get Ma’s blessing before he asked Adela to marry him.
Maybe Ma just needed time to get used to the situation. She liked Clint Lynstrum a lot and went over there every other day. Said it was to visit Hilda Jane, but Byron wasn't fooled. Ma was just afraid people would say she couldn’t love another man so soon after her husband’s death. Time would take care of that too.
Byron made his way to the Soranson’s place. Dick lived with them, or at least that was where he’d last stayed. Sad to think that in the boy’s short life, he’d lived with half a dozen families. Hank Soranson was Dick’s friend and almost as much trouble as Dick. If Byron could’ve gotten the ranch started, the bunkhouse built, added a couple of cows—
All of which cost money.
He reined in his sorrel mare and shouted, “Hello the house.”
Hank came out the door. “Dick ain’t here.”
“Howdy to you too. You see him lately?”
“No.”
“Well, Hank, while I’m here, let’s talk. If I get the bunkhouse built, would you be willing to take care of the cattle?”
The boy’s countenance changed. “Yeah, I said I would if you’d pay me. Nobody wants to pay a body to work around here.”
“That is a problem. I was thinking of going into partnership with you boys, split what we make. If you work hard, you could put by enough to buy your own spread one day—or buy me out. I know you’re young now, but it’ll take a few years to make much.”
“When you want me to start?” Dick surprised Byron with that question. Too late he realized he’d been talking as if the scheme he offered the boys could be realized instead of something hoped for.
“Probably not until spring. I want to buy a few more head.” And it would take that long to sell some of the land. Spring was the best time to sell land.
“Ma ran off. It’s just me and Wilber and Dick—when he’s here, but he ain’t here now.”
“I know, but I’m willing to take on Wilber and Dick too.”
“We have to eat now,” Hank reminded him.
“I know you do. I’ll talk with the church about getting you boys some chores, and if I find a way to build that bunkhouse before spring, all of you can come on out.”
Byron checked with every store keeper in town, and no one had seen Dick. Might as well give up. As he passed the dry goods store an idea hit him. Adela had been trying so hard to please him and Ma, she deserved a reward.
Should he get her some ribbons? She’d just made a new dress and the pink ribbons lying on the sewing notions table would match perfectly, but would that be too personal for a man who was courting? Since he’d never done any courting before, he didn’t know. There were some scented soaps that smelled mighty good. Adela liked to take baths more than anyone he’d ever known. He’d had to haul in the wash tub half a dozen times in the past two week.
But soap would definitely be personal. He spied the big jar of peppermint sticks on the counter. It wasn’t much. He snatched up one of the pink ribbons and bought five peppermint sticks, tying them together with the pink ribbon.
He paid for his purchases, pleased with the sight of Adela’s present. Taking another stick of candy, he popped it in his mouth and tucked the gift for Adela in his pocket. The trip wasn’t a total waste after all.
After two hours, Bryon gave up the search for Dick and returned home. He found the house empty. Where had those women gotten off to? Ma was probably at the Lynstrums? That might be good—or bad. No telling what mischief Hilda Jane was cooking up.
He tapped on the bedroom doors to assure himself no one was in the house, then stalked back outside. Off to the west, dark clouds hovered. The day was unusually warm, and that could spell a mean storm. At this time of year a storm could be followed by cold and snow, but not before a powerful lot of thunder, lightning, and hail.
Out at the corral, Lem hollered, and Byron trotted to where he was. “Yer ma wanted me to tell you she went over to the Lynstrums. Clint came for her about some dither Hilda Jane was in. In my opinion, it was just an excuse. Clint’s kind of sweet on yer ma. You just might be getting a new pa afore long.”
Byron chose to ignore the jab. “No telling. Did Miss Mason go with her?” Was it possible Ma had finally invited Adela to go visiting?
“She got me to saddle Reddy about an hour ago, right after yer ma left.”
Byron didn’t like the sound of that. “Say where she was going?”
“Just taking a ride, she said.”
Those thunderheads were moving in fast. This wasn’t a good day to get caught out on the range. Besides, Adela didn’t know the lay of the land. Not all the rattle snakes had bedded down for the winter, and if she didn’t keep to the beaten paths, she might run into a rabbit hole. The worst of it was, if she were caught in the open in a lightning storm—the possibilities set his nerves on edge.
He spurred Nellie toward the west into the gusting wind. What if he couldn’t find Adela before the weather hit?
After riding hard for half an hour, dust blowing in from plowed fields almost blinded him, and he turned to the south pastures. Thankfully, he picked up fresh tracks. Five minutes later, the first rain drops hit.
His gaze swept the horizon. The rain would wash out the tracks before long. Within seconds it was a slashing torrent. He was right on the edge of the old ranch his pa had bought. The ranch house and bunkhouse were both burnt to the ground, but the rickety barn stood at an angle. He urged Nellie forward.
As he rode up, a horse neighed, and Nellie replied. Just inside Reddy stood. Heaving a breath of relief, Byron slid out of the saddle and pulled his horse inside. The roof wasn’t much, and water poured through a hundred leaks, but the barn buffeted the worst of the storm.
After his eyes adjusted to the dusky environs, he noticed Adela huddled in the driest corner. “Am I glad to find you.”
She looked up at him, chagrin etched in her features. “I got lost…and it began to rain.”
A musty smell prevailed, and he hoped the wind wouldn’t topple the roof down on them, but at the moment, she was the prettiest sight he’d seen in a long time. “Could’ve happened to anyone.” He lowered himself down beside her. “I don’t think it’ll rain much longer. Sky’s already getting lighter in the west. Could get cold, though.”
She shivered and he took her hand. Ice cold. She was drenched. He’d offer his coat, but it was soaked too.
“I’m sorry I caused you to go out in the storm.” Her voice was so soft he barely heard her over the pouring rain.
He rubbed the top of her hand, hoping to bring some warmth to her. “Don’t worry about that. I just hope you don’t get your death of cold out here.”
“Where are we?”
“Old Mr. Gower’s place.” The whole place burned down when I was just a runt. Mr. Gower was getting old. He sent all his cattle to market and sold the land to Pa. It was to be my place when I grew up. I made plans to restore the ranch, but when Pa died, I had to take over the farm. I didn’t want to sell the place, though. I changed my plans to build a ranch for wayward boys. It was my hope they’d live in the bunkhouse and raise the cattle. I’d put back part of their earnings until they could buy their own place. Then I’d bring in more boys as the need arose.”
“Dick told me he was one of the boys you’d promised to hire on when you got the ranch going.”
“Yeah, except I have to take care of the farm now. I’m not the farmer my pa was. After I paid off the bills this year, the harvest isn’t near enough to repair the bunkhouse, let alone buy some more cows.”
“Why was that?”
He gazed into her lovely brown eyes. As a possible wife, she should know his money situation.
>
“I can’t figure it out. I’ve gone over Pa’s books and can’t make sense of it. Looks like I should have had a lot more money than was in the bank.” He laughed. “Anyway, I guess I’m just going to have to sell some land to be able to plant next spring and get us through the winter. Trouble is, there’s a lean on all the property, farm included. I could try to sell the ranch, but doubt I’ll get much for it. It’s just a little place, and anyone who might want to farm would have to turn the sod a couple of years to make a go of it. Not many hankering for a spread like that, not with the government giving away land further north.”
“I studied book-keeping and accounting procedures. Maybe I could look at your father’s books and find out where your money went.”
He suddenly realized he still held her hand. Aware of her nearness and soft voice sent a quiver of desire straight through him. “I’d be happy for you to take a look, if you can find anything that makes sense, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ll get right on it tonight.”
He shoved his hand into his coat pocket more to keep them off her than anything, and felt the peppermints. Pulling the little bundle out, he held it up to her. The ribbon had dampened and stuck to the candy.
A nervous laugh rumbled from his throat. “I brought you a present, but it doesn’t look like much now.”
A lovely smile creased her lips. “How thoughtful.” She took the peppermints and fingered the ribbon as if it was something to be valued. After untying the ribbon, she gave him a stick and popped one in her mouth. “I love peppermint.”
He took the candy automatically, but his brain was too muddled to taste it. How could he when her lips glistened from the moisture? He knew he stared into her eyes a moment too long when she removed the stick, and sent him a questioning look that softened with longing. Warmth rushed through him. Before he knew it, his arm went around her. She lifted her face and parted those glistening lips.
This was like a fire that sprang to life and flared, releasing heat and longing such as he’d never experienced. His mouth closed over hers and he tasted peppermint. A shaft of desire fluttered to his core, and to make matters worse, her arms came around him. He wanted a deeper taste, more than peppermint.
The Annex Mail-Order Brides: Preque (Intrigue Under Western Skies Book 0) Page 7
