A Bride for Deke

by Marianne Spitzer

  Laura’s raised voice carried through the entire shop. “I heard she worked in a saloon, and Deke found her in an alley, drunk and barely dressed. Being a man, of course, she appealed to him in her tainted state, and he brought her back to the ranch. They aren’t really married, you know.” The three young women with Laura giggled.

  Amalie looked at a startled Mavis and stammered, “I didn’t. I never,” before bolting from the store and running right into the hard chest of her husband.

  Deke caught her by the shoulders. “Whoa, what’s your hurry?” he asked. He seemed concerned once he saw Amalie’s tears. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Deke insisted.

  Amalie explained quickly, and Deke took her hand and pulled her back into the dress shop. He looked at Mavis and said, “I’ll pay for my wife’s purchases if you give me a total.”

  When he heard the giggling behind him, he spun and took three steps toward Laura and her friends. Addressing Laura, Deke said, “This anger and hate has to stop. Amalie is my wife. We are legally married. She did not, nor has she ever worked in a saloon. I would strongly suggest you stop spreading lies. We both know why you’re angry with me. I loved your sister, not you. It’s never going to be you and me. Not then, not now, not ever.”

  Deke turned back to Mavis and paid for Amalie’s purchases.

  Mavis thanked him and said to Amalie, “It was nice to meet you, Amalie. Please come back to the shop again. You’re always welcome.”

  “Thank you,” Amalie whispered, and she followed Deke out of the shop, hearing the snide comments and giggles of the young women, which were now directed at Laura and not her. She said a silent prayer that Laura would leave her alone and that Laura’s friends wouldn’t treat Laura as cruelly as Laura had treated her.

  “Thank you,” Amalie said as she followed Deke to the wagon and watched him place her packages in the back.

  “It’s not necessary to thank me. I said I’d protect you, and that means from everyone. Laura has been angry with me for years, and she thinks she can take her anger out on you now. I won’t allow that if I can help it.”

  “She loves you,” Amalie said softly.

  “I suppose she thinks she does. Laura was twelve and smitten with me when I courted Sarah, but we thought it was cute. When Sarah died, she blamed me in public, and when we were alone, she tried to get me to marry her. After she was shot, I found the man responsible and a good reason to leave town for long stretches, hoping she’d find a man and settle down. She never did, but she found my bounty hunting one more thing to be angry about. Now, she’s turned that anger on you.”

  “She’s jealous,” Amalie explained.

  “That could be, but it’s no excuse for cruelty and bitterness. Now, let’s see if we can find you some boots and a warm coat,” Deke told her, and he took her hand.

  They walked hand in hand to the mercantile to find boots and a coat more suitable for winters on the ranch than those offered in the dress shop.

  Deke paid for the boots, the coat, all of the items on Amalie’s household list, and a large bag of penny candy, just as the bell above the door tinkled, and Laura’s friends walked in.

  Amalie steeled herself for a confrontation, but the young woman who had left the dress shop to find Laura approached Amalie and said, “We’re sorry. We didn’t know Laura felt that way. We acted horribly.”

  Amalie did her best to smile. “I forgive you, but don’t be angry with Laura. She’s upset and hurt. She’ll need her friends.”

  The young woman agreed and left the mercantile with the three other young women.

  “That was kind of you,” Deke told Amalie on the way to the wagon.

  “I understand jealousy. There was a lot of it at the orphanage where I grew up. Some children found homes and some didn’t. Anything one of us received as new was coveted by some other child, and hurtful feelings were often the result. It’s easier to forgive and forget than be angry,” Amalie confessed. “Life is hard enough without anger.”

  Deke nodded his agreement and thought that Amalie would make someone a wonderful wife one day. If he were looking, he might have considered staying married to her, but his heart would never allow that. He couldn’t love another. In a few months, he could safely send her on her way. Although he told her she’d have a home for as long as she wanted, he doubted she’d want to remain married to a man who could never love her.

  Chapter Nine

  Amalie greeted Deke the following morning, wearing her new dark blue riding skirt and blue striped blouse.

  “Good morning, Amalie. You look nice this morning. I assume ready to ride?” Deke said.

  Amalie shook her head. “I’m not sure about riding, but I thought maybe I could try to sit on Honey while she’s in the corral. Nate told me not to worry because she’s too old to try to jump the corral fence.”

  “She is getting up there in years, and I agree that she probably won’t jump the fence, but I’d never underestimate a horse. She’s very good at following directions, and if you don’t want her to run, she won’t,” Deke assured Amalie.

  “I’ll take your word on that.” Amalie did her best to smile through her nervousness. “Nate said he’d walk us around the corral until I’m comfortable.”

  “Honey won’t run or jump with Nate holding the reins. You’ll do fine. In time, you’ll ride younger horses and gallop across the open range,” Deke told her.

  Amalie laughed. “I doubt that will ever happen, but thank you for your confidence in me.”

  Deke shrugged. “We all start the same way. Getting on the horse’s back is the first step. You’ll do well.”

  After breakfast was eaten and the dishes were done, Amalie strolled out to the corral doing her best to look calm, but her stomach was churning, and she wished she’d skipped breakfast.

  Nate waved from inside the corral, and Amalie smiled and waved back, fighting the urge to run and hide. She scolded herself for her foolishness. Neither Nate nor Deke would allow her to be injured. Honey was a sweet, calm horse, and she was a brave woman—or was she? She wasn’t quite sure at the moment.

  Deke opened the corral gate and took Amalie’s hand. “We set a box out for you to make it easier for you to climb onto Honey’s back. In time, you’ll be able to mount a horse without the box.”

  Amalie looked at him skeptically, but she didn’t say a word.

  He held her hand as she climbed onto the box that had been set next to Honey’s side. “All right—slip your left foot into the stirrup and swing your leg slowly over Honey’s back.”

  Amalie stared at Deke again, calming a bit when he smiled at her. She followed his directions and was amazed that she was actually sitting on Honey.

  “I did it,” Amalie gushed. “I’m sitting on a horse.”

  “That you are—that you are. Now, hold onto the reins, and Nate will walk you around the corral. I’ll walk next to you in case you slide off, but I doubt you will.”

  Thirty minutes later, Nate said, “My leg is getting tired. Deke can walk with you now.”

  Amalie answered, “You said you’d ride, too. Come on, Nate—get on Buck, and let’s ride together.”

  Nate nodded his head as if to indicate he’d remembered his promise. He returned a short time later with a saddled Buck. Amalie watched as he used his good leg to lift himself with the stirrup and swing his bad leg over Buck’s back. The look on his face matched the earlier feeling in Amalie’s stomach.

  Nate’s face calmed a few moments later when Buck started to walk around the corral. Deke motioned to the corral gate, and Nate nodded. When Deke opened the gate, Nate and Buck left the corral, while Amalie watched as they rode slowly toward the open field.

  Still holding Honey’s reins, Deke said to Amalie, “I knew he could do it if he tried. He loves horses and riding. I remember when we had to pull him off his horse for supper.”

  “Do you think I will ever be able to ride out of the corral like that?” Amalie asked.

  “I’m sure you will.
Here—take the reins. Just let Honey walk. She won’t run off.” Deke gave Amalie a few more instructions on how to get Honey to stop or ride faster before handing her the horse’s reins.

  ~ * ~

  Amalie rode Honey around in circles for several more minutes until Nate returned. He looked as excited as Amalie felt. “I think I should let Honey rest now,” Amalie told Deke. “I can ride her again tomorrow.”

  Deke knew that Honey wasn’t tired, but he thought that perhaps Amalie had needed a break. Tomorrow was another day, and he knew that Amalie would soon ride Honey across the ranch.

  Amalie rode Honey twice every day—once in the morning and once in the afternoon—until they became nearly inseparable. If Honey were out of her stall, she would follow Amalie around the yard as she did the laundry or worked in the garden.

  Amalie always had a carrot or apple for Honey, and she spoke to the horse as she did her chores. Deke swore the horse listened to Amalie and understood her.

  Amalie rode Honey a bit farther each day. One afternoon, Deke asked her if she’d like to take a longer ride with him. “We could ride to the creek. It’s only about a twenty-minute ride, and I think Honey might enjoy stretching her legs a bit more than she does walking around the yard.”

  Amalie giggled. “Maybe she would. Look at what she’s learned.” Amalie whistled, and Honey stopped grazing and ran immediately up to her.

  Deke knew that Honey was Amalie’s horse, but the notion solidified when he saw Honey react to Amalie’s whistle. He hoped that whenever Amalie decided to leave, it was somewhere she could take Honey. He knew Honey would die of a broken heart if Amalie ever left her behind.

  “All right—I’ll ride with you,” Amalie answered.

  Deke and Amalie enjoyed the ride, and when they crested a small hill, Honey picked up her pace to get to the creek for a drink of the fresh water. Amalie held on, seeming to enjoy the quicker pace.

  There was a large, flat-topped boulder next to the creek, and Amalie found it enjoyable to sit on the boulder to watch the fish swim and jump in the water, scattering the sparkles from the bright sun overhead on the water’s surface.

  Deke mentioned that he and Nate used to swim and play in the creek when they were boys, and if Amalie wanted, she could come down to enjoy the cold water on a hot day.

  “No one is around to see you,” Deke told her. “It’s refreshing when the hot sun has been beating down on you for most of the day. Maybe after hanging the wash or weeding the garden.”

  Amalie blushed at the thought of removing anything more than her boots to go into the water, and she said, “Maybe, someday.”

  Deke nodded in understanding. He’d been foolish to suggest she cool off in the water, and he must have embarrassed her. She was easy to talk to, but he had to remember that their marriage was in name only, and he had to be less forward.

  Deke cleared his throat and said, “There’s a church social this Sunday after services. It’s always a good time. You can make something for the potluck supper, and there’ll be dancing after the bidding.”

  “Bidding? What are they selling?” Amalie asked.

  The single ladies auction off picnic baskets. The men bid on them, and the highest bid gets to eat supper with the lady who made the basket.”

  Amalie paled and turned her head away from Deke.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  Amalie shrugged. “We had church socials back in St. Louis, but no one ever bid on a lady. It reminds me of what Mister Caldwell and Rex Horrison were planning.”

  Deke reached over to take her hand. “It isn’t the same thing. The money raised goes to the church’s building fund for additions, repairs, and the stained-glass window the pastor would like to purchase. It’s all quite innocent.”

  Amalie bit her lip before asking, “What, exactly, do they do?”

  “Single ladies make a nice supper and pack it in a picnic basket. The pastor peeks into the basket to give the single men an idea of what the lady has made. Many of the ladies are already courting someone, and their intendeds usually outbid everyone else. It can get interesting to watch some of the men try to get the winning bid, and the pastor makes money for the church.”

  “I see,” Amalie answered. “That sounds innocent enough, but does everyone always have someone bid on their basket? None of the less popular ladies end up standing there without a bid, do they?”

  Deke laughed out loud and then apologized for the outburst. “No. Quite a few men from all of the ranches around here come to the social, and it’s amazing what those men will bid for a nice homemade supper and a lady’s company after eating bunkhouse chow with dirty cowhands for weeks or months on end.”

  “I didn’t understand. That does sound nice. What should I make to take along for the potluck?”

  “Some of your fried chicken and a pie.”

  “I can do that.” Amalie smiled, but Deke surmised that she still was not comfortable with bidding on a woman for any reason. He hoped she’d do her best to fit into her new lifestyle.

  Deke offered her a hand up, and they rode back to the ranch house in companionable silence, each of them lost in their thoughts of the picnic and the dance.

  Chapter Ten

  Amalie held Deke’s hand as they walked toward the field next to the church. There were tables set up, and people were milling around, talking and laughing. She carried a small basket containing the fried chicken and apple pie she had prepared for the potluck supper. He was relieved that Amalie had finally realized that her worries about the bidding on the picnic baskets had been foolish, especially since the money would help the church, and everyone would have a grand time.

  Several people Amalie had met at church greeted her warmly, and the three young women who had apologized to her over their unwelcome comments smiled and waved. Amalie smiled and waved back. Laura was noticeably not with her friends.

  After placing her food on the table and speaking to an older woman who seemed in charge of food placement, Amalie wandered through the group of her fellow church congregants. Deke found her chatting with another newly married young woman.

  Deke greeted the outgoing young woman, took Amalie by the arm, and led her away. “You look a bit anxious. Are you all right?” Deke asked.

  “Yes, she’s a lovely person, but she’s also newly married, and she asked me some personal questions I couldn’t answer.”

  Deke thought he understood and said, “I’m sorry that our marriage has put you in a difficult situation.”

  “It’s all right. I can find a way to talk to anyone, and my situation is much better than it would have been had I stayed in St. Louis. Thank you for that.”

  Deke glanced down at her and watched as the sunlight brought out glimmers of red in her hair. Her eyes sparkled with happiness, excitement, or something else Deke couldn’t quite place. She was a beauty, and several men had commented on how fortunate he was, but he didn’t feel fortunate. He felt more like a rat, lying to the world about the lovely woman on his arm.

  He smiled at Amalie and said, “It was my pleasure to help you.” He meant every word. He was beginning to care about her, though he wasn’t sure what to do with those feelings.

  Fortunately, the pastor’s voice announced the start of the picnic basket auction, breaking through Deke’s thoughts, and he guided Amalie toward the pastor. A small wooden stage had been built for the occasion, and the pastor was standing in the middle alongside five young ladies, holding picnic baskets.

  The first basket was auctioned off immediately and won by the young woman’s fiancé. He was the sheriff’s deputy, and no one dared bid against him.

  The next two baskets were also auctioned off quickly, and Amalie began to think this was a sweet, harmless way to raise money and have young people enjoy the picnic.

  Amalie recognized the fourth young woman as one of Laura’s friends. She was a pretty girl with honey blonde hair piled on top of her head. Her smile was contagious, and soon several men began to
bid for her basket.

  Everything seemed to be going well until two men, who had obviously been drinking, broke out in a fistfight over the young lady and her basket. The pastor ordered the men to stop and told them to leave the picnic until they’d sobered. That left the bidding up to a smartly-dressed young man that Deke had said was the town’s lawyer. He upped his bid and won the basket and supper with the young woman.

  Deke whispered to Amalie, “The next young lady is Grace Williams. Our foreman, Clint, is smitten with her. More than smitten. I think he’s courting her. He asked me last week if the foreman’s cabin could be repaired for him to use instead of living in the bunkhouse. I think he might be considering marrying her.”

  Amalie thought it sweet, and she watched the auction with increased interest.

  The pastor introduced Grace and said, “I saw meat pies, sugar cookies, apple slices, and pie in Grace’s basket. Who wants to start the bidding?”

  A dirty cowboy from one of the neighboring ranches ambled forward and said, “I can offer a penny for her.”

  Amalie cringed, knowing this would not turn out well.

  The pastor reminded the man that he was bidding on the basket and not Grace.

  Clint stepped forward and offered a dollar.

  The cowboy rested his hand on his pistol and spat. “A dollar and a penny. I want that basket if the lady comes along.”

  Grace paled.

  Amalie took a step back.

  Deke whispered, “Stay right here. I’ll be back.” Then, he moved away from Amalie and seemed to melt into the crowd.

  Clint stood ramrod still, watching the cowboy as he said, “Two dollars.”

  The cowboy snickered. “I guess she’s worth two dollars and a penny.”

  The pastor admonished the man again, and the cowboy laughed harder.

  “Three dollars.” Clint’s voice carried through the crowd.

  “Boy, you’d better back off,” the cowboy sneered. “That girl is mine, and I’ll take the supper, too. Three dollars and a penny.”