Her Fearless Love (Seeing Ranch Mail Order Bride) (A Western Historical Romance Book)

by Florence Linnington

  Steve smiled at Bonnie with pride. “Bonnie brought my lunch I was so daft to forget.”

  Neil whistled. “That’s real nice, Miss Potter.”

  “It is a duty I am happy to perform,” Bonnie said. “I suppose I should allow you to get to your lunch.” She looked at Steve. “See you at home.”

  “See you at home,” he repeated with a look that made her heart leap.

  With another nod at the both of them, Bonnie made her way down the road. She kept her eyes peeled, looking out for Mr. Hawkins, although she wasn’t entirely sure why. What would she do if she were to see him? What would she say?

  It was not as if she would confront him in front of everyone. And even if she did, such an action would do little good. In Baltimore, when a woman was mistreated by her husband, people typically turned the other way. She could not expect Wyoming to be much different.

  With the mine behind her, Bonnie breathed in relief. She had enjoyed seeing Steve for a few minutes, but something about the mine had not set well with her. Perhaps, it was the way that vulgar man had looked her up and down, or perhaps, it was the knowledge that Mr. Hawkins was somewhere around there. Either way, she was glad to be away from that area.

  8

  8. Steve

  Chapter eight

  Five days after Steven heard Hawkins shouting down at the creek, the first real cold spell hit. It came on all of a sudden, the wind howling across the mountain and the dead leaves rattling like bones on the trees. Bonnie had set up the left side of the cabin as promised, stringing a sheet across it so they each had their own private areas, and Steven had made himself a temporary bed frame from some split logs.

  The makeshift bed sat low on the floor, where the drafts were, so it wasn’t ideal, but it sure did beat sleeping outside. With one week to go before they wed, Bonnie and Steven hadn’t yet talked about taking down the sheet and sharing one space.

  Although he was eager to get away from the drafty floor, he didn’t want to rush anything. If Bonnie needed more time before they shared a bed as man and wife, that was fine with him. Steve had already waited years for her to enter his life. What were a few more weeks?

  As the wind blew, they hauled mud up from the creek bed and mixed it in with twigs and brush. The mixture would provide a good filling for the cracks in between the logs that had appeared since last fall’s chinking, and once Steven got the time, he would stay true to his word and stack the firewood against the north and west sides of the cabin, which were the most exposed.

  With a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, Bonnie came outside to help with the chinking. They moved silently, mixing, slathering, and patting. It was almost as messy as mine work but made considerably better by the presence of daylight and a beautiful woman.

  “Steve,” Bonnie said, once they’d finished one side of the cabin and moved on to the next.

  “Uh-huh?” He glanced over at where she shoved mud into a particularly, large crack.

  “Do you know Mr. Hawkins?”

  Steve’s hands stilled. “Somewhat.”

  Bonnie kept working, her attention on the cabin, but her lips were pursed.

  “Why?” Steve asked.

  “I am worried about his wife. Mrs. Briggs and I think… well, we think it might be possible that there are troubles at home.”

  “What kind of troubles?”

  Bonnie sighed. “I do not wish to make any assumptions, but when Mrs. Briggs and I visited Mrs. Hawkins the other day, there was a bruise on her arm. The kind a person would get after someone grabbed them roughly.”

  Steven frowned, his gut twisting. Next to him, Bonnie paused in her work and studied him.

  “Does that concern you?” she asked carefully gauging his reaction.

  Steve looked straight into her eyes. He understood why the question had come up. Many people were of the mindset that what happened in a marriage was no one’s business but the husband and wife.

  Well, Steve only thought that was true up to a certain point. People had their right to privacy until someone started getting hurt. Standing by while someone was in danger or getting battered was something Steve couldn’t do.

  “It does concern me,” he answered after a moments thought.

  Bonnie visibly relaxed.

  “Has Mrs. Hawkins said anything to you?”

  “No, and I don’t get the impression she ever will. She knows Mrs. Briggs much better, and still, she has not shared anything with her.”

  “Hmm.” Steve looked at the ground, his mind racing. He couldn’t very much walk over to the Hawkins’, knock on their door, and accuse the husband of mistreating his wife. Even if Russell did confess to it, what good would that do?

  As far as Steve knew, there was no Wyoming law against a man enacting a little bit of discipline in his home. The situation was tricky, and if Mrs. Hawkins was really having a tough time at home, it was unlikely anyone could help her unless she asked for help.

  “What are you thinking?” Bonnie asked.

  He looked up. “When I was a boy, my aunt had a husband who was no good.”

  “Oh. You mean he hit her?”

  Steve nodded. “They lived about a mile away from us.”

  Bonnie’s lips tightened. “Lots of men discipline their wives.”

  The way she said it, she made it clear she didn’t agree.

  “I would never do that to you,” Steve said. He stared at Bonnie until she looked him in the eye and slowly nodded.

  “It is still commonplace, I suppose,” she said.

  “That doesn’t make it right,” Steve answered.

  She smiled sadly. “I am glad we share that opinion.”

  Steve clenched his jaw. “I wanted to help my aunt. Her husband drank. Bad. It made him violent. She was always trying to cover up the bruises, but there were too many. We all saw them anyway.”

  “And what did your parents do?” Bonnie asked. “Anything?”

  Steve shook his head. “Nothing that I know of. I used to be angry at my mother. How could she let her sister go through something like that? It wasn’t until I grew older that I realized how… normal it was. I’m sure my aunt wanted to leave, but could she have?”

  “Perhaps not,” Bonnie said. “It is not so simple. At least where she was, she had a roof over her head.”

  “Exactly,” Steve nodded.

  “And what of Mrs. Hawkins?” Bonnie asked, her voice pinched. “Will she meet the same fate?”

  “Well, we don’t know yet just what’s going on there.”

  “True,” Bonnie said, albeit hesitatingly.

  “But if things are really bad, I can’t stand by and let them continue. Let’s keep an eye on the situation. Befriend Mrs. Hawkins if she’ll let you. We’ll go from there.”

  “That sounds like a good idea.”

  Steve nodded in satisfaction. They’d just faced a problem and reached a solution as a couple. That brought Steve a pleasant feeling he hadn’t expected. Growing up, it had been his father who had made all the major decisions in his family. For the most part, his mother went along with whatever choices her husband made.

  Now Steve saw that it didn’t have to be that way. Bonnie was just as capable as he was. If they were lucky, they would make up for each other’s shortcomings. They would function together as a team.

  “It appears this side is done,” Bonnie said, stepping back and surveying the wall. “Is it not?”

  But Steve wasn’t looking at the cabin. Instead, he had his eyes on his fiancée. With her muddy hands and blonde waves falling from her bun, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

  “Is it not?” Bonnie asked again.

  Steve wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

  Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Yes?” she breathlessly asked.

  Steve grinned. “I apologize if I’m getting you all muddy.”

  “That is… that is quite all right,” she whispered, sounding as if she struggled for breath.

&nb
sp; “Good.” Dipping his face, Steve brushed his lips gently across Bonnie’s. The sweetness of her skin was intoxicating, making Steve lightheaded. As they kissed, he pulled her closer, absorbing the warmth of her body heat.

  As another gust of wind hit them, he released her. Bonnie stepped away, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

  “Now, how are we supposed to finish this task if you are doing things like that?” she chastised.

  Steve pretended to tip an imaginary hat. “My apologies ma’am. I’ll be good.”

  “Well… do not be too good.”

  Steve chuckled, and Bonnie’s lips twisted into a merry grin.

  “I want to buy you a dress for our wedding,” he said out of the blue.

  Her lips parted in surprise. “That is rather sudden.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “I already have a dress.”

  “You do? Where?”

  “It’s still packed away. I wouldn’t come here to marry without a dress. Years of seamstress work has given me an appreciation for finery, you know,” she said coyly.

  “I believe that.”

  Bonnie picked up a handful of packed mud, but instead of moving around the corner of the house, to the logs that still needed chinking, she studied Steve.

  “I feel you have more to say,” she said.

  “Can I maybe…”

  “If you are about to ask if you might see the dress, the answer is no. That’s bad luck.”

  “What about a peek?”

  “No,” Bonnie cried with a giggle. “Absolutely not.”

  “All right, all right. I get it.” Picking up the buckets of chinking, Steve followed Bonnie around the corner of the house, where they began their work on the next side.

  So Bonnie had a dress already. Was it a white one? Did it have a train? A veil?

  Steve was merely curious. He knew she’d look beautiful no matter what she wore. Not even the filthiest of rags could diminish her appearance.

  He’d planned on the dress being something special her could give her. Something like a wedding present.

  With that canceled out, he wanted to come up with something else. What would Bonnie like? And what could she use?

  In the evenings, they’d taken to sitting together in front of the cook stove, where they’d chat while she knitted or sewed. Right now, the only seating was the rough chairs at the table.

  How about a rocking chair? A nice one with a cushion in it? That way, Bonnie would be more comfortable while she did her needlework.

  Satisfied he’d found the answer, Steve began to whistle as he worked.

  “What song is that?” Bonnie asked.

  “Oh, one I picked up at the mine.”

  “Teach it to me?”

  “I don’t know the words,” Steve said.

  “Then we will make them up.”

  Steve chuckled.

  “What?” Bonnie demanded.

  “Nothing. I just…” Steve cocked his head. “I think we’re gonna be really happy together.”

  Bonnie bit her bottom lip. “I have to agree with that.”

  9

  9. Bonnie

  Chapter nine

  After Steve left for the mine, Bonnie slowly counted to one hundred, just in case he came back for something. When she’d finished counting, and he hadn’t returned, she pulled her suitcase out from under the bed and carefully unwrapped her wedding dress.

  Something happened to Bonnie anytime Steve kissed her. Not only did she become extraordinarily giddy, but she also became eager to please him. The kiss while they were chinking the cabin the day before was no exception. She wanted to make him proud of her, to have him think her beautiful. What better way to do that then to ensure her wedding dress was as nice as it could be?

  Spreading the dress out on the quilt, Bonnie inspected its collar and sleeves. The gown had been a parting gift from the owner of the dress shop Bonnie worked at in Baltimore. It was a very simple cream-colored frock, but Bonnie had brought some lace with her to sew onto the collar and sleeves.

  Once finished, the dress would be nothing like the gowns they made in Paris and New York, which Bonnie had seen in catalogs, but it would still be beautiful to her.And it would be the dress she would marry Steve in. She clutched the fabric to her chest as she thought about her soon to be husband.

  A knock on the door made her gasp. Bonnie went to put the dress away, but then realized it couldn’t possibly be Steve, for he wouldn’t knock on his own front door.

  “Yes?” she called, going to the door.

  “Guess who,” a female voice called.

  Bonnie frowned to herself, not sure how to answer, for she did not recognize the voice.

  “Oh, stop,” a second voice chided. “It’s me, Mrs. Briggs, with Mrs. Mullins.”

  Bonnie opened the door right away. “Come in, please.”

  The women, plus baby Aria, entered.

  “It is so good to see you both,” Bonnie said. “Where are your little ones, Mrs. Mullins?”

  Bonnie had met Mrs. Mullins briefly before church the other week, and she’d had the two most adorable small children with her.

  “School,” Mrs. Mullins answered. “They’re finally old enough to go.”

  “Is this an all right time?” Mrs. Briggs’ asked.

  “Certainly. Please, come right in. Coffee? There is still some hot from breakfast.”

  Mrs. Mullins gasped. “What is that?”

  Bonnie looked over her shoulder. “My wedding dress.”

  “Goodness me.”

  Mrs. Mullins went right to the bed. Bonnie followed, taking Aria from Mrs. Briggs’ arms and setting her on the bed. The baby began patting at the brightly-colored quilt squares.

  “Are you putting the lace on it?” Mrs. Mullins asked, pointing at the lace laid out across the dress’ skirt.

  “Yes. I am going to work on it while Steven is at the mine.”

  “It is lovely,” Mrs. Briggs said.

  “Thank you.” Bonnie was already moving away from the bed, taking down the tin coffee cups she’d washed from breakfast and filling them with coffee.

  “Thank you,” Mrs. Mullins said as she took her mug. “By the way, I feel you must call me Jenny. We women in Whiteridge are not very formal with each other.”

  “It’s true,” Mrs. Briggs added. “So call me Thea, will you?”

  “Certainly,” Bonnie answered, feeling the use of first names meant they had all just formed a deeper bond. “And I must be Bonnie to you both.”

  “Tell us about your plans for the wedding,” Thea said, wrapping her hands around the coffee mug. Behind her, Aria burbled and reached for the dress, but Jenny scooped her up just in time.

  “Well, we don’t have much of a plan,” Bonnie said. “And I don’t suppose you can really call it a wedding. We are to marry the next time a reverend is in town. I suppose we will have a witness, but that is all.”

  “That’s good enough,” Thea said. “Quaint. Intimate. It sounds lovely.”

  “And how is everything going?” Jenny asked.

  It was a very general question, and Bonnie wasn’t sure whether she meant with Steve or in Whiteridge in general.

  “Good,” Bonnie said, taking the two chairs from the table and setting them near the bed for her guests before sitting on the end of the mattress, next to the dress. “Steven is a wonderful man. I feel rather lucky.” She looked at Jenny. “Forgive me for being so forward, but were you also a mail-order bride?”

  “Oh, no,” Jenny laughed. “Chandler and I married before we came out here. I am one of the few women in this area who did not come here through an agency, though.”

  “I see.” Bonnie glanced at Aria, who was crying and attempting to wiggle out of Jenny’s arms. “Here.”

  Bonnie went to the suitcase she’d left open on the ground and pulled out The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Animals. Putting it on the bed, she opened it to the colored drawing of tigers and set Aria in fro
nt of it.

  Right away, the baby stopped fidgeting. Her eyes went wide, and she pumped a chubby fist up and down. “Cat,” she said.