Texas Brides Collection

by Darlene Mindrup

  “Oh, Pa,” Jenny whispered as she sifted through the papers, her heart contracting in sorrow at his precise handwritten notes. She’d walked in a daze, hardly knowing what to mourn first: the ache of her father’s absence, the never-ending work, the guilt of feeling grateful she didn’t have to worry about Tom anymore. The emotions overwhelmed her.

  And now a baby.

  Too much.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” Charles Moss knocked on the door, saddlebags and a rifle over his shoulder. Sal padded behind him wagging her tail.

  Jenny flinched. “I didn’t expect you until later, Mr. Moss.”

  “Call me Charles.” He frowned. “Boys not up yet? The horses are out.”

  “They’ve been working so hard, I told them to sleep in this morning with school starting on Monday.”

  He laughed. “I bet they’ve been eating a lot, too.”

  “Constantly. It’s a good thing they like oatmeal.” She stared at him. “I hope you like oatmeal.”

  “Ma raised me on it. It makes good filling.”

  Jenny nodded. “We’ve been living on oatmeal, eggs, milk, and chickens, plus the vegetables from the garden.”

  “Then I’ve got good news. I shot a fat doe not far down the road. I’ll leave my gear here and retrieve it.” Charles dumped the heavy leather bags beside the door.

  When was the last time she’d eaten chewy, flavorful venison? “Thank you.”

  Charles’s face came alive with his bright grin. Jenny quickly looked down. She should not be so bold as to share the excitement with him. She was a married woman.

  Her brain protested. Not any longer.

  She heard him step away. “Do you have a smokehouse?”

  “Behind the house near the garden.”

  “I’ll hang it there,” he said.

  “Thank you, Mr. Moss. Roast venison will be a treat.” Jenny’s cheeks felt hot and probably were turning red. She peeked at him.

  “Charles, remember?” He scratched Sal’s ears. “This dog needs to run off some fat. Can I take her with me?”

  “Sal hasn’t run in ages,” Jenny scoffed.

  “No?” He raised an eyebrow at Jenny and whistled as he exited.

  The dog loped after him.

  Jenny stepped to the doorway to watch them go, the tall lanky dark-haired man with the yellow dog running behind. He spoke to Sal as he swung onto his horse in a fluid movement that bespoke years in the saddle. When he saw Jenny, he lifted his hat in salute and then clicked his horse and the dog toward the road.

  He rode mighty fine.

  Jenny returned to the office.

  An hour later, she spread the papers from the locked drawer across the desk and slumped on the stool. “Oh, Pa, what were you thinking?”

  Ma Duncan stomped into the small room. “That man is back, and he’s butchering a deer. Them boys ever going to get up?”

  Jenny blinked away the tears. “He’s shot meat for dinner.”

  “That fool dog follows after him like he’s a god. You mark my words, he’s up to no good.” Her shrill voice carried too loud for Jenny’s ears.

  “We need his help. Let’s treat him well.”

  “Don’t you get any ideas, you hussy. He may be easy on the eyes, but he’s not one for you. You’ve got my Tom’s babe to think about. You ain’t even started your grieving yet. Why, you’re not even wearing black.”

  “I don’t have a black dress; that’s why I sewed the black sunbonnet.”

  Ma Duncan’s tight little face contorted. “I rue the day Tom ever did your family a service and brought the family your brothers’ effects. Your family and friends were nothing but bad news for my boy. And now look what’s become of me. Stuck in the middle of nowhere without any kin.”

  “You have us,” Jenny said.

  “Fat lot it’s going to do me if ’n you starve me to death out here to save all your precious horses.”

  “Do you know anything about these papers?” Jenny handed three neatly written IOUs to her mother-in-law.

  She backed away. “You know very well I don’t got much learnin’. What do they say?”

  “They say Tom loaned my father money. Do you know where Tom got cash?”

  Ma Duncan’s eyes gleamed. “That’s one skill you never did cotton to. My boy came back from the war knowing ways to get money when he wanted it.”

  “By gambling?” Jenny asked point-blank.

  The old woman cackled. “He knew when to take a chance, my boy did. He could spot a sucker a mile off.”

  Jenny’s mouth went dry, and her stomach roiled yet again. “Why did he marry me?”

  “You folks had a nice little place here, missy. And if them IOUs mean anything in a court of law, it now belongs to me.”

  Chapter 6

  Charles hoisted the deer carcass onto a metal hook hanging from the smokehouse crossbeam. He cut off a sliver of meat and tossed it to Sal lying in the sun outside and still panting from her jog. The dog snapped it out of the air; a new trick.

  The younger boy, Micah, came around the back of the farmhouse with a shout. “Did you really shoot a deer, Mr. Moss?” When he saw the bloody hide on the grass, he ran toward the barn yelling, “Steak for dinner!”

  Charles stuck the butcher knife into one of the walls and closed the door on the small log house smelling of old smoke. Strips of jerky still hung on racks, and the remains of a ham, but this winter would be thin on anything except chicken if they didn’t hunt more game. Charles wiped his hands on the grass. A man’s job was never done when kids were around.

  He pumped a tin cup of water and then joined the family at the barn. The boys were carrying their possessions from the bunk room to the main house where they were taking over Ma Duncan’s former bedroom upstairs.

  “Where will you be sleeping now?” he asked the crotchety old woman.

  She thrust a boney finger at him. “Don’t you wish you knew?”

  “She’s taking Pa’s room downstairs.” Caleb toted an armful of clothing. “None of us can bear to go in there.”

  “Finest room in the house,” she crowed. “It’s about time.”

  He located Jenny still in the office looking through paperwork. Frown lines crossed her forehead, and he saw dried tears on her cheeks. “That bad?”

  When she didn’t look up, he gently set a note from Colonel Hanks on the desk. She stared at it a moment before slowly unfolding the lined paper. Jenny gasped. “When did he give this to you?”

  “This morning as I was leaving, why?”

  “Horace Mitchell is coming to look at a horse this afternoon. I need to find him a suitable mare.” She pulled a black ledger from the shelf and ran her finger down a page. The tip of her tongue stuck out, reminding him of a student calculating a math problem.

  Slamming the book shut, she pushed past and hurried toward the south pasture. He grabbed three halters off a peg in the barn and strolled after.

  “Did the colonel say why Mr. Mitchell wanted a mare?” The horses were at the far end of the paddock, and she sounded breathless.

  “Riding horse, I thought, maybe for his daughter headed to school?” Charles hadn’t paid any attention until the colonel handed him the note.

  “Daisy might be a good choice,” Jenny said, “though she’s got a foal. Do you think he’d take them both?”

  Charles heard Sal barking. A buggy turned off the road. “You can ask him yourself.”

  Jenny bit her lip. “I wish I knew which horse would suit. Willow is a fine saddle mare and we just weaned her filly.”

  “Go talk to him. I’ll bring some mares over.” Charles didn’t know the horses by name, but he saw several possibilities. He whistled for Sal. Micah came with the dog.

  Charles tossed him a halter. “We want an easy riding horse. What about the roan?”

  The boy tripped. “Princess?”

  “Sounds perfect for a girl. How does she ride?”

  “Pa liked her best,” the boy stuttered.

  C
harles stopped. “Princess was your father’s horse?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Show me Daisy.”

  They led three mares to the farmyard, one with a foal dancing behind. A well-groomed man wearing a white Stetson waited with Jenny. A thin girl in a yellow gingham dress clutched his hand.

  “The colonel said you had quality horses, gentle enough for my Emma.” The man peered at the selection.

  “All three of these mares are excellent riding horses. I broke them myself.” Jenny’s face flushed. “You’re welcome to take one out for a ride.”

  Mitchell pushed through the gate and ran his hands down the legs of all three horses. “Which one’s the dam? I don’t need another filly.”

  “Oh, Papa, the baby is so cute.” Emma’s chin just cleared the top rail of the fence.

  “Any of these horses take a sidesaddle?” Mitchell asked.

  “They all do.” Jenny joined him to stroke the white blaze down the painted pony’s face. Daisy whinnied in response.

  Mitchell puffed out his cheeks. “I’ll try the bay.”

  “We’ll saddle her up.” Charles nudged Micah toward the barn. The boy ran off, tugging the horse after him.

  “What’s the white one down there?” Mitchell pointed to one of the geldings. “Did your pa train it? I hear he was a good trainer.”

  “Not for sale. We’re preparing him for the Army.” Jenny crossed her arms.

  “We’ll get him for you,” Charles said. “You’ll want to escort your daughter while she rides the mare.” At Jenny’s look of protest, he shook his head. Caleb retrieved the horse to saddle him up.

  Mitchell helped his daughter into the sidesaddle and mounted the gelding. Charles grinned at the surprised satisfaction on the man’s face and opened the gate. The two rode off together.

  “You can always tell a mark,” he murmured.

  “Rover’s one of the Army horses,” Jenny hissed. “Mr. Mitchell can’t buy him.”

  “A sale is a sale,” Charles said. “He’s one happy man.”

  Jenny shook her head. “I can’t sell him Rover. I may need that horse.”

  “I thought you needed money.” Charles leaned down to scratch Sal’s ear.

  Jenny bit her lip and stared at the barn. When the man returned wanting both horses, she wrote the bill of sale without a word.

  “We’ll tie them to the back of your buggy.” Charles shook Mitchell’s hand.

  “You the new teacher at Stovall Academy? Emma will ride her horse to school Monday morning,” Mitchell said as he helped his daughter into the buggy.

  “Math and physical science. I look forward to teaching you, Emma.”

  “I’m glad to buy your pa’s horses,” Mitchell said to Jenny. “He had a good reputation. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” Jenny watched the Mitchells depart with the horses. She looked thoughtful as she returned to the office. Charles followed.

  “Why are you here, Mr. Moss?” she asked as he slung his saddlebags onto his shoulder.

  “Room and board, ma’am.”

  “Did Colonel Hanks send you out here to keep an eye on his investment?”

  Charles frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  Jenny plucked a piece of paper from the desk. “The colonel has a lien on my land. I just wondered if he sent you out here as a spy.”

  “He told me you owned all this property.”

  She shut the door in his face.

  Chapter 7

  Late October

  Every Sunday morning Charles Moss asked, and every week she demurred. Church held too many painful memories for her. Tom had forbidden her to go during their marriage, and staying home to read her Bible alone had become her preferred habit.

  Besides, she couldn’t bear to face the wagging tongues at her expanding waist. Posthumous child, they would call it.

  Caleb and Micah, however, rode off happily with Charles Moss, just as they had when Pa was alive, resolute to defy Tom on Sunday mornings. Then they’d stay to eat a picnic dinner and often didn’t return until halfway through the afternoon.

  With the end of the harvest season near, Ma Duncan decided she, too, would attend church. “I need some socializing,” she declared, and the four drove off in the buggy, leaving Jenny alone on the farm.

  Charles was disappointed they only needed two horses to pull the buggy. He wanted to show “potential customers” their “merchandise” and always insisted the boys ride different horses to school every morning. It did get the ginger out of them, and Jenny suspected Charles used the opportunity to train both the horses and the boys. Which was all for the best, she sighed.

  Jenny leafed through the Bible on her lap and tried not to be discouraged by the weight of responsibility. After helping her sell the horses, Charles took on the boys’ skills, and their work was done more efficiently under Charles’s directions.

  The boys hardly mentioned Pa or Tom with Charles keeping them busy, but they needed boots for the winter, and both had outgrown their overcoats. Caleb’s shoulders were broadening, just as she remembered Asa’s and Ben’s doing at the same age. She’d go through the old trunk to see if any of their brothers’ old clothing would fit.

  Or Tom’s. He’d had a warm overcoat.

  She frowned. Jenny hadn’t seen it since the previous winter. Had he lost it in a poker game?

  “I cannot afford to feed the seed root of bitterness,” she said aloud. She rubbed her face with her hands. “But I’m so angry, Lord,” she continued. “I don’t even care he’s dead. Now I don’t have to worry about him cheating people and shaming us. But that doesn’t feel very Christian.”

  She thought about Colonel Hanks and the lien he never mentioned. What were his motives? He and Charles had been very helpful, but could she trust them? Weren’t all men out for their own objectives?

  The Bible fell open to Psalm 20, and she read the words her father loved to quote: “Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the LORD our God.”

  Maybe so, but the only thing keeping them afloat at the moment was the sale of those two horses last month. “Help me, Lord.” Jenny closed the Bible. She had horses to train, even on the Sabbath.

  As she did every morning once Charles and the boys left for school, Jenny removed her homespun dress and tugged on a pair of her father’s riding pants and a full shirt. She threaded a piece of twine through the belt loops and tied it into place. They needed to make the Army sale soon; she wouldn’t fit into these pants much longer. Jenny stepped into Pa’s knee-high boots, secured the spurs, and headed to the paddock.

  She paused at the black sunbonnet and left it behind. Her long hair would fly free this morning.

  Ma Duncan grumbled daily about Jenny’s training outfit. Jenny had become used to her fussing with the chickens while she groomed the horses. Her mother-in-law managed a sizeable flock that provided the eggs and meat they all enjoyed.

  All of them included the boarder.

  Jenny turned her mind away from thinking about her overly involved and handsome lodger. She couldn’t trust him, even though she longed to depend on someone.

  She caught the black gelding, Caesar, and saddled him up with the McClellan 1865 army saddle her father had purchased after the war. She led the tall horse out of the paddock to the mounting block and swung into the saddle. Jenny loved the rush of power that came from controlling the large horses.

  A light touch of the left spur and Jenny began. She cantered Caesar along the cut hay field and toward the river. Stopping and starting the horse as applicable, Jenny turned him quickly with steps her father had taught the horses and her. They paused for a breather near the stubbled cornfield, where the cow gleaned with a friendly moo.

  Jenny caught her breath and glanced at the sky. “Thank you for those good church people finishing the harvest for us.”

  She should go to church soon, if only to thank them. Jenny would think about that next week when Charle
s asked her again, as she knew he would.

  Caesar danced three steps to the left. Jenny tightened her thighs to hold the horse in place.

  He quieted.

  She pushed with her legs and clicked three times.

  He took three steps forward.

  “Oh, you beauty!” she cried and spurred him. He galloped along the cleared riverside, leaving the fields, the house, the chickens, and the past behind. Jenny shrieked with joy to try to startle him. Caesar ran without a break.

  She turned him at the end of their land and raced him back, exulting in his smooth gait. With wind blowing in her face and her long hair flying behind, she felt free. Carried away, she urged Caesar on. She slowed him to a mild trot as they reached the paddock fence, and kneed him to a walk, but he turned instead and cleared the fence in effortless flight.

  How many times had she jumped a fence, landing with a give in her knees?

  Her body did not respond as expected. The heaviness about her middle, some five months gone, hit the saddle with a thud of pain. Black and white stars prickled her vision, and she reeled to a stand in the stirrups.

  The horse faltered.

  “What are you doing?” Charles appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Caesar’s bridle.

  Ma Duncan screamed from the buggy with pointed finger. “Trying to lose my Tom’s baby, that’s what she’s doing.”

  With the horse now under Charles’s control, Jenny closed her eyes. Her forehead felt clammy, and she leaned far out the right side of the saddle to throw up. When she finished, she grabbed at her shirt collar, desperate for the cool fall air.

  Her left boot caught as she slipped off the horse into Charles’s arms.

  “I’m okay,” she mumbled.

  He untangled her onto her feet, but when Jenny tried to shrug off his arm, his grip tightened. “Let’s see if you can walk. You don’t look well.”