Contract to Wed: Prairie Romance

by Holly Bush

  “What did you mean when you said ‘dirty about her person’?” he asked.

  “She doesn’t bathe very often, and she wears her dirty clothes for days on end. I asked the laundress why her clothes were not clean, and she said because Melinda puts them back in a drawer when she takes them off so a maid doesn’t take them to the laundry.”

  Max’s shoulders dropped. “I had no idea.”

  Jolene turned to leave. “I will not interfere with how you choose to raise her, but I won’t let the staff be manipulated by a twelve-year-old either.”

  “She’ll be thirteen in a month,” Max said and looked at her intently. “I need your help, Jolene.”

  * * *

  “I have agreed to help you make a smooth entrance into society and act as your hostess. That was our arrangement,” Jolene said. “I have never agreed, nor promised, to raise . . .”

  “Yes, yes, I know. I know you never agreed to be a mother. But the situation being as it is, I am asking you for help. You obviously know more about raising children than I ever will.”

  “Really, Maximillian? My familial experience is not what you would want to model. My mother is conniving and cruel, and my father has buried his head so deeply in his business that he was unable to fathom the living hell that Mother made of our lives.” Jolene turned to the door quickly. She could not believe she’d said what she said to him. Why did she disclose these types of secrets to him?

  Maximillian caught her arm before she could escape. He was staring at her in that way he did when Jolene felt he could read her mind. “I’m sorry, Jolene. My mother and father are two of the most loving and kind individuals whom you would ever want to meet. Eugenia and I had strict rules and structure, but we never doubted we were loved. Not for an instant. I can’t imagine growing up any other way.”

  “You were very fortunate, Maximillian.”

  “Was there anyone else you were close to growing up? Your sisters or an aunt or an uncle?”

  Jolene looked out the long windows of the room they stood in. She wasn’t sure if anyone had ever asked her a question like this one. She was sure she’d never voiced her opinion of her mother and father before. She’d accepted the superiority of their family’s position and forfeited any semblance of closeness she’d seen in other girls’ families growing up. It had not occurred to her that there was a remedy to her family’s coldness or that she’d have an opportunity to leave it behind. But could she leave it behind? Did she know how?

  “My father’s mother, my grandmother, died when I was twelve. She never failed to hug me or ask questions about my studies, or comment on how pretty I was. She was the same to my sisters and cousins. I think she was a naturally kind person. Her death removed any bit of family happiness I knew.”

  “After Melissa’s death, I tried to hang onto the little traditions and rituals that she’d always done for the staff and Melinda. Lately, I’ve settled for loving Melinda to pieces. But that’s not all there is to a family, is there? I think that’s why I decided I needed to marry again. I need the balance a family brings. Melinda and I need kindness and discipline and arguing and caring to make a real family again. I think you probably do, too.”

  Jolene looked up at him and let her eyes wander over his face. She was able to read people well, and Maximillian Shelby’s expression was void of deceit and misdirection. A tight knot formed at the base of her throat. It had been years, decades, since she felt a niggling sense of hopefulness. How desperate was she to shed the heavy weight of disdain and superiority and aloneness she carried? She could not answer him.

  Maximillian laid his palm against her cheek. “Maybe between the three of us we can start again.” When she did not respond, he heaved a sigh and dropped his hand. “Sometime give me some hints about what I should do about Melinda and bathing and her clothing.”

  Maximillian opened the door and left the guest room. Jolene stood stiffly and stared straight ahead at the still-life portrait hanging on the wall with its pink-tinted apples and wedge of cheese cut open with a knife. She hurried out of the room.

  “Maximillian?” she said down the empty hallway. “Maximillian?” With no reply, Jolene shook her head and spoke aloud to herself. “This is nonsense.” She turned to flee to her rooms, but then, there he was, coming back around the corner of the vast hallway. He was smiling.

  “Did you call me, Jolene?”

  She folded her hands at her waist and forced herself to not be so glad that he’d returned. She waited until he stopped in front of her. “I will help you with Melinda. Not because I’ve changed my mind. I’m not here to raise a young girl. But I believe you mean the best for her but don’t know how to go about it. And I think I can help you get started.”

  Maximillian wrapped his arms about her, and pulled her close. He kissed the crown of her head and rested his chin there. “Thank you.”

  Jolene stepped out of his embrace. “We’d be wise to go together to Melinda’s room right now.”

  “I’ve got a feeling that this isn’t going to be pleasant,” Maximillian said as they walked to Melinda’s room.

  “Melinda,” he said, “Open the door.”

  They heard the click of the lock, and Maximillian followed Jolene into the room.

  “What’s she doing here? She took all my clothes!” Melinda shouted and ran to her father.

  He gave Melinda a quick hug and then held her away from him. “You are not going to speak to Jolene that way, young lady.”

  “I hate her!”

  “That is unfortunate, Melinda,” Jolene said. “But bears no influence on whether you are bathing or what clothes you are wearing.”

  “When you take off your clothes for the day, you must put them aside for washing. No more shoving them back into your drawers,” Maximillian said.

  “I’m not wearing dresses! I can’t play!” Melinda shouted. “I can’t ride Daisy!”

  Jolene walked to Melinda’s cupboards packed tight with the new clothing. “I’m sorry to hear that, as I had this split riding skirt made for you. It has a pretty print blouse that would complement your coloring, and I ordered these boots with the blue stitching to match. They peek out from under the skirt so prettily. But if you are not interested in any of it, I will return it to Mrs. McCabe. I’m certain she’ll be able to resell it.” Jolene had all three pieces in her hands and looked at Melinda. “It will sell very quickly. Split skirts are all the rage, you know.”

  Melinda approached cautiously and touched the fine fabric and fingered the leather boots. “I wouldn’t have to ride side-saddle in this.”

  “No, you would not, but you must learn to ride side-saddle because all young ladies know how.”

  Melinda glanced in the open cupboard and back at Jolene. “But I could still ride?”

  “I propose a compromise, if your father is agreeable,” Jolene said. “I propose that you may wear your old dungarees and shirts in the morning but before sitting down for luncheon, you must change into a dress or a skirt and blouse after you have washed and used tooth powder.”

  “Can I change back after I eat?”

  “No. You may not. You and I will be in the school room, if the Hacienda has one; otherwise, we will set one up. We will study arithmetic, reading, and deportment. You will accompany me on some meetings that I have with Maria and with the housekeeping staff. Then you will wash your face and hands and join your father and me for dinner. If you wish to change into old clothes in the evening sometimes, you may.”

  * * *

  “I still don’t like you,” Melinda said to Jolene.

  Jolene’s brows rose. “I think you have the potential to be an exceptional young woman, both in looks and knowledge, and you have keen instincts. However, these outcomes are not guaranteed. The only ones in life to achieve those results are the ones that work at it,” Jolene said.

  Max watched his daughter hang on every word out of Jolene’s mouth. He knew why. Jolene was the only one at the Hacienda who did not constantly gush a
nd coddle Melinda. He’d seen Jolene watching Melinda from afar and wondered what she thought of his daughter. Now he knew, and he realized he’d never really thought of Melinda’s future in any terms but his loss. But there was a position of responsibility that would be hers as she matured. Grooming her to follow him had not been a reality to Max until he heard Jolene’s description.

  Jolene handed Melinda the boots, skirt, and shirt. “Clean underthings, please. After I have someone come up here and wash your hair.”

  Melinda looked up at Jolene and back down to the fringed, tooled leather riding boots. She plopped down on the end of her bed. “I have to wash my hair, too?”

  “Yes, you do,” Jolene said. “Your new flat-brimmed riding hat with the turquoise studded hat band is not going to be placed on a head of dirty, greasy hair. Your father paid a pretty penny for it.”

  “When do I start the school room?” she asked.

  Jolene looked at Max. “Unless your father has any objections to these plans, we will start tomorrow.”

  He shook his head. “No objections at all.”

  Max escorted Jolene from the room and watched her glide away down the hallway.

  Chapter Ten

  Jolene patted her mouth with her napkin after they finished dessert. “I would like to arrange for an office for myself, and there’s a small room just down the hall that is used for storage. I’d like to have it cleaned out and use it for myself and for a classroom as well. Will that be all right?”

  Max pushed back from the table and crossed his legs. Melinda was in a dress, and her hair was combed and braided. She’d been sulking but seemed to be in better spirits this evening. Seeing her in clean clothes, dresses and skirts with neatly combed hair had proven to Max that Jolene had been right, that it was time for her to begin to look and act like a young lady. As usual, Jolene was stunning in a pale yellow gown that matched her hair piled on her head. Dinner had been delicious, and Max was feeling content.

  “Isn’t that where Melissa’s things are?” Zeb asked.

  “I think you’re right,” he said. “I’ll have to go through those boxes myself.”

  “What’s in them?” Melinda asked.

  Max tilted his head. “I’m not sure anymore. Maria packed up some of her clothes sometime after your momma died, and I cleaned out the desk in my room that she’d always used. There were notes and recipes from her mother and a newspaper clipping of when the war was over.”

  “No drawings or anything?” Melinda asked.

  Max shook his head. “No drawings, honey. But you are a beautiful young lady because of her. All you have to do is look in the mirror to know what she looked like.”

  “Your Daddy’s right. You’re a pretty girl, just like your Momma from what your Daddy says and just as sweet, too,” Zeb said.

  Melinda glanced at Jolene. “She said it doesn’t matter what we look like and that when men tell you you’re pretty, they’re just trying to distract you from what they are doing.”

  Max laughed. “I suppose that’s true when you’re older but when Zeb and I tell you you’re pretty, it’s because we think you’re a wonderful little girl who’s pretty and smart.”

  “But she will not always have champions beside her. She has to discern her value on her own,” Jolene said. “It’s a failing for many women, that constant dependence on what other’s think.”

  “We all worry about what others think, Jolene,” Zeb said. “And I imagine you give plenty of credence to others as well. Isn’t that at the forefront of every ‘good’ Boston family?”

  “You are correct, Zebidiah,” Jolene said and looked at him squarely. “I’ve been very concerned about what others think my entire life as my mother taught me to be. But I defied her in grand fashion by moving here and marrying Mr. Shelby. I’m not less concerned about what others think of me because I’m looking down my nose at them. I’m less concerned because I just don’t care as much as I’ve been taught to, other than in relationship to helping Mr. Shelby with his political intentions.”

  Max stared at her while she signaled for dishes to be cleared. She would not meet his eyes.

  “Can I change clothes and go see the foal in the barn?” Melinda asked.

  “May I?” Jolene said.

  “May I, Daddy?”

  “Jolene? Has she done all her studies and such?”

  “She has,” Jolene replied.

  Max nodded, and Melinda hurried out of the room. Zeb stood, picked up his drink, and followed Melinda.

  “My apologies if I was less than correct in my comments while Melinda was in the room,” Jolene said.

  Max shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything that was inappropriate. But I am curious now about your mother after you said what you did. She was not in favor of our marriage?”

  “I have not lived in my parent’s home since my first marriage, nearly fifteen years ago,” Jolene said. “It hardly signifies what my mother thinks now.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Max said. “I treasure every letter my mother and father write. They’re my guiding light when sometimes I don’t know what to do or think.” Jolene took a sip of coffee, and Max poured her a brandy, which he was coming to know she enjoyed after a meal.

  “My mother was and still is, I imagine, furious beyond words. I waited until just four weeks before I was to leave to come here to tell her and my father about our marriage.”

  “What did your father have to say?”

  “He was silent, as he always has been on matters such as this,” Jolene said and looked away out the long window. “I have yet to determine whether he was angry or ashamed of me or envious.”

  “Envious?”

  She turned back to face him with a wry smile. “I would no longer be in Mother’s sphere.”

  “That desperate?” he said with a chuckle but he sobered when he looked at Jolene’s face.

  “My younger sister, Julia, took a train to marry a man she’d never met, a storekeeper in South Dakota. She knew next to nothing about him. Never took the time to discover anything about him, although she didn’t end up marrying him. He could have murdered her or beat her. She was foolish beyond belief but was desperate to leave Willow Tree.”

  “Because of your mother?” Max asked.

  Jolene nodded. “Yes. Because of my mother.”

  “I sure hope Melinda never feels that way about me,” he said. He was half-hoping that Jolene would console him or humor him and say Melinda would never feel that way and that he shouldn’t worry. But his wife was not one to fuss over him. “It’s a lovely evening, Jolene. Would you like to take a walk?”

  * * *

  “Yes. Thank you,” she said and stood as Maximillian held her chair.

  She walked through the massive double doors at the front of the house onto the tiled front patio, and Maximillian joined her. He winged his arm, and she took it. They walked out into the pasture land, past the corrals, and barns along a well-worn path leading into a copse of trees. It was quiet other than some far-away birdsong. They walked until they stopped at a small stream; Maximillian released her arm, and she seated herself on a boulder just to the side of the path. The air was clean but heavy with the smell of mosses and some late spring flower she could not identify. It was dusk, and the canopy of leaves made it darker still. Maximillian propped a foot up behind her, and she heard him strike a match and smelled his cigar.

  “Julia is plump, my sister Julia, that is. She was never very organized and a bit clumsy as well. She was often the target of our mother’s displeasure and she was of the unfortunate personality to show it. When Mother said unkind things to me, I acted as though it didn’t matter. Julia, however, cried and looked alternately terrified and humiliated,” Jolene said. “Mother could never resist picking at her for that very reason.”

  “But you stayed out of her path by acting as though it didn’t matter to you what she thought,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  Maximillian sat down next to her and leaned
back on the boulder. He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned her back across his chest. He twirled a lock of her hair in lazy circles. “But it did matter to you. How could it not?” he asked.

  Jolene lay stiffly in his loose embrace. It felt so foreign, so unnecessary, but as she looked at the trees above her and smelled his soap and smoke, she was lulled to relax. “That was why Grandmother Crawford’s death was such a blow. There were no soft words any longer, no encouragement, no . . . love. Of course, it mattered. Of course, it did.”

  Jolene had no idea how long she lay there. She didn’t sleep, and she didn’t think he did either but she could feel his breathing, easy and deep. They didn’t speak any more, and of that she was glad. It was unnerving how quickly she revealed confidences to him. What was it about her husband?

  The air was cool near the stream, and night had fallen. Maximillian sat up, and so did Jolene. He draped his jacket around her shoulders after shrugging it off when she shivered. She felt his hand on hers, and he led her slowly out of the trees and onto the path where the moon shone brightly.

  “The Cattlemen’s Ball is in two weeks. I’d like to take you and introduce you there,” Maximillian said. “I thought we might stay the night afterwards at the hotel instead of making the ride home. It will probably be late.”

  Jolene looked up at Maximillian’s profile, dim, in the moon light. A hotel room? Did her husband intend on sleeping with her? She thought about this tall, solid man beside her as he would pull a shirt off over his head preparing to climb in bed. She didn’t for one moment think Maximillian would force himself on her. But the pulsing between her legs and the heaviness of her breasts told her that he would not need to force himself. She would be willing, and welcome his advances.