The Cheyenne Mail Order Bride Romanced by the Ranch

by Iris Kelly

  Ajax drove Lydia and a small stash of cleaning supplies out to the Ainsley Ranch. Or should she now insist that people call it the Maxwell Ranch? Somehow, she was not thrilled with the thought of immortalizing her late husband’s name in that manner.

  As they approached the ranch house, they were greeted by two figures: Fanny Cooper and a strapping, sweet-faced fellow, who was none other than her fiancé, Ned Sullivan. They had their working clothes on and their sleeves rolled up. Lydia was informed that they would clean and fix and cook and help in every way that was needed for the entirety of the day. She almost cried with relief.

  “I’ll be back for you at sundown, Mrs. Maxwell,” Ajax said.

  “Don’t you worry about her. We’ll get her back to the boardinghouse,” Fanny assured him.

  Ajax was free to make his exit, and the other three went in to assess what needed to be done.

  The ranch house was an adequate size. Nothing like the Coopers’, but then it wasn’t meant to contain a sprawling family of ten. It was a sparsely furnished, poorly maintained, three-bedroom house, with layers of dust that felt like several years of accumulation. Lydia couldn’t blame her elderly predecessor. She hadn’t had the strength to keep up the place. Lydia had the strength and the will, but she was lacking in experience. She was happy to let Fanny guide the day’s activities. Ned proved invaluable for moving furniture around, as well as making repairs to cabinets, uneven tables, and loose planks on the front porch.

  “What is your profession, Mr. Sullivan?” Lydia asked.

  “I’m a carpenter, ma’am. And with Cheyenne growin’ the way it’s been doin’, they ain’t never gonna be no shortage of work. Learnin’ how to work with stone, too.”

  “He’s gonna build us our own house,” Fanny said proudly.

  “I sure am. Any kind of house she wants. As many bedrooms, as many sitting rooms, as many closets, as many kitchens . . .”

  “I’ll have eight bedrooms, five kitchens, nine chimneys, and eleven fireplaces,” Fanny teased.

  “As many fireplaces as you deem fit,” Ned declared.

  He was beyond smitten. And the connection between him and Fanny was so palpable, Lydia was reminded of the sweet electricity in the air between Virginia and Lewis. She was also aware that any time the two of them disappeared from her sight, it was likely to be an opportunity for a stolen kiss. Despite these lapses, they were remarkably efficient help, so she had no complaint.

  In fact, if love was only meant to be a vicarious experience for her, then she had to appreciate the joy of others. And overjoyed they were, sweeping and scrubbing and hammering with hums and songs and perpetual smiles. Lydia was glad that this young couple was staying in Cheyenne. For her own sake, yes, because her friends were few in number. But for Fanny’s father’s sake as well. She gathered that half of his children had been pulled out of Wyoming Territory, and it would be some comfort to him to have Fanny and her future family nearby.

  Fanny had brought a picnic lunch, which was combined with the small meal that Miss Mabel had provided for Lydia. It totaled a nice feast, to be enjoyed outside on the front porch.

  “We’d be pleased as punch if you could join us for our wedding,” Fanny said.

  “We’d be honored, we truly would.”

  Lydia sighed. “I’d like nothing better. I hope you know that. But that is going to be an important and a difficult day for Fanny’s father. And I have no wish to complicate his experience of such a wonderful occasion.”

  Fanny’s eyes watered up. “I can’t say I’m sorry often enough, Mrs. Maxwell.”

  “You certainly can say it too many times. In fact, it never needs to be said again. I’m happy to be here, Fanny, and I call this a very good result to a somewhat ill-conceived plan.”

  “Best of luck to you, Mrs. Maxwell,” Ned offered.

  “Thank you, Ned. And the best of happiness to you both.”

  Fanny dried her eyes and regained her good mood.

  “Ned, you could probably recommend the best place for me to get some additional furniture. Namely a bed,” Lydia said.

  “I can tell you where to get a mattress, yeah. As for the frame, well . . .”

  “May I hope to retain your services?”

  “I’d put together somethin’ real nice for you. Somethin’ that’ll last fifty years.”

  “What? Only till I’m ninety?” Lydia said.

  They all shared a laugh. For Lydia, it was a big weight lifted off to have gotten her little house in order. A house where she didn’t have to spend endless hours walking the streets because she didn’t want to go home to face her husband’s disdain. Or hours at the park and museum to avoid her in-laws’ control and condescension. This place was going to be her haven.

  From a distance, Lydia could see a number of the ranch hands looking in their direction. It was too far to see any of their expressions, but there was no reason to think that their coldness had thawed. But that was another problem for another day.

  CHAPTER TEN

  It would be some days before her new furniture was in order. Still, Lydia now felt the need to make a daily connection with her new home, almost as if to reassure herself that she wasn’t dreaming. She also needed to free herself of dependence on others for transport. To that end, she intended to choose a horse today out of the ranch’s holdings for her personal use. And she had also secured Lewis’s promise for a lesson on how to handle the small wagons that would probably be her most common means of getting to and from town.

  It would also be another opportunity to establish some kind of rapport with her foreman. Accordingly, Ajax dropped her off again at the ranch the following morning. Lydia felt guilty about taking up so much of his time and tried to offer him a bit of money. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He had to be the most well-mannered bounty hunter imaginable.

  Lydia puttered around in her new house, waiting for a convenient break in the day when Wade could show her a selection of the available horses in the large corral.

  “A horse? You sure that you won’t just be needing’ a wagon? That’s all Mrs. Ainsley needed,” Wade said.

  “Mrs. Ainsley is an old woman. And I am not. I want a horse for exercise, for getting around to the far corners of the ranch, and to get to town quickly. So I need one that will be exclusively mine. Which one of these horses would you recommend? Of course, I don’t want to take away any of the best cutting horses.”

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise. Yes, I know what a cutting horse is. And quite a few other things besides.

  “That gray mare over there’s nice and gentle,” Wade said.

  “Yes. She looks very gentle, but maybe a bit long in the tooth. What about that one?”

  “She’s a fast one. Young. She might be a little more than you handle.”

  “Name?”

  “Elsie.”

  Lydia held her hand out to the dark brown quarter horse. “Elsie, how you doing today? Want to come over here and say hello?”

  The novelty of a soft, feminine voice was too much for Elsie to resist. She came over immediately and bumped against Lydia’s outstretched hand. Lydia stroked the friendly animal and allowed it to nuzzle her face.

  “I’ll be needing a saddle, Wade. The smallest one you’ve got.”

  Twenty minutes later, Lydia was flying over the plains. The speed, coupled with the vast spaces was intoxicating. Side saddles should be outlawed.

  How long could she stay out with her horse? As long as she wanted. She was finally free to do as she wanted. This was what the West had always meant to her. And she was not about to let her actions or enjoyment of life be determined by men who didn’t want her. Not her husband, and not Mr. Cooper.

  Lydia wisely made sure that her gallop ended by the stream so that Elsie could refresh herself. She also needed the time to rest and muse. Would Mr. Cooper begrudge her making a success of the ranch, or would he rejoice, relieved to be absolved of any guilt for her predicament? But it was no longer a predicament. She was on the
cusp of making a real life for herself. As for Mr. Cooper—Lydia intended to do her utmost to completely forget the circumstances under which they’d become acquainted. And if he had any sense, then Mr. Cooper would be well advised to do the same.

  *****

  “I wish you and Mrs. Maxwell weren’t so mad at each other. I sure would like to have her at my wedding,” Fanny said.

  “We’re not mad at each other. Where did you get such an idea? Why? Is she . . . mad at me?” Giles wondered.

  “Well, not mad, no. But she won’t come to the wedding ’cause she says you won’t want her there.”

  “That’s ridiculous. She’s our neighbor and kin to the Carlyles. And you and she seem to get along just fine.”

  “More than fine. I like her a lot. In fact, Willie invited you and me over for dinner this comin’ week, and I asked if she could come along.”

  “You did?”

  “I feel responsible for her, Pa. I do. I’m gonna introduce her around. Show her where to get registered.”

  “Registered?”

  “To vote. She’s a property-ownin’ woman now. Besides, Willie is happy to finally meet her. He works with Mr. Carlyle, and I guess he’s heard about her a bit. And I told him that she was right fine and could play the piano like nobody’s business. Anyway, she’s gonna be my friend, whether you like her or not.”

  “Why do you keep sayin’ that? We had a right fine visit. She’s . . . she’s a little crazy but . . . she sure knows what she wants and goes after it. I don’t think I’ve ever met a lady quite like her. Of course I like her.”

  “So how come she don’t know that?”

  *****

  Giles knew that Lydia hadn’t fully moved into her ranch house yet, but he thought that he’d chance a visit. As he pulled up to her gates, he was greeted by the sight of Lydia barreling down the road, driving a buggy, with Lewis Carlyle by her side. They stopped just a few feet away from him.

  “WHOA!!” Lydia yelled.

  “Mrs. Maxwell. Mr. Carlyle. Umm . . . good afternoon. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

  “Not at all. Lewis was just giving me driving lessons. Goodness. I think we almost overturned back there.”

  “You are the most reckless student I have ever put my neck at risk for,” Lewis said. “I will return to my family now while I am still in one piece. Mr. Cooper, if you’ve a mind to test your courage, she could use a bit more practice.”

  “Begone with you, Lewis Carlyle. A student is only as good as his teacher. Or so I hear.”

  “Who does your ingratitude remind me of? Oh, yes, my wife,” Lewis teased. “Oh, and Mr. Cooper. Congratulations on your daughter’s good news.”

  “Hmmph. I see word gets around.”

  “Oh, yes. We already got our wedding invite. But we’ll see both before then.”

  Lewis said his goodbyes and Lydia gestured for Giles to join her.

  “Well, Mr. Cooper? Would you care to join me running up and down the road for a while, while my employees stare and laugh at me?”

  “They ought to be helpin’ you learn. It’s not usually part of the job, but they ought to know that their job is to be useful in any possible way you require.”

  “I confess, I like your crew much better, Mr. Cooper. YAH!!!”

  And the horses started trotting again along the road.

  “Mrs. Ainsley never had any complaints with her men, but you just let me know if any of them is causin’ any trouble.”

  “That’s a kind offer, Mr. Cooper. Though I hope I never need to take you up on it. Thank you.”

  “It’s nothin’. Anyways, speakin’ of Fanny’s wedding . . . she says she invited you and that you won’t come. . . ’cause of me. Is that right?”

  “I thought that it’s going to be a very special day for both of you. And at such a time, you shouldn’t have to experience a moment of discomfort. And given our . . . recent history, our . . . manner of acquaintance, I did not think that . . .”

  “Fanny would be right pleased to have you there. And so would I. We are neighbors, after all.”

  “Good neighbors. Which just reminded me of that saying, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’ I have to ask, Mr. Cooper. Where’s the best place to buy a sizable quantity of barbed wire for fencing? Oh, not to separate our properties. Not at all. But I’m going to devote a couple of acres for grain and so, I have to keep the cattle out.”

  “Grain. You’re going to grow grain?” What for?”

  “Winter feed. Mr. Cooper. Winter feed. I understand that the possibility of a repeat of 1871’s blizzards does not strike you as a cause for concern, but I feel differently. I’d much rather prepare for the worst and be wrong winter after winter—and believe me, I’ll be happy for us all if I am—but I don’t think history can be ignored, and I want to ready for the inevitable, whether it come in two years or ten.”

  “That’s gonna take a bite out of your profits. A big bite. No one can afford those kind of losses.”

  “You remember telling me about how many ranchers lost their entire herd that winter? No one can afford those losses. I’ll take my losses now, in small numbers, rather than be completely wiped out. Yes, I’ll accept the smaller profit margin. It will not wound me not to be the wealthiest rancher in the territory. I anticipate being very comfortable.”

  Giles shook his head in disbelief.

  “I wish good health and long life to your cattle, Mr. Cooper. I hope my predictions never come to pass. Now, about that barbed wire?”

  Later that night, Giles woke up in a cold sweat. What if she was right? This inexperienced lady from Boston was speaking of something so obvious and inevitable that it would certainly come to pass. Wouldn’t all the other ranchers feel silly if the only outfit to weather the storm belonged to a Boston socialite without so much as a callous on her lovely hands?

  *****

  Lydia had been promised a ride with Fanny and Giles to have dinner with Willie Cooper and family. But the ride to and from was such a promising stretch of time for deepening acquaintance, that Fanny resolved to make herself scarce. She developed such an awful tummy ache that afternoon that she was obliged to pass on the dinner and send her father by himself to pick up Mrs. Maxwell.

  She was surprised to see Giles alone in his wagon, and was somewhat concerned to hear that Fanny was under the weather. But she had been looking forward to a sociable evening all day and was determined to make the best of it. Mr. Cooper was wearing his Sunday best and looked rather distinguished. But then, a leather vest and cowboy hat were an equally appealing look, as Lydia recalled.

  “Will it be all right if we stop by the post office, Mr. Cooper? I have a letter to drop off.”

  “Not at all. And I hope you don’t mind our makin’ a quick stop at Mrs. Ainsley’s. I just want to see if there’s anything she’s needin’.”

  “I would love to see her again. And I’m sure she’ll be very grateful for your thoughtfulness.”

  “It’s nothin’. It’s just . . . she’ll always be a neighbor. Is that for family, your letter?”

  “It’s actually for my maid, Beatrice.”

  You’re writin’ your maid?” The thought made him chuckle. “Are you tellin’ her to keep the shelves dusted? Or to take more care with the ironin’?”

  “Very amusing, Mr. Cooper. No, I am trying to raise her spirits, I suppose. With both Virginia and myself gone, she is at the mercy of a very difficult mistress. And I fear she will not be able to hang onto her employment long, now that we are not there to protect her. Florence will never write her a good recommendation. What a fine state of affairs for so many years of service . . . But I lived with her longer than Florence has! I could be the one to write the recommendation and present myself as her direct employer. Oh, I should have thought of that earlier. I will have to put that in my very next letter.”

  Giles was surprised. “There’s not a whole lot of people who’d take so much trouble over a maid. At least, if you’ll forgive me, not from
the group of people who actually have maids.”

  “I suppose you have to be forgiven, for when I think back to my Boston peers, that is certainly true. But Beatrice is a rather special case. I’ve known her since she was a baby.”

  “And she must be a very good worker.”

  “There is no worse maid to be found on either side of the Mississippi.”

  They both laughed, although Giles had no idea how such an inferior worker had inspired such devotion.

  Their errands were quickly done. The stop at Mrs. Ainsley’s involved fifteen minutes of chopping wood, but Giles was happy to leave her well-supplied. They arrived at Willie Cooper’s just before sunset.

  Willie was Giles’s nephew, with a wife, Rachel, and three children, Susie, seven, Jake, four, and little Charlie, one, who was just learning how to walk. Giles always received the warmest of welcomes any time he visited. But on this occasion, he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed to see how far Mrs. Maxwell’s popularity eclipsed his own.

  When Rachel apologized that dinner wouldn’t be ready for another half hour and tried to calm down her animated children, it was Lydia who volunteered to keep them preoccupied so that Rachel could get about her work. Lydia placed a cushion on the floor and seated herself at eye level to the youngest. She remembered from taking care of her baby nephew that this was the best approach.

  It certainly worked for little Charlie. He was so happy to have someone down where he could reach them, that he would continually fling himself into her arms, and he wouldn’t leave until he got a kiss on the cheek. He was then appeased for another five minutes, and then began the cycle again.

  Susie was shy but came to life when Lydia asked her about what she was studying in school. She proudly rattled off her sums table, noting that she could get all the way to ten plus ten, and had even begun to learn subtraction. Lydia was greatly impressed and Susie was bursting with pride. That is, until tactless brother Jake blurted out a mortifying secret.

  “Susie can only see out of one eye. Her other eye’s no good.”

  “Hush, Jake,” Willie scolded from the other side of the room. “There’s no cause to be talkin’ about Susie’s eye.”