The Cheyenne Mail Order Bride Romanced by the Ranch

by Iris Kelly

  “It’s a very purposeful and necessary trip. But there’s no harm in enjoying it. I just wanted to ask if you thought I’d be safe.”

  “Only thing to trouble you would probably be the snakes. Other than that, you probably have the road to yourself. But bring the rifle. Ya never know.”

  “Of course, but, about those snakes . . .”

  Mrs. Mabel was able to supply vital and comforting guidelines on how snakes were best avoided (sleep in the back of your wagon), how to get a roaring campfire going (best to bring along a bit of wood and dried cow patties) and how much in the way of food and water supplies would be advisable.

  The day before Lydia’s journey, it was time to finally get around to a long delayed chore. She had purchased a new ledger for the accounting affairs for the ranch. She wanted to keep them separate from Mrs. Ainsley’s old records, but she also needed to study those old books to familiarize herself with the business end of things.

  She entered the empty bunkhouse; the men were all either working on the fence, or tending to the cattle. It only took a quick search to locate Wade’s bunk and the table beside it, with the accounting book in a drawer inside. Lydia left a note explaining that she wanted to keep all of the new financials in the new ledger, and that if she had any questions about his entries in the old book, she would let him know.

  She suspected she would be ruffling his feathers. But hopefully he would keep his annoyance to himself. After all, he was her employee. All of which reminded her of Beatrice, her former maid who forgot her place more often than not, and who wanted both her paycheck and to do just as she pleased. Well, Lydia had been inclined to indulge her out of a longstanding regard; Mr. Wade Callahan had no such claims on her affections, so she hoped that he could reconcile himself to her authority at once without any further posturing.

  The remainder of the day was spent loading the wagon with all the essentials for her trip and poring over the sprawling ledger, covering seven years of Mrs. Ainsley’s business. It appeared that the cattle had been taken to market four times last year. She would probably only need to study one sales transaction in depth to get her bearings. She looked at the very last sale after last autumn’s round-up.

  There was nothing wrong with Wade’s math. Page after page of long sums entered neatly and added up perfectly. That should be some comfort. At least she would be able to compliment him on that. A general scan of the rest of the book told the general story of admirable profits and a prospering business.

  Did the ranch hands really only earn $20 a month? Even given room and board, that seemed a bit lowly. Mr. Cooper had told her that it was an over-romanticized life. But, even so, perhaps another five dollars a month was in order. It would make up for some of their additional workload, and hopefully buy her a little favor.

  Wade did barge in before his lunch hour, as expected.

  “You took my book,” he said.

  “That book was entirely full of Mrs. Ainsley’s affairs. I will only need you to keep records on our new enterprise.”

  “I told you that I’d go over those records with you myself.”

  “Your penmanship is brilliant. And so is your math. So, don’t give it another thought.”

  Wade was somewhat mollified.

  “And I need to let you know that I will be out of town for four days, leaving tomorrow morning. I expect that quite a bit of progress will be made on the fence by the time I return.”

  “Umm, yes, ma’am.”

  “Good. Now don’t let your lunch get cold.”

  “No, ma’am.” He seemed rather uneasy as he departed; some of the arrogant cockiness had been knocked out of his sails. Perhaps time was all that was needed to smooth things out. The men would certainly speak freely in her absence. Maybe she should feel guilty, but she couldn’t wait for Ajax to deliver his first “spy” report. In the meantime, there was her journey to tend to. Miss Mabel was the only one who knew the particulars. Virginia would have a fit, as would Mr. Cooper, and probably Fanny as well. Hopefully Lydia could slip in and out of town before anyone even realized she was gone.

  *****

  Lydia was well on her way the following day when Giles stopped by the ranch. When Wade informed him that Mrs. Maxwell would be gone for four days, he was dumbfounded. His agenda for the day was forgotten, as he decided to stop in on the Carlyles and find out what was going on.

  But instead of receiving information, his questions only served to raise the alarm.

  “Is she in some kind of trouble?” Virginia worried. “Where could she be?”

  “Let’s keep our heads. Ain’t likely to be foul play. After all, this seems to be some kind of planned trip.”

  “But how could she not tell us where she’s going? Or you, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Who might she have told?” Lewis wondered.

  *****

  “Sure. She went to pick up that seed for her grain crop. Some place in Pine Bluffs you told her about,” said Miss Mabel.

  “I told her to send one of her men,” Giles fumed.

  “Well, since she ain’t your employee, and she ain’t even your wife, I think she figured out she’ll do as pleases.”

  “She’s not safe.”

  “Ain’t no outlaws reported. Ain’t no Indians round here. And the last few I seen just wanted to trade. No cougars. No bears. Everyone takes the train everywhere. I doubt she’ll run into a soul. And she got herself a rifle. Hope you showed her how to use it.”

  “But why? Why would she do it?”

  “’Cause she thinks that ordinary, dull, everyday life is somethin’ special. I can’t even tell you how much she was lookin’ forward to sittin’ around a campfire.”

  Miss Mabel looked at Giles, who was lost in a daze.

  “She ain’t nothin’ like Emily, that’s for sure,” Miss Mabel said.

  “Now, why would you compare her to Emily?” Giles asked sharply.

  “Emily Cooper was my friend. Kindest woman to walk the face of this earth. But she was a regular woman. Now that Mrs. Maxwell—ain’t nothin’ regular about her. I can see why she might not appeal to ya. She suits me just fine.”

  “I . . . she . . . I have to get back over to the Carlyles and let them know what happened.”

  “Well hold on a minute. I got somethin’ for you to take over to Mrs. Carlyle. Them Boston ladies cain’t cook worth a darn.”

  Giles waited impatiently. He hadn’t felt this agitated in a long time. What was Miss Mabel going on about? Who said Mrs. Maxwell didn’t appeal to him? And that was really no one else’s business anyway. Campfires? Who was this perplexing woman? And would he have a moment’s peace until she had safely returned?

  *****

  The rattling of the wagon made plenty of noise, but beyond it was complete stillness. Not a person, not a steer. A rare and complete break with civilization. She was aware that almost everyone she knew would also think that she had taken a break from her sanity, but the long day of solitude and the endless horizon were just what she required. There were so many thoughts fighting for her attention—the life behind her, the life ahead of her, the ranch, the children!

  Less productive was the memory of the smell of leather and soap and warm skin that she inhaled every time Mr. Cooper’s body encircled hers for a shooting lesson. The recoil from the shots would send her head back into his firm chest. What a healthy life he must be leading. He had none of the softness of middle age. Unproductive thoughts indeed. Lydia forced herself out of this reverie by taking note of the time—about an hour before sunset—when Miss Mabel had advised that she stop and start her campfire.

  She was fortuitously close to a stream, so the first order of business was to water her horses. Afterwards, she chose a nice, clear area where she could see the stars unobstructed. She assembled her fire kit as the sun rapidly descended. It was almost dusk.

  Lydia was so absorbed in her task that didn’t see the rider galloping toward her until he was thirty seconds away. She laid a panicky hand on to
p of the rifle at her side, then pulled it into her arms as he got closer. She was just about to fire a warning shot, as she had been instructed, when Mr. Cooper’s features became apparent. She laid down the gun, flooded with relief and pleasure.

  “Mr. Cooper, I almost shot you.”

  Giles had fully intended to give her the angriest sermon she had ever received on foolish risks and alarming one’s friends, but her face was beaming and she was so obviously delighted to see him that he forgot his agenda.

  “Not in broad daylight, on your best day, could you have made that shot, Mrs. Maxwell.”

  “I can’t claim the expertise of someone who’s been shooting since he was ten. Rather, I have been shooting for about ten days.”

  “In that case, you’re the best ten-day shooter I have ever seen. Here, let me give you a hand with that fire.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Cooper, but I must decline. I’m determined to do this all by myself—because I have to be able to do that, don’t I? There isn’t going to be someone by my side whenever I need to start a fire. I must be able to do this, so this is vital practice. If it goes terribly awry, I won’t mind a bit of advice.”

  Giles reluctantly settled himself on the ground and supervised her efforts. He felt a pang of guilt, because he was, in some small way, part of the reason that Lydia didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. She had been expecting to have a husband in this new place. Instead, she was blazing a direct trail to her dreams with unfathomable determination. He was deeply impressed, but who wouldn’t be? He couldn’t imagine his wife, Emily, doing anything remotely like this. He flinched at what felt like a disloyal comparison.

  “Where did you receive your fire-making instructions, Mrs. Maxwell?

  “Miss Mabel gave me a few tips. But I also read about the fundamentals in a book before I came.”

  “You do a lot of reading,” Giles said.

  “You do as well. At least it said so in the advertisement, and I take it that was a reflection of the truth.”

  “I do.”

  “And what are your favorite kinds of stories?” She asked.

  Giles grinned sheepishly. “I have to admit; I enjoy some stories that are a bit crazy. I doubt you would have heard of them.”

  “Try me.”

  “Have you heard of a man named Jules Verne?”

  “Around the World in Eighty Days! Of course I’ve heard of him. People are arguing all over the globe over whether or not such a thing could ever be possible. Wouldn’t it be thrilling if someone actually took up that challenge? In my mind, the hot air ballooning will be where most of the treacherous uncertainty lies.”

  “Well, I’ll be. ’Course now, Mr. Verne gets quite a bit crazier than that.”

  “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?”

  Giles let out an admiring whistle. “I don’t think a day goes by that you don’t surprise me.”

  “You have surprised me as well. And I’m well aware of what sort of gentle reading is considered appropriate for ladies. In fact, I was so mindful that my interest in these fantastical speculations would be viewed so unfavorably, that I hid those readings from my family. Even Virginia would have found them a tad peculiar.”

  “I don’t go around talkin’ about them either. My men would laugh their heads off. Well, lookey there. You got yourself a fire.”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. Now, by some good fortune, I think I have enough meat for both of us.”

  The next hour was filled with cooking and eating, which gave way to stargazing and intimacies.

  “Do you have brothers and sisters, Mr. Cooper?”

  “I did have one older brother—Willie’s father, Joel. Died over ten years ago. But we never had much chance to get to know each other. Our parents died, and I was only five and he was eight. Our relatives knew they had to take us in, but none of them were all that keen on it. I went with one family and he went with another.”

  “They separated you. How could they even think of it?”

  “One extra young’un was bad enough. No one would have taken two. I do remember that day, though. It's a hard thing for a five-year-old boy, losin’ the only family you have left.”

  Lydia nodded, wanting him to continue. Her heart went out to him and the traumatized five-year-old child he had been. “And the relatives you stayed with . . . were they kind to you?”

  “They were pretty distant relatives and had plenty of young’uns of their own. I was a tiny, scrawny thing who couldn’t help out much. Most of the time, everyone just treated me like a nuisance.”

  Lydia knew that feeling well, but how awful for a child to feel it.

  “I actually wound up stayin’ with three different families over time. Just got passed along when they got tired of me. Always thought about my brother, thought that one day he’d find me and take care of me, but by the time we saw each other again, we were both married men.

  It was good to see each other, but we were both strangers to each other, not like brothers who’d grown up side by side. After he died, I’ve tried to keep an eye on Willie. He’s a good boy. At least he’s good at what matters most, that gal he married and his children. He’s done all right for himself.”

  “They’re a beautiful family . . . I believe you had one of your own? Tell me about your wife, Mr. Cooper. I’d love to hear about her.”

  Giles sucked in a deep breath of air. This was dangerous territory. Could he really speak about the woman he had shared his life with to the very woman who was threatening to dim her memory?

  “We were both nineteen. I had been driving the trails for about five years at that point. But I saw the old cowboys on the trail, and I knew that I didn’t want to miss out on family like so many of them had to. Emily was waitin’ for me at a dance. Or so it felt like. We talked so long that night, and we wanted so many of the same things. I knew by the end of the evenin’ that I had found my wife. And we got married a month later.”

  “I would never have thought you to be so impulsive, Mr. Cooper. It’s a rare woman who can inspire love at first sight.”

  “Oh, the real love didn’t come till later. Everything came later . . . everything. That’s somethin’ I always wanted to explain to you, about why I was set against ever gettin’ married again.”

  “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

  “I do. I want to. The way I came up, I always dreamed about bein’ part of a real family. Not bein’ a burden, but being wanted. Having a real place, a real home. Emily gave me that. She gave me eight children who mean more to me than anything in the world. And she gave me a real home, warm, secure, full of good cookin’ and loud, happy young’uns. And that family was mine. I belonged to them, and they belonged to me.

  Above all, I was so grateful to her for that. I am grateful to her, to this day, for giving me the life I had always dreamed of and needed so badly. I finally got it. And it was all due to her.”

  “Mr. Cooper. I need you to know something. I’m sincerely happy that you got a chance to have the family that you deserved. I wish every lonely child should find such happiness. I think it’s wonderful that she was able to give that to you. I’m glad, truly glad that your life has been so good. You deserve every bit of it.”

  Lydia felt herself tear up and had to tilt her head upwards to prevent them from falling. Through her blurry eyes, the patterns of the stars were impossible to discern.

  “I only know the Dipper, and tonight I can’t even find it. You must know something about the stars, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Yes, ma’am. When you’re searching for cattle that have wandered far from the herd, and you get lost yourself, you can always find the right path at night.”

  He stood and came over to sit right beside her. “North Star’s right over here. Without it, I’d never have made it out of Kansas.”

  They were both relieved to be on safer territory. Campfires had turned out to live up to their potent reputation. Or was it just the cloak of night that allowed for honest word
s to flow?

  After a last companionable hour of reading the stars, Lydia had her work cut out for her trying to convince Giles to join her on the wagon bed. He didn’t seem much bothered by the possibility of snakes, but she assured him that she wouldn’t get a moment of sleep for worrying about him.

  “And if you believe that I can lift you into that wagon after you’ve been snake-bitten and ride you to medical care, then I have grossly exaggerated my talents.”

  In the end, he was persuaded. They slept head to toe, for maximum propriety. And despite the safety and security of their little wagon haven, neither one of them found it easy to get much sleep that night.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was a six hour ride to the seed store the next day. Lydia didn’t mind having her solitude disturbed. The clatter of the wagon prohibited much conversation on the road, but Giles rode on his horse beside her and looked over often to see that she was comfortable.

  Lydia was left to marvel that he was even there at all. He was a busy rancher, with a big business to run. And here he was taking four days out of his precious time to see to her safety. She should feel guilty about that, but he really didn’t seem that put upon. Maybe it was healthful for everyone to step out of their expected routine and experience a refreshing change.

  The town was small and dusty in comparison to Cheyenne. It supplied a lot of mining equipment and one small, obscure seed establishment. The owner was pleased to see them.

  “Cain’t be too careful. You might even want to do ten square acres. No tellin’ what the winter’ll bring.”

  “Thank you. I think this will do for our first year,” Lydia said. “We’ll be by first thing in the morning to pick it up before we leave.”

  There wasn’t a large selection of hotels in Pine Bluffs, but they found one that seemed tolerably comfortable. They agreed to rest and wash up and meet for dinner.

  *****

  There was a dining room in the hotel but they decided to stroll and look for one on the Main Street. After two days of riding, it was good to stretch their legs. The place they settled on wasn’t terribly fancy, but it had irresistible smells wafting out the front door.