The Brides of Chance Collection

by Kelly Eileen Hake,Cathy Marie Hake,Tracey V. Bateman

  He cast a glance at his brother’s back, then eyed her attire with a frown. “You can’t traipse around in that all day. Borrow something from your sister’s trunk.”

  “I don’t know if I can. I—”

  “I’ll handle it with Daniel. Go on inside.”

  She took both girls back toward the cottage. The dirt felt good under her bare feet. After all of that time on a ship, she wanted solid earth beneath her for the rest of her days. The slight breeze carried the scents of pine, horses, and hay. Men’s baritones mingled in the background, a deep counterpoint to the musical trills of songbirds and the scolds of jays.

  This place was all that her life in the islands had not been. The air felt dry, not humid. The flowers were plentiful but tiny instead of cloying and exuberant. Browns and muted greens dominated the landscape instead of a kaleidoscope of brilliant jewel tones. These men crowded in one home, shared one bedroom. This was a far cry from the stringent rules they lived by back home to ensure privacy, modesty, and decorum. In odd juxtaposition to that, everyone here—except for her, she thought wryly—was completely dressed; whereas back home, the natives wore only the barest minimum.

  Dear, sweet Hannah scribbled letters in secret, telling how she hated living here. Homesickness, she confessed, plagued her. The cold weather made her spirits plummet, and no matter how hard she worked, everything looked dismal and dusty. The brothers were all good men, but she felt sadly outnumbered and lonely for female companionship. Mama and Daddy listened with grave misgivings to Miriam’s offer to go help her sister, but they’d decided it was for the best. Clearly, with six men and a second child on the way, Hannah couldn’t take care of matters on her own anymore.

  As Miriam left, Mama had whispered, “There are no decent, God-fearing white men here for you, darling. Surely Miriam will introduce you to a few worthy young men of good character.”

  Miriam looked about and cuddled the girls a bit closer. Worthy young men wouldn’t be a part of her life. Moping about that wouldn’t do much good. All her life, Papa taught her to deal with whatever God allowed to happen in life without complaint. Hannah heard that same speech countless times, so for her to have poured out her laments underscored the gravity of her plight.

  Miriam ached to have a husband and children of her own. At twenty, she didn’t exactly rate as an old maid, but she couldn’t expect Daniel and his brothers to play matchmaker for her. Since she’d come and Hannah was gone, she knew her destiny lay in being a spinster aunt. Surely God had sent her here. These girls needed a woman’s caring. Polly’s tangled and matted hair bore mute testimony to that fact. Miriam quietly and immediately accepted the bittersweet fact that if she couldn’t have a man and babes of her own, she’d at least have dear Hannah’s wee ones to cherish.

  Off to the side of the main house, two big trees bracketed a tiny cottage. Hannah’s letters mentioned the brothers building a “habitation” for her. Surely this was it. Miriam hitched Virginia Mae higher on her hip and stepped across the threshold. The building was a tiny box of a place—a simple, one-room affair. Once she winced at the mess, Miriam noted the room featured no kitchen. The fireplace was tiny—only enough to warm this little place but not big enough to cook over. A small cabinet on the wall and a pint-size table and chairs were the only things that defined one corner. The rest of the place held a bed, a trundle that was undoubtedly Polly’s, and a crib for the baby. She deduced Hannah must’ve been making meals for all six of the Chance men over at the main house.

  Unable to navigate the room without stepping and tripping on things, Miriam made a game of picking up Daniel’s possessions. The little toddlers had fun holding items up for her reactions. She’d pinch her nose and point at one corner for laundry. Though someone had done laundry today, they’d missed half of the load from this residence.

  It was more than embarrassing to stay in her night wear. She checked the clothesline and sighed. Her sodden clothes still dripped on the line. Unaccustomed to the weather here, she couldn’t tell how long before her dress would be dry. Much as she didn’t want to go through Hannah’s things, Miriam decided to obey Gideon’s instructions.

  Back in the cottage, she found Hannah’s trunk. As she opened the lid, Miriam cried. They’d always shared clothes, and she knew her sister wouldn’t begrudge her these essentials; but the scent of Hannah’s perfume brought back a flood of memories, and seeing her favorite fan, even touching her clothing, tore at Miriam. She desperately wanted to slam the lid back down. Gideon said they’d fetch her things in a few days— surely she could tolerate wearing only one set of clothing for a while.

  Ginny Mae tugged on her arm. The sleeve pulled, causing the wrapped bodice of her robe to gap and expose her nightgown. Miriam pulled the baby into her lap and cradled her there. Polly tugged on the other side.

  “I gotta go potty, Auntie Miri-Em.”

  Miriam hadn’t located a chamber pot in this mess. She dried her tears. “Can you wait just a minute, Polly?”

  Polly nodded.

  Miriam hastily went through the trunk. The pieced skirt on the blue dress didn’t conform to any style. Feed sacks. Hannah made these out of feed sacks—and she stitched huge waists to permit her room for her family condition. Miriam delved deeper and located a rose-colored gown she’d sewn for her sister’s trousseau. That and a few other essentials would serve satisfactorily. She latched the cottage door shut and changed.

  Once she’d dressed, Miriam took Polly to the outhouse and came back to the little cottage. Dressed in decent attire, she felt free to move about and do whatever she deemed fit. She opened the door wide to air out the cottage and dusted. Polly followed her like a lonely little puppy, and Virginia Mae toddled behind. Miriam gave them each a cloth, and they “helped.” She shoved the trundle beneath the bed, then picked up a few more stray items that had fallen there before she swept.

  Spoons and cups went onto the table, and blankets were piled onto the beds. Whimsical wooden animals kept turning up. The Chance men must enjoy whittling, because they’d turned out a plethora of miniature beasts. Miriam admired each one for her little nieces, then stored them all in a bowl. “Like Noah’s ark,” she said.

  Polly gave her a perplexed look.

  Miriam knelt and used the bowl like a boat as she tried to remind the little tyke about the Bible story. Clearly Polly hadn’t heard it before. That fact alarmed Miriam. Weren’t these men rearing the girls to know the Holy Scriptures?

  Miriam busied the girls with the wooden creatures and set to earnest work. The clothesline had a bit more space on it, but she earmarked that for the remaining laundry. The blankets all needed airing, so she cast them over several shrubs and weighted them down with a few rocks to keep them from blowing into the dirt. Though it seemed bold, she stripped the sheets from Daniel’s bed and added them to the laundry pile. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. Now that she thought about it, there hadn’t been a single sheet on any of the beds back in the main house. These men were barely civilized.

  Boots crunched leaves outside. Miriam turned as Gideon filled the doorway and cast a shadow across the room.

  “This place hasn’t looked like this since—” He stopped short, then finished diplomatically, “For a long time.”

  They exchanged stricken looks, then Miriam pivoted to the side and washed her hands in a bucket. She dipped in a cloth and swiped at the dust and mud on Virginia’s hands and face. “I assume it’s close to your luncheon hour. The girls and I will come to the big house and—”

  She didn’t finish. Someone else arrived. Miriam heard a shocked gasp. Though she hadn’t heard it in almost five years, she recognized Daniel’s voice. “Hannah!”

  Chapter 5

  Gideon watched Miriam go stark still. She slowly turned, and deep sadness painted her features. Tears glistened in her eyes. “Daniel. I’m so sorry—”

  Sensing his brother’s shock, Gideon braced his arm. This was a terrible blow. Daniel had adored his bride, and the grief still ate at him
. The longing and hope on his face changed to nothing short of hatred.

  “Dan, I told her to—”

  “How dare you! Take that off.”

  Miriam’s lips parted in shock.

  Daniel leaned forward, and his hands knotted to fists that shook with the effort it took to keep them down at his sides. He demanded in a tone that trembled with rage, “Take it off! How dare you touch her things!”

  “Dan—” Gideon tried to calm his brother but to no avail.

  Daniel shook off Gideon’s hand, wheeled around, and plowed out the door. Virginia Mae’s voice echoed in the suddenly all-too-quiet cottage. “Daddy! Daddy!”

  Gideon turned back to Miriam. She’d curled her hands around the slats of a chair as if to shore herself up after receiving a hefty blow. She kept blinking and breathed through her mouth to hold back the tears that welled up. “Miriam, I’m sorry. This was my fault.”

  She bit her lip, then quavered, “Please go give him my apology.”

  His heart went out to her. She’d just followed his instructions and hadn’t knowingly done anything to upset her brother-in-law. Truth be told, she did look enough like her sister to cause a grieving man to mistake her for the woman he’d loved. He searched to find the right words to soften her hurt, but nothing came to mind.

  “Please,” she whispered brokenly, “go.”

  Gideon nodded once, then left her to whatever anguish she felt. Of all his brothers, Daniel was the most volatile. Five years ago, he’d been off drinking in San Francisco when he got shanghaied. While his ship docked in the islands, he’d met Hannah. He never said a thing about that year of his life. He’d come back a more contained, disciplined man. Gideon wasn’t sure whether marriage or his time aboard ship had done that, but since Hannah died, there were days when Daniel’s rage knew no bounds.

  Daniel went out to the woodpile. The ring of the ax splitting wood let Gideon know where he was and to keep a wary distance. He stood and watched his brother work himself into a full lather before he finally said, “It was a shock, Dan, but she didn’t mean to upset you. It’s my fault—I told her to borrow something.”

  Daniel set the next piece on the chopping stump and split it with a single powerful blow. The storm in his eyes matched the violence of his action. He set the next log up, then gritted, “No one touches my Hannah’s things. No one.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Get rid of that woman. I don’t want her here.”

  It was worse than he’d imagined. Gideon hitched his hip and half-sat on the fence. He moved slowly in an effort to appear casual and untroubled. “I don’t reckon that’s going to be possible for a few days. She came a long ways and needs to rest before—”

  Daniel cut him off by repeating in an unyielding tone, “I don’t want her here.”

  “What did she ever do to you?”

  “Look at her. Just look! They could have been twins!”

  The anguish behind Daniel’s words let Gideon know his brother’s shock was still too fresh and raw. “All right, Dan. I understand. We’ll get rid of her as soon as possible.” He paused, then added, “In the meantime, you’re going to have to be civil to her.”

  “That’s not a problem. I’m not going to see her.”

  Gideon’s patience started to unravel. He’d managed precious little sleep last night and wasn’t of a mind to put up with a brother having a tantrum. He fought to keep an even tone. “You’re a better man than that, Dan.”

  Daniel hefted the ax. His knuckles were white as he gripped the handle, raised the blade, and buried it into the stump. He stared at the deeply marred place he’d wedged the blade and didn’t look up as he said in a mere rasp, “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

  “Maybe not—but if you had any notion how brave that little gal tried to be after you thundered at her and left, you’d try to match her courage.” He figured he’d said as much as he dared. Gideon straightened up. “We’ll see you for dinner.”

  “Supper.”

  He let out a snort and walked off. Half an hour later, Gideon walked into the house. It looked miles better after all of his brothers had tended to their assigned chores. They’d all need to hustle a fair bit to get the real work done, but from the smell of things, Miriam’s cooking would be ample reward for their efforts.

  Miriam. Dressed in the gown he’d just washed for her, she stood over by the stove. Though not exactly wet, the garment rated as excessively damp. She made no reference to that point, even though it had to feel clammy. He hoped she wouldn’t catch a chill from wearing it. Overall, the dress didn’t exactly cling to her, but a man would have to be dead and buried not to notice the way every last inch of the cloth accentuated a very feminine shape. Miriam seemingly ignored her uncomfortable clothing and diligently worked over a few pots.

  She lifted a lid on something, and Gideon’s mouth watered. One of his brothers didn’t even bother to muffle his groan. When she started to dish servings onto a plate, Gideon stated, “Don’t make so much work for yourself, Miss Miriam. Just stick the pots on the table. We’ll serve ourselves.”

  She set aside that plate. Without a word, she did as he bade. His other brothers filed in and sniffed the air apprecitively. “Whatever you whipped up, it sure does make a feller’s nose take notice,” Bryce said.

  Miriam shot him a wobbly smile. Gideon sat and swept Polly into his lap. “Bet you’re a hungry little bear today.”

  “Uh-huh. She maded ’tatoes.”

  Logan chuckled. “Now you’ve done it, Miss Miriam. You made a friend for life. Polly loves taters.”

  All of the men sat and started to fill their plates. Miriam stayed at the stove and cut the food on the plate she’d already dished up. One place at the table remained conspicuously vacant. Titus said in a slightly too jovial tone, “Come sit here with us, Miss Miriam.”

  Gideon’s fork was halfway to Polly’s mouth when Miriam shook her head. Polly grabbed for the bite. Miriam poured a bit of gravy on her plate, then set the gravy boat in the center of the table. She gently swept Virginia Mae from Bryce’s hold and claimed the plate from the stove.

  “Aw, I can feed her. We’re all pretty fair hands at that kind of stuff,” Bryce said.

  “I’m sure you are.” Miriam’s gaze swept across the already decimated pots, bowls, and half-cleared plates. Her features went taut. A soundless sigh heaved her bosom, and she left. Gideon scowled. “Hey. Come back here.”

  Her voice drifted over her shoulder: “Ginny Mae’s wet.”

  In no time at all, the brothers finished off every last speck of food. Daniel hadn’t gotten to eat, but if he didn’t bother to show up, he had no call to bellyache. Food this good deserved to be appreciated down to the last bite. They’d eaten real loaf bread for the first time in ages. Normally they ate either sticky or rock-hard biscuits. She must have kneaded the loaves before she came out to the garden.

  “She set beans to soak,” Bryce reported. “Think she’ll sweeten them and add in ham or bacon?”

  “I reckon whatever she does,” Titus said as he sopped up the gravy with the last crust of his bread, “it’ll be better than anything we’ve had in a coon’s age.”

  Logan sighed appreciatively. “She sure can cook.”

  “Yeah, well, quit mooning over the vittles and get back to work. Logan, you take the buckboard to town and fetch Miss Miriam’s trunks. If I so much as catch a whiff of beer or whiskey on you when you get home, I’ll tan your hide so you can’t sit ’til Christmas.”

  Titus pumped a bucket of water and dumped the plates into it. He took Polly and said, “I reckon it’s best we keep the girls to their naps. I’ll go tuck this little one in and bring back Miss Miriam’s plate.”

  By the time Titus returned, Paul, Logan, and Bryce were long gone. Gideon moved the bucket with the trout onto the table and hoped Miriam would pan-fry them for supper. He had a hankering for a nicely turned hunk of trout. Titus interrupted his longings. “She fed Ginny and was singing her off t
o sleep.”

  “How did Polly do?”

  “Much as she don’t cotton to strangers, she truly does head straight to Miss Miriam for a pat or a smile. I told her they both nap a good while this time of the day.”

  “I hope she naps, too.”

  “I don’t much think so. She asked me where Hannah’s grave was.”

  Gideon grimaced.

  “I think you’d best leave her alone. She didn’t look none too good. Kind of reminded me of the air Mama carried when she needed us to leave her be.”

  “I’d better go anyway. Daniel might be there.”

  “Nah. I just saw him. He’s taking all the logs he split to the woodpile.”

  Supper came, and Gideon tried not to make a spectacle of himself when Miriam set a platter of trout on the table. Every last piece was fried to crispy, golden brown perfection. She served rice and greens, too. Her day gown was dry. Polly kept a fistful of it and shadowed her every move.

  “Logan, go on over to the cottage and bring back a chair,” Gideon ordered under his breath. “Put it at the foot of the table so Miriam has a place.”

  Paul brought in the evening milking and asked, “Where do you want this, Miss Miriam?”

  “What is it?”

  “Milk. I already strained it for you.”

  “Do you men drink it or do just the girls?”

  “Depends on whether you need any milk for your cooking.”

  “Why don’t you save half of it,” she said uncertainly, then turned to open the oven door. Gideon’s mouth watered. The fragrance had teased him ever since he came inside, but he’d tried to deny the possibility. Cobbler. He inhaled deeply. Apple.

  “Lord, have mercy,” Bryce moaned.

  Miriam set the cobbler on the stove top and shut the door. She moved stiffly and said with great precision, “I hope that was a prayer, because I will not have the Lord’s name taken in vain.”

  “Sorry, ma’am. I mean, miss. You surely can take that as a prayer of thanksgiving.”

  Logan arrived with the chair. With supper on the table, everyone flocked to the benches. Gideon seated Miriam and tried to take Polly back with him, but she wouldn’t turn loose of her aunt. “Here, poppet.” Miriam gently lifted their niece onto her lap. She wrapped her arms around Polly’s and folded their hands together into a steeple. “Who asks the blessing?”