“One and seven-eighths inches from center,” Alisa announced, and Miriam scribbled a minuscule B.
Titus managed to shoot a bit high. “Best yet, darling,” a not-quite impartial Alisa congratulated. “One and a quarter inch from center.”
“I object,” Logan broke in. “Titus sweet-talked the judge!” Miriam assured him Alisa measured correctly, and the competition continued. Paul’s turn came quickly.
Now he’d take his chance to prove that even though he’d gotten thrown from his horse, he could still hold his own. He issued a swift prayer. Lord, I know pride goes before a fall, but since I already fell this week, I’d be mighty obliged if You’d consider it even and let me do well today.
He counted off ten long paces and aimed. While Alisa and Miriam hustled over to the target, he held his breath.
The call of “a half inch right from center” was music to his ears. Anyone would be hard pressed to beat that—even Gideon, whom Paul viewed as his only real competition. He risked a look at Delilah. Her appreciative smile took him by surprise, because she seemed completely unruffled. Could she possibly beat him?
Dan shot a little low, “one inch from center,” and Gideon matched Paul’s shot with “a half inch left from center.” The only way Delilah could possibly win would be to shoot dead center between the holes Paul’s and Gideon’s bullets made.
“Would you like to borrow my gun?” Gideon offered.
To the astonishment of everyone present, Delilah pulled a small Derringer from a pocket in her dress.
“I always carry one of my own.” The brothers watched, flabbergasted, as she took ten strides, hardly bothered to aim, and fired.
Paul prayed fervently as Alisa measured. “A quarter inch from center, low.” Delilah had won.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun, Delilah decided. Logan seemed awed, Bryce eyed her with a new respect, Dan looked downright mutinous, and Gideon and Titus moped. As for Paul, she averted her face from his piercing gaze.
“I suppose that means we get to go to town after all, ladies,” she said, addressing a beaming Alisa and grinning Miriam.
“I don’t think so,” Dan growled. “You needed to prove that you three women would be protected. What happens after your one shot?” To underscore his point, he snatched the compact gun from her grasp.
“It won’t do you much good, and I don’t like the thought of you carrying this around my daughters.” He stalked off.
Quick as a flash, Delilah grabbed the small knife she kept strapped to her ankle. “Daniel Chance, you will return that.” Her voice held a warning even he couldn’t completely ignore.
He stopped and turned around. “I don’t think so.” The next minute, Daniel groped the top of his head and started looking around. Obviously he didn’t understand—no sudden breeze had snatched his hat.
His much-used hat hung pinned to the barn behind him by a small knife with a mother-of-pearl handle. As he gaped at it, Delilah swept past, pulled the knife from the wall in a single jerk, and turned to face Daniel, holding his hat behind her back.
“My gun, if you please.” She held out a commanding hand.
Daniel all but gnashed his teeth before giving in and getting his hat in return.
A pleased smile spread across her face. “Thank you.”
“My hat. My poor hat.” Dan sat on his bed, looking mournfully at the hat he held.
Paul bit back a grin. “You shouldn’t have tried to take her gun, Dan.”
“A girl like that has no business owning a gun. Or being able to handle a knife like that.”
“Think about it, Daniel. Her father gambled his way from town to town, dragging her along with him. Who knows what kind of trouble a pretty woman like her ran into? I hate to think of it, but she probably did have occasion to use them.” Paul saw the light dawn in Dan’s eyes as his habitual scowl deepened.
“Well, she won’t need ’em here, that’s for sure. And neither will my girls. If anyone comes near a-one of them, I’ll skin him alive. Her papa didn’t do right by her, poor thing.”
Dan’s words just about summed up Paul’s own feelings on the subject. Paul punched his pillow into shape with more force than was absolutely necessary.
Maybe her father didn’t, but I will.
Chapter 5
Long before the sun came up the next morning, Delilah awoke to someone knocking on her door. Apparently the Chance clan didn’t think she’d get up on her own, as this was the second time in as many days. Hastily pulling on her wrapper, she heard Miriam’s urgent whisper.
“Delilah? Delilah!”
Delilah wrenched open the door, and Miriam, clad in only her nightgown and robe, scurried in.
“What’s wrong?” Delilah demanded, dozens of scenarios in which one or more of this precious family were gravely injured.
“Nothing’s wrong!” Upon closer scrutiny, Miriam’s face, flushed with cold, seemed more excited than frantic.
“Do you remember how we made butter the day Paul broke his arm, since we could get store credit for it?”
Delilah nodded, confused. “Yes, but it’s so early in the morning, Miriam! What’s going on?”
“Well, Gideon said last night that any credit I managed to wrangle from Mr. White could be ours to spend however Alisa and I choose!”
“That’s wonderful, but my mind’s not working well enough this early to figure out why you’re jumping like a grasshopper.” Obviously her cousin had lost her mind.
“I need your help, and the sooner we start, the better off we’ll be. I don’t want to go to Alisa and Titus’s cabin, so it’s up to us to fetch the cream from the springhouse and make as much butter as we can this morning!”
Suddenly all became clear. Miriam wanted the extra currency for their trip to town. Even Delilah knew that pregnant women sometimes had odd starts, but apparently Miriam hadn’t gone mad after all.
“All right. Go get dressed, and I’ll meet you in the barn so we can milk Sir and Mister.”
“Thank you, Delilah!” Miriam rushed out of the room.
Delilah put on her freshly laundered blue serge traveling frock. The widest of her skirts, it permitted her to easily get in and out of the buckboard. Besides, they were setting out early, and the heavy fabric would afford more protection against the sharp morning air.
Throwing on a heavy shawl, she tromped out to the barn. Miriam was already there, starting on Sir. Delilah set a stool next to Mister and started milking. When they’d finished, they hauled the fresh milk to the springhouse.
They brought the cream back into the kitchen, where the paddle churn waited. Delilah scooped in some cream and started churning while Miriam scurried about, feeding the chickens and pigs and gathering eggs—until Alisa came into the kitchen.
“Is it time to start breakfast already?” Miriam couldn’t disguise her disappointment. They usually began breakfast at about five o’clock. Since she and Delilah had started working almost two hours before, they’d expected to get more done.
“No, I just woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. It’s about half past four now.” Since Alisa had brought back a mantel clock from her old home, she alone knew exact time. “You wanted to get an early start on packing things for town, too?”
“Gideon said we could spend all the credit we get for eggs and butter on whatever we like!”
“Let’s get going, then!” Apparently Alisa was quicker on the uptake than Delilah early in the morning. “Where do we stand now?”
Delilah did some quick tabulating. “We made eight bricks on Thursday, and there are still nine in the springhouse from before that. I’ve finished one this morning, and this batch is ready for rinsing.” Alisa took over the churn while Delilah rinsed and pressed the butter.
“Miriam, how are we for eggs?”
“The day Paul broke his arm, we didn’t collect the eggs until after breakfast, which was about three dozen. Yesterday we had flapjacks, so I saved another dozen
. This morning I collected another three, so we have seven dozen to take to town.” Miriam finished packing the eggs and started to pick up a crate. In a few quick steps, Delilah took it from her.
“You shouldn’t be lifting anything in your condition. If I catch you trying to haul anything today, I’m going to side with the men and say you shouldn’t go to town.” She made the warning as ominous as she could, but Miriam just shrugged and started the coffee before getting to work on the oatmeal. Delilah stacked the crates outside the door.
“Not bad,” Alisa said approvingly as she plopped the butter into the bowl for the next washing. “I’ll have another load of butter done this morning. We should leave one in the springhouse since we’ll be wanting to do some baking and one more for the oatmeal this morning. Delilah, how does that add up?”
“Nineteen for town.” They didn’t have much time left, so everyone buckled down. Delilah just started pressing the final brick of butter when the men began trickling in. First came Gideon, with a smile and a peck on the cheek for Miriam. Logan and Bryce came in next. Logan looked suspiciously at the pot on the stove.
“What’s that?”
“Oatmeal,” Delilah answered. Logan groaned and grumped about for the remainder of breakfast. Not only was he stuck at home while Paul and the women got to go to town, but he couldn’t look forward to the standard three feasts a day. Delilah thought the oatmeal deserved more credit. Miriam added generous amounts of sugar during the cooking, and the butter and preserves on the table let everybody doctor theirs as little or as much as they liked.
During breakfast, the women handed out last-minute instructions. Dan would watch Ginny Mae and Polly. Miriam set out bread and meat for them to make sandwiches for lunch. As soon as the meal ended, the men loaded half of the steer they’d butchered yesterday into the buckboard, along with the eggs Miriam packed while the other women did the dishes.
Usually one of the men would drive, but since Paul had a broken arm, the responsibility fell to the most competent woman. Alisa took the reins because Miriam’s delicate condition excluded her from taking on any strenuous activities.
Paul insisted Miriam sit beside Alisa rather than ride in the back with half of a dead steer, which left Delilah to share the cramped space with him. She took care to sit on his right side so she wouldn’t bump his injured arm. Still, it didn’t do much good if he was as uncomfortable as she felt. Her arm pressed against his, and they hunched so close, even their legs touched. As usual, sitting next to him made her feel almost petite, but the crowded seating arrangement wasn’t to her liking. Why did I ever put on this shawl? Delilah wondered. The morning was nothing if not overly warm.
Usually Paul opted to ride Speck rather than pile into the wagon, but for once, he didn’t mind being packed in like a sardine. Despite the butchered steer sharing the space, he relished Delilah’s company. Noticing how she took special care to sit on his right gave him an idea. He casually moved a crate of eggs between him and the side of the wagon, pretending to rest his arm on it. Hopefully, she’d never suspect he did it intentionally so they’d have less room.
It worked. The length of her leg pressed against his, her arm against his, and he could catch the scent of violets in her hair. He bit back a grin and leaned back to enjoy the next hour as they rode to town. Yep, he reckoned breaking his arm was probably the smartest thing he’d ever done.
They reached Reliable far too soon to his way of thinking. Miriam and Alisa hitched the horses while he jumped out of the wagon and swept Delilah down with his good arm. The men on the street jabbed each other and gawked at her. If he could, he’d have held on for a lot longer, but he needed to help Miriam. By the time they reached the back of the general store, a horde of bachelors straggled in behind them. Paul glared at each and every one of them, wishing he could make them all leave.
Reba White bustled out to the counter, beaming from ear to ear. “Miriam! Alisa! It’s so good to see you again. How’ve y’all been?” She caught sight of Delilah. “And who’s this pretty young thing?”
That let loose a torrent of remarks from the rabble behind them. “Yeah! Who’s she?”
“Where’d she come from?”
“Marry me!”
“No, me!”
Paul stepped in front of the women and spoke in a low voice. His tone served as a warning. “This here is a guest at the Chance Ranch. If anybody wants to speak to the lady, they’ll have to act like a gentleman. If you can’t behave yourselves, you’ll have more trouble than you can handle.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Delilah stood in front of Miriam, her hands in her pockets.
“Aw, you Chance boys have all the luck.”
“It’s not fair. There weren’t no decent women in the town but Reba and Priscilla when Miriam came,” another interrupted.
“And Gideon got her, and Titus snatched Alisa. You Chance men can’t go round taking all the women to be found. Ain’t neighborly.”
General mutters of agreement rumbled as the throng moved closer. “Ya oughta introduce us proper-like.”
Gus White came out from behind the curtain in the back of the store, brandishing a broom.
“Get out, you lazy good-fer-nothin’s. You can’t stick around hasslin’ my customers.”
“But Gus, we just wanna—Hey!”
Gus thwapped the dirty ruffian on the head with the broom. Paul didn’t remember the last time he’d felt so much brotherly love for any soul as he felt for Gus at that moment.
“I said git!” Gus punctuated his words with a well-placed prod to another man’s backside as the crowd beat a hasty retreat.
“All right, all right. We’re goin’. We didn’t mean nothin’.”
As soon as they left, Gus turned, his scowl replaced by a genial smile. “Hello, Mrs. Miriam, Mrs. Alisa. Ma’am. Howdy, Titus. What’dya do to your arm?”
“This un’s Paul, Gus.” Reba shook her head, then spoke to the women. “I declare, if there really were more women around here, he’d probably forget my name, too. Well, seems to me you’ve got some news to tell.” She waited expectantly.
“Paul broke his arm, Reba, and this is my cousin, Delilah,” Miriam quickly explained.
Reba gave Delilah an assessing once-over. “I’m right glad to see you, Miss Delilah. Don’t worry none about that bunch—they’re lonely, and you’ll probably get more decent offers than indecent, if you take my meaning.” She straightened her shoulders. “I’m afraid Doc Morris is out of town, Paul. Will you be all right?”
“Miriam already set the break, and it hasn’t been troubling me too much. My arm’ll be fine, Mrs. Reba. And how’ve you been?”
“Can’t complain,” Gus remarked. “What can we do for you folks today?”
Alisa rattled off a list of goods—rice, beans, flour, meal, sugar, spices, apples, cocoa, maple syrup, canning jars, buttons, and vegetable seeds—then turned to Paul. He added tacks, ammunition, spring tonic, and a salt lick to the list.
“We slaughtered a steer yesterday, Gus. It’s out in the wagon.” The Chance family never bothered with store credit if they could avoid it.
“Fair enough.” Gus turned when he heard the door creak open. “I told everyone to get outta here.”
“We heard.” A wiry man made his way to the back of the store, followed by two others.
“Howdy, Paul,” one of them greeted. “We done heard you broke your arm and figgered ya’d need a hand with unloadin’ your wagon.”
“Perfect.” Gus ushered them back out the door and called to Paul, “That ought to be about even, after what you brought me last time,” before turning back to the ladies.
Delilah watched Paul leave with some regret. He’d been so strong when he stood up to that awful pack of men. True, they’d been more curious than dangerous, but there were some rough characters mingled in, and you never could tell when a crowd could turn into a mob. She knew how to take care of herself, but she’d never been up against a dozen men, and she couldn’t forget Miriam and
Alisa. Paul had immediately placed himself between them and the townsmen; even with a broken arm, he’d had an air of power and control she could only admire.
Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of Miriam’s voice asking Gus for peppermint sticks and licorice for the girls. The whitewash she listed surprised everyone.
“You’re gonna whitewash your cabin, Miriam?” Reba asked, smiling. “You’ll be surprised at the difference.”
Miriam nodded. “I’ve been wanting to for a while now. That’s it for the Chance account, Reba, but there are a few other matters to settle. I’ve got some eggs and butter out in the wagon.”
“Butter? Nobody round here bothers to make it.” Gus’s voice betrayed his eagerness. “I can give you, say, twenty cents a pound, Miriam.”
“Oh, I’d say twenty-three is fairer. We both know you’ll sell it for more than that. Anyway, I’ve got ten bricks I can sell you, and I’ll take the other nine to Mr. Scudd at the restaurant.”
“I’ll give you twenty-five cents a brick if you sell it all to me.”
“Deal. You’ll make a tidy profit when you sell it to the restaurant, too.”
“We’ve also brought seven dozen eggs,” Alisa chimed in.
Gus nodded. “I can give you twenty cents a dozen for those. It’s a bit high, but nobody around here really raises chickens, and the ones as do eat their own eggs. There’s plenty who will pay for ’em. Let me see, that’s nineteen bricks of butter at two bits each, and seven dozen eggs at twenty cents a dozen—that’ll be six fifteen, total. Did you want cash?”
“I’ll tell you what, Mr. White. Why don’t you and Paul haul in the goods from the wagon while we women discuss what we’d like to do.”
“I need about five yards of flannel and six of the green gingham, Reba, and a special order for baby buttons.” Reba, busily writing down the order, broke her pencil.
“Did I hear that right? Did you say ‘baby buttons’ just as innocently as could be? You’re in the family way! So that’s why your cousin is here! Oh, this’ll be the first babe since your sister’s, God rest her soul. And you hiding it behind your cloak! You give old Reba a hug this minute!” She came around the counter and all but smothered Miriam in a jubilant embrace. She shared an amused glance with Alisa, but Delilah felt the same way Reba did. Miriam loved Hannah and Dan’s girls, but she had told Delilah in her letters how much she wanted children of her own.
The Brides of Chance Collection Page 33
