The Brides of Chance Collection

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

  Nessie nodded wordlessly. Rooster Linden had gotten worse in the past year, but it seemed there wasn’t a thing anybody could do about it. He’d always been unpredictable after drink, but lately he’d tended more to angry and violent. Hattie got up and went to the storeroom and came back with a poultice of marshmallow and burdock root.

  “This should holp with the swellin’ and soothe the skin a bit.” Hattie paused but had to ask. “Did he hit you anywhere else?” At the shake of Nessie’s head, she said, “I’m powerful sorry he took out his wrath on you. You ken ’tisn’t yore fault?”

  “Yes, thankee.” Nessie cleared her throat. “Cain I have Pa’s medicine now?”

  Hattie rocked back on her heels and prayed. Lord, I want to do Yore will, but I don’t know what that is. Mr. Linden’s hurtin’ himself and others. As a healer, I’m s’posed to holp wherever I cain—but iff ’n I make it so his drinkin’s easier, who does that really holp? Not Nessie or even Rooster. But iff ’n I don’t, he’ll be riled as a bear and drink more. Then Nessie’ll suffer his anger agin. How do I protect her?

  “Here you go, Nessie.” Miz Willow took the decision from Hattie’s hands by handing a packet to Nessie. “That’ll clean him out right quick, though he won’t thank me for it ’til after.”

  “Thankee, Widow Hendrick.” Nessie shrugged her hood back on.

  “Wait a minute. Have some of this.” The older woman passed the girl a mug of tea. “It’ll keep yore bones warm on the walk back. And when yore pa feels better, you make shore you ask him to come down and visit with Widow Hendrick.” A steely glint lit her usually twinkling eyes. “We have sommat to discuss, him and me.”

  Logan breathed deeply as he stepped into the main cabin. Smells like pot roast, mashed potatoes, and could that possibly be…

  “Muck!” Alisa’s voice interrupted his thoughts. He was surprised to see her tapping her tiny foot and glaring up at him. “Go wipe off your boots, Logan. I just cleaned the floor!”

  He obligingly loped back out the door, stomped his feet, and came back in. Little things like that didn’t seem like much, but he heard those kinds of remarks every day. “Wipe your feet.” “Don’t put your boots on the chair.” “Hold the baby for a minute.” “Not like that!” “Why aren’t you washed up yet?” “How’d you get these so dirty?” “Where’d you put the…oh, never mind.” “Another hole to mend?” The endless refrain was enough to set a man’s teeth permanently on edge.

  He spotted the apple pies he’d been smelling earlier and reconsidered. Having women around wasn’t all bad. It definitely had its compensations! His mouth watering, Logan filched a biscuit from one of the baskets, only to have his knuckles rapped with a wooden spoon.

  “Ow!” He dropped it like a red-hot poker.

  “You know better than that, Logan Chance.” Miriam shook the wooden spoon at him.

  There was a time when he would’ve flashed her a smile, waited until she turned around, then crammed it into his mouth while she wasn’t looking. Now it wasn’t worth it. The mischief had been all but scrubbed and chided out of him. Things had come to a sorry state indeed.

  He took a seat and bowed his head for the prayer, then shoveled forkfuls of meat and potatoes into his mouth while everybody chattered away. Chomping on a buttery biscuit so light it could’ve flown, Logan promised himself he’d ignore the domesticity of it all and enjoy his family before he set out. When plates of apple pie came around, Logan judged the time was right.

  “So have you had any letters from Widow Hendrick lately?” He addressed the question to Lovejoy before trying the pie. The taste of cinnamon and apples lingered as sweet as victory while Lovejoy started speaking about the holler.

  “As a matter of fact, had one jist this week. Seems the spell of whooping cough is over—they lost two young’uns and one older fella.” She shook her head sadly.

  This wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. He tried to steer the conversation into more pleasant territory. “Could’ve been much worse. How’s everybody else doin’?” He held his breath until she smiled.

  “Well, there’re at least three babes on the way for this spring, so Hattie’s busy harvesting and offered to send me some rusty rye.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “Isn’t it just like the good Lord to send three new lives after taking the same number? Keeps it all in balance.”

  “Balance?” Logan jumped on his opportunity. “Seems to me they’re a bit short over there since Reliable snatched Obie, Hezzie, Mike, Eunice, Lois, Tempy, and yourself.”

  “Now if that doesn’t just prove it, I don’t know what will, Logan. See, God sent out three men, but the loss of eligible bachelors would’ve been hard to bear, so He paved the way for their brides, too.” She beamed across the table as all the women nodded in agreement, Paul nudging Delilah with his elbow.

  “I just meant that Salt Lick Holler’s sent a bunch of wonderful people out to Reliable”—Logan leaned back to appear nonchalant—“but Reliable hasn’t returned the favor.”

  “There’s some truth to that.” Daniel put an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “We’re keeping ’em, too.”

  Murmurs of agreement sounded around the table, punctuated by one of the babies banging a spoon against the table. If Logan didn’t do something immediately, the conversation would be over and he’d ’ve lost his chance.

  “I bet it’s nice this time of year.” He shrugged and gobbled the last bite of his pie.

  “Shore is.” Lovejoy’s eyes went a little dreamy. “You cain smell things a-growin’ from the earth in spring. It’s fresh and green. Birds sang at ya; butterflies flit around through the air. The sun’s so bright, you walk under the trees to keep cool until a breeze picks up. Baby critters pop their tiny heads up around every corner, and the sounds of life rustle alongside the ring of wood bein’ chopped.” She gave a wistful sigh. “At night the stars glow like it’s their last time, and glowworms dart ’round the trees an’ ruffle yore hair iff ’n ya git too close. It’ll be that way ’til the middle of summer.”

  “Oh, Lovejoy, that sounds beautiful.” Alisa reached over to pat her on the arm.

  “I’d like to see all that,” Logan burst in before Lovejoy could start assuring them all how wonderful Chance Ranch was and how she’d rather be here anyway.

  “Everybody should.” Lovejoy smiled at him. “But it’s a better place ta visit than ta call home.”

  “I’ve already got a home. Seems like I’m missing a place to visit.” Logan sent up a little prayer. “Would that be possible?”

  “You mean it, don’t you?” Delilah looked at him in surprise.

  “ ’Course he doesn’t. He’s got everything he could want right here.” Gideon brushed the idea away like a pesky gnat, and Logan felt his freedom slipping away.

  Chapter 3

  I don’t know about that.” Every head turned toward Bryce.

  “What are you talking ’bout, Bryce?” Daniel drew Lovejoy closer.

  “I’m just saying we all remember moving out here to start Chance Ranch, making a home and a place for ourselves with Ma. Logan was barely eight, though. It makes sense he’d like to stretch his legs and take in a few sights before he settles down.” Bryce cast a meaningful look around the table at all the children.

  “There is something about being in a new place that makes a person learn to follow God’s will and grow into oneself.” Delilah spoke thoughtfully, obviously thinking of the time she’d spent in San Francisco to sell her art. While away from Chance Ranch, she’d found God.

  “You’ve got a point. Stickin’ where things is familiar ain’t always what’s best.” Lovejoy grinned at Daniel, who relaxed a bit.

  “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be an option after calving,” Titus offered.

  “Me, neither,” Paul agreed. “I think it might be a nice change of pace for everyone— we’ll get to hear all about what you get into instead of having to witness it and pull you out of it!” Everyone laughed.

  “I don’t
suppose you two could get into too much trouble,” Daniel assented.

  “Two?” Logan had missed something, he was sure.

  “Yeah.” Gideon jerked a thumb toward Bryce. “Like he said, you guys have grown up here. You both need the experience of making your own way in the world for a while.”

  “Whoa. How’d I get dragged into this?” Bryce held out his hands, palms up, as though trying to shove away a skunk without getting sprayed.

  “Oh, come on,” Titus chortled. “You two are like Frick ’n’ Frack. Always have bin.”

  Logan kept his trap shut and thought about it. Of all his brothers, Bryce understood him the best and bothered him the least. He’d be fairly quiet, and besides, he usually went along with whatever Logan decided anyway. Plus, it was a six-day trip, and he could use some company on the way. Sounded good to him.

  “We’d feel more comfortable with two of you going,” Alisa encouraged Bryce.

  “I’ll send off the letter tomorrow making arrangements,” Lovejoy determined. “There’s not a moment to lose!”

  “Time for an official vote.” Gideon called them to order. “All in favor of Bryce and Logan visiting Salt Lick Holler for the summer after the calving season, put up your hands.”

  Logan watched everyone vote for his adventure and gave Bryce an apologetic smile as he followed suit. It was settled. They’d both go.

  “Wait, Hattie!” Hattie turned to see Nate Rucker rushing up to her.

  “Was thar sommat else I should know ’bout the babe, Mr. Rucker?” Hattie’s smile fled. Abigail Rucker was due any week now, and Hattie had taken to checking up on the woman almost every day. She seemed fine when Hattie left her just moments ago.

  “Nah. Abigail and I are beholden to you for yore care. Yore a fine healer.” He put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. “It’s jist that thar’s a letter for you and Widow Hendrick. I plumb fergot about it on account of the babe.”

  He handed her a slightly smudged envelope. Hattie recognized the fancy paper and loopy print as being from Lovejoy.

  “Thankee for yore quick memory, Mr. Rucker.”

  “Welcome. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be seein’ ya afore long.” He gave a jaunty wave and turned back, leaving Hattie to her thoughts.

  It was Nate and his wife’s first babe, scarcely a year into their marriage. They’d moved into Hattie’s old home when she went to live with Miz Willow. Now the place would have the child she’d never been able to bear. It would be a real home. Such bittersweet thoughts, but at least she’d have a hand in bringing the babe into the world. That was something to make her give thanks.

  “How’s Abigail Rucker doin’ this fine spring day?” Miz Willow asked as soon as Hattie stepped inside.

  “Restless as a raccoon in a river, but farin’ well.” Hattie smiled and brought out the envelope. “I’ve got sommat for you!”

  A grin broke across the widow’s face, deepening the lines given to her by years of honest living and laughter. “How nice. How ’bout you read it to me? It’d be good practice.”

  Hattie slid a finger beneath the corner of the delicate paper and lifted open the glued flap of the envelope. She pulled out the sheet of paper, unfolded it, and carefully shaped the words with her mouth as she read it aloud:

  Dear Miz Willomena and Hattie,

  Praise be that th’ whooping cough has ended. I keep you in my prayers ev’ry day. Thankee for the valerian root you sent. Little Polly says it holped with ’er head poundin’s. Yore so good to us.

  Night past, we was talkin’ ’bout how much Salt Lick Holler has sent down to Reliable, and we come ta the truth that we ain’t returned the favor. Important as it is to keep strong ties with yore kin, we wish to rectify our negligence. (Lookie thar— Delilah learned me that word. Means we ain’t been watchin’ out like we should.)

  Hattie stumbled over the bigger words and sounded out the new one. “Well, live and learn. That thar’s a fancy phrase.”

  The widow was obviously pleased with both her students—Lovejoy for making good use of her lessons, and Hattie for learning them.

  “You want I should keep on?” Hattie wondered if Miz Willow would like to read the letter herself, seeing as how it was a real link between her and her friend. Letters were special, something to touch and still almost hear a voice, too.

  “Please do.”

  Tempy an’ Lois are expectin’ again, so’s none of us cain come down. ’Sides, we don’t know what good could come a leavin’ all the young’uns with Obie, Hezzie, and Mike. So’s the best we cain send you is our love.

  But Logan and Bryce Chance (Dan’s least brothers) are fine young lads with God in thar hearts and adventure in thar eyes.

  Hattie paused as she saw the next line, then kept on.

  Iff ’n yore agreeable, they’d like to visit come end of spring thru summer. Bryce charms anything with fur or feathers, and Logan does better with folks with two legs. I was thinkin’ they could sleep in yore barn, and in return for their keep, they’d be happy to holp any way they could—huntin’, fishin’, buildin’, choppin’, an’ such.

  Pray on it. You both have to be fine with it. I know Hattie’s still a bonnie young lassie, so’s it may be awkwart ta have them around her. They’re right respectful bucks, but none of ourn want to impose. All our love regardless of yore decision.

  Forever yores,

  Lovejoy Chance

  “Well, I’ll be.” Miz Willow just rocked in her chair, looking thoughtful.

  Hattie didn’t venture much of an opinion but pointed out, “That’s jist a few weeks from now, I’d imagine.”

  “True, true. We’d hafta git ready mighty quick.” The widow caught her gaze. “Iff ’n you say it’s fine by you.”

  Rather than just agree as the widow obviously wanted, Hattie thought about it for a minute. She’d gone through so much change in the last two years and finally settled here. She had everything she could want and praised God for it. Did she really want two young men stepping into their lives and setting the whole holler aflutter?

  It wasn’t her first choice, but then again, it wasn’t her decision. It was Miz Willow’s. Besides, there was plenty to keep her busy and out of their way.

  “No skin off my nose, Miz Willow. I cain think on a few gals who’d be mighty pleased to hear ’bout two new fellas comin’ for a visit.”

  Widow Hendrick nodded. “And I know Silk Trevor will want ta know the type of folks who’ve taken her nieces into their family. Come to think on it, so do I.” She rocked a bit more and reached for a pencil and paper. “So do I.”

  The barbed wire bit through the tough leather the moment Logan looked away. He tugged the glove off with his teeth and sucked on his finger ’til the bleeding stopped, then kept right on mending the fence.

  Served him right for daydreaming on the job. He’d been wondering what the mountains were like, whether the train would feel as quick as a fast gallop, if all the folks in Salt Lick Holler would sound like Lovejoy—gentle and kind of musical. What did the men do to pass the time? How did everyone make a living?

  He’d know the answers soon enough, but for now he needed to keep his thoughts on the work at hand. Otherwise he’d end up like Paul—everyone knew back in his courting days that he’d fallen off his horse and broken his arm because he was busy thinking about Delilah. Well, at least I’m not being distracted over a woman.

  He heard Bryce coming before he saw the horse and winced. They’d started in the middle, and both were supposed to reinforce two miles’ worth of the safeguard. Logan blamed his slow pace on his oft-pricked fingers.

  Bryce swung out of the saddle and came over to help him finish up. They worked side by side until the job was done. Not a word passed between them. After they finished, they sat and guzzled some lukewarm water from their canteens.

  “How long you gonna be mad at me for something I had no control over?” Logan decided it was time to clear the air. Bryce had been even quieter than usual the past month—ever
since the Chance clan had decided they’d both go to Salt Lick Holler if the Widow Hendrick and Hattie Thales let them.

  Bryce blinked, then drew his bandanna across his forehead. “I’m not mad at you, Logan.”

  “Then why’ve you been so all-fired quiet lately?”

  “I’ve never been much of a talker. You know that.”

  “But you always talked to me.” Logan grumbled this, not wanting to sound too whiny.

  “What’s done is done, little brother.” Bryce slugged him on the shoulder. “It’s not what either of us thought it’d be, but I won’t be the hitch in your plans.”

  “Thanks.” Logan’s voice went gruff as he thought about how his brother was willing to take this trip for him, even though Bryce would always be happy to stay at home— well, in the barn, anyway. “I’m glad that’s settled.” He got up and dusted off his seat.

  “Who says it’s settled?” Bryce grinned as they went back for their horses. “Maybe they won’t want us.”

  “Now why would you say something that crazy?” Logan grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Who wouldn’t want us?”

  Chapter 4

  Dear Lovejoy and Chance Family,

  Sorry bout my writin—I’m new at it but Miz Willow says I don’t git nough times to practice, so here goes.

  We’re glad the valerian roots holped Miss Polly’s head and have sent more along with some rusty rye. Already used some of this batch last year on one of

  Silk Trevor’s daughters—Katherine. She’s delivered of a healthy son an she says to make shore I tole you to tell Obadiah MacPherson she’s named her chile after him. She says Hezzie and Mike ’re next since she’s done run outta names from her man’s kin.

  Everyone’s all aflutter here bouts since we tole em how Logan and Bryce’ll be comin. We figgur iff ’n y’all write back rite quick we’ll know they’re comin bout a week afore they git here in the end of May. Sowry we cain’t offer nuthin better’n a barn for ’em, but I’ll clean out the loft and make it as nice as I cain. Miz Willow reckons a barn were good nuff for Jesus Hisself so it’ll do jist fine.