The Brides of Chance Collection

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

  “Mornin’.” Logan’s head popped over the edge of the loft, startling her.

  “Mornin’. I didn’t know if y’all was awake yet.” She focused her attention on shutting the coop before picking up the three-legged stool and milking pail.

  “ ’Course we are. We’ll be down in just a minute, and I’ll take care of that for you,” Logan offered.

  “No need.” Milking cows was woman’s work, but offering to help didn’t make him any less of a man. She finished and stood up, leaving the pail of fresh milk on the barn floor. “Y’all cain come into the house soon as yore ready. I’ve got breakfast started.”

  “Sounds good!” She recognized Bryce’s voice before she left the barn.

  She gave the eggs to Miz Willow, who immediately started scrambling them once she heard that the men were on the way. Hattie strolled out to the well, pulled up the bucket, and lifted a pail of chilled milk from where they kept it hanging down by the cool water. She drew a bucket of water for the house.

  By the time she poured the milk into a pitcher and put it on the table with the bacon, Logan and Bryce were knocking on the door. Real gentlemen, they were, to knock rather than just saunter in. Even though they knew they were welcome, the gesture showed good manners. Logan set down the pail of fresh milk.

  “Come have a seat,” Miz Willow invited, putting the eggs and coffee next to the plates and mugs.

  Hattie sliced the cinnamon bread and put out some butter before joining them at the table. She sat next to Miz Willow, across from Logan.

  “Would one of you gentlemen like to bless the meal?” Miz Willow invited.

  “Certainly.” Logan surprised Hattie by reaching across the table to take hold of her hand so they all formed a circle.

  She noticed his clean hands and face, shaved jaw, and combed hair. He honored their table by coming to it as though ready for a banquet. His brother looked just as neat. These men had more manners and common sense than most folk—and they probably suffered illness a lot less.

  “Dear heavenly Father, we come before You this morning and thank You for all You’ve given us. We praise You for the safe journey and warm welcome we’ve experienced, and thank You for the hands that prepared this food. We pray for those who aren’t with us now and ask You to keep them close. Amen.”

  Hattie smiled to thank him for his beautiful prayer. He’d blessed them as well as the food and remembered his family, too. If all the Chance brothers had been brought up as well as these—and Hattie figured they must have been—then Lovejoy was well taken care of as she deserved to be.

  “Mmmm, this hits the spot.” Bryce jabbed a fork into his eggs as though to punctuate the comment.

  “Delicious.” Logan agreed. “Thank you for getting up early to make all of this for us. Nice of you to go to the trouble.” He directed this last comment to Miz Willow.

  “Much obliged.” Bryce reached for another slice of cinnamon bread, and Logan passed him the butter.

  “Hattie do have a way ’round a fire,” Miz Willow praised. “Her cinnamon bread’s a favorite of ourn.”

  “I can see why.” Logan took an appreciative bite and washed it down with some milk.

  This man kept on surprising her. Most lads she knew wouldn’t bother to think of how she and the widow didn’t need to make so much food for just the two of them. Pa and Horace hadn’t seen any need to thank her for cooking or anything else. That was her place. Not that she minded doing it, but it was nice to be appreciated for her efforts.

  Logan helped himself to some more bacon and passed the platter to Bryce, who did likewise. The smoky flavor of the meat was rich and filling, but he had plenty of room left over for the melt-in-your mouth flavor of Hattie’s warm, buttery cinnamon bread. He was glad to see he and Bryce weren’t going to strain their food supply. All the same, he’d find ways to repay them for their hospitality.

  According to Lovejoy, the widow and her apprentice made a steady living. Their home featured wooden floors, two windows covered with clarified hide, a real bed, and a separate storeroom. Everywhere he looked, he saw the tiny touches of love that made this place a home.

  A rag rug covered the center of the floor. Fresh flowers filled a jar on the bedside table, where a Bible held the place of prominence next to a tallow candle. Cheery curtains lined the tops of the windows, keeping out drafts and letting in some light. The bed was neatly made, and a sampler hung above it proclaiming, “A MERRY HEART DOETH GOOD LIKE A MEDICINE.” He only noticed it because the same type of thing had snuck its way onto Chance Ranch with each new bride.

  He wasn’t able to think of anything to help Hattie and Miz Willow that Lovejoy hadn’t already included in her packages. They had an outhouse and a smokehouse. The milk this morning was nice and cool, so they might have a springhouse, he figured. Then again, they might keep it dangling in a well bucket.

  “I don’t think they have a pump. She had to draw all that water for the horses out of a well.” Bryce’s observation from the night before tickled Logan’s brain. Maybe he could get and install a pump. Living with Lovejoy had taught him just how much fresh water a healer could need, and the childhood memory of hauling buckets on Chance Ranch reminded him how much easier a water pump made the daily chore. The idea had merit.

  “Now that yore bellies are full, I’ve a mind to ask you how that Lovejoy of ourn is farin’ back in Californy.” Miz Willow’s lively voice interrupted his thoughts.

  “Just fine, ma’am.” To Bryce, those three words summed it all up.

  “We’re awful glad to have her,” Logan jumped in. “She’s worked wonders with Daniel.”

  “No foolin’,” Bryce offered. “He’d been downright surly for about three years through. Sore as a buckshot bear.”

  Logan shoved the coffee in front of his brother to make him stop talking. What was Bryce thinking? Didn’t the alarmed look on Hattie’s face clue him in? They needed to hear how well Lovejoy and the MacPherson brides were getting along.

  “There’s some truth in that.” Logan smiled to soften the admission. “But Lovejoy came into our lives and pushed away his grief. She’s a mother to Polly and Ginny Mae, and the only woman I know who could’ve worked her way into Daniel’s heart. She’s a blessing to Chance Ranch.”

  “Heh,” the old woman said, slapping her gnarled hand upon her knee, “that’s Lovejoy for shore. Has a way of cuttin’ through the muck and taking care of the wounded.” She gave a decisive nod. “Sounds like she’s found the place God intended for her to be.”

  Hattie shot the old widow a questioning glance, and Miz Willow asked her next question with such cautious nonchalance that Logan could tell something was in the works.

  “Don’t suppose she sent a letter or word with you boys ’bout a small matter we writ to her…” Her voice trailed off, but her eyes flickered with surprising intensity.

  “Not that I know of, but she and the others packed so much stuff for us to bring, it could be in some bundle or another.” Bryce shrugged and leaned back. “We’ve gotta unpack it all and figure out what goes to who anyway, so we’d be glad to keep a lookout.”

  Miz Willow looked at them expectantly. Logan knew whatever she was expecting must be awfully important, because she stood up and rested her weight on the table.

  “Well, Hattie and I’ve got to clear the dishes. Why don’t you boys git to it. When yore done, Hattie an’ I’ll help you track down the folks it’s intended for.”

  Logan reckoned that was about as close as she could politely come to a blunt, “What’re you waitin’ fer?” He stood up and nudged Bryce on the shoulder.

  “Sounds like a good idea to me. Good way to start meeting people. C’mon, Bryce.” He led the way back to the barn, where they both stared at a veritable mountain of bundles and sacks.

  Each package was bound with string and adorned with a note detailing what family it was intended for. Occasionally a list of what was for whom also hung from the string. Lovejoy’s neatly cramped script, Miriam’s e
legant letters, Alisa’s grand flourishes, and Delilah’s calligraphy brought back a sense of home. It seemed as though they’d packed something for every family in these parts.

  Logan realized Bryce was staring at the pile with the same hopeless expression he probably wore. He could just imagine Hattie and Miz Willow coming back after they’d done all the dishes to find both of them just standing there, scratching their heads. Miz Willow just might poke them with her cane. Though twisted with age, she still held a presence that was both fun and formidable.

  “Let’s start laying them out so they’re not just in a big heap.” Logan couldn’t really think of anything else to do without knowing where each family lived.

  They worked for a while, finding that while some families had one package, others had more. Logan combined these smaller individual bundles into neat piles.

  I can’t believe how long this is taking! We should be out of this barn by now, riding the countryside or fishing with other men of the holler. Instead, my adventure today is going to be sorting packages like a fussy old maid.

  He and Bryce had just about finished laying all the things out when the women walked in.

  “Howdy, Miz Willow, Miz Hattie.” Logan tipped his hat. “We put yours aside over by the door.

  “Thankee much, both of you. We’ll git to ’em later. For now I figgur we’d best git all this organized.” Miz Willow gestured expansively.

  “We sure could use your help.” Logan smiled. “We’ve already divvied it up by surname, if that’s any use.”

  “Shore will be.” Hattie nodded and stepped forward, glancing at Miz Willow. What she saw slid the small smile right off her face and made Logan realize just how tightly the older woman was clutching her cane.

  “Oh, Miz Willow, I jist had a worry. What iff ’n someone comes for the healer and cain’t find a one of us? I’ll bet Otis Nye’s near run out of the devil’s claw tea we give him for his rheumatiz. Why don’t you go inside and brew up a batch so he cain have some straightaway iff ’n he comes to call?” She gently turned the older woman to the door.

  “I s’ppose you’ve the right of it.” Miz Willow started back to the house. “Jist you let me know when yore ready. I might have some salves or poultices to send out with you.” She left.

  “Nice of you to find a way she could rest.” Logan tried to encourage her.

  “It’s my fault she needs to.” Hattie blinked a few times. “I forgot to make the tea to soothe her joints this mornin’. It holps with her pain and makes it so she don’t swoll up so bad.”

  “Seems to me she’s doin’ just fine,” Logan said, consoling her. “She can make the tea for herself now and not feel as though she’s not pulling her weight. You saved her the pain of her joints and the humiliation of having to admit she needed to sit.”

  “I reckon.” Hattie shook her head as though to clear it, making the deep red of her braid bounce along the pale yellow of her cotton dress.

  Logan couldn’t help but like her better for her tender heart and the way she watched over the saucy old woman. Of all the people he’d meet in the holler, he had a funny feeling he’d be glad to have met these two remarkable women first.

  Chapter 8

  Wait a minute.” Hattie lifted up a small parcel. “Did you two miss this?” She recognized Lovejoy’s writing and smiled. “It’s got yore names on’t.”

  Bryce held out his hands, so she tossed it to him. He made short work of unwrapping two shiny harmonicas. He picked one up and handed a slip of foolscap to Logan.

  “It says here you’ll know who’s best to teach us how to play these.” Logan waved the paper. “Any ideas?”

  “Yep. Li’l Nate Rucker’ll learn you how. I’ll introduce you later.” Hattie couldn’t help but grin. Li’l Nate was the burly blacksmith of the holler. It did a body good to see such a bear of a man make a sweet tune on his harmonica. “It’s a good way to get to know some folk, ’specially since they’re plannin’ to have a sang real soon.”

  “A sang?” Logan repeated doubtfully.

  “We have us a sang when we want to celebrate sommat. This case, yore arrival’s all the reason these folks need. It’d be swell iff ’n you could play a song or two by then.”

  Hwaaaang. Bryce gave an experimental toot. “I hope it’s a ways off, in that case.”

  They all shared a chuckle before finishing the work at hand. It seemed as though Lovejoy, Tempy, Eunice, Lois, and the MacPherson boys had been determined to send something back for every last kinsman in the holler. She’d thought it looked like a heap of goods when the brothers first rode up, but spread out, the bundles filled the barn floor and then some. Hattie could only imagine what the packages held, but if she knew Lovejoy and those gals, everything would be useful and appreciated. The gifts would also go a fair way to making even those most distrusting of outsiders warm up to the new men.

  “Seems to me we ought to see about gettin’ some dinner before we load up yore horse,” Hattie said. They’d decided to just start making the rounds today. Hattie thought it best for the men not to strut around with two horses packed full of goods. It might make these men seem uppity, even though she knew they weren’t.

  “Agreed.” Bryce scrambled up the ladder.

  “We’ll be along soon as we’re washed up.” Logan shot her a grin before following.

  Hattie picked up the bundles bearing her and Miz Willow’s names and went into the house to wash up. Maybe she’d make some sandwiches or something that wouldn’t need to cook long. Bryce hadn’t left any doubt as to whether or not he was hungry.

  The door was open and the window covers rolled up when Hattie came inside. She could smell the faint sulfuric tinge in the air signaling boiled eggs. Miz Willow had fixed egg salad sandwiches and sliced apples for dinner.

  “You’ve been busy.” Hattie nodded toward the table as she laid the bundles on the bed. She was glad to see Miz Willow moving around with ease. “Need me to fetch some cool water?”

  “That’d be nice, dearie. I’m just going to make a few more of these here sandwiches. Those boys shore cain pack it away.” Hattie heard the fondness in Miz Willow’s voice and knew she enjoyed having the Chance men around. Hattie was starting to feel the same way.

  She took a wooden bucket made smooth by much use and filled it with the cool mountain water. As she walked back to the cabin, Logan and Bryce joined up with her.

  “I’ll get that.” Logan smoothly snagged the bucket without sloshing over any of the water. His thumb brushed the back of her hand, warming her.

  Logan clasped the handle of the bucket, feeling how warm it was from Hattie’s hand. The rope was rough, a definite contrast to her soft hand.

  They ate a pleasant lunch of tart apples with egg salad sandwiches on thick slices of bread. The crisply fresh water Hattie had drawn from the well washed it all down.

  “We were going to bring in your packages when we came in for lunch, but Hattie beat us to it.” Logan spotted them on the bed. “Maybe you ought to open ’em before we set off. There might be a note from Lovejoy that tells us something we need to know.”

  He couldn’t dismiss the meaningful looks between Hattie and Miz Willow this morning.

  “That might be a good idea,” Hattie said slowly, raising her eyebrows in a silent question to the widow.

  “Reckon so.” With Miz Willow’s nod, Hattie crossed the room and brought the parcels back to the table.

  Logan made sure to move all the dishes out of the way before she got back. He and Bryce scooted as far down as they could so as not to intrude.

  Miz Willow painstakingly untied the string and unfolded the neat brown paper to reveal her treasure. Although Logan could see a box and a shawl, she first picked up the note Lovejoy had written to her. She slid a wrinkled finger beneath the edge of the envelope to open it. Her mouth moved silently as she read to herself; then she put it down.

  “No mention of it, Hattie. I reckon our last letter didn’t make it afore these two” —she jer
ked a thumb at them—“took off.”

  Logan registered Hattie’s disappointment and could hardly restrain his own curiosity.

  “What were you lookin’ for?” Bryce held no compunction.

  Logan didn’t know whether to kick him or slap him on the back for the blunt question, so he just waited for the response.

  “I reckon it’s up to Lovejoy to let you know. We don’t have all the facts yet, but I figgur we cain tell you when yore sister-in-law gets word back to us.” The widow’s vague answer only raised more questions, but it would have to do. An awkward silence hung in the air.

  “Fair enough. Why don’t you go on and see what they sent you?” Logan ended the uncomfortable pause.

  They all watched as the widow opened the pasteboard box and took out a gleaming new copper kettle.

  “Ain’t that a sight?” She held it up and looked at it from every angle. “I cain see ever wrinkle on my face, but it’s beautiful just the same, ’cuz it’s the same color as yore hair, Hattie!”

  Logan privately thought Hattie’s hair a much richer shade but held his peace. It wasn’t the type of thing to mention.

  “It’ll shore come in useful for you, Miss Willow.” Hattie gently took the proffered kettle and placed it in a position of prominence on one of the shelves.

  Miz Willow drew out a soft-looking woolen shawl in bright purple. Hattie held it up. “Now ain’t that the prettiest thing you ever clapped eyes on?” she asked before tucking it around the old woman’s shoulders.

  “I’ve been needin’ a fair-weather wrap.” Miz Willow stroked the fabric lovingly. “Ole one’s plumb wore through.”

  “Don’t you look a sight in yore violet shawl.” Hattie stepped back to admire the color while the widow pulled out a thick hooded cloak in a deeper shade.