Wyoming Bride

by Joan Johnston

  Hannah had made the soda biscuits herself. She’d found the instructions in a Confederate Receipt Book, a thin manual she’d discovered in one of Flint’s cupboards, which also contained directions for how to make candles and soap, which had been a blessing.

  In addition, she’d found remedies for common ailments such as dysentery (table salt in vinegar, corked in a bottle after the foam is discharged, then a spoonful in a gill of boiling water), chills (hoarhound boiled in water and served in tea), croup (cold water applied to the neck and chest with a sponge or towel), and sore throat, scarlet fever, or diphtheria (a cup of fresh milk, two teaspoonfuls of pulverized charcoal, and ten drops of spirits of turpentine, gargled frequently).

  Hannah was grateful her mother had insisted that she learn to read and write proficiently, so she could make use of all that information. She’d already memorized many of the culinary receipts, including the one for soda biscuits: one quart of sour milk, one teaspoonful of soda, one of salt, a hunk of butter the size of an egg, and flour enough to make them roll out. Her biscuits were perfect, if she did say so herself.

  “Will you say grace, Colonel?” Flint said.

  Flint sat at the head of the table, the colonel to his right, Hannah to his left. Ransom sat at the opposite end of the table with Aunt Betsy to his right and Emaline to his left.

  “Shall we hold hands, Father?” Emaline said as she reached for her father’s hand.

  “Yes, child.”

  Hannah was taken back to her childhood, when her father had said grace at Thanksgiving and the six Wentworth children had held hands around the table. “We should each say something we’re thankful for,” she said. That had been the custom in her family.

  She saw a flicker of approval in the colonel’s eyes before he said, “Grace first, I think.” He bowed his had and said, “Dear Lord, make us truly thankful for the blessings of family and friends on this beautiful Thanksgiving Day.”

  Everyone joined in to say, “Amen.”

  The colonel released the hands he was holding, turned to Emaline and said, “You go first, my dear.”

  Emaline blushed, then said to Ransom, “I’m thankful because I expect to give you a son or daughter in nine months.”

  “Em! Are you sure?”

  “As sure as a woman can be,” she said, blushing at the need to acknowledge in front of everyone that she’d missed her courses.

  Ransom jumped out of his chair and pulled Emaline into his arms and gave her a crushing hug, then released her and laughed as he looked down at her flat belly. “I’m going to squash you both, I’m so happy!”

  “I hoped you would be,” she said.

  Hannah glanced at Emaline’s father, whose face had gone stark white. His eyes looked pained, rather than happy. But Emaline saw none of that. By the time she turned back around, her father had a happy smile on his face and was on his feet, as was everyone else at the table. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned over to kiss her brow. “I’m happy for you, my dear.” He shook Ransom’s hand and said, “Congratulations, son.”

  Ransom’s face flushed at the salutation. “Thank you, Colonel. I promise to take good care of them both.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Oh, dearie,” Aunt Betsy said, weeping as though Emaline were already on her deathbed. “You’re going to be a mother.” She put a lace handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed once into it as Emaline hurried around the table to hug her.

  Hannah watched as Flint crossed and shook his brother’s hand, slapped him on the back, and said, “I’m happy for you, little brother.”

  Hannah was the last to hug Emaline, who’d returned to her place at the table after reseating her aunt. Her sister-in-law was trembling like a leaf. “What’s wrong?” she whispered in Emaline’s ear.

  “Nothing that won’t correct itself in nine months,” she whispered back.

  Hannah looked into Emaline’s eyes. What she saw was fear, quickly masked. Emaline smiled at her and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Thank you for the kind words, Hannah.”

  Hannah recalled the discussion she’d had the first day she’d met Emaline, and realized the other woman believed her pregnancy was a death sentence. She hugged Emaline again and whispered, “You’re going to be fine, Em.” It was the first time she’d used Ransom’s nickname for Emaline. “I simply refuse to raise my daughter without a playmate.”

  Emaline giggled. “Oh, Hannah, you are so funny.”

  “What did you say to her?” Ransom asked.

  “Yeah, let us in on the joke,” Flint said.

  “It’s something only a pregnant woman would understand,” Hannah said, exchanging a smile with Emaline.

  It took a little while for everyone to find their seats again. Right away Ransom said, “I’m next. I’m thankful that in nine months I’m going to be a father.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Your turn, Aunt Betsy,” Emaline said.

  “I’m thankful you’ve found your young man, dearie, and that the two of you seem to be so happy,” Aunt Betsy said.

  Emaline blushed, and Ransom lifted his eyebrows comically.

  Everyone laughed again.

  “Now you, Hannah,” Ransom said.

  She looked at Flint and said, “I’m thankful that Flint found me on the prairie and made me his wife.” She put a hand on her large belly, all the while keeping her eyes on his, and said, “And that he’s willing to be a father to my baby.”

  Aunt Betsy made a gurgling sound in her throat and put the hanky to her tear-filled eyes, but she said nothing.

  “Your turn, Flint,” Ransom said.

  “Let the colonel go first,” Flint said, never taking his eyes off Hannah.

  The colonel cleared his throat and said, “I’m thankful my daughter has found such a good man to be her husband. And that she’s making me a grandfather.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Now you, Flint,” Ransom said.

  Flint reached into the pocket of the vest he was wearing and pulled out a folded paper. He met Hannah’s gaze and said, “I’m thankful I found a wife to love, and that she’s going to make me a father without waiting nine whole months.”

  Everyone laughed again.

  Hannah laughed with everyone else, but she felt a hand squeeze her heart. A wife to love. How could he speak those words when he loved someone else? And how dare he joke about becoming the father of a child he never called anything but “McMurtry’s kid”! She stared—would have glared if she’d dared—back at him, willing him to lower his eyes in guilt and shame.

  But he didn’t. He kept looking at her, and Hannah realized there was something in them she hadn’t seen before. Tenderness, maybe? Something more? Something else?

  “I wanted to go last, because I have a gift for my wife,” Flint said.

  “But it isn’t my birthday yet,” Hannah said.

  “When is your birthday?” Emaline asked.

  “I was born on Christmas Day.”

  “Then it’s perfect that I have a gift for you now,” Flint said. “So I won’t have to give you two on Christmas.”

  Despite her misgivings about Flint’s strange behavior, Hannah was curious. “What is it?”

  Flint passed an envelope to Hannah.

  When she saw the return address, tears sprang to her eyes. She turned to Flint and said, “How did you get this? You haven’t left the ranch for months!”

  “I sent a letter to my brother, Jake, with one of my cowhands who was headed to Cheyenne. John Holloway picked up this letter for me when it came to General Delivery in Cheyenne and brought it out here.”

  Hannah noticed the envelope was still sealed. “You didn’t read it?”

  He shook his head. “It wasn’t addressed to me.”

  Hannah hurriedly opened the envelope and pulled out the letter inside. There was writing on both sides in a tiny, looping hand she recognized very well. It read:

  Dear Hannah,

  I was so relieved
to get your husband’s letter.

  I am married to Flint’s brother, Jake, so we’re sisters-in-law now, as well as sisters!

  I’ve been desperately trying to find you and Hetty and Josie for months, but there was no word of your whereabouts once you left the orphanage and headed out onto the Oregon Trail.

  It seems we still have two missing sisters that need to be found. I’ll send the Pinkerton detectives I’ve hired off to the Wyoming Territory, now that I know where to start the search.

  You’re probably wondering where I got the money to hire Pinkertons. It wasn’t from my husband. It was our inheritance. We’re rich! Father’s money didn’t burn up with his bank. Uncle Stephen tried to steal it. He’s disappeared and taken a lot of it with him, but he’ll turn up sooner or later. I have the Pinkertons looking for him, too. There’s still plenty of money, if you need some.

  Nick is so tall you won’t recognize him, and Harry hasn’t had the sniffles once since we got here.

  Both are fine and growing like weeds. I’m also a stepmother to Jake’s two-year-old daughter, Anna Mae.

  I hope one day all of us Wentworths will be together again. I was sorry to hear about the loss of your first husband, but at least you’ll have a little one to remember him by. Since you’re in the family way, now is not the time for you to be traveling here, but we can write.

  Promise you’ll stay in touch. I’ll let you know if the Pinkertons come up with any information about Hetty or Josie.

  Best wishes on your marriage. Jake says Flint is a good man.

  All my love, Miranda

  Hannah met Flint’s gaze over the top of the paper, but she couldn’t see much through the film of tears. “She says she’s married to your brother. She says my two younger brothers are fine.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” Emaline said.

  Hannah never took her eyes from Flint’s as she continued, “She also says I’m rich. She says my father’s money didn’t burn up with his bank. My uncle Stephen tried to steal it. She says there’s plenty if I need some.”

  “I don’t need or want your money,” Flint said.

  “We could use it to buy more steers,” she said. “So we can get the beef contract with the fort.”

  “About that,” the colonel interjected. He turned to Flint and said, “I got your note about the beef and had the butcher save the brands.”

  “And?” Ransom said.

  “You were right,” the colonel said, looking from one brother to the other. “Of the hundred head of beef we got last month, six had original CC brands changed to OOX.”

  “I knew it!” Ransom said, pumping a fist in the air.

  Emaline’s father turned to Flint and said, “However, I’m not sure what I can do about it.”

  “You can cancel Patton’s contract,” Flint said.

  The colonel shook his head. “He delivered the proper number of beeves. They all had OOX brands, at least, on the outside of their hides.”

  “You must be able to do something,” Ransom said.

  “I can point out the discrepancy to the Inspector General,” the colonel said.

  “So Ashley Patton’s going to get away with rustling our cattle and selling them to the army, and there’s nothing we can do about it?” Ransom said.

  “I’ll make the hides available as evidence if you want to take Patton to court. Or you can confront him yourselves with the hides at the next Laramie County Stock Association meeting,” the colonel said.

  “He’s going to say someone else stuck his brand on there to blacken his name—like us. Especially if we’re only talking about six cows,” Flint said in disgust.

  “It wasn’t only your brand we found on those cows,” the colonel said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There were quite a few steers that had been re-branded from smaller spreads Patton has bought. Unfortunately, there’s no way to know whether he stole the cows from those settlers or branded the cattle after they sold out. What’s interesting is that I also had one cow with MacDougall’s Bar 7 brand, two with Beaumont’s Diamond B brand, two with Grayhawk’s Flying Eagle brand, and four with Holloway’s Triple Fork brand.”

  “That’s fifteen stolen cattle!” Ransom said.

  “Fifteen percent of what he delivered,” Flint added. “How could Patton have believed he’d get away with flagrantly delivering so much stolen beef?”

  The colonel raised a brow and stared at Flint. “You tell me.”

  Hannah saw Flint flush.

  Ransom was also staring at Flint as he said, “It’s because not one of the big ranches has confronted him. Patton thinks we’re all afraid of him, or at least, of his hired gun.”

  “I’ll be glad to keep checking brands over the life of the contract,” the colonel said. “That’s all I can do.”

  “Meanwhile, we’re still losing cows,” Ransom said to Flint.

  “There’s nothing we can do about it today,” Flint said.

  “There’s one other thing,” the colonel said. “About those brand-new Winchesters.”

  “What about them?” Flint asked.

  “One of the bucks from the Red Cloud Agency Camp tried trading one to the agent for extra supplies. He was questioned closely about where he got it. He said he’d traded for it, but word was that a white man was giving them away to any Indian willing to attack the local ranches. That is, all the ranches except the OOX.”

  “That bastard,” Ransom muttered. He looked up and met Emaline’s eyes and then Hannah’s and said, “Sorry for the language. But he is.”

  “Unfortunately,” the colonel continued, “one Indian’s testimony won’t hold up in a court of law. However, I also sent an inquiry to the New Haven Arms Company in Connecticut, where the rifles were produced, asking whether Ashley Patton had placed a large order for the brand-new ’73 model.”

  “And?” Ransom asked eagerly.

  “He did.”

  “Got him!” Ransom said, smacking his fist in his palm.

  “It isn’t that simple,” the colonel said. “There’s still no proof he gave those guns to the Sioux. He could always argue they were stolen from him.”

  “So he’s going to get away with that, too?” Ransom said.

  “Not exactly,” the colonel said. “I can’t cancel his current contract with the army. I can assure you that he won’t be getting another.”

  “That’s something at least,” Ransom said.

  “If you don’t mind sharing your information from the New Haven Arms Company, that’s more evidence Ransom and I can use to eject Patton from the Laramie County Stock Association,” Flint said.

  “Glad to,” the colonel said.

  “That’s not going to be much consolation for the havoc that man has wreaked,” Ransom said. “We should do something.”

  “We can’t take the law into our own hands,” Flint said.

  “Why not? He does.”

  Seeing the argument escalating, Hannah said to Flint, “Our food is getting cold. Why don’t you cut the turkey?”

  “She’s as good at changing the subject as you are,” Ransom muttered.

  “Watch what you say about my wife,” Flint retorted.

  Both men rose, and Hannah rushed to Flint’s side as Emaline moved to Ransom’s.

  “Stop it! Both of you,” Hannah said.

  “She’s right, Ransom,” Emaline said. “It’s Thanksgiving. Sit down right now. Or else.”

  “Or else what?” he snapped at Emaline.

  “Or else I might throw up all over you and this delicious table full of food.”

  Everyone laughed. And sat back down to eat.

  But the tension never left the room. Hannah looked from one brother to the other. A showdown was coming. She only hoped both brothers survived it.

  “I understand wives can attend the Laramie County Stock Association meetings,” Hannah said as she cleared the last of the breakfast dishes from the table.

  “Where did you hear that?” Flint as
ked warily.

  “Emaline told me. She heard it from Wilhelmina Beaumont and Bessie MacDougall. I’d like to go.”

  Flint took a sip of coffee to give himself time to formulate a response to her request. The two women Hannah had mentioned were the wives of Hoot Beaumont and Warren MacDougal, ranchers with large spreads south of John Holloway’s Triple Fork, just north of Cheyenne. It was the end of the second week of December, and Hannah was a short month away from her due date. “I’m not sure you should be traveling this close—”

  “I might be the size of a walrus,” she interrupted, “but I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

  The weather had been cold but dry, so he couldn’t use that as an excuse to leave Hannah at home. If it turned bitter cold or a blizzard struck, they could always take refuge at one of the ranches along the way, and finish their journey to Hoot Beaumont’s place, where the holiday meeting of the Association was being held, when the weather improved.

  However, the meeting itself might become dangerous, since Flint and Ransom intended to accuse Patton to his face of rustling and giving rifles to the Sioux. “Wives don’t actually attend the meetings,” he pointed out. “They gather in one room, while the men gather in another.”

  “I have a pretty good idea what’s going to happen at that meeting,” Hannah said, eyeing him over her shoulder as she washed up the last of the dishes. “I want to go.”

  Flint grimaced. Of course she did. “You’re eight months pregnant, Hannah.”

  “I’m pregnant, I’m not an invalid,” Hannah replied, turning away from the sink and drying her hands on her apron. “I’m perfectly capable of riding in a buckboard.”

  “Ransom and I can travel faster on horseback.”

  “Emaline’s coming, too.”

  “Since when?” Flint asked.

  Emaline appeared in the kitchen doorway with Ransom on her heels. “Since I talked Ransom into it,” she said with a smile. “We never did get to Cheyenne. I thought we could combine the trip to Hoot and Wilhelmina’s ranch with a trip to Cheyenne to do some Christmas shopping. We can all have supper and spend the night at a hotel in town.”