by Natalie Dean
She had been in Laramie, Wyoming all of one hour. Already, the elation she had felt earlier in the day at finally being on her own, at having accepted the proposal of a good, simple farmer, had dissipated entirely to be replaced by a sense of anxiety, horror and more than a hint of shame.
She stood in the kitchen of the Laramie Hotel staring at the pots and pans beside the stove realizing, for the first time, that she truly had no idea what to do with them. When she offered to help with dinner at the hotel, she had thought cooking would be intuitive.
When she arrived at the hotel, when she saw her Jimmy Fairchild, the sweet, simple young man she’d been writing to the past six months, she’d felt an excitement unlike any she ever had in Boston.
This excitement caused her to all but hop out of the carriage and straight to her new fiancé.
Jimmy had been everything Victoria expected. He was tall and thin, like the pictures in books of good, sturdy mid-western boys. His face was ruddy and his green eyes shined when he looked at her.
“Jimmy!” she said eagerly. “You’ve no idea how wonderful it is to meet you at last!”
His eyes grew wide, and he looked slightly taken aback by her excitable introduction. All the same, he smiled, and his eyes brightened when he did.
“Wonderful to meet you as well, Miss…Victoria,” he said hesitantly.
In her last letter to him, when she accepted his proposal, she told him in no uncertain terms, that she wanted him to greet her by her first name. ‘Miss Weston’ still carried the vestiges of her old life in Boston. And, she hoped that it would never be used again.
Now, she would either be Victoria or Mrs. Jimmy Fairchild.
“I suppose I’ll be staying here,” she said moving towards the small, wood building that made up the hotel. “At least until the wedding.”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. “Mrs. Matthews is making up your room now.”
She opened her mouth to ask him who ‘Mrs. Matthews’ was. But, before she could, a larger and haggard looking woman burst out of the hotel’s front door.
“Oh! My dear, I am so sorry that I’m late to greet you,” she said so hurriedly. “I’m sure Jimmy’s told you. I’m Mrs. Matthews, the hotel owner. You must be Miss Victoria Weston. Very pleased to meet you, dear.”
Victoria opened her mouth once again to say that she was pleased to make Mrs. Matthews acquaintance, but before she could, Mrs. Matthews took her by the arm and all but dragged her through the door.
Victoria looked back at Jimmy who gave her a shy little half grin in apology.
“I’ve just finished making up your room,” Mrs. Matthews said as she took Victoria over the lobby threshold, arm still firmly in her grip. “I would have had the boy do it, but he quit on me this morning. Says he’s heading out to California to be with his brother. So, now I’m here all alone until I can find a replacement. And I haven’t even started on dinner yet!”
The older woman’s voice broke into a kind of panic. Perhaps it was that small break that inspired Victoria’s pity. Because, before Victoria could stop herself, she’d turned to Mrs. Matthews.
“I can start dinner if you like, Mrs. Matthews,” Victoria said quickly. “I’m sure you have other things to see to, and I would love to help.”
“There’s no need to do that, Victoria,” Jimmy said suddenly from behind them. “I’m sure you’re tired after traveling so long. You’ll need rest.”
“Of course, Jimmy’s right, dear,” Mrs. Matthews said. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s best if you go into your room and have a bit of a rest before dinner.”
“It’s no trouble,” Victoria insisted. The energy running through her veins at being in this new place made it impossible for her to even think of sleeping. “I’m not at all tired. And I would love to do something useful.”
Finally, Mrs. Matthews and Jimmy had given in. And, Victoria was more than sorry that they had.
Mrs. Matthews had shown her where to find the pots and told her to start roasting the vegetables. Victoria was too embarrassed to admit that she had not the faintest idea how.
In Boston, they had always had a cook and a kitchen maid to craft their meals for them. And, while Victoria had seen the cook create dishes before, she hadn’t paid enough attention that she would be able to imitate the cook’s methods.
She hadn’t told Jimmy this, of course. In her letters, she gave the impression that she was well versed in all areas required to run a household.
Writing to him, back home in her large home (her brother’s large home) in Boston, she had believed that learning to cook would be simple. Now, staring at the foreign stove and un-chopped vegetables, she realized just how wrong she was.
Taking a deep breath, she attempted to get her nerves under control. A cutting board and knife with full sized carrots and squash were set to the side of the oven.
Looking between them and the pots, she tried to decide what to do first.
She thought she remembered the old cook back in Boston heating the skillet before roasting anything in it. She supposed she could let it heat while she chopped the vegetables.
If she was quick about the task, it wouldn’t take long.
So, with her hand shaking, she oiled the pan and placed it on the simmering stove.
That done, she moved to the vegetables and began to chop.
It went much more slowly than she’d anticipated. The knife was awkward in her hand, and the vegetables had the tendency to slip.
To make matters worse, before she had even finished with the first carrot, the kitchen began to fill with smoke.
Victoria had smelled it before she recognized its source. Turning from the vegetables and to the pot on the stove, she felt her eyes grow wide. Billows of white smoke were beginning to rise from the heated pot that had no vegetables in it to heat.
Cursing herself silently, Victoria rushed to the pot and took it off the stove top. As soon as she grabbed hold of the handle, she let out a sharp yelp that sent the kitchen door flying open.
“What on earth...” Victoria heard Mrs. Matthews voice call through the plumes of thick white smoke. A moment later, the older woman herself appeared, coughing and waving her hand to rid the room of the white fog.
“Victoria, dear,” she said. “What happened?”
“I…I’m sorry,” Victoria muttered. “I…I suppose I put the pan on too early and…”
She allowed her voice to trail off as Mrs. Matthews looked from the smoky pan over to the vegetables only half cut on the counter.
“Well, why don’t you let me finish up, dear?” Mrs. Matthews said taking the knife from Victoria’s hand. “I should have known you would be too exhausted to do anything more tonight.”
“No, really,” Victoria began, her face turning red. “I can help if you need- “
“No, no, that’s all right,” Mrs. Matthews said. “Jimmy is sitting in the parlor. Best to keep him company, I think.”
With that, Mrs. Matthews all but pushed Victoria out the double doors of the kitchen still waving her hand to clear the smoke as she did. When the doors to the kitchen closed behind Victoria, she looked back at them with a sense of shame filling the pit of her stomach.
She had thought that having run a household back home, she would be able to do the same here. Now, she was beginning to realize that running a fancy estate with servants was very different from running a farm house where the work would have to be done by her.
Slowly, she made her way to the parlor where Jimmy was leaning back in a comfortable looking chair, gently humming to himself.
His eyes were closed, and his head was thrown back on the leather seat. He looked as though nothing could upset him at that moment. Victoria stared at him for a moment, wondering if she should disturb him.
Finally, deciding that standing in the doorway was stranger than announcing her presence, she gave a small cough. That caused Jimmy to open his eyes.
When he did, they widened in surprise, and he nearly fell over hi
mself to stand up from the chair. The effect was so earnest and adorably comical that Victoria had to stifle a small chuckle.
“Victoria!” he said. “I thought you were helping Mrs. Matthews prepare supper.”
“I was,” Victoria said. “But, Mrs. Matthews said she could take over. She insisted I come out to the parlor to keep you company.”
Victoria didn’t think it wise to mention the smoke she’d created in the kitchen or her ineptitude at cutting vegetables. And she was glad when Jimmy didn’t ask.
“I guess I should have expected that,” Jimmy said with a small smile. “Mrs. Matthews is always fussing over the girls who come through here. If she could have, I’m sure she would have made you go to your room to rest before dinner.”
“I’m glad she didn’t,” Victoria said finally appreciating the chance to be honest. “I don’t think I could sleep now anyways. It’s too exciting being here.”
“Is our little town really that exciting?” Jimmy asked with a little chuckle.
“It is to someone who’s never traveled without an escort,” Victoria said. “My father’s health never allowed us to travel outside of New England. We only went from our house in the city to our large estate in the country. Of course, the country estate was sold when Father died.”
A sinking feeling in her chest at the thought of that huge, mansion-like home outside of Boston replaced the feelings of inadequacy regarding her kitchen skills. Still, she was not certain which feeling was worse.
“I remember you telling me about the big house in the country,” Jimmy said. “That’s where you learned to ride horses, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Victoria admitted. “My father used to take me riding there nearly every day in the summer. It was my favorite place.”
“Well, there’ll be plenty of chances to ride here,” Jimmy said. “I’ve already bought four horses out right for the farm. I’ll be expecting a fifth once the barn is finished. Tomorrow I’ll take you out there.”
Victoria smiled, her spirits lifting at the thought that she would once again be able to ride.
“I’d like that very much,” she said, and, for the first time that evening, a genuine smile came across her face.
It remained there throughout dinner, even though she could feel Mrs. Matthews critical gaze occasionally landing on her. Victoria was used to feeling judged. And, she told herself, it was still better than the sometimes outright hostility she experienced at dinners with her sister-in-law.
Even when Mrs. Matthews refused her offer to help clean the table after dinner, Victoria found that her spirits did not fall. After all, now that she had eaten, she found that she was much more tired than she’d previously felt.
After she tried and failed to suppress a very un-lady like yawn just as she and Jimmy were rising from the dinner table, her need for sleep became clear to everyone else as well.
“Maybe I should show you to your room,” Jimmy suggested. “We’re starting out early tomorrow. You’ll need your rest.”
“That’s probably for the best,” Victoria admitted.
With a nod, he led the way down a dimly lit corridor with simple wooden doors on either side.
“Your room is at the very end,” Jimmy said. “It’s smaller than some of the others. But, I couldn’t afford anything too big.”
He looked down at the ground as he said this and his cheeks colored.
“I’m sure it’ll be perfectly fine, Jimmy,” Victoria said. “I’ve always preferred small rooms when I’m alone. The big ones seem cavernous and empty even with dozens of possessions.”
“I’m sure you had plenty of those back in Boston,” Jimmy said.
“And if I had missed any of them, I wouldn’t be here,” Victoria reminded him.
His eyes moved up from the ground, and he gave her a bright smile mixed with a hint of gratitude.
Strange as it seemed, Jimmy’s own insecurities about the simplicity of his life made her nearly forget her own fears. However, she knew her fears would come back when Jimmy inevitably realized that she hadn’t the faintest clue about how to run a house on her own, let alone a large farm.
Still, it was best to put that matter out of her mind for now.
“I suppose your farmhand John will meet us tomorrow,” she said as they came to a stop at the door of her room.
“Yes,” Jimmy said. “And I think I should warn you. John is a bit…odd.”
“How so?” Victoria asked curiously.
“Well, for one thing, he can’t seem to keep a job. Even though he has experience on farms,” Jimmy said.
“Is that so unusual?”
“Around here it is,” he answered. “Most farmers are shorthanded. They’ll do anything to keep a good hand on. Apparently, John has had a few accidents on ranches and farms.”
“What sort of accidents?”
“Nothing too bad,” Jimmy said quickly. “Just some work not getting done or being done sloppily. I wouldn’t have taken him on but…I felt sorry for him. I know what it’s like to be without work.”
Victoria could not help but smile at this. The idea of Jimmy taking a man on simply because he wanted to give him a job made him even more endearing.
“Last I knew, a clumsy or forgetful nature wasn’t so odd. Though I suppose it could cause problems,” Victoria said.
“That’s not the only thing that makes him odd,” Jimmy added. “He also tends to say whatever he’s thinking. So, sometimes he can be a bit…blunt.”
“I don’t mind that so much,” Victoria said. “I prefer directness to polite insincerity. Again, if I’d liked the latter, I would have stayed in Boston society.”
Jimmy gave her a chuckle that sounded more than a bit relieved.
“I suppose I can tell you that I’m glad you didn’t,” he said. He looked up at Victoria as they stood in the doorway to her room. A charged silence fell between them.
Suddenly, he made an awkward reach for her hand. When he took it in his, she noticed his hands were softer and warmer than she’d expected. She had imagined his hand would be rough and filled with calluses.
And, while they were not soft like the hands of gentlemen in Boston, they certainly felt good to hold.
“Truly, Victoria,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“I am too, Jimmy,” Victoria said feeling a genuine smile come onto her lips. Her heart picked up speed when he lifted her hand and gave it a light kiss.
His deep eyes never left hers when he put her hand down.
“Good night, Victoria,” he said.
“Good night,” she answered.
She felt his eyes on her even as she turned and entered the small hotel room. Her eyes met his once more, and she smiled as she closed the door.
The smile remained on her face as she readied herself for bed. It only disappeared when, lying down on her hard, sparse bed, alone, she realized that tomorrow, the veil of her ineptitude would be lifted.
Surely, tomorrow, Jimmy would realize she hadn’t the faintest idea what to do on a farm.
Chapter Four
The day hadn’t turned out nearly as bad as Victoria had feared it would.
The sun shone brightly as it rose in the eastern sky. Beautiful spring flowers of yellow and purple bloomed on the path that led out of town, and her fiancé was happily pointing out all the different places along the way.
“That’s the chapel, of course,” Jimmy said as they drove away from the hotel towards the edge of town. He pointed to a plain white, wooden building with a small steeple just on Laramie’s edge.
“That’s where we’ll be married next week,” he continued. “Though, I suppose a fine lady like you attends services every week as it is.”
Victoria looked down and thought of telling another lie. She knew that she should say of course she attended services weekly. That was what good wives were supposed to do.
But, she reasoned that there were already a good many false impressions between them. She didn’t want to add o
ne more.
“You would be surprised by how few fine ladies actually attend church with any regularity.”
“Does that mean you don’t attend church?” he asked looking almost worried. Victoria swallowed hard while praying to an only recently reacquainted God that she would not incur her fiancé’s judgment.
“I used to go every Sunday with my father,” she said. “Both of my parents were very faithful. As was I. But, when he died…when my brother took me in…he and his wife were not particularly faithful. I tried to attend alone, but I felt very strange about it. Eventually, I stopped.”
She glanced over at him, happy to see that he was wearing an understanding smile.
“Well, you’ve no need to feel strange anymore,” he said. “You can go with me. Ever since Pastor Rhodes took over the church here, I’ve gone almost every week.”
Victoria gave him a smile, feeling more than a hint of relief settle in her stomach.
There were a few more things to be pointed out along their route. Jimmy told her about them as best he could.
“That’s Mr. Mile’s ranch,” he said as they passed a long stretch of flat land with nearly a dozen grazing cattle. “He owns the largest ranch around here. Up a way is my friend Billy’s ranch. His is smaller but only by a bit. He and his wife, Lizzie, invited us for supper this evening. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Victoria said. She was more than glad that she would be away from any reminder of last night’s kitchen disaster.
Finally, they pulled up to a newly painted house and a wooden barn only half finished. Two more horses, one blindingly white and the other a handsome brown color, grazed peacefully amidst rolling green pastures, wildflowers growing at their feet.
Victoria had never seen anything more beautiful.
“I take it this is yours,” Victoria said almost standing in excitement as they neared the property.
“Ours in a little less than a week,” he said with a chuckle, touching her arm to bring her back into the wagon.
She remembered the warmth of his hand from last night and gave him a small smile as she felt her face flush red.
When she turned back, she saw a large man with a rough beard and wild black hair waving them down from a gate that led to the new home.
