by Tera Shanley
Her arms still hurt and she felt violated and angry. None of that, however, kept her from the sleep she so desperately needed. She would really need to put more effort into despising her husband, was her last thought before drifting off.
Chapter 13
Dearest Uncle,
I fear I am so impatient for you to come and visit me! I want you to see my new life here. I wonder if you would even recognize me now, though it has only been a short time since we’ve seen each other. It feels like a lifetime though, because so much has happened. It isn’t glamorous here, and we do without modern conveniences to be sure, but I’m happy in most areas of my life. I shall be attending a dance later today. I am filled with excitement, yet anxious. I still stick out here, and Garret was an eligible and sought-after suitor. I fear one scorned female in particular could prove to be a cruel and relentless creature, but hopefully I am overreacting. Or if I’m lucky she won’t even be at the dance.
Lenny, the Indian girl I wrote you of, has become a dear and welcome friend. I don’t think I would have survived thus far without her, as she is determined to make me tough and able. I baked my first loaf of bread just the other day. Are you impressed with me, Uncle? Well, hold your applause until I tell you, I have learned to make pies. And yes, they are even edible! If you promise to visit I shall learn to make cobbler, as I know it to be your favorite. I daresay I will shamelessly bribe you with treaties until you show up on the train.
It would do you good to see me thrive here, dear Uncle. I know you worry so over things out of your immediate control, but this is where I’m supposed to be. I feel it to be true in the very fiber of my being. I’m home.
Maggie Shaw
Maggie finished the letter to her Uncle William, fortuitously leaving out the parts which would worry him deeply. Kidnapping, uncaring husband, injury—the worrisome events that seemed to pass for the everyday around the Lazy S. Her uncle’s worry wouldn’t solve her problems. She would simply have to learn to adjust to such ways of life if it meant she could be happy in between. The extremes would simply have to become her normal.
She had slept the entire day through and part of the night, written her letter by candlelight as it was now full darkness outside. Relief at the probability she wouldn’t have to talk to Garret soothed her.
Unable to sleep more, she readied herself with the intention of taking a bath, as it was a few hours yet before dawn would break on the horizon. A quick check of the furniture near the fireplace told her Garret was asleep in his bedroom, leaving her the privacy of her thoughts and a hot bath.
She found solace in the mindless work that went into filling the tub. Her unfortunate adventures of the night before had left her filthy, and she had to look fresh and clean for the barn raising later in the day. If for no other reason than to prove to herself and Garret the trauma she had endured had not broken her as he likely expected.
After the warm bath, she dressed and let her hair hang loosely around her shoulders to dry in the morning air. She would make two pies and hope at least one came out with the desired amount of attractiveness and flavor. She’d take the best looking one, though if they turned out well likely bring both to the dance.
Garret’s bedroom door squeaked as it was opened, but she did her best to ignore it. His apparent desperation to rid himself of her was much too hurtful to cope with.
Carrying a bucket of fresh water for his washbasin, he disappeared into his bedroom without sparing a word for her. Just as well. She was much too upset to be baited so early. The results would be entirely unattractive, to be sure.
Then he emerged in the kitchen to heat water for his bath, which had her retreating to the safety and solitude of her room. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but be wounded by his apparent aloofness toward her after being so cruel the day before. How did one understand a man such as he? Garret was hot and cold and hot again in an almost continual fashion. Clearly, the man fought some barely restrained battle within himself, but she couldn’t even pretend to understand what it was about, and he didn’t seem willing to enlighten her.
She had always been confident in reading people. With him, her feet barely touched the ground most of the time—her emotions free to be pulled and pushed where he saw fit. So maddening, that someone so indifferent could have such control over her feelings. If she could rip the love she carried for him from her body, she would do it with little remorse. It was as if her heart was a bleeding wound, kept open by the man she cared most about for his amusement.
Oh, such melancholy thoughts! She would have to get a grip on her impassioned state. Such internal turmoil was foreign to one who took such pride in a happy demeanor. She would simply have to ignore him like he ignored her. Who knew? Maybe her indifference to him would earn some affection. If not physically, perhaps at least in communication. One could hope.
A firm knock came at the front door announcing a visitor’s arrival.
“Maggie, can you get that?” Garrett called.
The beautiful green dress she had chosen was only laced half way up. Irritating man. What could he possibly be so busy with, he couldn’t answer the door?
With a growl, she flung open the door, holding her dress closed as best she could, stepped into Garret’s doorway to ask him just that. She pulled up short, startled to see him shaving in front of a small mirror over his washbasin. His shirt lay on the bed, most definitely not on him, and his casual trousers hung loosely around his muscular, tapered waist. The defined muscles in his back tensed and flexed as he worked.
Maggie had never seen a man in such a state of undress, and though she flushed with embarrassment she couldn’t seem to stop ogling his beautiful body. The movement of his back stopped, and she regretfully dragged her gaze to his reflection in the mirror. Part of his jaw still had cream on it and all of his face smiled in an utterly maddening way.
“I don’t understand you, sir,” she gritted out. “Do you leave your door open to tease me, then?”
“Now come on, Maggie, don’t be mad. I’ve seen you all but naked so it’s only fair you see some of me, don’t you reckon? You gonna get the door or what?”
Lenny stood at the door grinning like a bobcat. Likely because she had heard the war cry Maggie had ungraciously bellowed when she’d stomped to the door. Flushed, flustered, mad as a hornet and holding up her dress with clenched hands, she couldn’t help a sheepish giggle escaping. Then peals of laughter came from Lenny, and she followed suit.
“What’s so funny?” Garret asked from the hallway as he did up the last of the buttons on his shirt.
“Oh nothing, dear husband. Just realizing how idiotic it is to let you affect me,” she said with relish. She passed him, dragging Lenny by the hand behind her. “We’ll be getting ready in my room.”
She threw him a frown and shut the door firmly behind them. Lenny gave her questioning glance when she shoved her desk and chair in front of the door again.
“Garret tends to barge in unannounced,” she explained. “Mostly when I’m in some state of inappropriate dress. It’s maddening, really.”
Lenny snorted and whispered, “Not surprising.”
She helped Maggie finish tying her green gown and then the women took the dresses out of the large chest that housed them. The yards of ornate fabric, lace and beads were laid on the bed and admired. The only one in the small town’s fashion, other than the green Maggie wore, was the burgundy colored dress. It would look fetching on Lenny. The girl’s eyes lingered on the dark blue satin dress she’d brought from Boston, though. It was of fine quality, with black trim around the skirts and black lace near the bodice and neck. The buttons were intricately carved and the top fitted with small puffed sleeves. The skirts were full with a bustle in the back to add depth and fullness.
It was beautiful, and though would likely be the finest dress at the dance by far, the hungry look in Lenny’s eyes said she wanted it.
“Let us try it on you and see if I need to take in the bust, sha
ll we?”
Wide-eyed, her friend nodded once then her gaze returned to the rich cobalt color. If Burke didn’t see Lenny as a fine beauty in such a dress, he was a blind man.
After the first fitting, Maggie put in some stitches she could easily remove later. Though of similar size to her in height and slenderness, Lenny was less endowed. And luckier for it.
When the gown looked as if it had been tailored for the Indian girl, Maggie arranged her hair, pinning elaborate curls in the back and letting wisps of hair brush her face and neck. After an application of rose salve to her lips, she stood back to admire her work.
Lenny had always been beautiful, but now she was breathtaking. Maggie’s excitement to see the men’s reaction grew by the minute. Her friend would surely be the belle of the ball that night, if only the townspeople could get over their prejudice.
“You look beautiful, Lenny,” she whispered, for fear of Garret hearing them speak English together. Lenny beamed, her bright and happy smile contagious.
“One last touch.” Maggie pinned a black beaded hairpiece she’d painstakingly attached three tiny black feathers to into the hair near the pinned curls in the back.
Lenny turned from side to side, letting the rays of sunlight streaming through the window catch the sparkling barrette.
“Perfect,” Maggie announced.
“Where did you get this?” Lenny asked breathlessly as she admired it in the small mirror.
“The beaded part of the brooch was my mother’s.”
Lenny turned around and faced her. “Then you should wear it,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t match my dress,” she replied, and spun around in her green floral number. Though absolutely beautiful, the dark colored hairpiece wasn’t made for it, and had been for the blue. “Besides, I have tiny pearl pins to go with this dress. They match the gloves I’m going to have to wear to cover my dreadful looking arms. I fear even after your miracle poultice I’ll be picking cactus needles from them for weeks.”
Her arms still bore what looked like a faint bull nettle rash. There was nothing to be done about the cuts from the brambles on her upper arms, as the sleeves on her dress were short and puffed much like Lenny’s dress. No matter. Tonight she would dance, have fun with her friend, and most importantly, wouldn’t let Garret affect her in negative ways. Which meant it was extremely likely she would have to ignore him all night long to accomplish such goals. Easier said.
After spending the time to pin her hair into large curls in the back, and carefully pinning each pearl pin amongst them, she and Lenny were ready. They approached the buggy, pies in hand to load up, but the men failed to notice them because they argued.
Garret leaned against the wagon and kicked at a stone lodged next to one of the wheels. “Look, you know I’ll take care of Lenny. Burke and I won’t let anything happen to her. And besides, you and Wells are the ones bound and determined not to go with us.”
Cookie turned at the sound of the women’s approach. His look darkened and he spoke to Lenny in their language, to which she replied curtly.
“You look like a white lady,” he spat and stalked away. Lenny looked hurt but held her head high.
“Holy Hell, Lenny. Is that you in there?” Burke strode around her with a big, laughable grin. He stood back and took her in. “I think I’m in shock. I mean, you look…nice.”
Lenny nodded demurely, gave him a shy smile and let him help her into the wagon. Garret seemed to be doing his best to avoid glancing at Maggie, so she secured the pies and scrambled into the back of the wagon without assistance.
“You look right purty too, Mrs. Maggie,” Burke said, throwing a disappointed glance in Garret’s direction as he hopped up to sit beside him.
“Hup!” was Garret’s only response as he slapped the mules with the reins. They were off. The women waved to Wells as the buggy lurched for the dirt road, and Lenny squeezed her hand as Maggie tried not to let her disappointment show.
* * * *
No one made an entrance quite like two fetching men, a city slickin’ accidental wife, and an exotic looking Indian woman dressed in a ball gown. When they stepped off the wagon, time stopped. Every person seemed to freeze in whichever position they were in to stare at the unexpected combination of acquaintances. Maggie understood the stares at Lenny. The girl was beautiful and her dress outshone the others by far. The men looked dapper with their freshly shaven faces and clean clothes, no hat to shield their masculine beauty. What she couldn’t understand, why so many of the men stared open-mouthed at her. Or why some of the woman shot daggers at her with their looks.
Maggie wiped a slow hand over her face.
Garret sighed impatiently beside her. “You don’t have anything on your face, Maggie. They are staring because you look—” He cleared his throat as if uncomfortable and mumbled, “beautiful” almost inaudibly.
“Not me, sir,” she said. The scrutiny made her skin crawl and her cheeks burn.
When she took one of the pies from the wagon and tried to hand it to Lenny, the girl seemed frozen in place. No response, which left her holding the pie awkwardly. “Can you boys grab the food?” she asked Burke.
“Yeah, of course,” Burke said, recovering from the town’s unexpected reaction to their little group.
She linked her arm in Lenny’s and led the way to the tables of food set up for luncheon. The low hum of murmuring sounded at the sight of their comfort with each other, and Lenny’s legs nearly buckled. She skidded to a stop, which jerked Maggie to a halt with her.
“I changed my mind. I can’t do this,” Lenny said so quietly she struggled to understand her.
She leaned toward Lenny and whispered. “Yes, you can. The men aren’t complaining, and the women will get used to us eventually. Now, laugh as if I said something funny.”
Lenny giggled convincingly and so did she. Garret and Burke caught up and looked at them like they were lunatics, which she happily ignored. When the pies were showcased on the dessert table, the men disappeared to help with the work on the barn and she and Lenny descended like starving vultures on the tables of food.
Boston dinner parties were quiet, mannerly, and servings consisted of the smallest portions of food imaginable. Three boiled quail eggs did not a hearty dinner make. A lady had to keep her figure after all, but out here in a wooded clearing with a half-built barn as a backdrop, she’d stumbled upon a small parcel of heaven.
The tables were dressed with every fresh baked bread, roll and butter-slathered biscuit known to man. Colored ceramic bowls overflowed with green beans, corn, and potatoes of the scalloped and buttery mashed variety. A sizable woman with a thick German accent and an easy smile hoisted an entire fire-roasted pig onto a giant serving platter. Stews sizzled on a nearby fire pit, and when she took a longer look at the dessert table, the clouds almost parted to let down a magical sunray to grace the vibrant colors.
Daylight bounced off giant sugar granules dotting fruit-filled pastries and frosting whipped to such fluffiness surely it would float away bathed a row of cakes. The air was filled with murmured conversation and the clinking of silverware as the masses hefted generous portions of food onto metal plates. She gave Lenny one wide eyed grin before spearing a slice of roast beef.
With a filled plate, she led the way to an unoccupied table. No one joined her and Lenny until they were finished eating, upon which time a group of brave, young and seemingly eligible men approached the table and asked to sit with them.
After they were settled, the apparent leader of the group introduced himself as Jimmy Yule and said, “I haven’t seen you round these parts before. You new to town?”
“I am,” Maggie admitted with a chuckle. “I lived here when I was younger but have only just moved back. Roy Davis was my father. Did you know him?”
“Oh yes, ma’am. Everybody knew old Roy. He was a good man, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
She thanked him and tried to steer the conversation in a less somber direction. Th
e expression on the men’s faces, however, showed true disappointment when she explained she was the wife of Garret Shaw.
“Ah, we should have known. Ladies get snatched up quick around these parts. ’Specially ladies as purty as you.”
The gentlemen beside Jimmy nodded agreement.
Heat swept up her face. They must have all lost their minds and likely her pretty dress was the culprit. “Alas, I’m happily taken, fellows, but my friend Lenny is still very much unattached.” The lingering looks they gave her companion during the conversation had been quite obvious.
Lenny tossed her a slightly mortified look and Maggie winked. “Unfortunately she has no English so communication will be an issue. Though from what I’m learning of men, communication isn’t your strong suit anyway. Am I false in my presumptions?”
The men laughed amiably, and so the banter continued as Lenny’s exotic beauty and Maggie’s conversation kept them seated and entertained.
A few girls around her age eventually joined the group—they had apparent interest in some of the eligible men. Maggie made sure to introduce herself and Lenny before making room for them at the table. Years in Society had taught her the women’s acceptance would be important if either of them were to thrive in the small society.
“So that squaw—” a girl with honey colored hair named Martha started.
“Lenny,” Maggie said patiently.
“Right. Lenny. Is she with you?”
“Of course. She is my friend,” she said, not liking where the conversation was going.
“How can she be your friend if she doesn’t have any English? You can’t even talk to her.”
“I’m learning her language, naturally. And besides, she has many attributes I can appreciate.”
“Such as?” Jimmy asked.
