Unclaimed Bride

by Lauri Robinson

  Ellis would protest. The warmth stealing its way into her heart said he was too honorable not to. Perhaps that’s why she experienced a deep draw to him. His honor. It had been years since she’d encountered that quality in a man. Living with two elderly spinsters who were keenly set in their ways hadn’t provided opportunities to encounter men very often. There had been kind men on the ship, and others along the road from New York to Wyoming had been benevolent, but Ellis projected respect toward others with a unique way that demonstrated he expected it in return. Only admirable, commendable men had the ability to do that.

  “Good morning.”

  The knife slipped from her fingers, clattering upon the floor. That’s all it had taken. One minute of allowing her thoughts to focus on him and he appeared.

  She willed indifference. It wouldn’t do anyone an ounce of good for him to know he’d been the center of her thoughts. Though a smile sat in her heart, she kept it concealed. Turning, she took the knife he’d retrieved. “Good morning.”

  “Sleep well?” he asked with eyes that sparkled brightly.

  “Uh-huh.” She nodded affirmatively. While pretending she had complete control of her insides, she carried the knife to the sink. “You?”

  “Very well, thanks.” He’d followed and pulled open a cupboard door. “Coffee?” he asked, holding up a thick ceramic cup.

  The image of the fine bone china cup he’d used the night before to dump the flour into the bread dough flashed before her eyes. The heavy stoneware he now held fit his fingers and matched his personality much better.

  “Coffee?” he repeated.

  “It’s not quite ready. I didn’t expect any one up yet.”

  “I heard you leave your room.”

  She had no choice but to accept the flood of tenderness swirling inside her. He’d probably lain awake all night, listening. The house was full of men, and Ellis was not a man who’d sleep if there was even the possibility one of the men might wander about. “I had to set the bread to rise.” Almost breathless, her words came out hushed.

  “I know. Do you need any help?”

  His whisper tickled her ears. Constance locked her knees. It wouldn’t do to encourage a repeat of last night—when his companionship had allowed her to forget where she was and how she’d come to be here. Her resolve returned, but the smile on her lips couldn’t be contained. “No, I don’t need any help. Thank you.” She reached for the two cups he held by their handles in one hand. “Sit down. I’ll get your coffee.”

  The roots of his hair were damp, as if he’d combed it back after splashing his face with a fast morning cleanse, and the skin on his cheeks and chin shone from being freshly shaven. Heat flushed her cheeks, thinking of such personal tasks.

  “I can get the coffee. You sit down. No one else is up yet.” He tugged on the cups.

  She didn’t let loose, as if this was a tug-of-war she had to win. “Which is precisely why I’m cooking. The men will be hungry when they wake up. I want everything ready.” With a nod toward the table, she added, “Sit down. I’ll get the coffee.”

  His grin increased. “All right. You get the coffee.”

  She waited for him to move, walk to the table, but he didn’t. Jittery, with jerky movements, she filled his cup and absently handed it to him while pretending the need to reposition the frying pan on the stove. It was a ruse. She couldn’t start frying bacon yet. The bread still had to go in the oven. Besides, the smell of bacon cooking would probably wake every man in the house.

  “Constance?”

  “Hmm?”

  The sensation of his hands loosely gripping her upper arms had her drawing in air and curling her toes. She’d wanted it, deep down she’d wanted him to touch her again. It affected her like no other ever had.

  He twisted her around. The urge to step forward, to stand nose to chin, had her pressing her heels onto the hard floor and balling her fingers deep into her palms.

  “Come sit down,” he urged. “So we can talk.”

  It was clear where Angel got it. The girl had inherited Ellis’s charm, an allure that had Constance unable to deny anything he asked. She dipped her head, indicating she’d follow him to the table.

  “Good morning. Is that coffee I smell or am I dreaming?” Mr. Homer, the banker, rolled his round frame into the kitchen like a barrel with two short legs.

  Ellis’s fingers slid down to her elbows, where after a slight squeeze, they left her. He picked up his cup from the edge of the stove and turned to the other man. “Morning, Buford, have a seat.” Ellis met the man at the table and handed him the cup of coffee. He then returned to the stove and accepted the other cup Constance had filled with an apology in his eyes that had her heart thudding.

  From then on, one by one, men filed into the kitchen. Constance kept the coffee cups filled, and the pot perking, while poking the bread pans in the oven and filling the frying pan with the thick strips of bacon. It wasn’t until Angel appeared, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she padded down the back stairs, that Constance remembered she wasn’t supposed to be the one cooking.

  Men sat around the table like chickens to a feed bowl. She couldn’t very well shoo them out. Ellis caught her gaze. One of his brows arched, and a knowing grin sat on his lips. His teasing made her wrinkle her nose and shoot him a mock glare.

  He chuckled as he rose from his chair. A moment later he stood beside her and Angel. “Good morning.” He dropped a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. His hand then landed on Constance’s shoulder. “Miss Jennings has been waiting for you to wake up. She’s not much of a cook, you know.”

  Constance willed the heat in her cheeks to dissolve. It didn’t, but a bright smile formed on Angel’s face. “I’m up now, and ready to help.” Angel walked around her father and then spun on one heel. “Pa, aren’t there chores that need to be done? Too many cooks in the kitchen spoils the pot.”

  Chair legs scraped the floor. “Of course we’ll help with morning chores,” Fred Westmaster assured. “Come on, fellas, get your coats.”

  In a matter of seconds the room was clear. A groan and a giggle danced with each other in Constance’s throat. It was the giggle that won out, but only after Ellis emitted a deep chuckle.

  His eyes twinkled with merriment and when he winked one eye, Constance had to bite the tip of her tongue to keep from giggling again. More than that, she had to once again lock her knees to keep from swooning.

  “I’d best go help them,” Ellis said when the last man made his way out of the kitchen.

  “Yes, you’d best,” Angel supplied. “Give us an hour and we’ll have breakfast on the table.”

  “Oh, you will, will you?” he asked.

  “Yes, we will.” Angel nodded and then twisted around. “What are we making?”

  Constance rushed to the stove. Luckily, the bacon hadn’t had time to scorch. “Bacon, pancakes and bread.” Of their own accord her eyes sought out Ellis.

  He moved to the doorway, but paused to glance over his shoulder. “I’ll have Jeb start the house fires. He shouldn’t be out in the cold with those feet yet.”

  “All right, Pa.” Angel said, moving toward the pantry. At the doorway, she turned to Constance. “What do we all need for pancakes?”

  It was a moment before Constance could respond. She was too busy watching the door swing shut behind Ellis. Drawing in air, she turned to Angel. “You get the big bowl, and I’ll get the ingredients.”

  * * *

  Ellis examined Jeb’s toes before he handed the man a pair of socks. “You can’t go around without socks, Jeb. What were you thinking? No wonder your toes got frostbit.”

  “I know. I bought a bath in town the day Miss Jennings arrived, and with everyone else taking one and buying new clothes, Link ran out of socks. I didn’t have time to go out to Ashton’s place to get another pair.” Jeb’s cheeks were blazing red as he pulled the socks on his feet.

  Up until now, Ellis hadn’t noticed most of the men sported new clothes. Link had
to be smiling like the cat who caught the canary. The man probably hadn’t sold that many pairs of britches on the same day since opening his store fifteen years ago.

  “Thanks for the socks, Ellis. I’ll buy you a new pair.” Jeb planted his feet on the floor to stand.

  Ellis placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Don’t bother. For the price Link charges I can order a dozen from the store in Cheyenne.”

  Jeb nodded. “I suspect so.”

  After hitching his pant legs, Ellis sat down in the armchair across from where Jeb sat on the sofa. “I guess I haven’t given much thought to Ashton’s farm. How’s it going out there? Did he have any family to come take over for him?”

  “Nope. Just me and Miles.” Jeb shrugged his shoulders. “I went to town to tell Miss Jennings about Ashton’s accident. Miles and I figured she’d still want to move into the place. We figured wed or not, she was Ashton’s bride.” Rubbing his chin, Jeb continued, “I never expected half the town to be lined up waiting to ask her to marry ’em. Did you?”

  Ellis drummed his fingers on his knee. “I can’t say what I thought. I never really took any of it into consideration.” Ashton’s ordered bride had been the talk of the town, as well as the bunkhouse. Everyone was itching to see if she’d actually show up. Bets had been laid she wouldn’t.

  “The farm should be hers, shouldn’t it? Ashton wanted that. She’s all he talked about since getting her first letter. Miles and I figured we’d offer to go on working for her.” Jeb lowered his voice to whisper. “Neither of us—Miles or me—are interested in marrying her, but once I got to town, I figured I best line up, too, so I could tell her about Ashton’s place.”

  “Ashton’s place is a long ways from town, Jeb. I don’t know if Miss Jennings would like living way out there.”

  “It ain’t no further than your place. Just in the opposite direction.” Jeb’s cheeks grew red again. “No offense, Ellis.”

  What Jeb said was true, yet from what Ellis recalled the place wasn’t fit for a woman. “The last time I was out at Ashton’s—” Ellis paused, not wanting to offend a dead man “—the place needed to be cleaned up. Fixed up.”

  “We’ve been working on that. Put a new brace bar on the door, and plastered all the cracks between the logs. Ashton even ordered a new cook stove and curtains for the window. We built some cupboards, too.” Jeb glanced around. “Sure it ain’t nothing like Heaven on Earth, but no place in Wyoming is.” His gaze went to the floor. “Miss Jennings most likely wouldn’t want to live out there after being here, would she?”

  “Well, that’s not our choice to make. It’s Miss Jennings’s. If she wants to move out to his place, then that’s what she will do.” The words left a rotten taste in his mouth.

  “You think so? You think she might want to move out there?” The hope in the young man’s voice was impossible to miss.

  Ellis shrugged. “I don’t know.” His mind churned almost as hard as his stomach.

  “What about you?”

  He snapped his head up to glare at Jeb. “What

  about me?”

  “Well, you said you hired her to teach Angel manners and such. She can’t go back on that, can she?”

  Ellis stood. He’d wasted enough time talking with Jeb. There were chores to be done. “It’s impossible for men to even pretend to guess what a woman will do, Jeb. Trust me, if I know nothing else, I know that.” His eyes were locked on the door across the hall, the one that led into the kitchen, where Constance was frying bacon and baking bread. Would she back out of their deal and move out to Ashton’s?

  “Well, I’ll get the house fires going,” Jeb offered.

  “Thanks,” Ellis mumbled as he made his way out of the parlor. The idea of her living anywhere except here, in his house, was a startling notion, one that would gravely upset Angel.

  With all the extra help, the barnyard chores had barely started before they were done, including feeding Angel’s critters. Still, Ellis found a few odd jobs for the men to do, giving Constance and Angel time to cook breakfast. The snow had stopped, but the gray skies and crisp air said it would merely be a short reprieve before the flakes started filling the air again. If they hurried, his guests might make it home before the second round hit.

  At that thought, he sent the men into the house and made his way over to where Hank, his foreman, oversaw the cowboys replenishing the hay for the herd in the back pasture.

  “You feel up to making a trip to town?” Ellis asked. The man was getting on in years, but never appreciated others pointing it out.

  “Sure,” Hank agreed. “You want me to make sure they all make it home safe?” The grin on his face, as well as the way he shook his head, said the man couldn’t fathom why anyone would chase down a woman in the dead of a snowstorm.

  “Actually, I want you to pay a visit to John Hempel.”

  “The lawyer? What for?”

  “It appears Ashton didn’t have any other family. I want to know if Miss Jennings could legally claim his property.”

  The man let out a whistle. “That would be enough to start a range war. A woman owning that amount of land.”

  “I know. It wouldn’t be safe for her to claim it, but if it’s rightfully hers…” Ellis let out a gust of air as his gaze wondered across the snow covered land. A woman was a highly sought after commodity, but one that owned five hundred acres would be even more sought—be in more danger.

  “I’ll be ready to ride as soon as your guests are.”

  “Thanks. I’ll go write a note to send with you. And if the weather worsens, stay in town.”

  “You don’t have to tell me that.” Hank gave Ellis’s shoulder a good-natured whack. “I was born in this country, and though I plan to die here, I don’t plan on it being this year.”

  “Let me know as soon as you get back.”

  “Will do.”

  Ellis turned to make his way toward the house. He tucked his chin into the collar of his coat. For some reason the air seemed colder and chilled him to the bone. There was no way in hell he’d let Constance move out to Ashton’s place. Jeb was just a kid, and Miles was as old as the hills. Those two couldn’t offer protection against the hordes of men who’d come calling if the ranch was legally hers.

  A gust of wind tugged at his hat. As he pulled it down, he grumbled, “Damn you, Ashton Kramer. Why’d you have to go and get yourself killed? Better yet, why’d you go and order a sweet little thing like Constance for a mail-order bride?”

  When he opened the front door, the wondrous smells of breakfast greeted him, but so did laughter. His temperament soured even more. Maybe he should let her move out to Ashton’s place. After all, he wasn’t responsible for her. She wasn’t his mail-order bride.

  His spine stiffened, like when someone says your name, and you know they are about to lecture you for something you did but thought no one knew about. He spun around, half expecting to see Angel behind him.

  The foyer was empty. He glanced into the parlor, but it, too, was empty. No one spoke, but nonetheless, his mind heard the words. He was responsible for her. If for no other reason than he wasn’t the type of man to leave someone vulnerable to the elements.

  “I’ll help her,” he muttered. “But only because I know you’ll haunt me until I do.” In the years since her death, Christine had filled his mind, but this was the first time she irritated the pants off him.

  He could almost hear Christine’s soft laugh, and then a new message landed between his ears. Angel needs her. Ignoring the message, he shrugged out of his coat and walked toward his office to write the note for Hank to take to Hempel.

  “Pa?” Angel pushed the swinging door to the kitchen open. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, but kept moving. It was getting to the point he had more women telling him what to do than a man could take.

  “Well, hurry up. The pancakes are going faster than beer on Saturday night.”

  He stopped and spu
n about. Steam hissed inside his head. “What did you say?”

  Constance appeared then. She tugged Angel into the kitchen by the girl’s shoulders and took her spot holding the door open. “She said breakfast is done. But don’t worry, there’s plenty.”

  The little voice singing, I told you so, in his head was enough to make him stomp the rest of the way down the hall and throw his office door open with sufficient force it banged against the wall.

  Chapter Six

  The thud of the door down the hall made Constance shudder clean to her core and caused a wave of doubt to wash over her. Maybe she wasn’t cut out for this job. Not only did she not have much experience with children, the amount she had with men was next to nil.

  Letting the door slip shut, she hurried to the stove. “Where did you hear something like that?”

  Angel shrugged her shoulders, flipping pancakes. “From one of the cowboys I suspect.”

  Constance picked up a platter for the pancakes and held it out. “I suggest you not say it again.”

  Angel snickered as she transferred the cakes onto the platter.

  “It’s not funny,” Constance insisted. She moved the platter to catch a pancake falling from the spatula, but wasn’t quick enough. It landed on the floor near her feet.

  Angel glanced to the men, bent down, grabbed the cake and set it on the plate. “No one saw.”

  Constance gave the girl a stern look. “I saw. Furthermore, you saw.” She tossed the pancake on the counter and carried the platter to the table. When she arrived back at the stove the pancake was gone. Angel was chewing.