by Kit Morgan
“Don’t wear ‘em out now,” Justin warned.
“You can give them an extra round of feed for their trouble,” Nate said with another laugh. “It’s not every day I get to see Jack.” He looked over his shoulder at Millie. “You’re welcome to stay with my wife Libby and me until Mr. Brown comes to fetch you. Normally we have a bride stay up at the main ranch house – my brother’s wife Gwen loves to entertain. But if Jack and Dell have brought anyone else with them there won’t be room.”
“It’s quite all right,” Millie called over the sound of jangling harness and pounding hooves. “Do you know when Mr. Brown is to arrive?”
“Any day now is my guess. We’ll have the wedding out at the ranch.”
“That sounds fine,” she said, turning to face the back of the wagon and the dust cloud in their wake. She suddenly felt homesick for the tree-lined streets of Beckham and the leisurely drives through town in her one-horse buggy. Would Mr. Brown own such a conveyance, or would he have a team of mules and a buckboard? She’d heard mules were quite common in California, even more than horses in some places.
Apprehension tightened her gut, and she put a hand over her belly as if to still it. But it did no good. In a few days she would become Mrs. Walter Brown and would be on her way to California and her new life. And then what? There were so many things she didn’t know about the man she was to marry. She didn’t even know what he looked like. But by the same token, he didn’t know what she looked like either, so she guessed that made them even.
Would he be as apprehensive as she was, or was he taking it all in stride? Would they grow to love each other? Would he like her cooking? Oh dear … she couldn’t cook a whit. There had never been any need – her mother had always employed a cook and a maid. And what about sewing? Cleaning? She hadn’t had time to think of any of those things because she was too busy running away from Hubert.
Now that she was in the safe hands of the Daltons and Blues, she’d have plenty of time to think about all the areas where she fell short as far as being a wife. She certainly hoped Mr. Brown was a tolerant man, because it might take her a while to learn. Maybe in her haste to escape one marriage she’d set herself up for failure in another.
But she wouldn’t know until she met Mr. Walter Brown.
Four
The main ranch house was huge, much bigger than Millie expected, and she tried not to gawk as the wagon rolled past. Nate and his wife Libby’s home was smaller and simpler, which Nate told her he preferred.
Mr. Weaver helped her climb out of the back of the buckboard and Nate led her inside while the cowboy retrieved her satchel. “Libby?” he called.
A child’s laughter erupted from behind a closed door. A petite dark-haired woman opened it, a little girl on her hip. The child couldn’t be more than four or five. “There you are… oh, hello!” she said when she noticed Millie. “I’m Libby Dalton. I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“We didn’t stop at the main house first,” Nate informed her. “Bonnie met us a few miles from here and let us know Miss Porter’s staying with us, what with Jack and Dell visiting. I wanted to let Miss Porter get settled in – I’m sure she’s still tired.”
“Of course she is,” Libby said. “I remember that long train ride from Beckham. I was just fixing you up a bed – I hope you don’t mind sharing a room with Hattie here.”
Millie smiled as the child blew her a kiss. “No, not at all. And I am still very tired, despite the nap I had.”
“Nap?” Libby asked, confused.
“Justin fixed her up a spot in the back of the wagon so she could rest a spell. Went right out too.”
Millie could feel herself blush. “As you said, it’s a long journey.”
“Are you hungry?” Libby asked. “Would you like something to eat?”
“No, thank you. We had lunch after I got off the train.”
“But Weatherford’s a long way from here,” Libby protested.
“Really, I’m fine. I can last until dinner.”
“Ahem,” came a voice from behind her. Millie turned to find Mr. Weaver with her satchel in his hand. “I’ll be leavin’ this for ya then, ma’am.” He set it on the floor next to her feet, then tipped his hat. “A mighty big pleasure gettin’ to meet ya. I … I hope whoever your husband is takes real good care of ya and appreciates what he’s gettin’.”
Millie’s previous blush returned in force. “Why, thank you, Mr. Weaver. What a kind thing to say.”
“Just speakin’ the truth, ma’am.”
“Justin is very … straightforward,” Libby said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll get to see more of him before you leave.”
“There are worse things to witness in a man’s character than saying what’s on his mind. I appreciate your words, Mr. Weaver.”
Justin grinned as the tips of his ears turned pink. “You’re welcome, ma’am. Now I’d best get along or old Abel is gonna wonder if’n I got left behind in Weatherford.”
“Abel?” Millie asked.
“Yeah, he takes care of us boys,” Justin told her. “Makes a decent pot of beans, Abel does.”
“I see,” Millie replied. Justin’s ears got redder. For some reason the sight sent a shiver up her spine. “Perhaps I’ll see you later, Mr. Weaver. You and your wit.”
He laughed. “Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am, but ya ain’t seen my wit yet.”
“Oh no, please,” Libby said. “Save it for tomorrow.”
Millie turned to her, both eyebrows raised. “Is he that quick?” She turned back to Justin. “Or that annoying?”
“If you’re here long enough,” Nate said with a wry smile, “you’ll find out for yourself. Oh, I know he looks harmless at first, but once you get him going, trust me, he’ll have you in stitches with his stories of his family. I’m half tempted to go to Washington to meet them, just to see if they’re true.”
“Really?” Millie said with renewed interest. “Perhaps you’ll get the chance to tell me a few before I go,” she said as her eyes met Justin’s.
“Maybe I will,” he said. He stuck his thumbs in the pockets of his denims and rocked toe to the heel a few times. “In fact, I’ll sit down with ya and yer intended and tell ya both!”
“That sounds fine,” Millie said with a small laugh. “Now if you don’t mind, I am very tired.”
“Oh, not at all,” Libby said, handing her daughter off to Nate. “Come, let me show you to your room.”
Millie gave Justin and Nate one last smile, then followed Libby into the bedroom she’d seen her emerge from earlier. She noted the two beds with a dresser between them. The only other furniture was a cradle in one corner. Pretty quilts adorned all three. “How many children do you have?”
Libby took her satchel from her and set it on the nearest bed. “Only Hattie so far,” she said, then patted her tummy. “With another on the way.”
Millie took a closer look at her hostess, and for the first time noticed she was with child. Heavens, she was tired! “When is the baby expected?”
“Not for another few months. This one is so much different from Hattie. With her I was as big as a house. With this one I’ve barely begun to show. I carried one before this for a short time, but … I lost it.” She rubbed her growing belly and smiled. “This one, though, he … she … just sort of grew overnight.”
Millie watched Libby swallow hard, and her heart went out to her. But what to say? “Someone told me once that a woman carries each child differently.”
“Yes,” Libby agreed with a sigh. “So my sisters and I have discovered. We’ve each carried ours differently. When Bonnie was pregnant with Ruth, you wouldn’t even have known it. Then about three months before she was due her belly did the same thing this little one did.”
Millie laughed. “Was her husband worried she wasn’t going to have one?”
“He says he wasn’t.” Libby winked. “But I bet he was.”
Millie smiled and sat on the bed near her satchel. “I hope to
have children one day. Three or four, at least.”
“I’ll settle for one more,” Libby said. “Now, I’ll leave you alone so you can get some rest. I’ll come fetch you in time for supper – does that sound all right?”
“Oh yes,” Millie said and stretched. “I’m sure a little rest will do me good.” She looked at Libby with a warm smile. “Thank you so much for letting me stay in your home.”
“My sister Gwen loves to entertain, so she usually keeps all guests of the ranch to herself. I’m glad she already has a full house – this way I get a chance at it.” She winked again and left the room.
Millie looked at her surroundings one last time and sighed at their simple charm. She wondered what it would be like sharing the space with a young child, and pondered if she’d be able to read Hattie a story before they went to sleep. Hmmm … what time would Libby be putting her daughter to bed? Millie hadn’t spent much time around children and didn’t know about such things. Once she was married and had children of her own, she’d be sure to find out.
She set her satchel on the floor, lay on the bed and closed her eyes. With one last sigh she drifted off to sleep in hopes of dreaming of her intended and building a family together. Instead, she dreamed of a handsome cowboy with a dry wit and an eye patch.
* * *
Justin unhitched the wagon, took care of the horses, then went to the bunkhouse to see what Abel was up to. If he were lucky, the grizzled old ranch hand would be in a talkative mood and yak Justin’s ears right off. Maybe then he’d stop thinking about Millie Porter.
He’d never had anyone shove their way into his brain before, but doggone it, he couldn’t get her out of it the entire time he’d unhitched the wagon, rubbed down and fed the horses. Sure, she was pretty – anyone could see that – but he’d seen beautiful women before.
Well, maybe not so much back home in Nowhere – the little town always had a shortage of females. The way things were going, his brother would have to send away for a mail-order bride, just like their pa and uncles had decades before. Maybe he should talk to Walton’s uncle Jack while he was visiting, see if he and his wife could get his brothers brides through their matchmaking business. San Francisco was a lot closer to Nowhere than Massachusetts was – his brothers wouldn’t have to wait as long for one to arrive …
“Howdy, Abel,” Justin said with a hint of relief as he entered the bunkhouse.
“Ya back already?” Abel asked. “Fine, yer just in time to try this new batch of cornbread I made.”
“What’s new about it?”
“Added a secret ingredient.” Abel bent over the oven and removed a hot pan. Whatever new ingredient the old man had used made the cornbread smell wonderful. “Best let it cool a spell, then we’ll have us some.”
“Sounds good to me. I miss anythin’ while I was gone?”
“Ya know dang well y’ain’t missed nothin’. Nothin’ ‘round here to miss.” Abel sat at the table they used for dining and studied him. “Why? Somethin’ supposed to happen while you ‘n Nate ran up to Weatherford?”
Justin joined him at the table. “No.”
Abel narrowed his eyes a moment, then sat back in his chair. “Awright, what is it?”
Justin shrugged. “Nothin’. What makes ya think somethin’ happened?”
“Aha! ‘Cause somethin’ did! Otherwise why’d ya say somethin’ happened?”
“I didn’t!”
“No, no, I’m talkin’ about the figger of speech ya used,” Abel explained. “But somethin’ did.”
Justin shook his head. “No, it didn’t. I swear.”
Abel laughed. “The first time ya get to go along and fetch one of them brides, and ya hafta go take a shine to her. It’d be funny if’n it weren’t so serious.” He leaned his elbows on the table. “Ya cain’t get attached to ‘em. Them women are already spoken fer.”
“I know that. And I ain’t taken a shine to anybody!”
“Then why’re yer ears turnin’ all pink?”
Justin’s hands flew to his ears. “They ain’t!”
“Then why ya coverin’ ‘em up?” Abel sat back again and slapped his leg with his hand. “Tarnation, boy, she done got under yer skin already? Must be purty.”
Justin lowered his hands. No use denying it, it seemed. “That she is …”
Abel folded his arms across his chest and sighed. “Boy, yer in for a heap of heartache if’n you let yourself get taken in by every pretty face comes through here. ‘Sides, if Mr. Dalton finds out yer takin’ a shine to any of them gals, he might fire ya. Then what would ya do?”
Justin sighed as well. “Go home, I guess.”
“To Nowhere? Sounds like a bad idea. Ain’t nothin’ there fer ya, fer one, and … well, me and the other boys’d miss ya somethin’ awful.”
Justin smiled. “I’d miss you as well. But then, I miss my family too.”
“What’d ya leave fer?”
He shrugged and sat back. “I wanted to see what was out there beyond our little valley. I wanted to do things, go places.”
“Ya been hangin’ around Bart?”
“Nossir, he has nothin’ to do with how I am. I had me a wanderin’ spirit long before I met Bart Dalton or his brothers.”
“Well then, why go home? What would ya do if ya ever left Dalton?”
Justin thought a moment. It was a good question, one that had never entered his mind until then. He’d been working for the Daltons for a little over a year, and figured he’d stay on for a few more before moving on, if he moved on at all. He liked Texas, he liked his employers, and he especially liked their cause, rescuing and helping women escape the threat of slavery.
It was a growing problem, and the Dalton and Blue families were doing their best to fight it. The network they’d set up between the ranch and mail-order bride services across the country was astounding. More and more were sending brides to the ranch to ensure their safety before they got to finally meet and marry their husbands. Pretty soon, if things went according to plan, Walton Dalton was going to have to employ a full-time preacher to keep up with the weddings.
Miss Porter and her future husband would be the first to marry on the ranch. The preacher from Wiggieville and his wife would come to the Dalton spread just as soon as Miss Porter’s intended arrived. Justin himself was supposed to ride to town to fetch them when the time came. Problem was, a part of him wanted to see more of Miss Porter.
But of course that was out of the question. Abel was right – if he wasn’t careful, he could lose his job.
“Cornbread oughta be cool nuff by now,” Abel said, pulling him from his thoughts. “Ya want coffee with yers?”
Justin stared at him a moment, an image of Miss Porter stuck in his head. “Er, yeah.”
Abel rolled his eyes. “Forget about her, boy. No woman’s worth yer job.”
He slowly nodded in agreement. “I agree.”
“Good. Now let’s have us some cornbread!”
* * *
Millie tried not to gawk at the beautiful blonde standing before her. She’d heard of Gwen Blue Dalton, but had never met her before. Gertie Landry still vowed revenge over how the woman had supposedly ruined her life. As Millie understood it, all Gwen did was get kissed by a man Gertie had set her cap for – at Gertie’s request, no less. Millie’s mother had relayed the story to her several times over the years, as a lesson on using discernment when choosing one’s friends.
If only her mother had used said discernment when choosing Millie a husband. She shuddered at the thought as she took a seat at the huge dining room table.
“If we’d been thinking, Mr. Brown could have traveled with us,” Jack Dalton said. Millie learned he was an uncle of the Dalton brothers, and he and his wife had run a mail-order bride service out of San Francisco. “Unfortunately, my memory isn’t what it used to be.”
Millie smiled. Jack and his wife Dell had to be at least seventy, but neither one of them looked their age. Millie was as glad as the Daltons th
at the couple had decided to visit with family while they were still in good enough shape to do it.
“Where else are you planning to visit?”
“Not sure,” Jack said. “We haven’t made up our minds.”
“You should think about Europe,” Gwen suggested. “If I had the chance to go, I would.”
“We’ve talked about it,” Dell said. “But our next stop will be Boston so I can show Jack where I’m from.”
“I want to see Paris,” Gwen said with a sigh.
“I want to see dinner!” her husband Walton announced. “Bring it in, wife!”
Gwen glared at him. “Don’t be so bossy. We have company.”
“If I don’t demand you serve me, you’ll stand there and flap your gums all night.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, then looked at Millie. “Pay him no mind, he’s always like this.”
Millie stifled a giggle. She enjoyed being around a large group of people. And this was only part of them. Gwen and Walton, Nate and Libby, Jack, Dell and Millie had gathered for dinner, while the rest of the Dalton and Blue family members were dining in their own homes that evening. Libby explained earlier that they had a big family dinner once a week, usually in the main ranch house as it had the only table large enough. To be surrounded by so many meant she’d be safe. “I think Paris would be lovely.”
“There, you see?” Gwen said in triumph to her husband. “You should take me.”
“I should take you into the kitchen and give you a good talking-to!” he retorted. “Now fetch dinner!”
Gwen laughed and turned to Libby. “Would you mind helping?”
“Not at all.”
“I can help,” Millie offered.
“No need,” Gwen said. “Libby and I can handle it.”
Libby got up and followed Gwen into the kitchen. Within moments, a sumptuous meal of fried chicken, roasted potatoes and vegetables was laid out on the table. The food was fabulous, the conversation lively, and all too soon dinner was over.
Millie sighed in contentment as Gwen brought out the dessert and coffee, and wondered if her intended Mr. Brown liked to entertain. Soon she had visions of dinners and teas at her new home. She hoped she wasn’t going to be disappointed. If she’d been braver and married Hubert, entertaining would have been a way of life. If one could call living with Hubert a life. Would Mr. Brown be the type to invite folks to dinner on a regular basis, or loathe the very thought?
