by Kit Morgan
“What?” Bonnie asked in shock.
Not the reaction she’d hoped for. Sympathy would have been nice. “I … I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“Is it because of what happened to Mr. Brown? I’d think it only natural you would feel hesitant to marry after that.”
Millie stared at her. Maybe that was it. Or was it? “How is one to know?”
“Come inside.” Millie watched her dump the bucket in her hand. “I’ve been cleaning and need to start on some bread. And check on the children.”
Millie sighed. Bonnie was happily married with two little ones. Why wasn’t she getting excited about having the same thing? But no matter how hard she tried to find that excitement, it just wasn’t there. What she did find was a whole lot of trepidation and a yearning for a one-eyed ranch hand with a strong chest and a … no, no, no! Stop thinking about the man! But her refusal didn’t make the desire go away, and she thought she might cry. What was wrong with her?
“How about some coffee?” Bonnie offered.
“Thank you – that would be lovely.”
“Spring’s a funny thing around here. It can still be cold at times, while other times it’s quite warm. You just never know what you’re going to get one day to the next.”
Millie stared at her. “So I’ve seen.”
“Life’s like that.”
Millie slowly sat at the kitchen table. “Yes, I’ve discovered that as well. I thought I’d be Mrs. Walter Brown by now, but that’s not how things went.”
“No, they didn’t,” Bonnie agreed. “But it doesn’t mean you can’t still be happily married to a wonderful man. I was a mail-order bride, you know.”
“Yes, but what if you were just lucky?”
“Then luck must run in my family.”
Millie sighed and looked away. Bonnie’s sisters and brothers had all married well, all through Elizabeth Tandy’s mail-order bride services in some form or fashion. But Mrs. Tandy didn’t pick out her most recent husband-to-be – the owner of The Nuptial News did. Would he be as reliable? And would it matter if he was? Oh for heaven’s sake, she didn’t know what she felt at this point.
“You do want to get married, don’t you?”
“Huh?” Millie said as she was pulled from her whirlwind thoughts. “Yes, of course. Just …”
Bonnie put a pot on the stove. “Just what?”
“I can’t go back …”
“No, you can’t,” Bonnie agreed. “Nor could my sisters, or myself.”
“But from what Libby tells me, all of you married the same day you got off the stage.”
“Maybe that’s your problem. You’ve had time to think about things, and you feel bad about leaving Beckham and your family.”
“And Hubert Toile … oh, never mind. I could never marry him.”
“My point is, we didn’t have time to worry. If we had, we might’ve had second thoughts about getting married too. Especially Gwen.”
“Libby told me you left to avoid marrying those three deacons in your church.”
“True, but what we didn’t tell Gwen was that we were leaving as mail-order brides, to each marry someone else.”
Millie’s eyes widened. “I can only imagine how that went!”
“It was a moment, that’s for certain,” Bonnie said with a wide smile. “But enough of Gwen – what about you? If you could marry anyone, who would it be?”
Millie sat, unable to answer the question. Well, not unable to – she just knew it would be chaos if she was honest and yelled “Justin Weaver!” as her first impulse wanted her to. Finally she mumbled, “I don’t know. How could I?” But that was a lie. “There was no one in Beckham I was interested in,” was her second attempt, and at least partially true.
“Hmmm, I guess that is a problem. But it might be a blessing in disguise. At least this way you don’t have anyone to compare your new husband to.”
If only, she thought. But a San Francisco businessman was a far cry from a one-eyed Texas cowboy literally from Nowhere. She smiled at the thought. Hubert would consider Justin a nobody from Nowhere, to be discarded as so much garbage. Maybe that’s why Justin’s character stood out to her. He was everything Hubert Toilet Tissue wasn’t. And she could pronounce his surname, which was a plus …
“Don’t you agree?” Bonnie prompted.
“Oh yes. Yes, I do.” No. No, I don’t. How could she tell Bonnie Dalton about her feelings for Justin? She had no foundation for them, no permission to follow them. He hadn’t reciprocated them in any way. It would be senseless to say anything, not to mention embarrassing. The Daltons went through all that trouble to get her a new husband – how could she tell them she’d rather wed their one-eyed cowhand?
But what if he felt the same way about you? her mind argued. Well … that might be different. But she had no reason to believe he did.
“Nerves, just nerves,” Bonnie assured her. “Tell you what – I’ll teach you how to make some of my favorite recipes over the next few days. Then you’ll have gotten in some practice before you leave for San Francisco. Cooking and baking always helps to settle me down.”
Millie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right,” she said without enthusiasm. What else could she do? Besides, maybe it would work. All her blunders at sewing had certainly helped her to forget about Justin. Until today. And wasn’t it funny how he, in turn, had helped her forget about poor Mr. Brown? She sighed. In time, maybe Mr. Whitbey would help her forget about Mr. Weaver …
She looked at Bonnie and forced a smile. “When do we start?”
Eleven
Pies. Why did they have to be so difficult? By the time Millie left Bonnie and Bart’s, her clothes were covered in flour, possibly more cinnamon than actually made it into the recipe, and various spots of goo. This was how little Hattie must feel at the end of the day. The difference was that Hattie probably didn’t care.
“Well, someone’s been busy …,” a familiar voice drawled.
Millie’s stomach fluttered, a shiver went up her spine and she could do nothing to quell the emotions erupting from her heart. Why, oh why, did this man affect her like this? “I had a pie-baking lesson.”
“Who won, you or the pie?” Justin asked as he stepped off Libby and Nate’s porch.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
He laughed. “Good thing ya weren’t tryin’ to make a berry pie. I can only imagine what ya’d look like after that battle.”
“Very funny,” she grumbled, while at the same time trying to ignore her racing heart.
“Don’t feel bad. Lots of women don’t know nothin’ about bakin’ and such when they first get married.”
“They don’t?” she asked, surprised.
He shook his head. “How can they if no one was around to teach them?”
He had a point. In her case, however, her mother had relied on their cook and hadn’t lifted a finger to prepare a dish in years. “No one taught me …” she said, a little sad. “But, at least I’m learning now.”
“Yep,” he said, gazing at the main ranch house. “I, uh … wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“What?” she asked. “Apologize for what?”
“For not makin’ ya leave earlier when ya … ran across me.”
“Oh,” she said and felt her cheeks grow hot. “That. If anything, I should be the one to apologize. I should never have lingered as I did, and …”
He held up a hand to stop her. “Let’s both apologize and move on or we’ll be arguin’ over whose fault it is all day. Ain’t no one’s, come to think. Ya didn’t know I was there.”
Millie gave him a shy smile. “I’m sorry, then.”
“Me too.”
They stood there a moment, just staring at each other. Finally Millie could stand it no longer. “Won’t you come in? I’m sure Hattie would love to see you.”
“Already seen her. I was just leavin’ when ya got here.”
“Oh.”
He glanced aroun
d, his gaze fixing on the main house for a second, then turned back to her. “I reckon I can spare a few moments and visit with ya, though.”
Millie studied him. He seemed preoccupied, and she wondered if he was supposed to be heading out. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Actually, the only work I have is some shut-eye. I wanted to see Hattie first, though. Didn’t want her still mad at me.”
Millie smiled. “She does like to be the center of attention when it comes to you, I’ve noticed.”
“That she does,” he agreed and kicked at the ground with the tip of his boot. “So … you lookin’ forward to marryin’?”
She looked away. “Of course.”
“Ya don’t sound too convinced.”
“I’ve had … a trying time of it, what with … Mr. Brown …”
He took a couple of steps toward her, his hands clenched. “I’m sorry that happened. It must be awful for a gal like you to find out your intended got …”
“Please, don’t remind me.”
“Sorry.” He kicked the dirt again. “For some reason, I just thought of the time my uncles Benjamin and Calvin rigged a bucket of flour and water up to dump it on my pa’s head. Only it didn’t go as planned.”
Millie cocked her head to one side. “They did what? And what has that to do with Mr. Brown?”
He gave her a nervous shrug. “Only that sometimes things don’t go the way we plan. My uncles planned on dousin’ Pa with a bucket of yuck. Only it didn’t work.”
Millie’s eyes widened with curiosity. “What happened?”
He met her look. “The bucket landed right on my pa’s head and knocked him out cold.”
Millie’s hands flew to her mouth, partly in shock and partly to keep from laughing. “That’s terrible!”
“Back then it was. Now the family laughs about it all the time. It’s one of their favorite stories to tell when everyone’s gathered for Christmas.”
Mille pressed her lips together in a firm line, but it didn’t work. One snort escaped.
“It’s all right, ya can laugh. Everyone else does.”
She did. “Oh my goodness! Your uncles must have been a handful growing up.”
“Oh, they were. Just ask Granny Mary - that’s my Pa’s and uncles’ ma. She could handle ‘em for the most part, though. Still does.”
“She must be a very formidable woman to handle such pranksters.”
“Does ‘formidable’ mean wise?”
Millie nodded. “And tough.”
He smiled. “That’s about right, then.” Then he stared at the ground and sighed. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I missed her ‘til I started talkin’ ‘bout her.”
“It happens like that. I … I miss my parents… even though we didn’t part on the best of terms.”
“Sorry to hear that. Family’s an important thing. Ya ain’t got nothin’ if ya ain’t got family. That’s why I like working for the Daltons – they’re close knit, and they look out for each other, no matter what.”
She swallowed hard at the sincerity in his eyes. This was a man who knew what was important in life. A man she could spend … oh good Lord, what was she thinking? She was supposed to be getting married in a few days! “I … I have to go.”
He chewed his bottom lip. “Yeah, I’d best get along too. Nice talkin’ with ya. I wish ya all the best.”
“All the best?” she heard herself whisper.
“Yeah, ain’t ya gettin’ married?”
“Yes, of course I am. In a few days.”
He nodded and chewed his lip again. He then hooked his thumbs in his front pockets of his denims. “Well, best of luck to ya,” he said, stepping off the porch.
“Justin …” Oh good heavens, what was she doing calling him by his Christian name?
“Yes, ma’am?” he said as he turned back toward her.
She swallowed hard. Everything she’d ever wanted, everything she’d ever dreamed a man should be as her husband, she sensed in him. He was just a one-eyed cowboy from Nowhere who had nothing, was nothing in the eyes of those she’d kept as friends. Her parents would be appalled she’d even look twice at him. But she didn’t care. There was something undeniably attractive about him. It drew her to him like a moth to a flame. And it wasn’t his good looks or charming nature, though he had those in abundance. No, it was something else, something more.
“Ma’am?”
She swallowed hard. “How … how did you lose your eye?”
* * *
Now it was Justin’s turn to swallow hard. He should run back to the bunkhouse and lock the door – not to keep her out, but him in. What was he doing?! He shouldn’t be talking with her – heck, he shouldn’t be within twenty yards of her! If Nate Dalton saw him right now, he’d lose his job faster than you could spit!
But he couldn’t move. He cleared his throat in hopes it would help free his legs, but all it did was loosen his tongue. “I didn’t actually … lose it.” He reached up, closed his eye against the light and stopped. “Ya may wanna brace yerself.”
“I’m not afraid.” She sounded more convincing this time.
He took a deep breath and lifted the eye patch. “It’s there. But as ya can see, it ain’t real attractive. I was born with this.” He lowered the eye patch, opened his good eye. She wasn’t running away screaming, so that was a good sign. “My mama used to tell me what the good Lord didn’t give me in sight, He made up for in other ways.”
Her eyes were fixed on his face. “What others?” she asked and took a step toward him. He fought the urge to do the same, to take her in his arms and kiss her. Good grief, he’d never been so attracted to a woman! He swallowed again and tried to keep his breathing steady. “Hearin’, smellin’ – my other senses are a mite sharper than my twin brother’s.”
“You have a twin brother?”
“Yes, ma’am. Identical. Though he’s not as handsome as I am.”
She laughed, and he was pleased she got his joke. “You two must have been quite the pair growing up.”
“You have no idea. We were just as mischievous as my identical twin uncles, Benjamin and Calvin.”
“Twins run in the family?”
“Yep. If’n I ever have children, I’ll most likely get a pair.”
She froze, eyes wide, and stared at him. What could she be thinking? She took another step closer. “Fascinating,” came out a breathy whisper.
“Ain’t it, though?” he managed. Run, Weaver, run! he thought, but instead he stayed put. “I’ve got twin cousins too. You should have seen what happened when the whole lot of us would go to town. No one could tell any of us apart. Used to drive poor Sheriff Riley loco.”
“You …” Her eyes roamed his face. “You were the type to get into trouble?”
He swallowed hard. “Not trouble, so much as …” His one good eye locked on her mouth. “… mischief,” he finished, his voice cracking. Please Lord, give me strength! he prayed. He looked at her, could see she was frightened. But not of him – of something else. He wished he knew what it was. Though perhaps he did …
“I … I’ve always wondered –”
“Millie?” he said. “I mean … Miss Porter?”
“Yes?” she said, not protesting the use of her Christian name.
“I …” What? What could he say? In truth, he didn’t want to say anything. He wanted to wrap her up, kiss her senseless and carry her off to the nearest preacher. But he didn’t dare … he couldn’t … he …
He could.
And did. Without warning his arms went around her, pulled her against his chest and, before he could stop himself, his lips melded with hers. He expected a slap, a scream, something that would stop this nonsense of his, but instead she moaned softly and melted against him.
It was enough of a shock to bring him to his senses. He broke the kiss, but it took every ounce of strength he had just to loosen his grip. “Miss Porter … I’m so… so…”
“Sorry?” a man growled.
/>
Justin froze, as did Millie. They both turned to see the stony face of Nate Dalton. “Miss Porter, go inside the house,” he said evenly.
Millie shuddered, then without a word fled inside the house.
As soon as the door closed behind her, he turned his attention on Justin. “As for you, Mr. Weaver, I expected better from you. We’ve never had a problem with this before, and after today I don’t want to ever have it again.”
Justin swallowed. “Yessir,” he said to Nate’s boots.
“I can guarantee we won’t,” Nate said, putting his hands on his hips. “My brothers and I have a reputation to uphold, you understand?”
“Yessir, I do.”
Nate looked at him with a heavy sigh. “Yer a good worker, Justin, and until this ya never caused us any trouble. But understand that if I can’t trust you to leave the women who come here alone, I can’t have ya around. I’m sorry, Justin, but yer fired.”
Justin nodded. It wasn’t like it was a surprise. “Yessir.”
“Ya can find a job in Wiggieville or Weatherford, I’m sure. But not here. Come by the main house tonight and collect yer pay. Then pack yer things and be gone at first light. That clear?”
“Yessir. It’s clear.”
“Good.” Nate spun on his heel and went into the house.
Justin stared after him, then at the door after it slammed shut. This was his own darn fault. What did he expect would happen if he kept letting himself spend time with Millie? In the back of his mind, he’d known it was only a matter of time before he did something as foolish as kiss her!
He took a deep breath and tried not to keep beating himself up for being such an idiot. But it was hard, real hard. Before he did something else stupid, he headed to the bunkhouse, his angry strides eating up the ground. He burst through the door and headed for his bunk.
“What’samatter with you?” Abel called from the other end of the building.
“I just got myself fired.”
“Huh? Fired from what, a cannon?”
“From workin’ here. Pack up tonight, be gone by sunrise. That kinda fired.”
