Fire and Ice

by Mary Connealy

  She expected to head down the trail for home before Mrs. Coulter’s dust settled.

  “I don’t want you to plan on leaving.” His eyes warmed up, his voice coaxing as his hands slid up and down on her arms. “I think we’ll suit, Bailey. We’ll make a good team. You’d be a great rancher’s wife.”

  “No, I’d be a great rancher. Truth is, I’m already a great rancher.”

  That seemed to stop him from talking for a while. At last he said, “I’ll treat you right.”

  “Which means there should be no problem, and you’ll hang on to that canyon. So why not agree to sign it over to me?” Bailey knew she would be leaving Gage just as soon as was humanly possible. Only having his mother around—no matter what kind of odd character she was—made the idea of living with him bearable.

  “Bailey, no.”

  “You told me you were a desperate man.” She wrenched free from him and stepped back. “But when it comes down to it, you’re not willing to give up a single thing, are you?”

  “A single thing?” His voice rose in anger. “That canyon is five thousand acres!”

  “You probably control forty thousand.”

  “None of it as prime as that canyon. Isn’t it enough I give you my name and my own ranch to live on, and my protection? And if you leave me, we’ll still be married, but we’d both be alone with no chance to marry anyone else.”

  “It’s a big risk for you. Yet no matter how desperate you say you are, you don’t want to take it.”

  Gage opened his mouth to respond, and she braced herself for him to yell a few choice words before storming out of the cabin.

  Well, she didn’t feel like getting hollered at. “Just go, Gage. I hope you and your ma have a happy life together.”

  Silence stretched between them. It was so profound, she thought she heard her heart beating. A roaring filled her ears.

  “It’s a deal.” He spoke as if his mouth were full of gravel.

  “Really?” Her heart beat even faster.

  “Really, Bailey.” He wasn’t happy about it, so he must indeed be desperate.

  Bailey went to a shelf and pulled out a piece of paper, an inkwell, and a pen. “I want it in writing. Signed and witnessed.”

  Gage looked between her and the paper. His jaw tensed, and for a moment Bailey thought he’d balk.

  Finally he said, “I agree to put it in writing, but we can’t show it to anyone. I don’t want word getting out about our deal.”

  Now it was her turn to get tense. She didn’t particularly want anyone to know about their deal, either. “If one other person knows, the whole world knows.”

  “And the paper’s worthless, anyway. It’s only as good as my word, because under the law I will own everything.”

  Nodding, frustrated, Bailey said, “I do think your word is good, lying to your mother aside. Fine.” She wrote fast.

  Gage read every word, then glared at her for too long before signing it with a heavy, slashing hand. “Now, let’s get ourselves to town and get married.”

  She’d own that canyon again. Then she remembered saying only minutes ago that marriage wasn’t a deal. And now here she was bargaining over it. It was shameful.

  Before her conscience could goad her into telling him to forget the whole crazy idea, she said, “Get on out so I can change into britches.” Bailey had taken to wearing her dress inside, but she still wore her manly clothes to do chores.

  “No!” Gage gasped. “You can’t wear britches in front of my mother!”

  She decided then and there she’d get along fine with Ma Coulter, who no doubt had realized long ago that her son was a half-wit. She most likely worried herself sick about him for perfectly good reasons. Bailey was going to team up with her and worry about him too, and maybe the two of them could torment Gage into leaving off idiocy at least part-time.

  “Go on with you, Gage. I need to change.”

  “Just pack up what has to be taken. Riding out of here is going to be hard work for our horses. The snow is shoulder-deep in places, and the only trail through it is the one I broke. I don’t want to be loaded down. Besides, my cabin has most of what you’ll need. I’ll go deal with the livestock. Your lunatic milk cow will be happy to go into the canyon with the rest of the herd.”

  “She’s already out with them. I gave up milking her.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’ll put out enough grain that your chickens can live for a month. By the time the food runs out, we’ll be back checking the herd regularly and we can bring them over to my ranch. Maybe they’ll hatch chicks in that time. I’ll get your horse saddled for you. Are my cows dropping their calves?”

  “Yep, most of them are done birthing their babies. You’ve got a nice spring crop.”

  “How about your cattle? Did your herd do well wintering over in that pasture we fenced? Do we need to bring them over here?”

  Bailey realized then the first thought she’d had when he came in, at least after the pleasure of seeing him had calmed a bit. Her cows were still in his canyon. She’d intended to sort them out before anyone showed up here this spring.

  “Well, uh . . .” She didn’t know what to say. Gage was sure to check his herd, any responsible rancher would, and he’d never overlook fifty extra cattle with the Double W brand. Whatever her differences with Gage, she knew he was a good rancher.

  With a weak jerk of one shoulder, she said, “My cattle are already in the canyon.”

  That startled a smile out of him, followed by laughter. “You moved them in there the minute my back was turned, didn’t you?” He laughed louder.

  “I waited awhile.” About a month. “And you offered to let me.” An offer she’d slapped back in his face.

  Gage walked up to her, real close, and placed a hand against her cheek. His fingertips were rough, the palm of his hand callused. She respected hard work, and his hands were proof he did his share.

  He tilted her face up and leaned down. “Bailey, we’ve got more to clear up. I told you about my ma, but you’ve yet to tell me why the thought of meeting my men scared you last fall.”

  She’d hoped he had forgotten that.

  His hand, so gentle, seemed to hold her in place without any effort. His forehead furrowed as if he genuinely cared.

  “I’m not afraid of anything, least of all a man.”

  Gage ignored her bluster. “I hate thinking what must have happened to make such a brave woman afraid.” He arched one brow, and his worried expression eased. “But have you noticed that no matter how bad we squabble, you never seem to be afraid of me?”

  She hadn’t noticed, but it was true. She’d never imagined letting a man so close to her, and yet Gage had been this close several times. He’d made her feel a lot of things. Most of them weren’t good, but none of them was fear.

  “I wonder why that is?” Gage sounded curious.

  A loud thud shook them apart. Gage’s hand flew to his pistol. He rushed to the door and threw it open.

  Bailey snagged her rifle from over the door and stepped beside him.

  There was nothing.

  His stallion stood there patiently.

  “What was that?” Gage studied the quiet, snow-covered terrain.

  Bailey poked her head around the door, frowning. Then she pointed at a huge icicle that’d been hanging from the eaves. “That icicle fell, I suppose.”

  “It didn’t sound like an icicle hitting the ground. It sounded more like someone slammed the icicle into the side of your cabin.” They exchanged a look of concern. The ground was too churned up to show tracks. There was nothing else out there.

  Standing close by in the doorway, Gage turned to her. “We’ll be married today, Bailey. Only hours from now.” He looked at her long and hard, then almost ran out the front door as if he wanted to get away from her. A cold blast of air wasn’t enough to shake her out of the strange confusion she felt.

  She had a time of it, gathering her wits. Finally, knowing Gage didn’t have that much to do, sh
e closed the door and forced herself to get moving.

  Looking around the cabin, she remembered Kylie trying to put up curtains. Bailey had refused. Her windows weren’t nice ones with glass like Kylie had. They were slits built to slide a rifle through to ward off intruders, with tight wooden shutters built to stop a bullet.

  And Shannon had put real skill into the table and chairs, but those couldn’t be hauled through snowdrifts on horseback. Maybe when the snow was all melted, she’d come back for them.

  What did she have here she even wanted? A few pots and pans. Bedding. Surely Gage had his own. Her manly clothes, which she’d gotten tired of wearing once she’d spent some time in the pretty dress Kylie gave her.

  She had long woolen underwear on beneath her dress, and that’s what she wore to sleep. Some days she even wore the dress to do chores. Of course, her only real chores required a short walk to the barn to feed the chickens and gather eggs. She’d turned her horse into the corral by the barn so that no stalls needed cleaning.

  Gage had told her she couldn’t wear her britches, and the truth was she didn’t want to—especially not in front of his mother. Maybe he’d see leaving them behind as an act of obedience from his wife.

  Possibly when things came along she didn’t want to agree with him on, he’d remember the abandoned britches and decide to give her a turn at having her way.

  She didn’t even collect the food from the cupboards. It would keep just fine in the cold cabin.

  Her fire . . . she hesitated because it seemed so final, but she forced herself to take the mostly empty pot of coffee and pour it on the smoldering kindling. Thanks to Gage’s poking at it earlier, breaking up the bigger pieces of wood, it had burned low. The coffee went a long way to putting it out. The last of it would burn out harmlessly.

  Grabbing a canteen, she filled it with water. There was half a loaf of bread left from breakfast. She wrapped the bread in a towel and stuck it, along with the jerky left over from a deer she’d brought down, into her saddlebags. She reached for her holster. She always wore it when she ventured outside, over her dress. Gage wouldn’t like it.

  Fuming, she stuffed the pistol into a saddlebag, added the bullets, then grabbed her rifle. She’d put that in the boot of her saddle. Surely that wouldn’t offend Gage’s desire to have a ladylike wife.

  That was the end of her packing. It was time to go.

  Leave her homestead.

  Take vows before God to love, honor, and obey a husband.

  She suspected she was incapable of doing any of that, so she tried to gather her courage, strengthen her spine to go and tell Gage to head down the trail without her. But the thought of letting him go, and staying here by herself . . . a scream built inside her.

  The winter had been unbearable. Literally unbearable. And because she could not bear it, not for one more day, she turned to her coat.

  It was as if she watched from a distance as a woman, nearly addled from loneliness, pulled on her heavy buffalo robe and wrapped a scarf around and around her head and neck.

  It was sad that there wasn’t a single thing in her cabin special enough to take along with her—not a keepsake, not a pretty doily crocheted for a hope chest. Bailey had none of those things, and what’s more, she’d taken pride in never wanting them. But now it struck her as sad.

  She peered out one of the narrow windows and saw Gage leading her saddled horse toward the cabin. It wasn’t a bitterly cold day, as spring had definitely come, but there was still deep snow everywhere.

  And although Gage had broken a trail to get here, the trek down to Aspen Ridge was sure to be an exhausting one.

  13

  I can’t believe you rode out here through this snow,” Bailey shouted from behind.

  Gage glanced back. They were on foot, descending from higher elevations, his horse belly-deep in snow. Gage, who was leading the poor, tired stallion, was waist-deep. As for Bailey, she was just plain floundering. But she kept moving forward, so Gage did too. He was determined not to help her unless she absolutely needed it.

  And this was on a trail he’d already broken coming up here.

  “I told you I was desperate,” he shouted back, then turned and plowed on. If the snow had been hard, they might’ve been able to walk right over the top of it. Yet it was more like powder.

  “This drift is only a little bit longer.” About a hundred more yards, which seemed like ten miles to him. He was trying to keep her spirits up. “Then it’s clear the rest of the way to town.” Gage would plow through, tie his horse, then go back and haul Bailey out if he had to.

  “I know exactly where we are.” Her voice sounded like she was talking through gritted teeth. She’d always had a deep voice for a woman. And heaven knew she could turn a phrase in a cranky way. But this was so grouchy he was afraid that Bailey was coming to her senses, and by the time they got to town, she’d have changed her mind about marrying him and would turn around and flounder her way back home. And he’d have to go with her, blast it all, and talk her back into it again.

  The snow was thinning out on the lower part of the mountain where the little town of Aspen Ridge sat. His ma could show up anytime now.

  Aspen Ridge was tucked in along the Oregon Trail. The town had grown up to serve as a location for a land office for homesteaders. It was nothing but a small collection of houses, still raw from being built over the heads and under the feet of the settlers as they opened one business or another. In the year since the war ended, Aspen Ridge had sprung up from nothing. The town survived mainly because there was nothing else for miles.

  Bailey didn’t speak again, and Gage didn’t try to cheer her up. He quit goading her into continuing on. Both took too much energy.

  At last the snow was knee-deep on him. He was through the worst of the drift. He reached a spot in the trail swept clear of snow by crosswinds. Nearly staggering as he stopped, he led his horse to the side, thinking to tie the stallion to a scrub pine and go back for Bailey. Before he could knot the reins, he looked back and saw she was almost through it.

  He didn’t want to talk to her because he figured the more tired she was and the farther they got from her land, the less likely she was to turn around and go home. So he mounted up and headed on down.

  A second glance told him she was riding after him. He was still stunned that she’d agreed to marry him, but didn’t question his good luck. Instead he picked up his pace. Even his big chestnut must know the worst was over, because he stepped out eagerly.

  About the time they reached the edge of town, the trail was wide enough they could ride two abreast.

  Bailey caught up to him. “There’s a parson in town?”

  “I saw him this morning,” Gage said. “First day my men and I have been to town all winter. Parson Ruskins is here. His ministry is to folks on the mountain, up where Tucker lives. He didn’t mean to spend the winter in town, but he got snowed in. He’s the same man who married Kylie and Shannon.”

  Bailey gave Gage a rueful smile. “A family tradition.”

  “Yep, you three girls sure are sentimental about such things.” Gage grinned back, teasing. He probably knew, just as Bailey did, that the Wilde women were about the least sentimental family in the whole country.

  “Parson Ruskins marrying all of us, and each under strange circumstances.” Kylie had married Aaron because she was afraid of snakes. There’d been more to it than that, but the snakes had prompted Aaron’s proposal and Kylie’s acceptance.

  Shannon had married Tucker because they’d been trapped in a cave and spent several nights alone together.

  Now Bailey was marrying Gage because . . . she wasn’t one bit sure why. For the canyon? To save him from his mama? To spare herself terrible loneliness?

  Despite the strange starts to Kylie’s and Shannon’s marriages, they looked like happy ones. Bailey held out no such hope for herself.

  “I reckon this counts as strange, all right. But I appreciate it, Bailey. Let’s go. See there, he bu
ilt his own church.” Gage pointed to a tiny building that looked as raw as the rest of the town. Above the front door, two short pieces of sapling had been fashioned into a cross. Beyond that, nothing set the building apart as a church.

  “Ruskins has been sleeping in the church and it’s only one room, so I reckon he’ll be there. If not, in a town this size, we’ll find him quick.”

  Did the man stand next to his bed to hold Sunday services? That seemed improper, Bailey thought. She hadn’t been to town much. She’d been content with her manly disguise, but she knew that avoiding people to the extent she’d done was an admission that her disguise wasn’t good enough.

  Gage led the way to the livery. He swung down and turned as if he’d help Bailey down, but she was already dismounting. She didn’t need a man to help her on and off her horse.

  Gage turned back. “Sandy, you here?”

  “Howdy, Gage.” An old codger limped out. His knees must hurt him, but he had the powerful arms and chest of any blacksmith.

  “Can you feed our horses and rub ’em down? They’ve had a hard time of it, and I need to head on for the ranch right away.”

  “Sure enough.” Sandy gave Bailey a curious look.

  Gage said, “We’re getting hitched, Sandy. This is Bailey Wilde. Sister to the women who married Aaron Masterson and Matt Tucker.”

  “I heard they had a brother.”

  “You heard wrong. We won’t be long.” Gage took Bailey’s hand, and they headed for the general store where they bought supplies, including the only bolt of fabric in the place—a dull blue wool, probably meant for men’s shirts.

  “Elijah, can you run this over to the livery and pack it on my stallion?”

  “I’ll see it’s done right away, Gage.” The man running the store began wrapping up the fabric and the other things they’d purchased.

  Bailey wasn’t all that sure she even knew how to make a dress. She could probably figure it out, though.