by Rye Hart
"I'm Larsen Dover," he said without frivolity.
Marianna sucked in her breath at the realization that the man before her was the man for whom she had traveled all this way. She suddenly felt nervous and shy. "And I'm Marianna," she said softly.
"I know," he spoke as his gaze locked with hers. His eyes were blue and stood out against his tanned skin, dark hair, shadowy beard, and the smudges of ash and soot that covered his body.
Marianna found it difficult to look away; the man before her captivated her. "How so?" she asked as she cocked her head with curiosity.
"Well," he began, "considering you are the only woman in a hundred miles of my ranch, I figured it was a pretty good guess." His eyes danced teasingly, but his body still remained a bit stiff. "But I'll let you rest now," he spoke as his gaze darted away from her shyly and made a move toward the door.
"Wait," Marianna called out to him before he left.
He turned back around, his eyes expectant and curious.
"Thank you," she said earnestly.
He nodded. "If I had gotten you killed on your first day here, my sister-in-law would never have let me hear the end of it," he said rather sheepishly before he quickly left.
Marianna chuckled at the reference to the commanding force that was Mrs. Cavanaugh.
Chapter Five
Despite the unconventional events of the day, Marianna found she was able to fall asleep quickly.
Once Larsen had left, a wave of exhaustion took hold of her and swiftly guided her head toward the pillow. Her mind was adrift with sleep before her eyes even closed.
She slept soundly, for the most part that is, until she was roused from her peaceful dreaming by the sound of chattering voices.
"Shhh, Elijah," a child said harshly. "You are going to wake her." The voice sounded urgent, but failed to take his own advice on lowering his voice.
"You be quiet," shrieked an even younger voice.
"If you aren't quiet," threatened the older child's voice, "she will leave!"
"So?" the younger voice said with a surprisingly stubborn air.
"So," stressed the older voice, "if she leaves, father said he won't know what to do with us and that means he will be forced to sell us to the outlaws."
"No!" gasped the younger voice.
Marianna peeked under her thick lashes at the voices coming from the edge of her bed. However, her attempts to be subtle failed as her audience was paying close attention to her every move.
Two little heads popped over the footboard where she slept, their eyes wide with fear as they realized she was awake.
"I don't want to become an outlaw!" the youngest shrieked with horror.
Marianna rose up on her elbows. "You won't be forced to become an outlaw," she assured him "At least if you don't want to," she winked at the two little boys.
Their eyes grew even wider and their faces reddened with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry he woke you," the older one offered apologetically.
Marianna chuckled at the older child's attempt to shift the blame — something she had seen Georgina do to Amelia often, and vice versa.
"It is quite alright," she raised her eyebrow expectantly.
"Marshal," the older boy said proudly. "And this here is Elijah," he pointed toward his younger brother.
"Marshal and Elijah," Marianna echoed warmly. These were the boys she had been brought here to care for. She shook her head; no she was brought here to be a pseudo-mother. Her face fell as the weight of the realization hit her. She had no idea how to mother two little boys. Likewise, what would happen to them if she decided to go home? She knew that the 'being sold to the outlaws' was most likely not the reality, but boarding schools were a completely different alternative that Mrs. Cavanaugh had hinted would be Larsen's final option.
"Are you alright?" both little boys asked in unison.
"Quite, thank you." She tried to brush aside her fears of what might happen in the future and do her best in the moment. And at that moment, she wasn't their mother, she was simply here on a trial bases as their teacher and caretaker. She had already met the father — the image of his soot covered, muscular body raced through her mind and brought heat to her cheeks. She quickly swallowed those thoughts and turned her attention back to the present reality.
"How would you two like to give me a tour of the house?" she asked. She figured it would be the best way to familiarize herself with the home and the two little boys living in it.
"Of course!" they both said in response, their eyes gleaming with the challenge of living up to the task she had given them.
"We know everything about the house," Elijah the youngest bragged.
"I know everything about the house and ranch," Marshal stated matter-of-factly.
"You do not," said little Elijah.
"How would you know?" Marshal countered.
"Because Daddy is the one who knows everything," Elijah said proudly.
"Well I know a lot of things too," Marshal said with a stubborn air.
"I'm sure there are a lot of things that only you two, with your unique perspectives, are able to tell me about the house and ranch," she said in an attempt to placate the both of them.
"Yes ma'am," Marshal spoke with confidence and a gleaming smile.
Marianna figured Marshal was about eight, while Elijah looked to be about six. They both were at that age where their confidence often preceded their abilities. At least this was the case for Marshal, as Elijah looked like he was quite content to follow his older brother around on whatever adventures he decided to take them on.
Each little boy took her hand as they guided her from the bedroom and into the living area. The house was quite large, which was a far cry from the cabin Marianna was expecting. It had three bedrooms, a large living area with a massive stone fireplace, a small kitchen off to the side, and massive loft, which the boys used as a playroom, that was the size of half of the house. The house itself was larger than her old home in Boston, but despite the hefty size, she felt almost at home in the place.
At least she would feel at home once she got the place cleaned. As the boys guided her through their house, it became quite obvious that the place hadn't seen a thorough cleaning in ages. Of course, it wasn't a total mess, but it looked like someone had only haphazardly attempted to keep house. Marianna knew that, if she was going to live in this place, it needed to be a bit more functional.
"Marshal and Elijah?" Marianna asked sweetly. "Do you know where there are cleaning supplies?"
"What are those?" Elijah squeaked.
Marianna chuckled at their obliviousness. "Well you know James, right?"
Both of the boys' faces broke out in huge grins. "Yes," they answered eagerly.
"Could you fetch him for me? Let him know that Ms. Wellington needs his service."
"Sure," they both said in unison before they both took off running.
Marianna watched as they bounded off in search of James. Marianna knew that she needed some help to sort the house out, and while she appreciated the enthusiasm of the two children, she would need a bit of a stronger hand in the cleaning tasks.
As she turned to go back inside, she suddenly felt a sickening chill run down her spine. She quickly turned around, but saw nothing.
"How odd," she said to herself. Marianna still wasn't sure about this place. Although Larsen and his children made her feel comfortable and welcomed, she still couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Perhaps almost being crushed by a burning building less than an hour upon arrival was an omen, or maybe she was just being homesick. Either way, Marianna was still hesitant about committing to her new home just yet.
Chapter Six
"James, not like that!" Marianna moved to instruct the young man in how to properly scrub the floors.
James grunted reluctantly, but abided by her instructions with silent patience. Marianna wasn’t yet sold on making Texas her new home, but she wasn’t one to stand still when wor
k needed to be done around her.
"Now, Marshal and Elijah," she moved toward the eldest Dover boy. "Since the loft is your playroom, it is your responsibility to keep it tidy." She instructed the boys on how to put away their toys and then assigned them the task of dusting the small area. They hurried off to do their assigned tasks with excitement. They were keen on trying out the "cleaning thing" as they put it, which made Marianna giggle. Georgina and Amelia had never been so willing to attend to their chores. A wave of sadness brushed over her as she thought of her sisters. However, she pushed it to the back of her mind and chose to focus on removing the layer of soot and grime that covered the cost-iron stove.
Marianna became so focused on cleaning as a way of keeping her mind busy, she barely noticed when the front door swung open.
"James, what are you doing and why are you wearing an apron?" bellowed Larsen Dover in his deep voice.
"Ummmm," James was at a loss for words.
Marianna peeked her head out from under the stove where she had been cleaning up piles of cobwebs and dirt. "I'm having him help me clean this house," she explained.
"Well I need him to help the other men sort through the rubble from the barn now that it has finally stopped burning," he said in an exasperated tone.
"Yes sir," James quickly wiped his hands on the apron, tossed it over a chair and darted outside.
"Now wait just a minute," she protested. She advanced toward Larsen, "I can't clean this whole house by myself."
"I'm sorry, but I need every able hand to clean up the rubble," he stated apologetically before turning to follow James outside.
"Look, Mr. Dover," she reached for his arm. As her fingers brushed his skin, a burst of energy shot through her at contact. She obviously wasn't the only one who had felt the jolt as Larsen's gaze met hers with a fierce intensity.
They stood like that for a few beats, connected by her light touch and their full gazes.
Larsen was the first to break the silence. "I have to get back," he moved and broke the contact between them.
The moment her hand was no longer on him, her senses returned. She had no idea what it was that had caused such an intense shock of energy between them, but she sure wasn't going to touch him again to find out if it was just a fluke or not.
"Look Larsen," she said a bit softer this time. He turned back to look at her, his face a mask of impassivity. "I know that your barn may seem like a priority at the moment, but so are your children." She lowered her voice as she continued; she did not want little ears to hear too much. "Your children cannot live in a dirty house, and I am willing to try and fix that, but I can't do it on my own." She hoped her plea reached his senses.
He looked at her for a long, silent moment. "You won't have to," he said firmly. "When my men are done with salvaging the wreckage, I will send several of them to come up here and help you remedy the house, including myself."
"Thank you," she said. She glanced behind Larsen and noticed that the sun had already begun to set on what had been an eventful day. "You don't need to send anyone today, we can finish it tomorrow," she answered softly.
"Alright," he nodded gruffly before turning quickly away.
Marianna stood and watched Larsen Dover as he headed back toward the barn, which was still a pile of smoking rubble off in the distance. Already her mind began to race with questions about this strange, handsome, enigmatic man. How had he been a single parent for so long? She thought that it must have been difficult for him to run both a ranch and a household.
She turned back toward the house and saw two little faces watching her from the loft above. Those two little boys had already seen so much in their short lives that her heart ached for them. She knew that, even if she didn't choose to stay on as their mother, she needed to help as much as she could in the short time that she was here.
Chapter Seven
True to his word, Larsen provided the help Marianna needed to reorganize the house. The men that he sent were all very kind and eager to help. Marianna felt at ease with them, or at least most of them.
Marcus Maine was an entirely different creature. The man that had stopped Larsen as he was carrying her from the burning rubble had been obvious in expressing his displeasure of her. Marianna wasn't sure what she had done to warrant such negative attention, but she tried to move past it. For the most part, he simply ignored her and kept his distance, at least when others were watching.
One afternoon, when she was coming back from refilling her cleaning bucket at the well, she had accidently run into Marcus.
"Oh, I’m sorry," she said as water sloshed onto the ranch manager's leather pants.
"You better watch yourself," he said in a menacing tone. His eyes gleamed viciously as his gaze took stock of her.
Marianna was taken aback by the severity of his reaction. She had only spilled a little bit of water on his clothing, yet he acted as if she had personally assaulted him. "I'm very sorry, do you have a second pair? I can clean them for you if they —"
"I can't be bothered," he spat on his last word, the spittle landing rather close to Marianna's shoes.
She stepped back in response. "Again, I'm very sorry," she repeated herself.
Marcus took a threatening step toward her, slowly closing the distance between them.
Marianna instinctively stepped back. "Sir, I think you should leave," she held her head high and injected a sense of authority in her tone of voice.
"Perhaps it is not me who should leave," he said vaguely.
Marianna gaped.
"Is something wrong?" Larsen's commanding voice broke through the tension of the moment.
Marianna felt her breath ease as she turned to see Larsen strolling toward them.
"Everything is fine boss," Marcus's face changed into a cool mask; a far cry from the menacing features he had revealed to Marianna. "Just bumped into the lady by accident and spilled some of her water," he played it off.
"Right," Marianna said hesitantly. She didn't want to make an enemy of Larsen's trusted ranch manager.
"Well it was nice chatting with you ma'am," Marcus said lightly. "I will see you later boss," he said has he strolled away, all while whistling a low tune.
How odd, Marianna thought. She didn't know why Marcus disliked her so much, but she hoped that he wouldn’t try to approach her again. She decided to try and push the disturbing encounter to the back of her mind and focus on the more interesting man in front of her.
"Good evening Mr. Dover," she said cheerfully.
"Please," he spoke warmly, "just call me Larsen."
"Larsen," Marianna let his name roll of the tongue. She liked the way it sounded and, judging by Larsen's reaction, he preferred her to use his given name.
"How is the house coming along?" he inquired about her efforts in reorganizing his neglected home.
"Very well, actually," she smiled up at him. "Would you like to come in and see?" she asked.
"No, that is quite alright," he looked past her at the setting sun. "I have a few things to attend to before it gets late,"
"Oh, ok," she disappointedly. She had been hoping to have a moment alone with him, but every time she tried to extend their conversation, he would be pulled away by his ranch duties.
Larsen studied her for a moment. "I will walk you back to the house," he stated.
"Thank you," she said softly. She bent to pick up the bucket of water she had been carrying with her.
"Allow me." Larsen moved forward to take the heavy load away from her. He lifted it with ease, as if it weighed nothing.
Marianna admired his calm strength. She also noticed he slowed his strides to match her shorter pace.
"What do you think of Texas?" he asked in an attempt to make small talk.
"Well … it is a lot different from Valley Springs," she said mildly. She wasn't sure what else to say. She had only been in Texas for a few short days, and yet it felt like it had been a lifetime since she left her home. She knew it was normal to
expect an adjustment period, but she still wasn't sure if it was homesickness or her gut that kept her from feeling at home.
They reached the front porch to the house and Larsen set the bucket down for her.
"I don't want to keep you here if you are unhappy," he confessed.
In that moment, Marianna got a glimpse into the man before her. She saw how the strain of losing his wife had taken a toll on him and she wished to comfort him "How long ago did you lose her?" she asked softly.
"Three years ago to influenza," he said. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed absently.
Marianna saw that, even after all these years, the loss of his wife still pained him. "I lost my fiancé to a carriage accident." She hoped that by offering him a glimpse into her own struggles, he might not feel so alone in the ache that comes from missing a loved one.
He nodded. "Mrs. Cavanaugh said as much. I'm very sorry," he offered.
They stood in silence for a moment, neither one knowing the right words to say after such an intimate moment.
Larsen was the first to speak. He chuckled slightly, breaking the awkwardness of the moment. "Yet here we are, still standing despite it all," he said with strained amusement.
Marianna felt the corner of her mouth turn up into a faint smile. She covered her eyes from the glare of the setting sun and looked up at Larsen. "That is one way you could put it," she agreed.
"Well," Larsen said a little too quickly, "I best head off. You let me know if there is anything you need."
"I will," Marianna promised.
As Marianna watched Larsen walk away, she couldn't help but compare the man to her late fiancé, Kevin.
Kevin had been a soft-spoken intellectual that had come from an upper-class family. Larsen, on the other hand, was a bit rough looking, with a thick beard and a deep voice. His occupation as a ranch owner in Texas was the exact opposite of Kevin's safe job in an attorney's office. Marianna knew that it wasn't fair to compare Larsen to her deceased fiancé, but Kevin had passed away less than two months ago and his memory was still fresh in her mind.
Yet, the difference between the two men wasn't what held her back from fully committing to marrying Larsen Dover. She was struggling with the isolation that came with choosing to come out west. Back in Valley Springs, she had her sisters and a few friends to help her through the difficult loss. Here in Texas, she had no one. She craved the intimacy that came from friendship, but on a ranch full of men, she had yet to make a single friend.
