Tame a Wild Bride, a Western Romance

by Cynthia Woolf

  She did have the most beautiful breasts. High and round, they filled his hands perfectly and he had big hands. And her skin. Had he ever seen anyone with skin so soft and flawless? How he wanted to take her pert nipple into his mouth and suck until she begged him to take her. Her moan was the only thing that saved him this time.

  No way in hell he was going to be put in a position where he could be betrayed again. The kids were the only thing that kept him sane last time. They needed him. He couldn’t wallow in self pity; he’d had to care for his children. They didn’t know anything except Mama was gone. Ben understood now that his mother was dead, but Suzie didn’t. Her grandma was the only ‘mother’ she’d known and now Rosie would be her mother. But that was all she’d be. A mother for his children. Nothing more.

  Suzie already seemed to like Rosie. She’d been ecstatic when she’d received Rosie’s gift of a new doll. Wouldn’t let it out of her sight. Insisted on taking it to bed with her.

  And Ben. When he found out Rosie liked to read she’d become his best friend. Someone he could share his love of books with. His kids needed Rosie and all the beauty she brought with her. They needed her. He didn’t.

  Even the men seemed to like Rosie. They’d never had anyone ask them what they wanted or liked to eat. They were lucky if Sarah put something on the table that was edible. Her lack of cooking skills were what made him hire the first of many women to help her take care of the house.

  Rosie won over everyone just by being herself. Including him if he were to admit it. But he couldn’t be won over. She was nice and pretty and all the things a wife and mother should be, but he’d made a mistake once and damned if he’d do it again it over a pretty face and tempting flesh. And Lord, was she tempting.

  Sarah left him for a traveling peddler who promised her the moon and all the stars. The fancy life of ease she’d always wanted. She’d been surprised when they married to discover she was expected to work. Apparently, she’d never done so before. Just how she got on he wasn’t sure but after their wedding night and discovering she wasn’t the virgin she professed to be, he had a clue. When Ben came along six weeks early, he’d had another. But none of it mattered to him at the time and only now made him wonder if he was right in thinking she was pregnant when they married. But Ben looked just like him. Right down to the dark hair and blue eyes.

  *****

  She read the letter again.

  Tom Harris remarried. She’s rich. Deposited $5000 in bank. Come home, we can make a killing.

  All my love,

  Your brother.

  Folding the letter carefully, she placed it back in the envelope. Things hadn’t worked out like she planned or like Frank promised. Five thousand would get her back to the life of ease, back to the life she wanted. Now she just had to figure out how to get it.

  *****

  Tom walked into the pen where the chickens were kept and headed for the coop, which was what he called the small shed inside the pen. Rosie followed him. He ignored the chickens and they flapped to get out of his way.

  Once inside the chicken coop he walked behind the nest shelves. There were three shelves in the coop with four nests on each shelf. Not all of them were empty of hens. Those that were, he just plucked the egg from the nest and placed it in the basket he carried. For those that the hen was still there sitting on her egg, he tried first reaching under the sitting hen. If that didn’t work, he would push the hen out of the nest and grab the egg.

  He held the basket out to her. She took it and went to the next nest. She gingerly reached under the hen and tried to grab the egg. The hen turned and pecked her hand.

  “Ow. Why didn’t they do that to you?” she said, snatching her hand back and checking for blood.

  “Because I’m quicker than you are. Don’t be slow and try to take it easy on the hen. They’ll peck you every time. Push the hen aside and take the egg. Try it again.”

  This time she dove her hand under the backend of the chicken, grabbed the egg and was out before the chicken knew what she was up to. She turned grinning toward Tom and showed him her prize.

  He smiled back. “Easy, huh?”

  “Yes, it is easy.” Something pecked her leg. “What in the heck?”

  She looked down and the rooster was pecking at her skirt. Hard. She kicked at it and he flapped away.

  “That’s Walt, my cock.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him and burst out laughing.

  “My rooster.”

  She nodded, chuckling under her breath.

  “You have to watch out for him. He’ll peck you every time if you don’t get in and out of here fast. Sometimes feeding them by throwing corn in the yard will distract him enough that you can get in and out without being attacked. Luckily you have your skirt to protect you. Watch it when you go into the coop though. If you don’t see him in the yard he could be in the coop and he won’t hesitate to leap at you. He doesn’t realize he can’t fly.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “I noticed there are only twelve nests, but you have a lot more chickens than that.”

  “There are only twelve laying hens. The rest we eat. You’ll have to do that too.”

  “Do what too?”

  “Slaughter the chickens when you need them for a meal.”

  “I’m not slaughtering any chicken.”

  “You will if you want to eat them.”

  “Then you best like beef and pork because I’m not slaughtering any chicken. Don’t know how and don’t want to learn.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  Tom stared at her for a long moment then grinned. “I like beef and pork. If I want chicken I’ll get Orvie to slaughter them. Fair enough?”

  She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Did you notice the bin on the side of the coop?”

  “Not really. But I do now that you point it out. What’s it for?”

  “That’s where we keep the feed. You’ll put three of the cans full around the ground, like this.” He filled the can with grain and flung it around the yard and then handed her the can. “Okay, you try it.”

  She did just like he did and was inordinately pleased that she’d done it right.

  “Great. You have the chickens down pat. Now for the cows.”

  “Cows?”

  “Milking and feeding the cows.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, lets get at it.”

  She followed him to the barn.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next day Rosie started with the cows first before breakfast. It was Rosie’s first day doing chores alone. Tom went through everything she was supposed to do and showed her how to do them. It took her much longer than it did him to milk the cows. She kept pulling and squeezing. Unfortunately, she was not getting anything. She was using just two fingers to pull, afraid she’d hurt the cow and yet she knew that if she didn’t get the milk out the cow would really be in pain. She started to panic and finally remembered that Tom had used his whole hand. He’d been so good at it he could squirt the cat in the face with the teat.

  She tried again using all her fingers and thumb like she remembered him doing. Still not much. Then she remembered he’d sort of punched the udders to get them started. Not hard, just a solid nudging.

  After she nudged the udder, she pulled down on the teat and low and behold milk squirted out. She did it with the other hand and the same thing happened. Woohoo!! She was milking the cow.

  After she got done with the cows, she took the milk to the kitchen where she still had to put it through the cheesecloth and strain it, then separate it into the jugs and put it into the ice house. She was ready for a break but had to gather the eggs and feed the chickens first and then had to make breakfast.

  She went out to the chicken coop. The rooster charged her as soon as she opened the gate. She still felt the peck from yesterday. He’d gotten her good, more so than she let on to Tom.

  Today she kicked at him but he moved too fast. He followed her into the coop and as
soon as she started gathering the eggs, he started pecking her. She went out into the yard and threw some corn around the yard, hoping to distract him while she gathered the eggs. She wasn’t that lucky. He stayed in the coop and was lying in wait for her.

  Rosie took a deep breath and steeled herself before entering the coop again. She was prepared for the little bastard. He waited on the upper level of the coop, though how he got there she didn’t know. As soon as he saw Rosie, he sailed down directly at her. She took the basket in her hands and batted him away. He hit the wall and was a little dazed but got back up quickly. A little wobbly, he walked out of the coup looking like he’d had a few too many drinks.

  She hadn’t meant to hit him hard. Didn’t want to injure him, just keep him away from her, so she was glad to see that he was back to normal when she came out of the coop. He charged her, like always, but stopped just short of actually hitting her. So she got lucky and it worked. He was afraid enough of her to stay away. At least for now.

  It took Rosie almost all day to milk and feed the cows, gather the eggs, feed the chickens, and fix the meals. And then she still had to do laundry. It made for a very long and tiring day. She boiled the water on the stove, as it got hotter and got the clothes cleaner. She tried to use the water from the faucets at the sink, but the boiler wasn’t that big and she ran it dry in no time. She stirred the laundry in boiling water with a large paddle, used the washboard to scrub each piece of clothing with homemade lye soap and then used a wringer attached to the tub to get the water out. She rinsed in cold water. It seemed to get rid of the soap better and it was easier on her hands than the hot water.

  She looked down at her poor hands. They were red and cracked and this was only the second day of chores and the first time doing the laundry. Another week of this and they’d be bleeding if she didn’t have her cream. She was going to have to get Sadie down at the mercantile to order the rose cream she used on her hands by the gallon. Between the laundry and scrubbing the house, her hands were a wreck.

  Tired. Lord, she was tired. Her first laundry day wore her out completely. She’d put the kids to bed and then collapsed in bed herself.

  Saturdays were laundry day. Sunday was a day of rest. For everyone except Rosie. She still had to do all the meals and her other chores, which on Sunday included the ironing.

  And so it went week after week. Sure she’d get used to it, she was surprised when even after a month she was still exhausted every night. It seemed like she forever fell behind. Never enough time to finish everything and goodness knows never enough rest.

  There were some things she found ways to improve. For instance, she discovered that while cooking she could do lessons with the kids at the same time. She’d have Ben write down a passage from the book he currently read, then read it out loud to her and together they identified the parts of the sentence. After that she gave him equations to do in arithmetic. For Suzie, she’d started teaching her her letters. She was only three after all. Mostly she just drew pictures on the slate while Ben did his work.

  Even on Sundays, she quizzed the children.

  “Ben, tell me about the book you’re reading,” Rosie said as she checked the iron to see if it was hot enough. She sprinkled the shirt with water from a small mason jar with tiny holes poked in the lid.

  “Well, I’m reading about Captain Nemo and his ship the Nautilus.”

  “Yes, go on,” she said as she ironed one of Tom’s shirts.

  “The Nautilus is a really special ship. It can go under the water. Can you imagine?”

  Rosie smiled. “What do you imagine?”

  “Well, I figure there must be all kind of wonders. Different kinds of fish and animals. It says they farm seaweed and use it for food. What do you think it tastes like?”

  “Suzie, sweetheart, don’t eat the chalk. It’s for drawing.” she said, as Suzie looked up guiltily. “I’m sorry Ben, what about seaweed?”

  “Just that I wondered what it would taste like?”

  “I think it would be very salty because it’s in the ocean and the ocean is salty. What else might it be like?”

  “Well, it’s green, so maybe like turnip greens?”

  “Good. You’re thinking, following a logical step based on its color. I’ve seen it. It looks a lot like giant blades of grass but is much darker in color. My brother, Robert, took me to the seashore in New Jersey once. Some seaweed had washed up on the shore. The piece I saw was about a foot wide and three feet long. Robert said it was only a quarter of the fully grown plant.”

  “Wow. That’s big. Rosie, is your brother our uncle since you married Papa?”

  “Yes, I guess he is. I’ll have to write him and let him know that he has a wonderful nephew and niece.

  “Now we know that the seaweed is big. Just how big is it if one quarter of its height is three feet?”

  Ben thought about it for a moment then took out his slate and wrote it out. “Well, three feet divided by one quarter equals four times three equals twelve feet.”

  That’s right. Very good,” praised Rosie. “You’re doing great with your numbers.”

  She finished the shirt, hung it up and started another while the iron was still hot.

  Ben beamed with pride.

  “That’s great, son.” Tom said from the doorway to the outside.

  “Papa. You were listening?”

  “From the seaweed farming on.”

  “Do you agree with us on how seaweed would taste?”

  “I do. It seems reasonable to me. I don’t know that I would want to try it. Give me steak and potatoes any day.”

  “Speaking of food, said Rosie, as she continued to iron. “We need supplies. My stores of flour and sugar are sorely depleted and since we didn’t go to town yesterday, I’d like to go tomorrow.”

  Tom nodded. “I’ll arrange for someone to take you.”

  “No need. I can drive the team myself and Sadie’s husband, Gordon, will load the wagon for me.”

  “Are you sure you can handle the team. It will be your first time for such a long distance.”

  She set the iron on the stove to heat up again. “I’ll be fine. It’s time for me to do it alone.”

  “You’re right. Leave early so you’re back before sunset.”

  “I will. Don’t worry.”

  Rosie got up two hours before sunrise. She hurried through her morning chores, the lantern in her hand shedding light on the path in front of her.

  For breakfast, she made fried steak, bacon and sausage, scrambled eggs, fresh biscuits with butter and chokecherry jelly. She had four pies she’d baked last night and she set out two for breakfast. The rest she put on the warming shelf on the stove so it would still be hot when the men came in.

  Then she started lunch. Along with the pinto beans she’d been soaking overnight, she made a stew. She flavored the beans with a couple of ham hocks. She baked more biscuits, some corn bread and put out two loaves of bread and the other two pies.

  The men worked hard and ate great quantities of food to sustain them. Not one of them was fat. All were lean and muscular like Tom. Rosie was hard pressed to cook enough food at every meal to satisfy their needs. She baked twenty loaves of bread every week. Made fresh biscuits with every meal. There was always a couple of pies or cakes or cobblers to supplement every meal. She kept a pot of stew or beans going all the time so whenever the men got hungry there would be something for them to eat.

  Because she would be gone for the noon meal, Orvie would cook the main part of it. This included the meat, today fried steak and roasted pork. Some kind of potato, fresh vegetables, if there are any in the garden, but knowing Orvie, he’ll just pull some canned goods out of the pantry rather than go look in the garden for fresh ones.

  At the last minute, Tom said, “I remembered things I need to get, too. So I’m going with you.”

  Rosie wasn’t really disappointed. She’d actually hoped he would change his mind. She wasn’t looking forward to the long drive alone.
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  “We have to get supplies besides just the food stuffs you need and I can help Gordon load. He’ll appreciate it.”

  “Afraid, I’ll get on the first train out of town?” she teased.

  “Nope. You love my children too much.”

  He was right she did love the children. And she was beginning to care for their father as well.

  She laughed. “I’ll be glad for the company.”

  Wonderful! It would seem like a vacation. No more housework for one day. Oh, it would still be waiting when she got back but that didn’t matter. She was always behind anyway.

  “Well, get moving,” he said. “Daylight’s burning. If you’re real lucky I’ll buy you noon dinner at Mary’s.”

  Then he did the strangest thing. He playfully swatter her butt like they were an old married couple instead of newly wed and yet to bed.

  “I’m on my way, just let me grab my bonnet and a jacket.”

  “Better grab a rain coat.”

  “I don’t have a rain coat. The research I did indicated that this is a dry climate.”

  “We are a dry climate but that doesn’t mean we don’t get rain.” He went to the coat closet and pulled out a rain slicker. “Here. Take this one. It was Sarah’s and I just never seemed to get rid of it.”

  She took the slicker from him glad of it and wanted to burn it at the same time. He’d done a pretty good job of removing all traces of his late wife, but every once in a while she found something. Bath salts in a drawer in the commode under the pitcher and basin. A blouse still hanging in the wardrobe mixed in with his shirts. She’d gotten rid of the things herself, not wanting any reminders of the woman who was still making life miserable for those she left behind.

  She put the slicker underneath the buckboard bench and then Tom helped her up onto it.

  “You’re still going to drive today,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’m ready for this, but a little nervous at the same time.”

  “I’ll be here if something goes wrong. Just remember to keep their heads up and swat their butts to keep them going.”