Ty followed, with Wyatt snickering beside him.
Ella paused at the open doorway, peeked inside, and offered him a tremulous smile. “I didn’t expect the house to be so large.”
The urge to tackle her to the ground and kiss her silly fled, and a familiar acidic taste filled his mouth. He took the stairs two at a time. He didn’t know why she was afraid, only that she was. He’d armed himself in the same flimsy bravery when Pa Malcolm found him foraging for scraps of food behind 33 Downing Lane and the Havens had invited him inside their snug home. For good or bad, and the passage of time notwithstanding, that kind of vulnerability and fear stayed with you.
He wanted to be the one to make her feel safe and welcomed. Stopping as close to her as he thought she’d allow, he offered his arm again. “You’ll be glad for the extra room once it’s bursting with cowboys. Well, Seth and Billy aren’t cowboys yet, but they will be quickly enough.”
She looped her arm through his, shocking him down to his darned socks. “Billy will love being a cowboy. And thanks to you, Seth won’t grow to be a bank robber or a horse thief.”
“A little cattle and horse stealing never hurt anybody,” Wyatt complained with a wounded expression.
Ty rolled his eyes. “Not if you don’t count getting hung by the neck.”
Ella leaned more heavily on him. “Wyatt, what’s this you were saying about you cooking the best stew in the world?”
“I might have been overstating things a bit,” Wyatt confessed, charging to the black-iron cook stove. “Best stew in the West is more like it.”
“Here you go, Wy,” Ty said, tossing the bag of dried spices Wyatt had asked him to pick up in Aurora.
Wyatt caught the cloth sack, then juggled it hand to hand. “Spices too hot handle.”
Ella laughed, then yawned.
“I can bring the stew to you if you would like to go straight to your room.” Ty offered, his stomach growling at the delicious smell wafting through the airy main room. “Wyatt really does have a way with beef, carrots, and potatoes.”
But Ella was studying the chimney and fireplace made from river-polished stones, the pride and joy of Ty, Boone, and Pa Malcolm. They’d labored a whole year on the grand room, with the hand-finished post and beam ceiling, so Ma Viola could have as nice a house as the one she’d left behind in Indiana. Ma Viola pronounced her blessing, calling the house “the prettiest ranch in Wyoming Territory”.
What would Ella think of the home he loved with heart and soul? There were plenty of aspects his mail-order bride might find objectionable about Sweet Creek Ranch, and understandably so. The remoteness that went on for miles and miles, the lack of womenfolk for company, the many dangers waiting outside the door. Ranch life wasn’t for everybody.
She turned to him, eyes sparkling as lovely as a starry night. “Widow Bonnell’s mansion was fancy and perfect…and cold. I always felt like was living in a hotel. But this is warm and welcoming, and…too wonderful for words.”
That settled it. Ty was in love.
Now all he had to do was convince Ella Haven she wanted to marry him for real and spend the rest of her days at Sweet Creek Ranch.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Moments after laying eyes on the most majestic spot of land she’d ever beheld and stepping inside the beautiful confines of Sweet Creek Ranch, Ella took a seat on a pine bench tucked up next to a tree-length dining table.
Ty and Wyatt worked over kettles nestled atop a black cook stove.
“What can I do to help?” she asked rising, stifling a groan. That would teach her for trying to keep pace with a saddle-hardened cowboy. She eased back down onto the bench.
Ty reached around her and pushed a warm mug into her hand, his tall muscled body crowding her, warm breath purling around her ear. “Drink some cider and rest yourself. It’s Wyatt’s and my night to serve supper.”
Hands shaky, she sipped the cider. The tangy nectar cleansed her mouth, but did nothing to soothe her nerves. Hang on a little bit more, my brave girl. Granny Bessie’s voice rang. She was trying, but the loveliness of the ranch and Ty were threatening to overwhelm her. She could only hope a hot meal, followed by a sound night’s sleep, would fix what was wrong with her.
Ty set more mugs out and filled them with cider.
“Sure is nice to have a girl grace our table,” Wyatt blurted out.
Ty grimaced. “Miss Ella’s a grown woman.”
“Pardon me, ma’am. I didn’t mean no harm.” Blue-eyed and golden-haired, with an angelic smile, Wyatt couldn’t have been more pleasant or likable. She’d expected to find him as dark edged and standoffish as Boone. But Wyatt had the appearance of a frisky puppy rather than an outlaw cattle rustler.
She clutched the mug in one hand and ran the other one over the satin surface of the table. The streaked blond wood and dark knots gave off a warm glow. “Whoever crafted the table did beautiful work.”
Wyatt pointed a wooden spoon at Ty, oblivious to the brown gravy dripping over the floor. “Ty made it. He spends hours in his shed wrangling up new furniture and such. What you working on now?”
Ty gave a modest shrug and took a stack of wooden bowls from the top shelf of a spindle-legged buffet. “I’ll start on a new bed frame for Seth and Billy tomorrow. But what I cobble together can’t compare to Ma Viola’s nice things.”
She gazed between Ty and the cherrywood buffet and a clerk’s desk festooned with a dozen cubbyholes sitting off to one side of the floor-to-ceiling fireplace, family heirlooms that might well have come all the way from France or England. They should appear out of place in the rustic house, but they added to the charm, complementing the pine dining table and a quartet of matching armchairs arranged in front of the crackling fire.
She admired the cozy home and the man who’d help carve the gracious sanctuary from the wilderness, could envision herself sitting curled up in a chair in front of the fireplace, reading a book. Imagined Seth and Billy bent over the desk working on school lessons. Saw Ty and Wyatt and the boys gathered around the dining table, heaped with platters of steaming roast. Her laughing at something funny Wyatt had said.
“I’d surely like to know what you’re thinking,” Ty said, dealing the wooden bowls around the table.
Embarrassed by the drift of her thoughts, her face heated. “Sweet biscuits and jam,” she muttered.
“The biscuits will be done cooking shortly,” Wyatt said, and opened a cupboard and pulled out two small earthen crocks. “Would you like strawberry or apple jam?”
She clapped her mouth to hide her smile. “Strawberry will be fine, sweetie.”
Wyatt plunked the jam pot down and grinned wide. “Did you hear that? Miss Ella called me ‘sweetie.’”
Ty shot her a vexed smile. “Miss Ella doesn’t curse, but she makes me to want to cuss up a storm.”
“What does cussing have to do with strawberry jam?” Wyatt asked, ladling chunks of beef and potatoes and gravy into a wooden bowl, and nudging the bowl toward her.
Though she knew it was reckless, she winked at Ty. “I can call you ‘sweetie’ too, if you like?”
His amber-brown eyes flared. “You don’t want to push me too far.”
A hunger filled her having nothing to do with food. She swallowed. “And how far would that be, swee—”
The outside door banged open and Seth and Billy charged in, leaving a trail of snow and mud and manure. The boys raced to the table. Billy flopped down on the bench beside Ella, grabbed up the pot of jam, drew out a glob of red jelly, licked his fingers clean, then smiled up at her. “We petted the chickens and the cows. We tried to pet the pig, but he kept squealing and slipping away.”
“Give me the jam, sweetie,” Ella said kindly, debating whether or not to reprimand the boys for crashing into the house like a couple of barbarians.
Seth held up a wooden bowl. “I’m starved. Can I have some stew?”
Snow and wind whistled through the open do
or.
“You forgot to close the door,” Ella said on a shiver.
A lanky, dark-haired youth, bleeding from the nose, barreled inside. Angry as a bear, the teenage boy jumped Seth from behind.
Seth clobbered the boy over the head with his bowl, then tackled him to the floor. They rolled over the pine boards.
“What the devil?” Ty said, jumping to intercede.
A hulking boy tromped through the door, followed by Boone, who pushed the door closed against the wind.
“You can take him, Garrett!” the large boy yelled deep-voiced, hovering over the fray.
Boone pulled the boy away. “Stay out of it, Ox.”
Wyatt joined the ruckus, yanking the teenage boy off Seth. “Whoa, Garrett. Do you want to go scaring off Miss Ella when she just got here?”
Wiping his bloodied nose on his sleeve, Garrett glanced shyly at Ella from under long bangs. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Ty hauled Seth up. “We don’t abide with fistfights at Sweet Creek Ranch.”
Seth yanked free. “You can take your ranch and stick—”
“Settle down,” Ty said, his voice patient yet firm.
Billy clung moss-like to Ella. “I told you not to pick a fight. Where will we go if Mr. Boone and Mr. Ty send us away?”
“We don’t need them and their stupid ranch,” Seth spit back.
She kissed the cleanest spot on Billy’s freckled cheek. “Don’t cry. Mr. Ty will fix the trouble.”
Ty glanced at her, then back at Seth. “This is your home. You can stay as long as you like.”
Her heart squeezed tight. Ty had said the same thing to her. She hoped, hoped, hoped Seth would recognize what a rare opportunity he’d been given. Her short acquaintance with Sweet Creek Ranch was enough to convince her a homeless boy would be blessed indeed to find a home here.
A tense moment passed, then Seth exhaled a ragged breath. “He started it.”
“Why were you trying to kill each other?” Ty demanded.
Garrett dabbed at his bloody nose. “He threw a clod of dirt at me.”
Seth’s chest puffed. “He stuck his nose in my business, telling me what I could and couldn’t do.”
Garrett scowled. “He threw Fox Bait on top of Porker.”
Ty gave Seth a sharp look. “What possessed you to toss my cat at the pig?”
Seth stuffed his hands into his pockets and scuffed his boot over the floor. “I wanted to see what they’d do.”
Ella was tempted to give Seth a good scold for his cruel behavior, but she also ached for him, standing there all alone at the center of everyone’s disapproval.
“Food’s waiting,” Ty said, then laid a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “We’ll have a talk later.” Wyatt and Boone copied Ty, both having a soft word and touch for Seth.
Wyatt went to the stove and ladled up the steaming stew.
Amid the noisy scrum of hungry men lining up with bowls in hand, Ella freed Billy’s dirty hands from her skirt. At the risk of appearing prissy, she caught Ty’s eye. “Now would be the perfect time to introduce me to the others…while we all wash our hands.”
Wyatt licked gravy off the side of his palm. “Why? We will just dirty them again.”
Billy examined his small hands and wrinkled his nose. “I’ve been lots dirtier than this.”
She laughed, remembering feeling the same way when the Widow Bonnell insisted cleanliness was next to godliness, and nudged Billy in the direction of the washstand. “I’m sure you have.” She looked across at Ty. “I hate to insist, but—”
“You heard Miss Ella,” Ty said agreeably.
Grumbles ensued, but with Boone at the head of the procession, a line formed in front of the washstand. “You might want to go first, Miss Ella.”
She stood, and Ty accompanied her to the washstand. “I don’t mean to criticize,” she whispered over her shoulder, dipping her hands into the pool of water. Freezing cold water. Next time was soon enough to insist on hot water.
“There’s no need to apologize,” he drawled too close to her ear, plunging his hand into the basin before she’d finished, their fingers brushing as he claimed the bar of soap. “I told you in my letters we need a woman’s touch about the place.”
Her toes curled and her insides warmed. He had a disturbing habit of making her feel all hot and bothered at the most inopportune moments. “Do you say a prayer before eating?” Sweet biscuits and jam, she was the one in need of a good prayer. Or two.
Ty grinned, and wiped her dripping hands with a towel, then wiped his own hands. “We aren’t complete heathens.”
A short time later she had made the acquaintance of the large lumbering boy named Ox and the shy teen Garrett, and nibbled on the delicious stew. The pleasant chatter of seven menfolk talking and laughing and arguing around the table ought to have made it impossible to doze, but after drifting off for the third or fourth time, Ella was startled awake by a soft touch on her shoulder. The toe of her left boot smacked into an immovable object. “Ouch!” she said, grimacing and shaking her foot, and glaring down at her battered, brown satchel. “How’d my gosh-darn bag end up there?”
Ty stood behind her, doing a poor job hiding a smile. “I had Garrett go retrieve it. Would you like to head on to my…to your room?”
Eager to escape Ty’s oversize presence, she hoisted the satchel and climbed to her feet.
The front door banged open like it had earlier and a blast of freezing air punched her in the face. A waist-high snowdrift filled the doorway. She gasped as two men dressed in ice-coated buffalo robes crashed free of the white maw and collapsed in a heap on the floor.
CHAPTER NINE
Fear lodged in Ty’s gut as he crashed to his knees beside Levi and Ace. He dug under a thick buffalo robe, groped under the collar of Ace’s denim coat, and touched ice-cold skin. Crud. Curled into a ball on his side, teeth chattering, and frosty icicles clinging to eyebrows and beard, Ace wouldn’t have lasted much longer out in the blizzard. Levi didn’t appear in any better shape. If their body temperatures dropped much lower…crud.
Boone and Wyatt hovered over his shoulder. “Boone, help me get them out of their wet clothes. Wyatt, heat some blankets and warm up more cider.”
Garrett joined Boone and they worked together to peel Levi out of his wet clothes.
Wyatt raced off, and Ella took his place. “Can I help?”
Ty grasped a hank of soggy buffalo hide and tugged. “Strip off his boots, while I start on his coat.”
Ella yanked on a cowboy boot. “Who are they?”
Ace groaned, lifted his head, and managed a roguish smile. “Am I imagining things, or is that a pretty girl undressing me?”
Levi pushed himself up on one elbow. “How come you get the pretty girl and I get Boone and Garrett pawing over me?”
Exhausted, Ace fell back flat. “You know what they say…lucky in cards, unlucky in love.”
Ty’s choking fear eased. “These two clodhoppers are our brothers, Levi and Ace.”
The boot Ella was working on popped free, making her lose her balance and land hard on her backside. “How many brothers do you have?”
Ty hoped her grimace was caused by her tender posterior and not the arrival of a couple more Haven men to contend with. For once he was glad White Wolf’s appearances at the ranch were few and far between. Ella had suffered enough surprises for one day. “There’s six of us in all. Pa Malcolm and Ma Viola’s first batch of second-chance boys.”
Ella glanced around at them. “I want to hear more about your Pa and Ma.”
His brothers spoke over each other. “Pa and Ma were good folks…honest as the day is long…stern but loving.”
Ty clapped Ace’s shoulder. “Let’s get you out of this smelly hide. Do you need help with the other boot?” he asked Ella.
She looked endearing as all get-out, tossing her braid over her shoulder, scrambling to her knees, and eyeing a red leather boot boast
ing pearl-white decorative stitches. “I didn’t know cowboys wore such fancy boots.”
Ace struggled to a sitting position. “I won ‘em from a saloon-keeper in a poker game in Cheyenne. Problem was I’d lost my buckskin pants earlier to the Jewel of Texas, a lady cardsharp of some renown, possessing a wicked sense of humor, who insisted on collecting her winnings before I could secure another pair of pants.”
Ella laughed. “A lady cardsharp?”
“Stop yapping over your misadventures, Ace,” Levi said, teeth clattering. “I’ll freeze to death over here before you finish.” They were all troubled by Ace’s reckless gambling, but Levi was the most affected, as he was the one dragging Ace out of seedy saloons and dangerous gaming dens.
Ace sobered. “Help me get Levi in front of the fire. We didn’t know how close we were to the house until Levi fell into the creek.”
Wyatt carried over an armful of blankets. “Cider’s near boiling.”
A few moments of quick work saw Levi and Ace wrapped in blankets, sitting in front of the roaring fire, warming their hands on mugs of steaming cider.
Boone, Wyatt, and Garrett herded the boys to the bunk rooms.
Ty took a seat next to Ella on the raised hearth opposite Levi and Ace. “Last we heard you boys were working in Mexico. And Kansas before that.”
Ace tipped his cup at Levi. “We’re hopeless. I still gamble too much. And he’s still in search of the elephant.”
Ella’s eyes widened. “You lost an elephant?”
Levi and Ace chuckled.
Ty smiled. “Itinerant cowboys like my brothers are always moving ranch to ranch, searching over the next hill, wanting new horses to ride, new country to explore. That’s what’s known as searching for the elephant.”
The light from the fire played over Levi’s face, accentuating the diagonal scar crossing his chin. “Cowboys tend to roam.”
Ace sat forward. “We didn’t hear about Pa and Ma till a month ago. Then we hightailed it here. It was Blackwell who shot em’ down, wasn’t it?”
The Mail-Order Bride Carries a Gun: A Sweet Historical Western Romance (Brides of Sweet Creek Ranch Book 1) Page 5
