by Diana Palmer
Colby nodded, but he still had reservations. He only hoped he wasn’t doing Ellen a disservice. And he still had to explain this to her maternal grandmother, who was going to have a heart attack when she knew what he’d let Ellen do.
But all he said to the couple was, “We shall see.”
* * *
THEY WERE MARRIED by a justice of the peace, with Terrance Colby and the minister’s wife as witnesses. Colby had found a logical reason for the haste of the wedding, pleading his forthcoming trip home and Ellen’s refusal to leave Sutherland Springs. The minister, an easygoing, romantic man, was willing to defy convention for a good cause. Colby congratulated John, kissed Ellen, and led them to a buckboard which he’d already had filled with enough provisions to last a month. He’d even included a treadle sewing machine, cloth for dresses and the sewing notions that went with them. Nor had he forgotten Ellen’s precious knitting needles and wool yarn, with which she whiled away quiet evenings.
“Father, thank you very much!” Ellen exclaimed when she saw the rig.
“Thank you very much, indeed,” John added with a handshake. “I shall take excellent care of her,” he promised.
“I’m sure you’ll do your best,” Colby replied, but he was worried, and it showed.
Ellen kissed him. “You must not be concerned for me,” she said firmly, her blue eyes full of censure. “You think I am a lily, but I mean to prove to you that I am like a cactus flower, able to bloom in the most unlikely places.”
He kissed her cheek. “If you ever need me…”
“I do know where to send a telegram,” she interrupted, and chuckled. “Have a safe trip home.”
“I will have your trunks sent out before I leave town,” he added.
John helped Ellen into the buckboard in the lacy white dress and veil she’d worn for her wedding, and he climbed up beside her in the only good suit he owned. They were an odd couple, he thought. And considering the shock she was likely to get when she saw where she must live, it would only get worse. He felt guilty for what he was doing. He prayed that the ends would justify the means. He had promised little, and she had asked for nothing. But many couples had started with even less and made a go of their marriages. He meant to keep Ellen happy, whatever it took.
* * *
ELLEN JACOBS’S FIRST glimpse of her future home would have been enough to discourage many a young woman from getting out of the buckboard. The shade trees shaded a large, rough log cabin with only one door and a single window and a chimney. Nearby were cactus plants and brush. But there were tiny pink climbing roses in full bloom, and John confessed that he’d brought the bushes here from Georgia planted in a syrup can. The roses delighted her, and made the wilderness look less wild.
Outside the cabin stood a Mexican couple and a black couple, surrounded by children of all ages. They stared and looked very nervous as John helped Ellen down out of the buckboard.
She had rarely interacted with people of color, except as servants in the homes she had visited most of her life. It was new, and rather exciting, to live among them.
“I am Ellen Colby,” she introduced herself, and then colored. “I do beg your pardon! I am Ellen Jacobs!”
She laughed, and then they laughed as well.
“We’re pleased to meet you, señora,” the Mexican man said, holding his broad sombrero in front of him. He grinned as he introduced himself and his small family. “I am Luis Rodriguez. This is my family—my wife Juana, my son Alvaro and my daughters Juanita, Elena and Lupita.” They all nodded and smiled.
“And I am Mary Brown,” the black woman said gently. “My husband is Isaac. These are my boys, Ben, the oldest, and Joe, the youngest, and my little girl Libby, who is the middle child. We are glad to have you here.”
“I am glad to be here,” Ellen said.
“But right now, you need to get into some comfortable clothing, Mrs. Jacobs,” Mary said. “Come along in. You men go to work and leave us to our own chores,” she said, shooing them off.
“Mary, I can’t work in these!” John exclaimed defensively.
She reached into a box and pulled out a freshly ironed shirt and patched pants. “You go off behind a tree and put those on, and I’ll do my best to chase the moths out of this box so’s I can put your suit in it. And mind you don’t get red mud in this shirt!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a sheepish grin. “See you later, Ellen.”
Mary shut the door on him, grinning widely at Ellen. “He is a good man,” she told Ellen in all seriousness as she produced the best dress she had and offered it to Ellen.
“No,” Ellen said gently, smiling. “I thank you very much for the offer of your dress, but I not only brought a cotton dress of my own—I have brought bolts of fabric and a sewing machine.”
There were looks of unadulterated pleasure on all the feminine faces. “New…fabric?” Mary asked haltingly.
“Sewing machine?” her daughter exclaimed.
“In the buckboard,” Ellen assured them with a grin.
They vanished like summer mist, out the door. Ellen followed behind them, still laughing at their delight. She’d done the right thing, it seemed—rather, her father had. She might have thought of it first if she’d had the opportunity.
The women and girls went wild over the material, tearing it out of its brown paper wrapping without even bothering to cut the string that held it.
“Alvaro, you and Ben get this sewing machine and Mrs. Jacobs’s suitcase into the house right this minute! Girls, bring the notions and the fabric! I’ll get the coffee and sugar, but Ben will have to come back for the lard bucket and the flour sack.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they echoed, and burst out laughing.
* * *
THREE HOURS LATER, Ellen was wearing a simple navy skirt with an indigo blouse, fastened high at the neck. She had on lace-up shoes, but she could see that she was going to have to have boots if she was to be any help to John. The cabin was very small, and all of the families would sleep inside, because there were varmints out at night. And not just crawly ones or four-legged ones, she suspected. Mary had told her about the Comanches John and Luis and Isaac had been hunting when a calf was taken. She noted that a loaded shotgun was kept in a corner of the room, and she had no doubt that either of her companions could wield it if necessary. But she would ask John to teach her to shoot it, as well.
“You will have very pretty dresses from this material,” Mary sighed as she touched the colored cottons of many prints and designs.
“We will have many pretty dresses,” Ellen said, busily filling a bobbin for the sewing machine. She looked up at stunned expressions. “Surely you did not think I could use this much fabric by myself? There is enough here for all of us, I should imagine. And it will take less for the girls,” she added, with a warm smile at them.
Mary actually turned away, and Ellen was horrified that she’d hurt the other woman’s feelings. She jumped up from the makeshift chair John had cobbled together from tree limbs. “Mary, I’m sorry, I…!”
Mary turned back to her, tears running down her cheeks. “It’s just, I haven’t had a dress of my own, a new dress, in my whole life. Only hand-me-downs from my mistress, and they had to be torn up or used up first.”
Ellen didn’t know what to say. Her face was shocked.
Mary wiped away the tears. She looked at the other woman curiously. “You don’t know about slaves, do you, Mrs. Ellen?”
“I know enough to be very sorry that some people think they can own other people,” she replied carefully. “My family never did.”
Mary forced a smile. “Mr. John brought us out here after the war. We been lucky. Two of our kids are lost forever, you know,” she added matter-of-factly. “They got sold just before the war. And one of them got beat to death.”
Ellen’s eyes closed. She shuddered. It was overwhelming. Tears ran down her cheeks.
“Oh, now, Mrs., don’t you…don’t you do that!” Mary gathered her
close and rocked her. “Don’t you cry. Wherever my babies gone, they free now, don’t you see. Alive or dead, they free.”
The tears ran even harder.
“It was just as bad for Juana,” Mary said through her own tears. “Two of her little boys got shot. This man got drunk and thought they was Indians. He just killed them right there in the road where they was playing, and he didn’t even look back. He rode off laughing. Luis told the federales, but they couldn’t find the man. That was years ago, before Mr. John’s uncle hired Luis to work here, but Juana never forgot them little boys.”
Ellen drew back and pulled a handkerchief out of her sleeve. She wiped Mary’s eyes and smiled sadly. “We live in a bad world.”
Mary smiled. “It’s gonna get better,” she said. “You wait and see.”
“Better,” Juana echoed, nodding, smiling. “Mas bueno.”
“Mas…bueno?” Ellen repeated.
Juana chuckled. “¡!Vaya! Muy bien! Very good!”
Mary smiled. “You just spoke your first words of Spanish!”
“Perhaps you can teach me to speak Spanish,” Ellen said to Juana.
“Señora, it will be my pleasure!” the woman answered, and smiled beautifully.
“I expect to learn a great deal, and very soon,” Ellen replied.
* * *
THAT WAS AN understatement. During her first week of residence, she became an integral part of John’s extended family. She learned quite a few words of Spanish, including some range language that shocked John when she repeated it to him with a wicked grin.
“You stop that,” he chastised. “Your father will have me shot if he hears you!”
She only chuckled, helping Mary put bread on the table. She was learning to make bread that didn’t bounce, but it was early days yet. “My father thinks I will be begging him to come and get me within two weeks. He is in for a surprise!”
“I got the surprise,” John had to admit, smiling at her. “You fit right in that first day.” He looked from her to the other women, all wearing new dresses that they’d pieced on Ellen’s sewing machine. He shook his head. “You three ought to open a dress shop in town.”
Ellen glanced at Mary and Juana with pursed lips and twinkling eyes. “You know, that’s not really such a bad idea, John,” she said after a minute. “It would make us a little extra money. We could buy more barbed wire and we might even be able to afford a milk cow!”
John started to speak, but Mary and Juana jumped right in, and before he ate the first piece of bread, the women were already making plans.
Chapter Four
ELLEN HAD JOHN DRIVE HER into town the following Saturday, to the dry goods store. She spoke with Mr. Alton, the owner.
“I know there must be a market for inexpensive dresses in town, Mr. Alton,” she said, bright-eyed. “You order them and keep them in stock, but the ones you buy are very expensive, and most ranch women can’t afford them. Suppose I could supply you with simple cotton dresses, ready-made, at half the price of the ones you special order for customers?”
He lifted both eyebrows. “But, Mrs. Jacobs, your father is a wealthy man…!”
“My husband is not,” she replied simply. “I must help him as I can.” She smiled. “I have a knack for sewing, Mr. Alton, and I think I do quite good work. I also have two helpers who are learning how to use the machine. Would you let me try?”
He hesitated, adding up figures in his head. “All right,” he said finally. “You bring me about six dresses, two each of small, medium and large ones, and we will see how they sell.”
She grinned. “Done!” She went to the bolts of fabric he kept. “You must allow me credit, so that I can buy the material to make them with, and I will pay you back from my first orders.”
He hesitated again. Then he laughed. She was very shrewd. But, he noticed that the dress she was wearing was quite well-made. His women customers had complained about the lack of variety and simplicity in his ready-made dresses, which were mostly for evening and not everyday.
“I will give you credit,” he said after a minute. He shook his head as he went to cut the cloth she wanted. “You are a shrewd businesswoman, Mrs. Jacobs,” he said. “I’ll have to watch myself, or I may end up working for you!”
Which amused her no end.
* * *
JOHN WAS DUBIOUS ABOUT his wife’s enterprise, but Ellen knew what she was doing. Within three weeks, she and the women had earned enough money with their dressmaking to buy not one, but two Jersey milk cows with nursing calves. These John was careful to keep separate from his Hereford bull. But besides the milk, they made butter and buttermilk, which they took into town with their dresses and sold to the local restaurant.
“I told you it would work,” Ellen said to John one afternoon when she’d walked out to the makeshift corral where he and the men were branding new calves.
He smiled down at her, wiping sweat from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “You are a wonder,” he murmured with pride. “We’re almost finished here. Want to learn to ride?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed. But she looked down at her cotton dress with a sigh. “But not in this, I fear.”
John’s eyes twinkled. “Come with me.”
He led her to the back of the cabin, where he pulled out a sack he’d hidden there. He offered it to her.
She opened it and looked inside. There was a man’s cotton shirt, a pair of boots, and a pair of dungarees in it. She unfolded the dungarees and held them up to herself. “They’ll just fit!” she exclaimed.
“I had Mr. Alton at the dry goods store measure one of your dresses for the size. He said they should fit even after shrinkage when you wash them.”
“Oh, John, thank you!” she exclaimed. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.
He chuckled. “Get them on, then, and I’ll teach you to mount a horse. I’ve got a nice old one that Luis brought with him. He’s gentle.”
“I won’t be a minute!” she promised, darting back into the cabin.
John was at the corral when she came back out. She’d borrowed one of John’s old hats and it covered most of her face as well as her bundled-up hair. She looked like a young boy in the rig, and he chuckled.
“Do I look ridiculous?” she worried.
“You look fine,” he said diplomatically, his eyes twinkling. “Come along and meet Jorge.”
He brought forward a gentle-looking old chestnut horse who lowered his head and nudged at her hand when she extended it. She stroked his forehead and smiled.
“Hello, old fellow,” she said softly. “We’re going to be great friends, aren’t we?”
John pulled the horse around by its bridle and taught Ellen how to mount like a cowboy. Then, holding the reins, he led her around the yard, scattering their new flock of chickens along the way.
“They won’t lay if we frighten them,” Ellen worried.
He looked up at her with a grin. “How did you know that?”
“Mary taught me.”
“She and Juana are teaching you a lot of new skills,” he mused. “I liked the biscuits this morning, by the way.”
Her heart skipped. “How did you know that I made them?”
“Because you watched every bite I took.”
“Oh, dear.”
He only laughed. “I am constantly amazed by you,” he confessed as they turned away from the cabin and went toward the path that led through the brush to a large oak tree. “Honestly, I never thought you’d be able to live in such deprivation. Especially after…Ellen?”
He’d heard a faint scraping sound, followed by a thud. When he turned around, Ellen was sitting up in the dirt, looking stunned.
He threw the reins over the horse’s head and ran to where she was sitting, his heart in his throat. “Ellen, are you hurt?!”
She glared up at him. “Did you not notice the tree limb, John?” she asked with a meaningful glance in its direction.
“Obviously not,” he murmured shee
pishly. “Did you?” he added.
She burst out laughing. “Only when it hit me.”
He chuckled as he reached down and lifted her up into his arms. It was the first time she’d been picked up in her adult life, and she gasped, locking her hands behind his neck so that she didn’t fall.
His green eyes met her blue ones at point blank range. The laughter vanished as suddenly as it had come. He studied her pert little nose, her high cheekbones, her pretty bow of a mouth. She was looking, too, her gaze faintly possessive as she noted the hard, strong lines of his face and the faint scars she found there. His eyes were very green at the proximity, and his mouth looked hard and firm. He had high cheekbones, too, and a broad forehead. His hair was thick under the wide-brimmed hat he wore, and black. His ears were, like his nose, of imposing size. The hands supporting her were big, too, like his booted feet.
“I have never been carried since I was a child,” she said in a hushed, fascinated tone.
“Well, I don’t usually make a practice of carrying women, either,” he confessed. His chiseled lips split in a smile. “You don’t weigh much.”
“I am far too busy becoming an entrepreneur to gain weight,” she confessed.
“A what?”
She explained the word.
“You finished school, I reckon,” he guessed.
She nodded. “I wanted to go to college, but Father does not think a woman should be overeducated.”
“Bull,” John said inelegantly. “My mother educated herself and even learned Latin, which she taught me. If we have daughters, they’ll go to college.”
She beamed, thinking of children. “I should like to have children.”
He pursed his lips and lifted an eyebrow. His smile was sheer wickedness.
She laughed and buried her face in his throat, embarrassed. But he didn’t draw back. His arms contracted around her and she felt his breath catch as he enveloped her soft breasts against the hard wall of his chest.
She felt unsettled. Her arms tightened around his strong neck and she shivered. She had never been held so close to a man’s body. It was disconcerting. It was…delightful.
