The Cowboy's Mail Order Bride (The Dalton Brides, Book 3)

by Kit Morgan

  Speechless, Libby could only nod. What had they gotten themselves into?

  She went into the cabin and sat at the kitchen table a few moments to collect her thoughts. But then, her thoughts were what caused the dither she’d been in the last few days. Maybe it would be better if she concentrated on making supper for Nate.

  She went outside to the root cellar. She’d learn to take a lantern with her so she could see, and gathered what she needed for supper. She then went to the smoke house and did the same. Bonnie told her about a recipe for fried apples and sausage, so Libby thought she'd try it without any instruction. It was a brave thing to do, but Libby didn't want to be labeled a coward when it came to cooking. She'd already labeled herself as one in most other areas. She’d never thought herself a coward until she came out west and plunked down in the middle of the Texas prairie. However, her cowardice was quite apparent not only to her, but to everyone around her as well. The question was what she’d do about it.

  “Be brave, that's what I'm going to do!” she muttered as she sliced the sausage. “I’ll have Nate teach me how to ride, and shoot just like Bart taught Bonnie.”

  Libby shuddered. She hated loud noises. “Okay, so maybe I'll have him teach me to shoot a little gun.” She stopped slicing. Tears filled her eyes and her lower lip trembled. Oh great! Now she was going to cry? She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and forced the tears back. “Oh, what is wrong with me?”

  But she knew well what it was. She was afraid Nate had his own Lela Mason tucked away somewhere, one sure to show up on her doorstep one day. “Libby, you dolt, stop thinking about yourself, and think about Gwen! She’s the one with the problem, not you!”

  She took a deep breath and finished slicing the sausages. She then peeled and sliced the apples. She had no idea how this was going to turn out, but was willing to give it a try. After she fried up the sausages and apples, she put them in one of her new pans and set them in the warming oven. She then sliced up a couple of potatoes to fry. By the time they were done, Nate stepped into the cabin.

  He hung up his hat and coat and joined her at the stove. “What smells so good?”

  She forced herself not to look at him. “I'm trying something new.”

  He put his arms around her waist and held her close. She stiffened, but then, so did he. Was he forcing himself to hold her? She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Oh please, Lord, she prayed. Is that why he's distant? Does he have a woman tucked away somewhere that I don't know about? “Supper’s ready,” she told him in an even tone, and tried to pull out of his embrace.

  He released her and went to the sideboard to get their plates. “What did your sister teach you today?”

  Libby swallowed hard as she watched him. He was tall, strong, and handsome. Everything a woman could want in a man, as far as looks went. But he was also kind, patient, gentle, and good at relieving her fears of late. But she wasn't sure how he was going to relieve this one. This one had a name, and there were possibly others. What if Lela Mason had sisters, and they’d had trysts with Walt's brothers?

  Nate turned around. “Darlin'…” he began in a warning tone. “You've got that look in your eye.”

  Libby straightened. “What look is that?”

  “The one that says you’ve been chewing on something way too hard all day, and worked yourself up over it.” He brought the plates to the table and set them down. “What happened?”

  “Uh… nothing.” She rubbed her hands on her skirt a few times then took a seat.

  Nate watched her a moment, and smiled. “Aren't you forgetting something?”

  “What?” she asked and pulled a plate toward her.

  “Um… dishing up our supper?”

  Libby's eyes grew round as saucers. “Oh! Yes, of course. No, I didn't forget… really.”

  “Really?” Nate drawled as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Libby Dalton, what is it this time?”

  She popped up from the chair and went to the stove. She took the pan of sausage and apples from the warming oven and brought it to the table. She then quickly dished them each a portion. “Nothing at all.” She returned to the stove and set down the pan.

  “Libby…”

  With the dishrag she’d used to take the pan out of the warming oven, she grabbed the potatoes, brought them to the table, and added some to each plate. Without thinking, she looked at her husband. He wasn't glaring at her, but he wasn't smiling either. “What?”

  His eyes raked over her and he balled his hands into fists. She must've upset him. But so what? He didn't have to know every little thing that went on in her head! Besides, he really didn't want to know what was in her head now!

  She went to the stove and slammed the pan onto it. She then spun on her heel, stomped to the table and sat. “Do you want to pray or shall I?”

  His mouth dropped half open. He then snapped it shut and took his seat. “Go right ahead.”

  Libby slapped her hands together. “Dear Lord, bless this food and the hands that provided it. And Lord, please help my sister try not to kill her husband. Amen.”

  This time Nate's mouth dropped open like he had a rock tied to his jaw. “What?!”

  “You heard me.”

  “Yeah, I heard you, but I don't understand what you’re saying. Gwen’s gonna kill Walt?”

  “That's what I said.”

  Nate shook himself, blinked a few times, and then gawked at her. “Why would Gwen want to kill Walt?”

  “Well, wouldn't you if someone from your past showed up on your doorstep?”

  Nate could only stare at her a moment. “What are you talking about?”

  “I'm talking about the pregnant woman who showed up on your brother’s doorstep this afternoon.”

  Nate sat, dumbfounded, and didn't say a word.

  That's all it took to convince Libby there was some semblance of truth to her imaginings. All three brothers had someone in their past to hide. She grabbed her plate and stood. “I'm going to dine in the bedroom, if you don't mind.” With that, she spun on her heel and left the kitchen.

  * * *

  Nate sat in stunned silence. It took him a moment to collect himself, but when he did…

  “What in Sam Hill is going on around here?” he slammed his fist on the table.

  “Dagnabit, fool woman! What does she think she's doing?”

  A muffled, “I heard that!” came from the other side of the bedroom door.

  Nate narrowed his eyes, grabbed his plate—he was hungry after all; got up and marched straight for the bedroom. “Libby!” he shouted. You open this door! Remember what I told you about locking doors?”

  “Open it yourself; it's not locked,” she said from the other side.

  Nate rolled his eyes in response. It hadn’t occurred to him to try the door first. He entered, plate in hand. “Would you like to explain to me what all that was about?”

  “Certainly,” she said and took a bite of fried apple. She chewed thoughtfully a moment then swallowed. “A pregnant woman showed up on Gwen's doorstep today, looking for your brother. What do you know about it?”

  “Nothing!”

  “Really?”

  “Did she give a name?”

  “Lela Mason. It wouldn't sound familiar, would it?”

  “No.”

  Her expression changed, but only for a moment. She was putting up a brave front, he could tell, and was upset for good reason. If a woman like that showed up on his doorstep with her sisters here, he was sure they'd be beside themselves as well. He, of course, would be a dead man. An image of Gwen shooting Walt crossed his mind, and Nate briefly wondered how his brother fared at the moment. But this was Walt's problem, not his. Besides, he knew Walt always figured some disgruntled female would try to get her hooks in him somehow. Word had spread of their ranch already, even as small as it was, and the brothers had discussed the possibility of gold-diggers.

  “Is that what has you upset? Some woman trying to see what she can get out of my
brother? You know that's all there is to it, don't you?”

  She looked at the floor, then back again. “How are we supposed to know anything? We've only been here a little over a week!”

  “Exactly. Which means, for all I know, you have twenty beaus back east all catching trains at this very moment, to come carry you back with them; it’s only a matter of which one gets here first!”

  She picked at her dress. “Gwen, maybe, but never me,” she sighed. “Or Bonnie for that matter.”

  “Well then,” he said as he sat next to her on the bed. “Looks like Walt's going to have his hands full. But I tell you truly, none of us would ever, and I do mean ever, do such a thing to a woman, you understand?”

  “How would you know if you did?” She looked at him with a combination of fear and hope. Fear, that he'd say they wouldn't. Hope, that he'd say…

  “We know, because we’re, well, careful. Besides, none of us associates ourselves with those kinds of women.”

  Her eyes went blank. “Careful? What do you mean by, careful?”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sakes,” he muttered to himself. “Careful means, at least for me, that I'm not going to just bed a woman then forget about it. I want it to mean something. Now, eat your supper,” he snapped.

  Her eyes went wide, and then she quickly collected herself. “Fine!” She stood and went back to the kitchen. He followed her without a word, and they both sat at the table and finished the meal in silence.

  When they were done eating, he went to start a fire while Libby did the dishes. She hadn’t made anything for dessert that evening. But for Nate, a cup of coffee would do. In fact, maybe he'd have a cup and go take a walk or something. He was irritated. Irritated that she still didn't trust him, and irritated with Walt that he didn't make it clear to whomever this Lela Mason was, that he wasn't interested in her at the time they’d met, wherever that was, though he was sure Walt would tell her now. And finally, he was irritated with Bart for taking off on safari and leaving his wife alone! So far, he and his brothers weren’t doing a very good job at this marriage business.

  But he wasn't the one to keep Libby from her fears. She was going to have to face them, one by one. All he could do was stand by her side as she did, then comfort and hold her until she was ready to face the next one. Once overcome, she could help him with his.

  Nate’s biggest, he realized, was that she would never grow to love him. They'd be just two people sharing a house, a bed, some meals, and nothing more. That one thought scared Nate Dalton to death.

  He got the fire going, stood, and turned to see if Libby had put on a pot of coffee. She had. He’d been so wrapped up in his own frustrations he hadn't heard her do it. But where was she?

  He went to the bedroom, but she wasn't there. He then looked at the front door, and noticed her shawl was missing. Stepping to the window, he looked outside and, sure enough, she stood in front of the cabin and stared into the distance.

  Nate closed his eyes, bowed his head, and sent up a silent prayer that he and his brothers didn’t do something stupid enough to lose the one good thing they had in their lives right now.

  Their wives.

  Twelve

  The next day brought about a series of events that would change Libby's life forever. Of course, the night before hadn’t helped to get things off to a good start. She'd put on a pot of coffee then gone outside for a few moments to collect her thoughts, unable to stand being in the cabin with Nate any longer. He didn't love her, that was for certain, otherwise wouldn't he have taken her and… Oh, wait a minute. No, he wouldn't. She was the one who wanted him to woo her before they made love. But the only reason she did was so he’d love her before they made love!

  A lot of good it did her now.

  The man could woo and not love at the same time. Libby, in her naivety, assumed one could not be done without the other. How stupid could she have been? She stared at the moon and cried last night until she knew she’d better go inside before Nate came out. She might as well let him have his way with her now. He wasn't going to love her anyway. Maybe he was just trying to please her, so she’d do well with her cooking and sewing lessons. Who knew?

  Men! How could they possibly be with a woman and not love her? Libby just didn't get it.

  She then realized she had another problem. Nate wasn't going to love her after he wooed her. She, on the other hand, could very well already be in love with him. But how could she be sure? What if what ailed her was perfectly curable? What if it wasn't?

  Libby knew of only one way to find out. Ask Bonnie.

  However, before she could do that, she'd have to get through the rest of the day. A day that consisted of none other than Lela Mason showing up on Gwen's doorstep again! But this time, things were different.

  Gwen answered the door, while Libby and Bonnie waited for her to give the woman her due. A swift kick in the rear, perhaps? But instead of a fight breaking out, the woman shocked them with her words, “I'm sorry.”

  Come to find out, Lela sought out Walton because she was desperate, and knew he was a good man. Her hope was that he’d help her out by marrying her. She created a ruse to trap him into it, only to come to the ranch and discover he was already married. She'd lost her job—albeit that of a whore, and had nowhere to go except the one person she thought could help. Libby and Bonnie half expected Gwen to still throw the woman out on her ear. But Gwen took them by surprise with what she did. She offered to help the woman!

  Before Libby and Bonnie knew it, Lela Mason was helping them sew Bonnie’s curtains! Who would've ever thought? But what really hit Libby was the fact that the woman did what she did because Walt Dalton was a good man; the only one she trusted enough to help her in her hour of need. If a woman such as Lela Mason could trust Walt Dalton to help her in such a dire situation, couldn't Libby trust Nate to love her in time?

  Libby stole quick glances at Bonnie all morning. Bart was off on a business trip, and could be gone for a week. Bonnie trusted him, didn't she? Perhaps they were already in love! She could tell Gwen was in love with her husband, or at least falling fast. At least until Lela had knocked on the door. But if she didn't love him, would it have been as easy for her to forgive Lela? Besides, wouldn’t forgiving Lela make it easier for Gwen to forgive Walt? Of course, then she’d have to forgive herself for not trusting him in the first place.

  Libby bit her lip as the other women talked and sewed. Was she the only one who didn't trust her husband? She glanced at Bonnie again, and decided she would speak to her later that day. In the meantime, Lela needed their help, and any woman who had the guts enough to do what she did to protect her child had Libby's respect, not to mention that of her sisters. She pushed her own troubles aside, and chimed in with suggestions on how to help Lela start a new life.

  * * *

  The four women had sewn and talked for several hours before Walt came home. Libby was gratified when he made up with Gwen and all was forgiven. Tomorrow, they would help Lela find a place to stay and figure out what she could do in order to support herself until she married. Gwen was sure there were plenty of men in town willing to take on her and her unborn child, women being exceedingly scarce. Because of that, they would also be willing to overlook her past employment. In Beckham, a former whore would be shunned, no matter if God's light shined down on her or not. Folks back east were not so forgiving, it seemed, as those in Texas.

  Speaking of forgiving …

  Some time later, she knocked on Bonnie's door.

  “Libby,” Bonnie said in surprise as she opened it. “What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to talk to you before Nate gets home.”

  “Is something wrong?” her sister asked as she stepped aside to let Libby in.

  “Oh, Bonnie…” Libby said as several tears fell. “Everything’s wrong!”

  “What do you mean, everything? I thought the two of you were…” For a moment Bonnie froze, as though she couldn't speak. She cleared her throat. “I thoug
ht the two of you were fine.”

  “We’re not. Nate doesn't love me. But I think I'm in love with him. And if I'm in love with him and he doesn't love me… I don't know how I'm going to live!”

  “Live?”

  “I didn't say that right,” Libby lamented and threw a hand in the air in frustration. “What I mean is, I don't know how I can live my life married to a man who doesn't love me. It would be easier if I wasn't in love with him, I suppose, but … I think I am. Am I making any sense?” Libby’s words came out in a rush.

  Bonnie sidestepped to the only chair, and sat. “I’d like to say, not any more than usual, but in this case you make perfect sense.”

  Libby pulled up the crate and sat next to her. “You're in love with Bart. What's it like?”

  “Like?” Bonnie almost choked on the word.

  “Yes, what does it feel like? Maybe if I knew the symptoms, I'd be able to tell if I was in love with Nate or not.”

  “Don't you want to be in love with him?” Bonnie asked.

  “Well, of course, if he's going to love me, which he doesn't.”

  “What makes you think he doesn't?”

  Libby thought a moment. “Remember when I told you I made him sleep on the floor on my wedding night, and that he'd have to woo me? Well, he did try to woo me. I think he’s still trying.”

  “Then what's the problem?”

  “That's just it. He’s only wooing me. There's nothing else along with it. He's wooing me and making me fall in love with him, but what am I doing to make him fall in love with me? Nothing! Except burn his meals, and what man falls in love with that?”

  Bonnie put her face in her hands and groaned. “Oh, Libby.” She pulled her face out of her hands and looked at her. “Libby, Libby, Libby,” she repeated. “That’s not what love is about.”